Page 17 of Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies #3)

"What!" Micaela asked in obvious astonishment, her lovely smile fading as she stared at Hugh.

Hugh grimaced. She was going to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, was she? He found that deeply disappointing. From what he had overheard of their conversation, he knew that Francois and perhaps even Jean had put enormous pressure on her to marry him. When she had given into their pleas, she had done so more for their sakes than her own. It stung him to remember that she had admitted to Francois that she did not like him very much and that not even his fortune had tempted her. Obviously, she had changed her mind, but he wished she would be honest with him. Marrying a man one did not love in order to save one's family was not an ignoble act. Which did not mean he was happy about being married because of what he could do for her family. The idea that Micaela considered marriage to him a sacrifice for the Dupree family's continued well-being left a distinctly nasty taste in his mouth.

"I said," he repeated coolly, "that I know why you married me. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard that revealing conversation you had with Francois at the gazebo at Riverbend."

When Micaela still looked puzzled, he went on harshly, "The one where your brother pleaded with you to marry me—I believe he referred to me as 'young and handsome and a man who would someday be one of the wealthiest, most influential citizens in New Orleans'—or something of that nature." He smiled grimly. "And then there is the matter of that sharp tongue of yours. Who else felt its lash as I did?"

Micaela's eyes widened in dawning comprehension. A bitter laugh was startled from her. "You thought that Francois was referring to you?"

Hugh winced at the scorn in her voice. "Considering what happened, I think it was an honest assumption," he replied levelly.

Her eyes flashed, and she was suddenly, blazingly furious at him. To think such a thing of her! "You think that I married you for my family? That I connived and trapped you into marriage so I could get my hands on your money?"

She looked like an angry young tigress , her hair in wild disarray around her shoulders, her cheeks blooming with angry roses and those dark eyes full of fire. Her hands were on her hips and her temptingly shaped mouth was tight with fury.

Her wrath gave him pause, and somewhat warily, he answered, "It seemed likely, after overhearing that conversation and your subsequent actions. You did put us in a compromising situation. A situation which forced our marriage—and gave you access to my fortune."

Micaela's dainty nostrils flared with suppressed fury.

"You arrogant, conceited, snooping snake ! Do you really think that Francois wanted me to marry you!" She laughed angrily. "Your belief, monsieur, in your own charms and wealth is far superior to reality. It was Alain Husson whom Francois wanted me to marry. Francois is deeply in debt to him, and if I had married Alain, the debt would have been paid. You, I am sorry to say, would have been the last person Francois would have wanted me to marry!"

Hugh's brow snapped together in a ferocious frown. Her anger was real, and he realized with a sickening lurch in the region of his belly that what she said made sense. Perfect sense. Of course, Francois would not have wanted her to marry him. Of course, Alain Husson would have been the logical choice. With chagrin, Hugh recalled again that he had even heard gossip that Alain was courting her. And he had known about Francois's debt to Alain. What a block-headed buffoon he had been to leap to the, no use pretending otherwise, conceited conclusion that it was himself Francois had been urging her to marry. There were, he admitted wryly, other young men who also fit Francois's description—only he had been too arrogant to realize it. Or perhaps, he had not wanted to realize it. He had, it seemed, completely misunderstood the situation.

A man grasping at straws, he said desperately, "You arranged for us to be found in that old hunting shack. You deliberately stayed behind with me. Tell me that was an accident!"

Her lip curled. "Non, monsieur," she said sweetly. "That was no accident. It was a simple act of human kindness. I thought that you were hurt. I thought that I was helping you."

Appalled, Hugh stared at her, every word she said shattering his conception of the reasons behind their marriage. She had claimed to be innocent before, but he had not believed her. He had thought she was lying, but only because of what he had overheard. If Alain had been the man her brother had urged her to marry... then their being found alone had just been... unfortunate. Her stopping to help him had been entirely innocent and not part of a clever scheme to trap him into marriage. He swallowed painfully.

Of course, he reminded himself weakly, she could be lying now. Alain might not have been the subject of that overheard conversation, no name had ever been mentioned, but Hugh knew that he was only chasing will-o'-the-wisps. The conversation made entirely too much sense if he substituted Alain for himself. He had, he realized, blundered badly—at least in one respect. But remembering Alice's words that Micaela had admitted to her that their marriage was purely business, he said, "On our wedding day you told Alice Summerfield that you had only married me because—"

Micaela did not allow him to finish. " Alice Summerfield! How dare you say her name to me! I told her nothing! Why should I? She was a stranger to me. But you!" Her lip curled contemptuously. "She told me a great deal about you! You married me, loving her—you deserted her, broke your promises of marriage to her to marry me. What does that make you?"

