Understanding Mercy Page 14

  He kissed her gloved hand and replied, “ C'était un rire de bonheur pour le plaisir de rencontrer une si belle dame comme vous .”

  “Ah, what a nice surprise. Your French is perfect.” She laid her hand on his arm and pulled him over to sit beside her. “Please, sit by me and tell me about America.”

  While perching on the dainty silk settee, he tried his best to look comfortable. In awe, he looked at the stunning countess. He’d never seen such an elaborate gown on a woman in his life. He forced himself to stop staring at the jewels that adorned her bodice.

  Addison lifted his eyes and asked, “So what would you like to know about America, Madame?”

  “Anything you wish to tell me. I just want to hear your voice. It’s exactly as I imagined it would sound…like rich, smooth brandy.”

  He wouldn’t know. He’d never had brandy and he had no intention of having it either. His father drank enough of it for both of them.

  She gave him a flirtatious smile. “Did Governor Hancock tell you I asked to meet you?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “No.”

  “Yes, the day I got off the ship, I saw you on the docks and thought you were the most dashing man I had ever seen. For all I knew you were just a dock worker, but someone informed me you were the shipping magnate, Addison Berkeley. I could not have been more pleased.”

  He doubted he was the most dashing man she’d ever seen, but she was quite convincing in her overblown adulation. “I’m flattered, but I don’t consider myself a shipping magnate. Not yet.”

  “But you are on your way? Oui ?”

  “I’m on my way.” He could feel his Adam’s apple bob in his tight shirt as he tried to swallow. He felt a little woozy.

  Maybe it was her dark, exotic beauty, or the strong perfume of heavy spices and musk, the way she leaned in so close to him and made him feel confined, or the way a countess in the highest rungs of the French aristocracy sat here openly pursuing him.

  Maybe it was any, or all of those things, but for some reason he felt out of his depth. What did Hancock expect of him? The man wanted him to keep her entertained. What exactly did that mean? From the look in her eyes he could see what type of entertainment she had in mind.

  With her extremely revealing, low-cut gown shown off to full advantage, she leaned in even closer in a way he knew these Bostonians would consider scandalous, and practically purred in his ear, “I heard you were a pirate.”

  He pulled back and shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I was never a pirate. Merely a privateer.”

  “Same thing to me. Both show you are a brave and adventurous man. You are an adventurous man, Oui ?”

  Her voice was laced with innuendo and he honestly had no idea how to respond to her while sitting in this proper Bostonian parlor with dozens of people surrounding them.

  At last he said casually, “At times I’m adventurous, but more often I’m careful. Especially lately.” He wanted to change the subject so he said, “Governor Hancock told me your name is Blanche, which I know means white in French, yet you are so dark. Your lovely sister is dark as well.”

  “We are from the island of Martinique. Have you heard of it?”

  “Yes, I have actually been there. I import sugar from Martinique.”

  “My father owns a sugar plantation there. Do you like the Caribbean?”

  “Tremendously. I would like to go back again soon.”

  “I would like to go back too. Perhaps we can coordinate our trips?” He opened his mouth trying to fill it with words, but thankfully she said, “Monsieur, may I ask you a question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “When I saw you at the docks, your magnificent hair was blowing in the wind, and I longed to run my fingers through it. When do you think I’ll get to see, and feel, that glorious dark hair of yours un-powdered?”

  How on earth was he supposed to answer that?

  She laughed lightly, “I’m sorry if I’m too bold. It’s just my way. Some people don’t know what to make of me. Have I flustered you?”

  Yes, she had, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “No, Madame. You have not flustered me, just merely surprised me.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m just full of surprises.”

  I can only imagine. With uneasiness, he glanced around to see who was watching this heated exchange, and just about swallowed his tongue when he saw Mercy looking straight at him, confusion marred her brow.

  Their gazes met and she quickly looked down and adjusted her gloves awkwardly, continuing to talk with Priscilla Brown. He didn’t know Mercy would be here. Part of him felt a little embarrassed to have Mercy see this beautiful, sophisticated woman practically throwing herself at him, but then again, part of him gloried in it.

  Mercy thought herself far above him, but apparently this countess didn’t, at least, not right now. Let Mercy squirm. The appealing countess’ attention seemed to work like a balm on his bruised and battered pride.

  The countess followed his gaze and her eyes swept over Mercy. “She is a sweet little thing. Do you know her?”

  “Yes, she is a friend.”

  “A friend? Do you have a past with her?”

  He let out a harsh laugh. “No. No past, no present, and definitely no future.”

  She lifted an eyebrow in question.

  “What? You don’t believe me?”

  “Should I?”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “If you say so, but your gazes were so hot I feared I might be singed just from near you two.”

