Page 14 of Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies #3)

The company hired night watchmen to patrol the premises, but it took Hugh and John several minutes to find the pair of them sleeping off a night of hard drinking in a small room at the back of the warehouse. Staring at the bleary-eyed sots who were supposed to be guarding the place, Hugh was not surprised that those behind the thefts and Etienne's death felt they could do as they wished.

The city guards were sent for, and by the time they had arrived and Hugh and John explained their finding of the body and answered the questions of the local authorities, it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. The two Lancasters decided that no good would be served by waking Madame Gras at that hour of the morning to tell her that her only son was dead.

An hour after first light, Hugh bathed and changed his clothes and prepared to wake Madame Gras with the tragic news of Etienne's death. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life, and it did not help that he was consumed by guilt. He might not have wielded the knife which had killed Etienne, but it certainly had been his actions which had set in motion the events which had led to the murder. A tight ball of fury fought with his guilt, and he swore to himself that Etienne's murder would not go unpunished.

The meeting with Madame Gras was every bit as grim as Hugh had thought it would be. The family was shattered, and he spent several hours with Etienne's relatives genuinely commiserating with them for their loss. As the word spread of the tragedy, other relatives arrived, and by the time Hugh departed from the modest Gras home, it was filled to overflowing with grieving family members—grandparents, uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews. Hugh was able to leave knowing full well that Madame Gras and Etienne's sisters were being enfolded into the extended Creole family bosom. Before he departed Hugh had a private word with Madame Gras and her elder brother, Laurent Cloutier, who seemed a sensible man. With delicate tact he explained that Etienne's family would suffer no financial hardship because of his death. The relief in Madame's grief-ravaged face did little to soothe Hugh's sense of guilt. As he walked away, he was conscious that it would be a long time before the image of Etienne's dead body faded from his mind.

The trip to Amour had naturally been postponed until after Etienne's funeral, which was held on Friday. Hugh sent word to Micaela that they would be delayed, but he did not mention why. Hugh also notified the other partners of Etienne's death and requested their presence at the funeral. It was then that he discovered that none of them, despite having said differently, had actually left the city. Although Hugh could find no obvious faults, their various reasons for remaining in New Orleans, even Jasper's, seemed specious.

But watching the four men as they expressed their sympathy to a heavily veiled Madame Gras at the cemetery on Friday, Hugh speculated about them. Which one, he wondered savagely. Which one of those men either murdered Etienne himself or ordered it done.

Hugh dismissed Jasper from his list of suspects—might as well suspect his stepfather as Jasper. To his surprise, he found that he did not feel very comfortable putting Jean on his list either. He and Jean had come a long way these past months and whether it was simply that closer association had engendered a mutual respect for each other or whether it was just that they were both older and less inclined to take offense so easily, he did not know. It was probably a bit of both, but Hugh found himself hoping that when the guilty party was unmasked, it would not be Jean Dupree.

He still favored Alain as his villain. For obvious reasons he did not want Francois to be the culprit behind the ugliness. But watching Alain and Francois walking off with their heads close together as they conversed, Hugh was aware of a sense of unease. He could not ignore the fact that Francois was very good friends with Alain, and that old adage, "birds of a feather, flock together," ran through his mind.

Hugh called a meeting at his house immediately following the funeral. Originally he'd been determined to use his personal fortune to pay for the generous sum which would be settled upon Etienne's family, but after a great deal of argument, John convinced him that the company should pay the money—Etienne had been an employee, and whatever guilt Hugh might feel, what happened was not his fault. Hugh didn't like it, but he could see the sense of it and he took a certain satisfaction in knowing that whoever had killed Etienne was going to be livid that company funds were being expended in such a manner. Picturing the chagrin of the murderer, he smiled without mirth. He was looking forward to watching the expressions on the faces of the others when they heard the news.

Everyone gathered in the main salon of the house. After some brief comments about the tragedy, Hugh explained the purpose of the meeting. There was an astonished silence when he finished speaking and though he was watching closely, no one reacted significantly.

"But why?" exclaimed Francois, puzzled. "It is not our fault that Etienne died."

"You think not?" Hugh inquired with a lift of his brow. "He worked for us, and he was killed in one of our warehouses. I think we bear some responsibility for the tragedy."

"Then pay him out of your own fortune!" snapped Francois.

