“Don’t worry,” he said, “you’ll have plenty to distract you at Tempest Hall. In the meantime, I thought we might go to the Ice House for a bit of refreshment. My inquiries have unearthed the information that Simon isn’t here at all. He expects us to take the schooner to north to Speightstown, where he’s waiting, but the next one doesn’t leave for nearly an hour. Let’s have a swizzle.”
She smiled up at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds like my cup of tea.”
“Swizzles are a far cry from tea,” he replied with an ironically arched brow.
The Ice House turned out to be not only the supply source for Bridgetown’s domestic ice, but also a popular meeting place by virtue of its downstairs shops and upstairs restaurant.
“Are we going to have a meal?” Cathy inquired, looking around curiously as Adam guided her up to a spacious room with windows open to admit the balmy trade winds. Their table was surrounded by easy chairs, and the sounds of relaxed conversation hummed on the warm air. Alice settled down next to Cathy’s chair and resumed her nap.
“The last time I checked, there wasn’t anything worth eating here except for flying fish. Are you hungry?”
“Not very.” She watched, consumed with curiosity, as he ordered two swizzles and a bowl of iced water for Alice. “I’ve never heard of flying fish.”
“I don’t know if you’ll find them anywhere except Barbados. They’re small, but delicious.”
“Swizzles aren’t fish, are they?” she asked, but he only laughed in response.
Soon, their waiter brought two drinks on a tray. When Cathy asked what was in hers, he grinned and replied, “Jus’ a bit of rum, ma’am. Also lime, sugar, an’ some bitters. We whisk wit’ de swizzle stick.” The waiter demonstrated with the four-pronged stick that protruded from her glass, rolling it between his palms. The drink frothed invitingly. “Do enjoy, ma’am!”
“Thank you,” she replied. “It looks very refreshing.”
Adam watched as his bride took her first thirsty swallow. “Be careful. It’s stronger than it tastes.”
“It’s delicious! Do we drink these all the time on Barbados?”
“If we do, we don’t get anything done.” His eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched her nose turn pink.
“What do we have to get done, for heaven’s sake? There aren’t any tennis courts or polo fields, and I don’t see anyone out riding horses, and there certainly isn’t anywhere to shop. What else is there to do but sit under a fan, read, and drink swizzles?”
“You might be surprised.”
“I suppose I should have realized. I mean, Barbados is an island, after all, and this is the West Indies.” Pausing, she sighed. “I haven’t seen one motor car. Perhaps that’s just as well since the streets are dirt...”
“All right,” Adam conceded, “it’s true that Barbados is far behind America— and probably miles behind your lifestyle in Newport. If I’d known that you cared for it so much, I might have made a better effort to prepare you. However, I seem to remember you telling me that you despised your old routine— the tennis games, the polo matches, the Worth gowns. Did I misunderstand?”
As he leaned toward her, the cynical tone of his voice cut through the haze created by her swizzle. She tried to focus. “No. I thought that was the way I felt. It was the way I felt. Feel.” She hiccupped. “Can I have another swizzle?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I promise not to complain about Barbados. I just felt homesick for a moment, but now it’s over.”
“Cathy, you’re half-drunk already and you still have some left. Just—” He broke off at the sight of one of his island acquaintances bearing down on their table. “Oh, God.”
“Well, well, if it isn’t the esteemed Viscount Raveneau!” the fellow cried. “Good to see you, old man! When did you get back? Gadzooks, here’s your old Labrador. Hard to believe she’s still alive.”
“Alice doesn’t know she’s old, Basil, so I’ll thank you to mind your manners.” After a further exchange of pleasantries, Adam gestured toward Cathy. “Basil Lightfoot, I’d like you to meet my new bride, Catherine Parrish Raveneau.”
“Bride, you say?” Wide-eyed, the six-foot-four-inch Lightfoot knelt next to Cathy’s chair, giving her her first clear look at him. His horsey, sunburned face wore an expression of utter shock. “My lady, your husband has gotten the better of me this day. I’m honored to make the acquaintance of the woman who brought this notorious stallion into the barn!”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lightfoot.” Cathy was relieved to hear that the swizzle had not garbled her speech.
