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Moon in the Water

Excerpt No. 6

"Miserable, lying weasel!" Ann Rossiter hissed, cursing Chase Hardesty, the man who'd led her on, and then betrayed her trust. The man she was supposed to marry in less than an hour.

"Slimy, odious miscreant!"

Ann smacked her silver-backed hairbrush down on her dressing table and stalked across her bedchamber to the pair of tall, lace-curtained windows that overlooked Lucas Place. She'd been shut up in this room for the last two days, alternately weeping and pacing and calling Chase Hardesty every name she knew.

In a little while her step-father was going to knock on her door expecting to escort her down to the parlor where Reverend Schuyler and her bridegroom were waiting.

"Vile, despicable conniver!"

And once they got downstairs, she was supposed to speak her vows to that deplorable man.

God knows, she should have expected Mr. Hardesty's duplicity. Hadn't men been taking advantage of her, failing her outright, since she was nine years old? She was the world's greatest fool for thinking—even for a moment—that Chase Hardesty was different.

Yet there had been something in his manner, a warmth in his eyes that swayed her. Because he seemed to care what she wanted, Ann had let herself believe there was something fine in him. Something forthright and honorable. Something she could trust.

Ann stared down from her window to the wrought iron gate. On Tuesday afternoon Chase Hardesty had stood right there and lied to her. He'd given her the secret smile and confirming nod that assured her he'd refused her step-father's offer.

Ann had gone down to dine with James Rossiter a few hours later armored with new confidence. She should have noticed the glint in her step-father's eyes as he held her chair or recognized the lie in his solicitousness, but Ann had been distracted by seeing that her step-brother's place at the table was empty. That's why the commodore's announcement had caught her so much by surprise.

"Chase Hardesty stopped to see me late this afternoon," he began as Mary Fairley, their housekeeper, served the consomme.

"Oh?" Ann had said, registering not so much as a twinge of apprehension.

"It seems Mr. Hardesty has reconsidered my proposal."

Ann looked up.

"In exchange for ownership of the Andromeda, he's agreed to give your child his name."

Her spoon had clattered into her bowl spattering the soup down her bodice. "He said he'd marry me?"

"Indeed he did."

"Are you sure?" she'd been surprised enough to ask him.

"I should be. Your Mr. Hardesty and I spent an hour negotiating concessions that include which of my best men will be assigned to the Andromeda."

But he promised! Ann had very nearly wailed at him. Chase Hardesty said he'd do what she wanted!

"Now then," her step-father continued, "I've gone ahead and made arrangements to have the wedding here at the house on Thursday morning."

"This Thursday morning?"

"Reverend Schuyler will come by to conduct the ceremony."

"But Thursday is the day after tomorrow!"

"The river's just opened for shipping," the commodore explained. "The Andromeda's leaving Thursday afternoon."

Ann stared at him, panic burning up the back of her throat.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll just have to send a note around to Reverend Schuyler," she advised him as coolly as she could when her voice was quaking. "Tell him we won't be needing his services. I'm not marrying Mr. Hardesty on Thursday—or any other day, either."

"Oh, my dear." Her step-father looked at her over the bowl of his spoon. "You most certainly will marry him."

By the set of his jaw and the coldness in his eyes, Ann could see he meant it. Though his conviction lay over her like a heavy snow, she pushed to her feet.

"I have absolutely no intention of marrying some ruffian you lured in off the levee!" she said, her tone nearly as icy as his eyes. "I will not be sold into marriage—not even for the price of so fine a steamer."

"I say you'll wed Chase Hardesty!" the commodore thundered.

"I say I will not!"

Ann had turned and fled upstairs. She was frantically jamming clothes into the satchel gaping open on her bed a few minutes later when she heard her step-father's tread in the hall outside. No matter what he said or did, no matter how he threatened her, she vowed, she wasn't going to marry Chase Hardesty.

But instead of bursting in to argue with her, her step-father simply turned the key in the lock on her bedroom door.

Ann had scrambled across the room and tried the knob.

"Father!" She smacked her palm against the wooden panel. "Damnit, Father, you can't just shut me up like a prisoner!"

But then, wasn't that exactly what she'd been since her father's men had dragged her home from Memphis? The truth swelled over her like water breaching the lip of a levee. James Rossiter was never going to relinquished his hold on her -- or on this child. He was never going to allow her to make a life for herself.