"I find that I agree with my friend," Alain said smoothly. "It is no concern of ours. It is unfortunate, but..." He gave a very Gallic shrug.

"Well, I, for one, see nothing wrong with the idea," said Jasper. "The sum will not hurt the company, although our profits may dip a little more for the time being."

Francois glared at Jasper and slumped back in his chair. A muscle jumped in Jasper's jaw, and he sent Francois a hard look. "I thought Etienne was your friend—will you see his mother and sisters brought to ruin?"

It was Alain who answered. "Friendship has nothing to do with it. It is a matter of business, of money. I would not have accepted Christophe's shares in the company if I had known," he said in a sneering voice, "that it was going to be turned into a charity."

"If that is the way you feel," Hugh retorted, "I am willing to buy your shares right now."

Alain sent him a hooded glance. "Are you?" he purred. And at Hugh's nod, he named a price nearly five times their value.

The words had hardly left his mouth before Hugh said, "If you will sign an agreement to that effect this afternoon, I shall have the money transferred to you on Monday morning before I leave for Amour."

Rising gracefully to his feet, Alain bowed. "Prepare the agreement."

Alain's offer and Hugh's swift acceptance of it struck the others speechless, and it wasn't until after Alain had signed with contemptuous flourish the hastily drawn document that the silence was broken. Preparing to leave, Alain murmured, "I will not say that it has been a pleasure to do business with you, Monsieur Lancaster, but I will say that I am very happy no longer to be one of your partners!"

Hugh smiled like a tiger. "And I, monsieur, am overjoyed that Galland, Lancaster and Dupree will no longer have you meddling in its affairs. Good day."

Alain's hand tightened on the malacca cane he was carrying, but he merely tipped his head and glanced at Francis. "I shall see you before you leave the city?"

Francois nodded.

When the door shut behind Alain's form, John Lancaster let out his breath in a rush. "Whew! For a few minutes there, I thought you might be fighting another duel with that fellow."

Hugh smiled. "So did I." Looking at the others, he said, "Are there any more objections to settling the money on Etienne's family?"

Jean stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. "We have never done such a thing before, but then we have never had someone who worked for us murdered before either. I regret the necessity for it, but I do not think that I would rest easy knowing that Madame Gras and her daughters were destitute. It is only honorable that we do something for his family."

Francois snorted. Springing to his feet, he muttered, "I do not see why you called us all together—the decision had already been made. You have wasted my time."

The door shut resoundingly behind him. Jean looked embarrassed. "He is young," he said as he rose from his chair, "and much spoiled. I apologize for him." Glancing at Hugh, he asked wryly, "Is the invitation to visit you at Amour still open?"

Hugh grinned. "Do you think my wife or mother-in-law would allow me to bar their relatives from their home?"

Jean smiled crookedly. "Very well then. We shall see you on Wednesday or Thursday. Or at least I will. Who knows what that hotheaded young fool Francois will do!"

Jean started toward the door, but Jasper said, "Wait, mon ami, I shall walk with you." He bowed to Hugh and John. "I assume there is no other business you wish to discuss?"

Hugh shook his head, and Jasper said, "Then I shall wish you a pleasant trip to Amour on Monday and look forward to seeing you and your charming wife sometime later in the summer."

When Hugh and John were alone, Hugh sat down in a large, overstuffed chair of burgundy and gray cut velvet and murmured, "That went rather well, do you not agree?"

"Better than I expected," John said slowly. He frowned. "I am rather surprised at how easily Husson gave up his shares, even if he did charge you an outrageous sum for them."

Hugh shrugged. "I would have paid double that amount if it got rid of him. And as for the ease with which he sold them to me, if he is the one behind our troubles, he has to know that the days in which he could loot the company at will are coming to an end." Hugh grinned. "Perhaps, like the rat I believe him to be, he has decided to desert the ship while there is still time."

"Perhaps. But I still do not like it. I feel there is something almost ominous about his actions."

On Monday morning when Hugh transferred the money to the account which Alain had specified, they were still discussing Alain's motives as well as the tragedy of Etienne's death and the events surrounding it. Feeling as if he had made little progress in the situation at Galland, Lancaster and Dupree, Hugh was reluctant to abandon the city, but John had made him see that he would accomplish little by remaining in New Orleans.