“Basil’s ancestor, Xavier Crowe, was a pirate of sorts... and my grandfather’s arch enemy,” Adam remarked.
“Such a lot of nonsense!” Lightfoot exclaimed with a toss of his big head. “He was only my great-uncle, nothing to me. I’m far too gentle a soul to give any thought to old blood feuds.”
“But didn’t Crowe’s Nest, his estate, pass to you a few years ago?”
“That drafty old pile? I couldn’t have cared less! Sold it off last winter. Good riddance!”
Adam glanced over and saw Cathy sway slightly in her chair. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we have to be going now. Simon is meeting us with the carriage.”
“But, I thought—” She broke off at the sight of his warning look, aimed over the back of Basil Lightfoot’s big head.
“We’ll have to get together soon, all right?” Struggling to his feet, the fellow thumped Adam on the back. “You know, your marriage is going to be big news on this island. The women are going to be spitting mad that you didn’t shop right here at home instead of going to the States for a wife. All they do is complain about how difficult it is to find a husband on Barbados!”
Cathy felt strange, hearing about all the island women who coveted Adam. Lifting her glass, she finished the swizzle. Why had she dreamed for so long of getting away from home? At that moment, she even missed her mother.
Adam was looming in front of her, taking the drink out of her hands. “Are you all right?”
“Of course. I’m fine!” She wished he would kiss her, or simply hold her close in his arms and reassure her that she need never be lonely or afraid as long as they were together.
“Christ, Cathy, pull yourself together. This room is full of Bajan society, and I’d prefer that they not carry tales of my intoxicated bride.”
Her eyes stung, but she held her head up. Why had he given her that awful drink? Didn’t he know how potent they were? Her head began to throb on one side as they went down the wooden stairs, followed closely by Alice, and emerged onto Broad Street. Everywhere there were new smells, dust, noise, voices speaking a part-English dialect that Cathy couldn’t understand, people who looked different than those she’d known all her life, and unrelenting tropical heat. She was struggling to open her parasol when Adam cursed softly beside her.
“Hello, Adam.”
The sound of a cultured female voice took Cathy’s attention away from her parasol.
“Gemma,” Adam said. “I didn’t expect to see you. I don’t think it’s been even an hour since I set foot on Bajan soil.”
“We women have a sixth sense when it comes to our men. That’s lucky, don’t you think, since I didn’t receive a letter to tell me you were coming?”
Cathy felt as if she were invisible. Gemma, meanwhile, was very real. Exceedingly graceful and beautiful, the woman had a café-au-lait complexion, striking dark eyes, a full mouth, and elegant bone structure. She wore a crisp, lace-edged shirtwaist with a gold pin over one breast and an unwrinkled skirt. Cathy decided that Gemma possessed all the cool composure that she lacked.
“It’s been such a long time,” Adam was saying, “because of the quarantine... I’m glad to see that you’re all right.”
“Of course I am.” Her eyes fixed on his. “So is my son.”
He went pale under his tan. “Your— son?”
“Yes. You two haven’t met. Paul was born a few months after you left Barbados, in 1901.”
“Indeed? Well, congratulations. I’m sure he must be a very handsome child.” Adam turned to Cathy, who had just slipped her hand through his arm. “There is a new addition to my life as well. Allow me to present Catherine, my wife. Cathy, this is Gemma Hart. She owns the Hart Hotel, located just across the street.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Cathy said, smiling against her better instincts. “We have a new friend, Theo Harrismith, who has just arrived to manage the Ocean Breeze Hotel. Do you know it?”
Gemma laughed as she lightly took Cathy’s hand in greeting. “I not only know that sad excuse for a hotel, but I know Theo as well. I certainly don’t fear that competition!” She took a few steps past them, then glanced back at Adam. “My dear, I do hope you will pay me a visit when you can. I should like very much for you to meet little Paul.”