  “No. I’m not sure what you think you saw, but Mercy and I have nothing…we have nothing.”

  “Mercy?”

  “Miss Creed, I meant. That is her name.”

  Thankfully, the awkwardness of the moment was interrupted by the dinner bell. He rose and helped the countess to her feet, but she didn’t let go of his arm when she stood. She clung to him as they walked into the dining room, and not surprisingly he found himself sitting next to her.

  As soon as they got situated, he asked, “So what do you like best about Boston so far?”

  She raised an eyebrow flirtatiously. “You.”

  He chuckled in amazement.

  She gave a deep, throaty laugh. “Now I don’t think Boston will be so dull after all.”

  About an hour later, he had to reluctantly admit that he was enjoying himself. The food was delicious, the countess was a witty and interesting woman, and the pained looks Mercy cast his way when he laughed at something felt like a triumph. He didn’t consider himself a cruel man, but right now he wanted Mercy to hurt. She had certainly hurt him. Let her regret that her castoff was being snatched up by a beautiful countess.

  Once when he glanced at Mercy out the corner of his eye, he saw the handsome young son of the baron flirting with her outrageously. But instead of being flattered as any other single young girl would be, she looked horribly annoyed. He wondered why. In some small way it made him feel better. The haughty little thing thought she was too good for the aristocracy!

  Later, as everyone gathered in the parlor, Hancock asked, “Miss Creed, would you be so kind to play the pianoforte and sing for us, please? You have the most glorious voice.”

  She looked embarrassed, but nodded and made her way to the pianoforte. Flipping through some sheet music, she finally settled on a piece.

  The baron’s son jumped up and offered, “I’ll turn the pages for you.”

  She gave him a polite nod, cleared her throat, smoothed her skirts, and placed her fingers on the keys.

  Addison held his breath in anticipation. He hadn’t even known she played the pianoforte. He assumed there must be many things he didn’t know about her. He draped his arm around the back of the sofa and the countess scooted closer to him, leaned back against his arm and smiled up at him. He had never felt so flattered, or so uncomfortable in his life.

  Finally, Mercy began to play and sing the lovesong, Plaisir D’Amour , the haunting melody about the bitter-sweet attachment t
o an unfaithful love. His heart swelled with emotion.

  The lovely music floated across the room and seemed to wrap around him like a rope which pulled him to her side. Why did he feel this connection with Mercy when she wanted nothing to do with him?

  The shimmering candles in the room illuminated her and the glistening curls framing her face shined like gold. Her rapturous expression stirred his soul, and he had to tear his eyes away. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her.

  When the last note died away, everyone applauded.

  The countess leaned closer to Addison and whispered, “Your Miss Creed is a talented girl.”

  “She isn’t my Miss Creed,” he replied harshly, then took a deep breath and softened his voice, “Do you play?”

  Her dark eyes sparkled at him. “I love to play,” then she added, “Oh, did you mean do I play the pianoforte?” She shook her head as she answered her own question, “Not really.”

  The woman was shocking. She continued to surprise him when she suggested, “I think I’d like to get some fresh air. Would you care to join me?”

  “I’m sure if we walked outside together, we’d certainly raise some speculation. I don’t want to be responsible for ruining your reputation.”

  She laughed. “Do you know of my reputation? Actually, going outside with a man like you, would only enhance my reputation.”

  He laughed as well. “What of my reputation then? If I go outside with you, I might be ruined.”

  “Perhaps, but that remains to be seen if we keep sitting on the sofa.” She motioned to the balcony with her head. “You go out that door and I’ll go out the front and make my way around the garden and up the back stairs.”

  Without waiting for his response, she stood and slipped out the door. Now, he had no choice. He couldn’t just sit here and leave her waiting for him on the balcony. Reluctantly, he stood and wandered out the doors. How on earth had he gotten himself into this?

  Within a minute, she stood behind him and touched his arm. “You came.” She pulled him into a dark corner and placed his back against the wall. “You are a stunning man, Mr. Berkeley.”

  “Thank you. I must say, you are a stunning woman, Countess D’Aubigne.”

  “Call me Blanche.” She stepped closer until their bodies were almost touching. Rubbing her fingers along the collar of his coat, she said huskily, “Governor Hancock tells me you are the grandson of an English Earl. Is that true?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you are of the aristocracy.”

  “No, believe me, I’m not. I never met my grandfather or anyone else in his family. I don’t consider myself a part of the British aristocracy. In fact, I don’t even consider myself British. I am an American.”

  “I can tell you have noble blood. You walk like the grandson of an Earl. You carry yourself like an aristocrat.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, my mother was a chamber maid.”

  She laughed.