"The fever season, you know," John said gently. "And it is unlikely that anything of note will happen until Le Coq arrives, which you yourself have admitted will not be for a few weeks yet. You have hired new guards and tripled their number, and terrified Monsieur Brisson within an inch of his life at the fate that will be his if he does not instantly notify you of the ship's arrival. For now, there is nothing else you can do."

Hugh grimaced, but privately agreeing with his stepfather, he prepared for their journey to Amour.

Having decided for the next few weeks to close up the house, all the remaining servants had been sent ahead to Amour earlier that morning. Ordinarily John and Hugh would have ridden horseback and made swifter time on their journey, but they would be driving, owing to the fact that Hugh wanted to leave Micaela with the curricle when he returned to New Orleans.

They left the city immediately after Hugh had taken care of the Husson business. It was midmorning, and the heat had not yet reached its zenith, although it was already warm and muggy. The pair of elegant bays which pulled the curricle moved out smartly, and the gentlemen were afforded a pleasant, cooling breeze for the start of their journey.

As the environs of New Orleans disappeared behind them, they seemed to leave behind their troubles also, and by the time they had been on the road for an hour, both men were relaxed as they conversed idly and enjoyed the passing scenery. Hugh was aware of a burgeoning excitement, a growing eagerness to see Micaela, the brief time they had been parted suddenly seeming endless. He wondered just what sort of reception he would receive from his wife. Cool? Wary? Indifferent? Warm?

In the time that had passed since he had realized that he loved his bride, there had been no truly free moment in which to explore his startling discovery of the state of his heart. He had come to accept it as fact that he did love her—deeply—and it seemed incredible to him that he could have been so blind to his own emotions. He knew that Micaela fascinated him, almost from the moment he met her. He knew that he lusted mightily after her lush body, but he had not thought that there had been any lasting emotion behind those feelings.

Yet he had taken her as his wife, even knowing that she had connived and tricked him into marriage—even knowing, if Alice was to be believed, Micaela had openly admitted theirs was a business arrangement. His lips quirked into a rueful smile. He had been a thickheaded fool! He had told himself, convinced himself, that marrying Micaela had been an expeditious way to gain her bed and to make certain that her shares in the company had not ended up in the hands of someone like Husson. His reasons, he now admitted with a certain amount of amused chagrin, had been foolish in the extreme and composed of sheer unadulterated nonsense. He loved Micaela! And had, he realized with equal parts of despair and satisfaction, for a long time. With a silly smile on his face, he was only partially aware of his stepfather seated beside him and the road ahead of him. Most of his thoughts dwelled on his future with his dark-eyed, sweet-lipped love at his side.

The dusty, rutted road they were driving upon ambled along the Mississippi River, haphazardly following parallel to the channel of the river. Heavy vegetation obscured the river occasionally, but during other stretches, the edge of the road was not twenty feet from the sluggishly drifting water. There were places where the rampant greenery pressed close to the narrow trail, leaving a scant foot or two between the dust-rimmed leaves of brush and berry vines and the sides of the curricle; other areas were broad and open, the vegetation growing low and sparse.

At present, they were driving through an area where the road was fairly wide and straight, the gray-blue river was on one side; on the other tangled brush and swampy undergrowth. The lush, verdant foliage was not as encroaching along this section of the trail, and there was a decent amount of openness, perhaps thirty feet between the edge of the road and the massed green wilderness. It was, Hugh would realize later, a perfect location for an ambush.

Suddenly, several things happened simultaneously; a ground-nesting bird at the edge of the road erupted into flight, startling the horses; the curricle swerved wildly as the horses plunged and shied; and the crack of pistol fire rang out. Hugh owed his very life to that nesting bird, the bullet grazing his arm instead of finding his heart as it would have if the curricle had not swerved so unexpectedly. He took a deep breath. Though he did not yet realize it, a few inches to the right and he would have been a dead man.

"Get down!" he yelled at John as he slapped the reins on the backs of the horses and brought his whip into play. At the first stinging lash of the whip, the horses leaped forward, even as a second shot buried itself in the cushion of the backrest near Hugh. Too damn near for comfort, Hugh thought grimly, as he exhorted his pair into a dead run. The horses responded like the thoroughbreds they were, their long necks outstretched, their powerful black legs gleaming in the sunlight, the curricle fairly flying down the dusty road.