He was going to marry her to Chase Hardesty, whether she wanted a husband or not. She might just as well start embroidering the linens in her hope chest with neat little "H"s.

Ann wobbled back toward her bed, then slid to the floor beside it. Huddled there, curled in upon herself, she was intensely aware of the fullness in her breasts and belly, intensely aware that she was carrying a child. For weeks she'd tried to pretend it didn't exist, to will it away, but she couldn't deny it any longer.

She splayed her hands over the mound of her stomach and accepted that the child growing inside was hers to provide for and protect. The responsibility terrified her. Tears sprang to her eyes. How was she going to do that?

Was marrying Chase Hardesty the answer? As long as he worked aboard James Rossiter's boats, he'd have to see that there was food on the table and a roof over their heads.

Could Ann promise even that much if she succeeded in leaving the townhouse? She had no place to go, no clear idea of how she'd make a living, no friends who'd help her or take her in.

In the end, there was only Chase Hardesty. Chase and Chase and Chase and Chase. There was only marriage to a man she barely knew, to a man who had promised one thing and done another. To a man who owed his allegiance to her step-father.

Ann curled up tighter. How could she make vows to such a man? To someone who'd proved he had no honor, gave no credence to the promises he made? What kind of a father could a man like that be to her child?

But then, she couldn't imagine the rawboned riverman wanting anything to do with a baby. She couldn't believe there was enough gentleness in those broad, rude hands to hold one, or enough room in that deceiving heart for someone else's bastard.

She wiped away a freshet of tears and heaved a sigh.

She had hoped for so much more from Mr. Hardesty, far more than she ever expected from the men in her own family. He'd inspired a wonderful trust in her, then turned right around and broken his word.

Still, he was her only chance, her only hope.

Ann had stayed balled up on the floor in her bedchamber half the night sorting through her options, turning them over in her mind like the pieces of a puzzle she was determined to solve.

In the end she found a way to live with the inevitable—and if marriage to Chase Hardesty didn't give her all she wanted, at least it promised more than she had.

Still, when the commodore came knocking on the door, Ann wished with all her heart she could send him away.

"Ann," he called out. "The parson's waiting."

Her hands started to tremble.

"Ann?"

In spite of her step-father's growing annoyance, she detected a shading of real concern in his voice. It stirred the rich, dark roux of resentment and hope that had seasoned relations between them since her mother died.

Before she could respond to him, James Rossiter snapped the lock and shouldered his way into the room. He made a quick perusal, as if he expected conspirators lurking in the corners, then let his gaze come to rest on her.

"You look very nice."

Ann did her best not to be pleased. "You ought to like the way I look. You picked out my wedding dress."

Her maid had delivered it scarcely an hour before.

"Still, it suits you."

Ann allowed herself a glance at the mirror that hung above her dressing table and saw a slender woman in an ivory-colored gown of silk and lace. Someone pale and gossamer and almost fragile—except for the undeniable rise of her expanding belly.

"I ordered a veil, too, didn't I?" the commodore prompted. Ann turned to the froth of netting draped across the coverlet. If she were making vows to someone she truly cared for, the circlet of silken flowers and gauzy lace would be a delicious indulgence. As things were, that veil made a mockery of marrying in purity and for true love.

Shame washed her cheeks. "Please don't make me wear that."

She heard her step-father draw breath as if he meant to insist, and then he shrugged. "Do what you like about the veil."

He offered his arm, and Ann lay her icy fingers against his sleeve. They were halfway down to the stairs, when Ann caught the sweet, rich scent of roses and saw through the open parlor doors the towering vases of hot-house flowers that flanked the mantle. Someone was playing the wedding march on the piano, and as they crossed the hall, Mary Fairley smiled encouragement and handed Ann a bouquet of rosebuds.

It was almost as if what this was a real wedding, as if what followed was going to be a real marriage.

Ann stole a glance at where the minister stood with her bridegroom and a smaller, darker man before the fireplace.

No matter how she'd tried to prepare herself, Ann wasn't ready to face Chase Hardesty or take her vows. She most espec- ially wasn't ready to take on the duties of this stranger's wife.

In spite of that, James Rossiter steered her into her place before the parson and abandoned her to her bridegroom.