  “Do you think I’m teasing? I’m not. I tell you the truth. My father fell in love with her and when he married her, his family disowned him. That is why we came to America.”

  He thought she would quickly find a way to leave and hurry back into the parlor, but instead she gave him a bright smile.

  “What a wildly romantic story. Are you a romantic like your father?”

  That question picked at an old and painful wound, and he didn’t know how to answer. She leaned in even closer and he could feel her breath on his face.

  “You are amazing. I have to confess, I find you quite a challenge. I’m used to men throwing themselves at me, but I seem to be the aggressor here. I think I like it.”

  She rubbed her fingers along his jaw and he reached up and stilled her hand.

  “Countess D’Aubigne. Blanche. I know this must sound like an awkward question, but what exactly do you want from me? Am I an amusing toy for the evening, or a man you admire and want to court?”

  She thought for a moment and then replied, “The latter.” Then she added seductively, “But the former has its appeal as well.” She gazed up at him with heated eyes while she traced his lips with her fingertip. “You know what I want right now?”

  “What is that?”

  “I want to kiss those perfect lips of yours.”

  Before he knew what was happening, her lips were against his and her hand snaked around the back of his head and pulled him toward her. The attention and the affection felt nice and instinct led him to wrap his arms around her waist and deepen the kiss. But he would pull back soon. As appealing as the countess was, this just didn’t feel right.

  She sighed against his lips and immediately he heard a sharp intake of breath come from across the balcony. Addison pulled his mouth away from the Countess. He’d known someone would catch them. Slowly he opened his eyes and his heart stopped! Mercy stood there with her hand over her mouth.

  He simply stared at her wondering what to do or say when she muttered, “I knew it.”

  Letting out a weary sigh, he asked, “You knew what, Miss Creed?”

  “That you were a scoundrel,” and with that she spun on her heel and walked back into the house.

  The countess laughed and purred into his ear, “Hm. Show me what a scoundrel you are.”

  He kissed her again so she wouldn’t know how much Mercy’s words affected him, then pulled away. “We should get back inside before my reputation is irreparably ruined,” he teased with his best charming smile.

  “Do we have to? Things are just getting interesting.”

  “I’m afraid so. Go back the way you came. I’ll stay out here for a few moments, then I’ll see you again inside.”

  “If I must,” she sighed with a pout. Reluctantly, she turned and walked away.

  Addison leaned forward against the banister and watched the Countess until she disappeared from sight.

  He closed his eyes and sighed as Mercy’s face came into his mind. Why had she looked so hurt? She didn’t care about him. She’d made that clear.

  Oh, what did any of it matter?

  He walked back into the room and looked around. Everyone mingled, chatted and laughed. No one seemed to notice he’d gone outside, or that he’d come back, except Mercy who quickly looked away when his eyes landed on her.

  He wanted to speak with her and apologize, but he had nothing to apologize for. He walked over to Hancock and talked. The Countess soon joined them and they all conversed for a while.

  Addison smiled. “I have an early morning tomorrow, so I must be on my way.” He glanced at the lovely Countess and gave her a smile. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps I’ll see you again.”

  “The pleasure was mine, and I hope I get to see you again.”

  He nodded, excused himself and walked out into the icy, cold wind. Wrapping his cape tightly around himself, he walked home with a heavy heart.

  Understanding Mercy

  Understanding Mercy

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, Addison walked to work. He glanced over at Mercy’s house, and his heart almost stopped when he saw her sitting on the ground, digging away with a vengeance. He’d never expected to see her in her garden on such a cold and windy morning. A scowl covered her pretty face as she literally attacked the dirt.

  He walked toward her and called out in a friendly voice, “If you can wield that much damage with a little spade, I would hate to see you with a sword. On the other hand, perhaps I should teach you how to use a sword. It might come in handy aboard my ship if I ever decide to become a privateer again.”

  He hoped to see a pleasant smile, but instead she glared up at him as if she wished to slash him with her little spade.

  “My, you are a fierce one, Mercy Creed,” he teased, determined to see her smile.

  She merely glared at him even more fiercely if that were possible.

  Maybe he should try another tactic. “By the way, I never got to tell you how much I en
joyed listening to you play the pianoforte last night.”

  She continued stabbing the dirt and mumbled, “No. You were a little too preoccupied last night to find the time to tell me that.”

  Nearing her, he carefully took the spade out of her hand and dropped it to the ground. “Come here,” he murmured as he reached down to pull her to her feet. He dragged her behind a small grove of elm trees, hidden from the view of the house and the street.

  Mercy struggled the entire way but was no match for Addison. He leaned her against the trunk of the largest tree and held her there while he stated calmly, “I want to talk to you about last night.”