Hugh's brows snapped together. "What the devil are you talking about? There was never anything between Alice and me except friendship." He looked a little guilty. "There was a time that I... did consider marriage with her, but nothing came of it—I never loved her, nor did I ever say such a thing to her—or offer marriage to her. And if she said any differently, she was lying."

Even as he defended himself, Hugh realized precisely how Alice had played them one against the other. He and Micaela had been strangers forced into marriage—they had known little about each other, and there certainly had been no trust between them. How easy it had been for Alice to meld fact and fiction, to plant seeds of doubt in Micaela's head, as well as his own. He could not excuse himself for misunderstanding the conversation he'd overheard between Micaela and Francis, but he should have recognized Alice's words for what they were—the mendacious jabs of a jealous woman. Alice had confirmed his own worst fears, and she had given Micaela an entirely erroneous impression of their relationship.

Across the short space that divided them, he eyed his wife. His very beautiful, very angry wife. She did not look, he decided ruefully, to be in the mood to listen to any apologies or explanations he might offer. And he was very aware that there was little he could say to excuse his arrogant assumptions. But he had to try.

Attempting a smile, he began, "Micaela, I owe you—"

"Ah, bah!" she snapped. "I do not want to hear any more silliness from you. You have blamed me from the beginning for our marriage when it is you who connived and schemed."

"I most certainly did not!" Hugh said indignantly, outraged that she thought such a thing of him.

"Non? Forgive me if I doubt your word. Is it not true that when we married, Jean turned over control of my shares to you?"

"Yes, but that was only because I am your husband, dammit. They are not my shares, however, they are yours. I am only holding them for you in the same way your uncle did."

"Ah, so then, my shares in the company mean nothing to you? I could demand that you give them to me and you would? I could say, give them away to... Alain, and it would not bother you?"

Hugh hesitated, fatally. Micaela smiled."Never mind," she said coolly. "I do not want to hear your lying answers." She pointed a slim, accusing finger at him. "It is you, monsieur, who trapped me—you who pretended to be hurt and who pretended to fall asleep so that we would be found in such a compromising situation. That is what Francois believes. He believes you did it deliberately in order to force me to marry you and gain control of my shares, thereby increasing your control of the company."

"Blast the damned company!" Hugh burst out, just as furious as she. His gray eyes glittering, he demanded, "And what do you think? Do you really think that I would stoop to such dishonorable tactics?"

She regarded him for a long moment. "Why should I not?" she finally asked. "You believed it of me." And she spun on her heel and stalked from the room.

"Micaela! Dammit, do not walk away from me!" Hugh shouted after her, but she ignored him, and, a moment later, he was alone. Alone to contemplate the quagmire into which he had blindly stumbled. Or perhaps, not so blindly, he thought furiously. Pigheadedly was more like it.

Hugh spent the remainder of the afternoon alone in his bedroom brooding over his mistakes, planning and discarding a dozen schemes to redeem himself with his angry wife. Nothing useful came to mind. He had erred, badly, and it appeared that he was going to have to suffer for it.

* * *

Dinner that evening was a peculiar affair. On the surface, everything was as it should be; Micaela was lively and full of smiles, Lisette continued her role of polite in-law toward John Lancaster, and the two men both acted as if they had not a care in the world.

Still smarting from the argument with Micaela, Hugh was on his best behavior. He complimented his wife on the meal, wild duck stewed with young turnips; commented approvingly on the changes she had wrought in the house and mentioned how charming she looked in her gown of jonquil silk and lace, but all his efforts gained him was a cool stare. John did not fare much better. The conversation during dinner was naturally of a general nature, but after dinner, it was decided that the four of them would brave the mosquitoes for a few minutes and take a short walk in the warm, moonlit evening. When the younger couple strolled ahead of them, John hoped for a private word or two with Lisette, who was walking beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

He thought she had never looked lovelier. Her dark eyes here bright and glowing, her black hair was worn swept up on top of her head, affixed with a gleaming jeweled comb that winked in the moonlight, and the ruby-colored gown she was wearing intensified the ivory hue of her shoulders and arms. Aware of the powerful attraction she still exerted over him, John said softly, "You look very beautiful tonight, more beautiful than I ever remember seeing you."

