Wife of the Left Hand (Sugar Hill Book 1) Page 2

  “Greetings to you, Mr. Dufresne. I am Susanna, and this is my mother, Etienne.”

  Etienne smiled and made no secret of her pleasure to meet Chase. “Yes, I recognize you, sir. And I have received letters from your father recently. It is very nice to meet you in person.”

  Chase nodded, still smiling, and turned his attention back to Susanna. She released his hands and took a step back, as was the custom in a receiving line. Chase stalled, not wanting the meeting to end. He knew he would dance with her, perhaps waltz with her, but he wanted to know all about her.

  “Forgive me, but I did not hear your last name. I am not sure how to address you.”

  “My name is Susanna Serene Mandeville, sir.”

  Later he would wonder why he answered her in this fashion, but in that moment he felt that he must. He said, “And one day, Dufresne.” After a flash of surprise, Susanna bowed her head briefly and smiled at him. Etienne clapped her hands with glee and hugged his neck. Chase did not immediately understand that his impetuous comment had been taken as an agreement to a marriage proposal that he knew nothing about.

  Never in a hundred years would he have imagined he would leave the quadroon ball an almost-married man. Although some, including his mother, would hardly have considered this union a marriage. More like a permitted affair. During the course of the evening, Chase learned what he had done, and many of his fellow aristocrats slapped him on the back to congratulate him. His father appeared delighted and reveled in Chase’s approval by his peers. His son had chosen well, and she had accepted him. And although Chase’s friends were exceptionally jealous, they were sincere in their well wishes.

  At the end of the evening, his sometimes affectionate cousin Ambrose hugged him. He pulled Chase close to him, grasping him like a drowning man. Chase could smell stale liquor on his cousin’s breath and suspected he was inebriated. “I hate you. You know that, don’t you?” he whispered in Chase’s ear, a cigarette dangling from his full lips. “Every damn day I hate you more.” He stared at Chase as if he would like to punch him, but he did not. The sincerity in his voice surprised Chase. Then Ambrose laughed and hugged him again, only this time not as viciously, and everything was different. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person, boy. She’s the definition of beauty, Chase. How did you manage it?”

  “I have no idea. I think I need a drink.”

  “I’d say so. Come on over here. There’s some brandy in the carriage, and I see that your father has deserted us. Probably gone to see Marie.” Chase winced at the mention of the other woman’s name, but Ambrose did not appear to notice. “It’s the good stuff, too, because you deserve to celebrate. I’ll say one thing for you. When you know what you want, you go for it, don’t you? That’s one thing I always liked about you, boy.”

  He always called Chase “boy,” even though they were nearly the same age. He’d made himself the oldest, and Chase didn’t argue with him.

  The young Dufresne did not see Susanna again that night, or the next, but by the weekend, his father had set them up in an upper wing at Sugar Hill. They could come and go as they pleased, his father told them, as he expected to travel a great deal in the coming spring. He might even take Ambrose with him.

  After the briefest of ceremonies, Mr. Dufresne came to Chase and dithered about for a few minutes as if he wanted to offer some fatherly advice but changed his mind after a few more minutes of false starts and stops. It was no matter; Chase knew how everything worked. Susanna would not be his first lover, thanks to his cousin’s commitment to seeing him made a man after his last birthday. His father left with Ambrose and the minister, and Susanna and Chase were left alone for the first time ever in the house. He briefly wondered what his mother would think about his bringing his placee to Sugar Hill, but the thought vanished as soon as Susanna appeared in her nightgown. It was white silk with tiny purple bows at the bosom.

  He knew nothing about her, really, his reasonable mind warned him. They had never so much as spoken beyond their initial meeting. Nervousness again beset him; his hands shook, and he felt sweaty and awkward. This would not be the same as rolling around a dark room with a tavern girl. Not at all.

  He smiled down at her and was pleased to see that she returned his smile. “You are so beautiful, Susanna.”