Ambushes by murderous scoundrels were not uncommon along any road, but instinct told Hugh that this was no simple robbery. Someone, concealed in the undergrowth, had just tried to kill him, and he sincerely doubted that it had been a bandit with a penchant for killing his victims.

A third bullet smacked into the rear of the curricle and then the horses, black manes and tails flying, were thundering around a curve in the road, the curricle tipping precariously as they tore around the bend. The curve was sharp and one wheel left the ground, spinning uselessly in the air as the curricle rounded the curve. Hugh and John threw their weight in that direction and the curricle bounced down jarringly as the wheel found earth again. Two miles down the road and no sign of pursuit, Hugh finally slowed his horses to a trot.

His mouth set, he glanced at John. "Are you all right?"

John nodded. "You?"

Hugh looked down at his arm, noticing for the first time the tear in his coat and the faint gleam of blood on his sleeve. "I think I have been hit, but it does not feel serious." He grinned at his stepfather's expression. "A mere scratch, sir. I assure you."

A closer examination of the wound proved Hugh's words correct. The bullet had ripped a gash in his upper arm, but beyond a burning sensation, Hugh seemed none the worse for his ordeal. Shrugging quickly back into his coat, Hugh said, "I do not want to linger here any longer than necessary. I don't think our attacker will follow us, but I would just as soon take no chances."

Despite what he had said for John's benefit, Hugh silently considered briefly the possibility of going back and taking a look around. Wisdom dictated otherwise—a lone horseman could easily disappear into the forests, while any attempt to follow in the curricle would prove disastrous. Besides, whoever had shot at them was more than likely gone from the scene by now. And John was with him. The shock of Etienne's death had left Hugh feeling particularly wary about involving others in what was clearly becoming a deadly enterprise. There was no way in hell that he would risk harm coming to his stepfather. The need for direct and decisive retaliation gnawed at him, though, and it was only with great reluctance that he finally snapped the reins and started the horses into motion.

As was their wont when traveling, Hugh and John had brought pistols with them. But there had been no time to bring their own weapons into play, and since their attacker had been well hidden, to have fired upon him would have been a waste of precious seconds and ammunition. But the next time, Hugh thought, they would be prepared, both pistols now lying handily on the seat between them, ready to be snatched up in a moment. They would not be caught by surprise again.

The remainder of the journey was without incident, but both men were tense and alert, their narrowed-eyed gazes carefully scanning the passing countryside. Hugh kept the horses at a swift pace, slowing only long enough from time to time for the animals to restore their vigor, before pushing onward.

They had driven in silence for several minutes before John said, "A robber with murder in mind, do you think? Or something more sinister?"

"More sinister," Hugh replied bluntly. "It could have been an attempted robbery, I will not deny it, but you will have a hard time convincing me that someone did not just try to kill me."

John agreed. "My opinion also. Etienne's killer?"

"I do not know. Probably. There are lawless, murderous men aplenty in this area, but it would seem too much of a coincidence that Etienne and I would cross paths with two different such men."

"But who?" John demanded. "If it is the same man who killed Etienne... One of our erstwhile partners, do you think?"

That dangerous tiger's smile crossed Hugh's face. "I do not know, sir, but I certainly intend to find out—soon." His expression grew hard. "Everyone knew that we were leaving for Amour this morning. And knowing that, it would have been a simple task for anyone to set up the ambush."

"I do not like this at all," John admitted. "This person is becoming more vicious by the hour. Etienne is dead, and you were just shot at." He looked worriedly at Hugh. "If they tried once, what is to stop them from trying again?"

"Nothing, except that now they have lost the element of surprise and believe me, Papa, I do not intend to make myself an easy target for them again."

"Who do you think it was?"

Hugh slanted his stepfather a mocking look. "Well, and I could be wrong, but I suspect that we have discovered why Husson was so easily convinced to sell me his shares—even at an inflated price."

John frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I think," Hugh began slowly, "that it was Husson back there who tried to kill me. He is no friend to me, and he had nothing to lose by my death and everything to gain—I had just bought his shares and paid him for them. Before I came to New Orleans he was a suitor for Micaela's hand.... I think Monsieur Husson saw a way to dupe me twice. The first by making me pay an exorbitant price for his shares while I was alive and the second, in due time, after he had murdered me, by marrying my widow and gaining control of a majority interest in the firm, including the shares he had made me buy from him."

" Diabolical!" exclaimed John, horrified.