For a moment Ann diligently studied the toes of Chase Hardesty's polished boots. She raised her gaze to the sharply creased pinstripe trousers, then to his black broadcloth frock coat. His linen was dazzlingly white, and his cravat was perfectly tied. She could smell the heavy dose of macassar oil he'd used to tame his curly hair.

Finally, knowing there was no help for it, Ann raised her gaze to bridegroom's face—and went cold with shock.

He might be turned out well enough, but his lip was split. There was a red scuff along the side of his jaw. His left eye was all but swollen shut and the color of ripe plums.

Why he'd been brawling!\

Fiery outrage scalded up Ann's throat and flared in her cheeks. Not only had Chase Hardesty proved himself a liar and a cheat, but here was evidence that he was of a pugnacious and violent nature! How could her step-father marry her off to such a man?

Ann might have turned and demanded an answer of the commodore directly, except that she'd made her decision. She had no choice if she wanted to get out of the townhouse.

"Dear-ly Be-lov-ed." Reverend Schuyler launched into the wedding vows, his sonorous voice far more suited Christ Episcopal Church's vaulted sanctuary than the Rossiter parlor. "We are gathered here before God and this company to unite this Man and this Woman..."

The words of the ceremony broke over Ann like high surf. The magnitude of the charges, the admonitions and implications left her breathless and reeling.

Chase Hardesty spoke his vows clearly and gravely, almost as if he meant them.

The foul, contemptible liar.

When Chase was done, Reverend Schuyler turned to her. "Repeat after me," he directed. "I, Ann, take thee Chase..."

Ann couldn't help the momentary flare of truculence. To speak another word would seal her fate, bind her to a man who had already proved himself false and unreliable. It would seal the fate of her child. She didn't want this baby born and raised in this house, did she? She didn't it manipulated the way she'd been for most of her life?

Some final bit of resistance inside her crumbled. She drew a long uneven breath and spoke the words that would change everything.

"I, Ann, take thee Chase..."

As she continued Ann did her best to shade the familiar phrases with some semblance of sincerity. In marrying her Chase was had agreed to look after her and her child. She supposed she should be grateful.

Yet for all her good intentions, when Chase reached to slide the simple gold band onto her finger, Ann clenched her fist.

He looked down at those balled fingers, then up at her.

She'd closed her hand involuntarily, but somehow once it was knotted up tight, she couldn't bring herself to open it.

Her new husband's lapis-blue eyes iced over as he relentlessly pried open her hand. He forced the gold band over her knuckle and held it in place.

"With this ring, I thee wed," he insisted implacably.

As if he were eager to conclude the ceremony before anything else could happen, Reverend Schuyler rattled off the rest of the ceremony on one long breath. "In as much as Chase and Ann have spoken vows before God and this company, I pronounce them man and wife. Amen."

Before Chase could try to seal their union with a kiss, Ann jerked her hand out of his grasp and turned to where her step-father was approaching.

James Rossiter bent and bussed Ann's cheek. "You won't be sorry," he promised.

Frankly Ann doubted that, but she held her peace.

Just then her step-brother Boothe, the commodore's son by his first wife, stepped up and caught Ann's arm. Though the gesture might have looked innocuous, his fingers bit deep enough to crush wrinkles into her gown's satin sleeve.

"It must be so gratifying," he all but purred, "to once again prove yourself the favored child. I wouldn't have said it was possible for you to deprive me of my first command, dear sister, but somehow you've managed it."

Ann shivered at the loathing in his black eyes.

"I'm sure Ann appreciates the sacrifice you're making for her sake," James Rossiter put in silkily, "especially in her current situation. But you'll get everything I promised you, if you'll just be patient. Now congratulate your sister and wish her well."

When the commodore stepped beyond her to offer a crisp white envelope to the Reverend, Boothe did as his father had bidden him. "May I offer you my good wishes for a long—and fecund—marriage," Boothe said with a sneer.

Then, before Ann could respond or turn away, he lowered his head and kissed her. Though she closed her eyes and compressed her lips, the high, sharp smell of him washed over her. Her ears rang; her mouth went hot and wet. She fought to swallow the sick, sour burn of bile at the back of her throat.

Just when she thought she might disgrace herself, Chase slipped his hand around her waist and drew her to him. "Just so you know," he interceded smoothly, addressing Boothe over her head. "I mean to take very good care of the Andromeda for you."