  “And so are you, Chase.” She said his name carefully, as if she’d never dared to speak it before. Indeed, hearing her say it thrilled him even more. He was anxious for what came next. We could sleep in every room, or do whatever we like in every room. He blushed at his own thought. He wanted to do just that. Seeing her again verified his love and admiration for Susanna Serene. No, it had not been a mistake to marry her, and he would love her always. He could see by her expression that she felt the same, that she was pleased with their arrangement. She cast her glittering eyes on him and pulled the pin from her hair, and her silky brown tresses fell down her back. The first kiss was sweet. Sweet like poured-out wine. The second kiss was sweet but hungrier. By the fifth and sixth kisses, the couple were consumed with desire for one another. Their first union was brief, as it usually was with an inexperienced young man, but he felt a sense of achievement afterward. They lay on the bed together in silence for a short while until Chase felt eager to explore his wife’s body again.

  “Careful, my husband. Do not give me a daughter too soon. I do not wish to leave you.” Her voice was low and husky, and it sounded like warm honey.

  “Leave me? Why would you leave, Susanna?” A panicked feeling crept over him. “You will be with me forever,” he insisted. He smiled at her reassuringly and touched her soft, golden skin with light fingers. The pleasures of lovemaking lingered.

  “Do you not understand? That is the price, Chase. For sure, Mother Etienne demanded a high dowry price: my first daughter for my freedom and my marriage to you.”

  “Who will take our child? Who would dare?” He stood up, pulling his pants up around his hips. “That’s preposterous. I did not agree to that.”

  “It is the truth. Didn’t your father tell you this?”

  “No, he did not. I expect to ask him about it. That cannot be right. I will not allow such a thing to happen.”

  “It is not unusual, and who knows what the future holds?”

  “We shall see about that.” Chase felt uncomfortable with the thought of giving up his child, a child he didn’t know yet. His mood soured, despite the lovely woman who lay beside him.

  “Please, no more talk of this tonight. No unhappy things. Come here, let me look into the face of my handsome husband. I have seen you before, you know.”

  “When?”

  “When I was but a girl. You were helping that other boy get back on his horse. The one with the dark hair. Come now. I will study your face and tell you your future.”

  He laughed at the idea that she’d spied him but he’d missed her face. How could that be? He obediently lay in her lap as if she were Delilah and he Samson. If she cut off all his hair, so be it.

  “You are so young. There are not many lines here.”

  “Should I be an old man, Susanna?” Then he added quickly, “How many faces have you studied?”

  “Do not worry, husband. No other man has ever lain in my lap. Only you. But Etienne taught me how to read faces and hands. I used to do so in her parlor when gentlemen came to call on her.”

  “I see,” he said suspiciously.

  “Stop frowning,” she said as she ran her finger across his forehead. “This shows me that you are a deep thinker. You ponder your thoughts like a wise man.”

  “Where did you learn this, Susanna?” He wanted to say her name. It felt good. She did not answer but merely smiled, showing her white teeth.

  “And you are someone who makes up his own mind about things. Now this line,” she said, tracing under his left eye, “this is unusual. There is a scar here. What happened?”

  He told her how he earned the scar in a hunting accident.

  “This was put there on purpose by Fa
te. Fate knows you will defy her and seeks to remind you that she is in control.”

  “I must remember that, Susanna. Why did you marry me? Do you regret your decision?” He wanted reassurances that this was what she wanted. He needed to know that she cared for him, wanted him.

  “I did not make any decision. I did as I was told, as we all do. As you do. But I am glad that I am here with you, Chase Dufresne.”

  Somewhat pleased with her answer he asked, “What else do you see in my face, Susanna Dufresne?” He liked saying her name with his own. He sat up now and leaned close to her.

  Her face changed as she traced his lips with her fingers. Her eyes filled with tears, and the words came softly. “Betrayal. I see betrayal. One day you will betray me. And then I will haunt you. All your days.” Her voice took on a whispery sound, like she was seeing something real but from a long distance.

  He felt desperate now. “Never, Susanna. I would never betray you. I…I love you.”

  The distant gaze fled from her eyes, and finally she saw him again. The warmth returned to her face, but his soul felt cold. She lay down and quietly rested as she looked up at him, her heart-shaped face radiating trust. What had just happened? He felt the oddest sensation; it must have been what the Creoles called “déjà vu.” The feeling one got when he had heard, seen or done something before. The mystics taught, and Chase was very knowledgeable on this subject, that if you chose wrong, you were destined to repeat the moment until you got it right.

