Patricia Potter Read Free Page B

that he was a gambler and, worse, a coward. He had, several times, refused to race his riverboat, Lucky Lady, on the Mississippi, asserting only fools risked their lives on such ventures, although every other riverboat owner took pride in the races. It was also said he cheated at cards, although no one could ever prove it.
    Meredith had listened, never quite believing. Such tales portrayed a rogue, so unlike the young man who had been so kind to her.
    She looked at the man patiently awaiting an answer. Quinn Devereux. Her aunt Opal would be horrified. Meredith’s brown eyes suddenly twinkled with golden lights, and a flicker of a smile passed across her lips.
    “Oh how very sweet of him,” she simpered. “Tell Captain Devereux we accept…with thanks,” she ordered the tall man. Briefly she wondered whether he was a slave or freeman. Although he appeared polite enough there was something in his bearing that didn’t quite fit. He must be a freeman, she finally decided. The riverboats plying the Mississippi favored free labor since it was easy for slaves to escape once they reached Ohio.
    The man nodded with dignity and turned, walking away with a slight limp.
    Now why in heaven’s name did I do that? The last thing she should do was spend the evening with a man who’d been on her mind for years. How could she possibly continue her masquerade as a spoiled ninny when her heart was pumping so abnormally? She remembered his eyes…as blue as the summer sky at dusk, she had thought then. Were they still that blue? Had they ever been that blue? Or was it just a child’s dream? And if he was the rogue he was reputed to be…
    Dear God, but she had enough problems already.
    But he’s Brett’s brother, and it’s only good manners to accept the invitation, scoundrel or not.
    And she needed a change from pomposity. She had suffered so much stuffiness during the past weeks of traveling, not the least of which at the hands of Brett Devereux. He was frustrated with her spending ways, and had tried to instruct her on the wisdom of thrift rather than indulgence.
    Where did all the money go? He had asked the question with exasperation. Why did she need more?
    She had shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “A lady must have clothes…”
    “You should have enough for six women,” he said, sighing as he authorized another draft.
    If he really knew…
    It was difficult to imagine the very respectable Brett Devereux having a black-sheep brother. It should be immensely interesting, she told herself, and perhaps she could pick up some information of value. And maybe…he would remember her, remember that summer’s day.
    Now, Meredith thought, to convince Aunt Opal…
    The saloon was one of the finest Meredith had ever seen. Gilded chandeliers sent glittering streams of light against the Brussels carpet and frescoes. The stained-glass skylights twisted the last colorful remnants of a setting sun against the silver and crystal set on snow-white linen tablecloths.
    Meredith and her aunt were led to a large round table where six men were already seated. All stood immediately as they approached, but Meredith saw only the striking man who rose lazily. The movement was almost insolent in its slow deliberate manner, and the expression on his face was both amused and mocking.
    “Why, how gallant of you all,” Meredith chirped. “Please do sit down,” she added as she settled herself awkwardly in a chair held out by one of the diners. She noticed her aunt wince at her clumsiness. She slid a sidelong glance to Quinn, who so completely dominated the table as he descended back into his seat like a sleek languorous leopard.
    He was dressed in black, except for his white shirt and cravat and, strangely enough, gloves. She wondered about that briefly, but everything about him was so different, so striking, that what she might have considered an affectation on someone else seemed perfectly natural with him.
    An inquisitive smile hung on his lips