Ann was grateful when her step-brother turned the bright beam of his malice from her to her new husband, thought Chase didn't seem the least bit quelled by it.

"We'll just have to see if you're man enough to be her master," Boothe snapped and stalked away. For a moment it wasn't clear if Boothe meant the Andromeda—or Ann herself.

Though Boothe was gone, Ann couldn't help the tremor that ran through her. "Thank you for running him off," she managed to whisper.

"This isn't the first time I've had words with your step-brother," Chase assured her, "and I doubt it will be the last."

Chase's dislike of Boothe gave the first hint that there might be some affinity between them.

She'd been at odds with Boothe, it seemed, from the moment she arrived in St. Louis. As a five year old, bewildered by her mother's sudden marriage and the never-ending trip west, all Ann had wanted was make friends with the tall, dark-haired boy who lived in her step-father's house.

But Boothe hadn't wanted to be friends. From the moment they arrived, he'd set out to show her how unwelcome she was. He made her plead with him not to drop her beautiful bisque doll James Rossiter had given her down the stairwell—then done it anyway. He'd thrown one of each of her pairs of shoes into the stove in the kitchen and taunted her when she was punished. She'd never known when he might jump out at her and scare her, or hit her hard enough to make her cry.

In the six months she'd been home from Philadelphia, she'd found a dozen new reasons to detest her step-brother. One of the reasons she'd resigned herself to this marriage was that no matter how determined her father was to keep her here, she was going to be able to gather her belonging and move to Chase Hardesty's rooms in town.

"Ann?"

Chase's voice scattered her thoughts like milkweed down.

"I'd like to introduce you to my brother, Ruben Hardesty." He gestured to the slim, swarthy man who'd been his groomsman.

Ann noticed right off that Ruben looked nearly as battered as Chase did. His nose was swollen and the skin along his cheekbone was black and blue. Wherever Chase had been brawling, they'd fought together.

For no reason she could name, the notion pleased her.

"Hello, Ruben," she greeted him and was struck by how dissimilar these two brothers seemed. Chase was big, broad-shouldered, and solidly built. His hair was a ruddy brown and his eyes were bright as bachelor buttons. Ruben was slim and exotic, dark as a Spaniard and lithe as a hickory withe. His thick, black hair curled long on his collar.

Something about the close fit of his clothes and the ornate ruby-red stickpin threaded through his cravat hinted that he was more than a bit of a dandy. He confirmed the notion when he bowed over Ann's hand and brought it to his lips.

"What a pleasure it is to welcome such a lovely and cultured lady to the Hardesty clan."

Ann couldn't help responding to the glint in those warm, brown eyes and the teasing curve of his mouth beneath his closely trimmed mustache.

Ann dipped in a somewhat graceless curtsey. "Why thank you, Mr. Hardesty. I hope I never do anything to jeopardize your good opinion of me."

"I doubt there's danger of that—" He turned a wide, white grin on her. "—especially in this family. And just so you know, everyone calls me Rue."

Just then Mary Fairley came to give Ann a little hug and offer champagne. "I hope your captain proves himself a good papa to the wee one," Mary confided in a whisper before she moved on.

On the far side of the room James Rossiter cleared his throat. "I'd like to propose a toast," he offered, "in honor of my daughter's marriage."

Every one raised their glasses.

"May Ann and Captain Hardesty enjoy years of health and happiness," he offered.

They all drank.

All except Ann who, with a stubborn show of pride, refused to give her step-father the satisfaction of accepting his good wishes.

They'd barely swallowed the champagne when James Rossiter went on. "Now then, since I know Captain Hardesty is casting off at four o'clock and eager to get down to the riverfront, I have one last toast to give you." He raised his glass again. "To Captain Hardesty, my new son-in-law, and to the Andromeda. May the river always lie deep before the both of you and may your troubles fall quickly in your wake."

"Here, here!" everyone agreed and drank.

From the way Chase swallowed the champagne, Ann could see he was impatient to be on about his duties. But Ann had a few things to settle with her new husband before he left.

"I need to have a word with you," she told him. "We can talk in my father's study."

Ann saw Chase cast a glance in the commodore's direction. That he thought he needed her father's permission to talk to his wife boded ill for their discussion. And though Ann's belly fluttered with uneasiness, she refused to back down.

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EXCERPT FROM MOON IN THE WATER
BY ELIZABETH GRAYSON
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