  Have we been here before? Is this why I feel such an attraction and connection to this woman I barely know? Have I made the wrong choice before?

  The questions bombarded him even as he kissed Susanna again.

  He hoped this time he would make the right choice.

  PART ONE

  Chapter One – Avery Dufresne

  Sliding back into the copper-colored satin sheets, I smiled at Jonah’s handsome face. His brown hair was a mess, but it always was after one of our sessions. In the early morning light, I could see that his stylist had gotten a little heavy-handed with the highlights this time, but I didn’t say anything about it. It must be hard living the rock star life—especially at thirty. The music industry wasn’t much different from my cable news gig. You could be a hot star one month and slated for “reassignment” the next. All the more reason that I had to hit it out of the park tomorrow. I could see the tiny wrinkles under his eyes. He’d not been sleeping well. As my grandmother Vertie used to say, he liked to burn the candle at both ends. Again, I understood him. When you were a celebrity, everyone watched you, all the time. You couldn’t gain a pound or let your roots grow out, and God forbid you walk outside in anything but designer clothes.

  Jonah and I were deep into it again. I couldn’t help myself; I wasn’t getting any younger either. I just celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday, and it weighed on me. I wanted more from him than just a surprise knock at my door once a week and a discount bouquet of flowers. He couldn’t seem to understand that.

  We’d been seeing one another for almost a year, and that part of the relationship wasn’t getting any better. I didn’t know what had gotten into me lately. I wanted him to make a commitment—any kind of commitment. But in typical Jonah fashion, he did his best to avoid anything confrontational and excelled at talking his way out of talking. And that was what I liked least about him. It was just more proof that we worked best when we weren’t talking at all. Unfortunately for him, I wanted more than that now. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling thinking about what he just said.

  “Maybe I am the kind of girl who wants to cut the grass and have a dog!” I argued in my best legal expert tone. He’d just accused me of wanting the typical American white picket fence life, complete with plastic flamingos and Bermuda grass. As if it were a crime of some sort.

  “Not the kind of grass I’m used to. Bermuda’s not my speed.” He chuckled, pulling me close to him and lazily rubbing my arm. I usually liked the feel of his fingers, but right now it aggravated me. I turned on my side and leaned on one elbow to stare at him.

  “I mean it. Maybe I want to grow yellow flowers and mow the lawn every weekend. Would that be so bad? And while we’re on the subject, maybe I want to go to church potlucks, grow tomatoes and drive the kids to the park.”

  “And maybe I’m a choir boy. It’s just not in you, Avery. That’s not who you are. Not anymore. Where is this coming from? You and Tenille hearing your biological clocks ticking?”

  I punched his arm playfully. “No, and this doesn’t have anything to do with Tenille.”

  He sighed and pretended to be understanding. “This is about Vertie, isn’t it? I know you miss the old girl, but that’s no reason to do anything drastic.”

  I did miss my grandmother every day of my life. She was all the family I’d known as an adult, but it wasn’t just the lack of family that I felt. “Sometimes, Jonah, I have these feelings—like I’m missing out on something. Something valuable. Something I shouldn’t give up on so easily.”

  “Good lord, Ava. You are America’s Newscaster—America’s Sweetheart, for God’s sake. You are intelligent, beautiful and damn sexy. You can’t tell me you’re not grateful for that. Why would you want an ordinary life?”

  “I am—yes, I am grateful. It’s just a feeling is all.” How could I explain it to him? Here was a guy who didn’t even celebrate his own birthday. Not because of any religious convictions, and he wasn’t in age denial. Jonah Blight just didn’t have a drop of sentimentality in him. I had a need that he couldn’t meet, and he didn’t care. I knew the truth. It was a growing need for something else besides the empty life of a rock star’s girlfriend. That worried me because Jonah was right. I had it all, and there was no room for the sentimental in my current world. I needed to get a handle on myself. Maybe it was just my growing awareness of my situation in life. Even in law school I always had the idea that I would have a family. A home. A happy life. That’s what it boiled down to, wasn’t it? I wasn’t happy. Not really. Now I missed Vertie even more. She would have understood this. She might not have agreed with me, and she frequently didn’t, but she would have gotten it.

