Chapter Twenty-Two
The announcement that Millie would be choosing her own husband came as a relief to Stephen. He still had his greatest weapon, the intimate knowledge she'd shared in her letters.
Henri gathered the men together and announced, "In order to be fair, Millicent will spend half a day with each of you so she can get to know you on a more personal level. She will be chaperoned at all times. I've taken the liberty of drawing names. Here is the order."
Stephen listened as Henri called out names. He thought about what he knew of each gentleman. Peter happened to be Priscilla's brother; Thomas was a young man from Bayou Sara; Jacque, a Frenchman on holiday; Michael, an elderly widower; and Chandler, the family friend. Stephen's name was called last.
Henri finished with, "Let us all be considerate of each other and allow each man his allotted time without interruption. Peter, Millie is ready for you to join her."
Peter, a short gangly boy of around eighteen, stepped forward, his grin showcasing a row of crooked upper teeth. He held out his arm, Millie accepted it, and they walked toward the gardens. Isaac discretely followed.
"I hope you're proud of yourself," said Chandler to Stephen.
"Excuse me?" Stephen replied.
"If you had kept your mouth shut then Millie wouldn't be with the likes of him. Imagine her beauty in the arms of pock-faced Peter."
"Millie will survive," Stephen said curtly.
Haughtily, Chandler replied, "Of course she will, but the game will end when she reaches me."
"Game? This is no game. This is the young lady's future. She deserves to be happy."
"Please. Happiness doesn't–" Chandler stopped talking, clenched his teeth, and said, "Forgive me. I forgot my manners."
Stephen nodded and watched Chandler approach Henri and engage him in conversation. Stephen went in search of Charles. His friend leaned against a wall in the sitting room with Amelia Beaumont standing beside him. Cheeks rosy red, she stared at his chest and giggled.
"Charles, I must speak with you."
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Excuse me, Amelia."
"Of course," Amelia said petulantly.
"What are you doing?" asked Stephen.
"I'm making friends." Charles winked in Amelia's direction and she giggled again.
Stephen pulled Charles into another room. "I'm asking for your help."
"All right, what can I do?"
"I need you to go to New Orleans and investigate Chandler."
Charles arched his brow. "Can't this wait? I was just getting to know Amelia. Sure, she's a little different from most of the girls I like, and she is a little young, but–"
Stephen placed his hand on Charles' forearm. "Trust me. I have a feeling Chandler Wright is not what he appears to be."
Charles reluctantly agreed. Soon, he had gathered his bags, mounted his weary horse, and set off. As he rode from the plantation, he glanced over his shoulder and waved to Stephen and Amelia. Amelia sadly waved back and Stephen staunched his guilt.
Deciding he couldn't wait three days before spending time with Millicent, Stephen made up his mind to break a few rules.
****
Millie guided Peter to the water's edge. A frog jumped across the trail and Peter squealed.
"Sorry, Miss Beaumont, but I'm afraid of frogs. There was this time when I slept outside—we have to do that sometimes when Mother gets upset with Father and she throws us all out, except Priscilla—anyway, you see I was asleep on the ground and this frog jumped on my chest and scared me so much I wet my spread. 'Course I don't do that as much as I used to. Wet my spread, I mean. Mother used to say bad dreams caused a person to do that but mine has always been triggered by real things and not bad dreams."
On and on Peter prattled. Millie forced herself to appear interested. She guided him along the river bank until Peter got so scared they had to turn around and head home. They reached the outhouse and Peter ducked inside. Millie found a tree and leaned against the rough bark. Something hissed and she glanced upward.
"Don't look."
Quickly, she lowered her head. "Who's there?"
"It's me, Stephen."
"What are you doing in the tree?" she whispered.
"I'm following you and it hasn't been easy. Your chaperone takes his job seriously."
Millie coughed to cover her laugh.
"So how are you enjoying your visit with young Peter?" he asked.
Millie let her shoulders slump.
"That good, huh?"
"I will say he is very young and immature. He is not as I expected."
"Are you saying you don't want to become better acquainted with Peter?"
Millie nodded. "I am."
"That's what I thought. But you were right in giving everyone a fair chance. Your future happiness depends on selecting the right man to spend the rest of your life with."
Stephen stopped talking when Peter opened the door of the outhouse.
"Who were you talking to?" he asked.
Millie cleared her throat and fought the urge to search the tree limbs above her. "Just myself."
Peter cocked his head. "I do that, too." He offered his arm. "I feel better now. If you want we can walk some more."
"Where would you like to go?"
Peter tapped his head in thought. "Might be nice to go back inside because the outdoor plants bother me."
Struggling not to look over her shoulder, Millie allowed Peter to lead her. They settled on a couch in the living room and Peter faced her.
"Priscilla doesn't like you very much."
Millie frowned. "She doesn't?"
"No. Mother thinks it has something to do with jealousy and all. But I told her when we marry she won't have to worry because I plan on leaving home."
"You told her that?" said Millie, not stifling her curiosity.
"Of course. Why would I want to stay at my home when your house is so much nicer? And bigger. I bet I wouldn't have to sleep outside if I lived here."
Millie turned her face away from Peter and rolled her eyes heavenward. The rest of the afternoon proceeded in the same vein. When her father came to tell her it was time for her next suitor, she exhaled a sigh of relief.
Peter gushed, "It sure was nice getting to know you. I hope we can court again soon."
Millie curtsied. "Thank you for your time, Peter. It was interesting talking with you."
Peter walked backward from the room and Millie plopped onto the couch, cradling her head in her hands. A pair of shoes walked into her line of sight.
"Bad experience, huh?" Stephen asked as he knelt in front of her.
Millie anxiously looked around the room.
"Don't worry. Your next suitor won't be here for a few minutes."
"Did you do something to him?"
"Who me?" he asked, innocently pointing to himself.
"Why do you keep following me, Stephen? You know the rules. You are supposed to wait your turn."
"True. But I've never been one to follow rules."
"I see."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not bad; I just don't always do everything to the letter."
He emphasized the last word and Millie wondered why. The sound of footsteps drew her attention and she turned around to glance at the door. Returning her gaze to Stephen, she sighed. The drapes swayed as he disappeared through the side door.