  He touched my nose with his finger. “You’ve got it all, babe.”

  I gave up with a sigh. No time for these kinds of thoughts. Not today. “Thank you for being so understanding. I guess I just had a moment. Probably nerves about tomorrow. What would I do without you?”

  “Think nothing of it. What wouldn’t I do for the woman I love?”

  “Jonah Blight—you are too good to be true. How did I get so lucky?”

  “For starters, we have brilliant publicists.”

  I frowned, feeling the happiness of the moment vanish like smoke. I watched him pull on his clothes. “You would have to bring that up.”

  “So what? Who cares how we met? It was a great idea, and we were lucky we had some sparks between us. Otherwise this would be one bloody boring relationship. I think it has worked out for both of us, don’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes and slid out of the bed, grabbing my nightgown. There wasn’t much to it, but it was Jonah’s favorite color, baby blue. “Sure. Hey, that reminds me. Don’t forget about tonight. This is my first gig as fundraising chair for the Starlight Foundation, and I want to make a good impression.”

  “That’s the one for the kids?”

  I frowned again and punched his arm as he stepped into his shoes. “No. It’s for blind veterans. There are so many coming back with…”

  “Alright, alright. Save it for tonight, Ava.” I hated it when he called me that. My name was Avery. I’d already asked him to quit, but he was one to give you a pet name. Or a nasty name, like he used to talk about Tenille. He called her Nellie. She would have hated that if I had told her. I didn’t because she hated him enough already. Another reason to be unhappy with him. Shouldn’t he at least try to like my best friend? “I’ll be a good boy and pay attention then. Right now I’d like to think about something else.”


  “I have got to get a nap, Jonah. This is going to be a long couple of days. I have to prep for my interview. This guy isn’t your average politician, you know.”

  “Napping, eh? That’s what they call it here in the States?” He kissed my neck tenderly and stroked my chin with his thumb. He played up his British accent and continued his kissing. I didn’t protest too much, not at first.

  “Seriously. I have to be at my best with this guy. He’s going to come ready with talking points, and I’m going to have to confront him with the truth. Sparks are going to fly.”

  Suddenly Jonah pushed me on the bed and lingered above me, his perfect face the picture of desire. “I’m up for sparks flying.”

  I grinned back at him, my heart full of gratitude to whoever watched over me. Hopefully my parents. I had such a wonderful life. He was a great guy, and I was worried about nothing. That’s what I told myself as I embraced him and kissed him with all my being. This all felt too good to be true.

  Sadly, it was.

  I made it through the day, and by the end of it I was dog tired. My former assistant and now producer, Amanda Collins, called in with sick kids, and I was suddenly glad I didn’t have any. From what she told me, there was quite a bit of spewing going on. I wasn’t down for that. I hated that she wouldn’t be part of preparing for the interview. Amanda was the best at digging up dirt on people, but I had some leads and did most of the work myself. It’s not like I didn’t know how, and I actually enjoyed diving into the details. By four o’clock I had a top-notch media package prepared; I delivered it to the production department and then went home to eat something. I loved my apartment. It always smelled like vanilla, thanks to my extensive candle collection, and there was a brilliant view overlooking Atlanta.

  I flipped on my satellite radio to a commercial-free instrumental jazz station. Feeling chipper, I flipped through my social media accounts on my phone as I microwaved a TV dinner. It was some kind of chicken with steamed green beans. As always, it looked better on the box. I checked my voicemail and read my growing collection of snail mail as I picked at the food. We’d have food at the fundraiser, but I rarely ate in public. Not more than a bite or two. Too many eyes watching me. I showered and waited for my doorman to call. My hairdresser and my publicist, Candace Brody, were supposedly on their way here. Candace and I would have to have a conversation soon. I’d just about decided that if Jonah and I couldn’t move this relationship along, I’d have to say goodbye. For some reason, she felt as if this were her business. I guess technically it kind of was, since she introduced us, but that bothered me. The past year had been tough on our relationship. Candace had her own ideas about the trajectory of my career; she was constantly pushing me to explore “other avenues,” including acting, which I had no intention of doing. I was a reporter, a fact finder, and if she didn’t back off on a few things, I’d replace her too.