Lisette glanced at him, one slim brow arched. "Indeed, monsieur. Does that mean I looked like a hag previously?"

John scowled. "That was not what I meant, and you know it."

Lisette shrugged. "It is not necessary for you to pay me compliments. I am long past the days when pretty words turned my head."

John bit back a curse. Controlling himself with an effort, he muttered, "I was not trying to turn your head—I was merely commenting on how nice you look this evening."

"Merci," she said coolly, "but I would prefer if you did not make personal comments. We are nearly strangers to each other and only the marriage of my daughter and your stepson forms any sort of bond between us. Please remember that in the future."

Gritting his teeth and stifling a strong urge to shake her... and then take her into his arms and kiss her senseless, John made no further attempts to breach the wall she had placed between them.

* * *

The arrival of Jean and Francois two days later, on Thursday, was greeted with relief by everyone. The intervening time had not been unpleasant, but Hugh and John were conscious of treading on thin ice around a pair of unfailingly polite, but frustratingly elusive ladies. The two men viewed the arrival of another pair of males as much-needed reinforcements in a war they seemed to have no hope of winning. As for the ladies, they, too, were delighted at the influx of company, the strain of trying to keep two determined men firmly in place and at arm's length was fraying their nerves.

Hugh was still wearing his arm in a sling, but the wound was healing nicely, and in a week or two he would be completely recovered. Naturally, the attack on him was of great concern to Jean and Francois. After the first flurry of greetings had been exchanged, the attack became the topic of conversation when the group retreated inside to the coolness of the house.

Once refreshments were served and consumed, and all aspects of the attack on Hugh and the condition of his wound had been thoroughly explored, the two guests were shown to their rooms. It was midafternoon, the air still and muggy, the sun a great blazing orange globe in the cloudless blue sky. Everyone remaining inside, until the worst of the heat had dissipated.

Since Micaela was not sharing his bed again, and had not since their disastrous argument, Hugh found time heavy on his hands. He was not used to indolence and his wound, while not totally incapacitating, did hamper his activities. It would have helped if he could have enmeshed himself in the affairs of the business, but here in the country even that escape was denied him. Restless and bored, he had already gone over the account books of the plantation and yesterday had conferred a long while with the new overseer about plans for the future of Amour.

Ordinarily, Hugh enjoyed living in the country, partaking of those activities which were common occurrences, but there would be no hunting, fishing, or riding for him for a few days yet. Nor, in the face of the oppressive heat and humidity, which caused even the lightest clothing to cling damply to one's skin, did Hugh view a drive with enthusiasm.

Neither did his lonely bedroom hold much allure. Wistfully, he looked at the big inviting bed, remembering the joy he had shared with Micaela there just a few days ago, and he wondered if those moments would ever come again. He knew that they would—he did not envision spending the rest of his life barred from his wife's dazzling smiles and warm laughter, or her enchanting body—but he knew that her anger at him was not going to abate anytime soon. He did not blame her for feeling as she did.

Deciding that he had nothing to gain by brooding in his bedroom, he sought out more congenial surroundings. It was quiet in the big house this time of day. Seeking out the cheerful, airy room on the east side of the house that Micaela had chosen for his study, he was pleased to find John sitting there browsing through a copy of Le Moniteur de la Louisiane , the New Orleans French newspaper, which Jean had brought with him.

Seeing his stepson in the doorway, John tossed aside the newspaper. Smiling he said, "I will be glad when John Mowry's Louisiana Gazette is published next month. Le Moniteur seems to be full of nothing but business advertisements and bills of lading—only occasionally is there any mention of anything of interest happening. I hope Mowry's paper, when he finally begins publishing, will prove to be more informative."

Hugh shrugged. "Who can tell, but I am certain that the Americans who do not read French will welcome it."

Like most of the house at present, the study was sparsely furnished. A fanciful carved mahogany framed mirror hung over the black marble mantel of the fireplace; a brass and crystal candelabra sat at either end of the mantel. Fresh, sweet-smelling straw matting covered a portion of the gleaming cypress floor, and from the furnishings that went with the house, Micaela had selected for use in the study a pair of large comfortable chairs covered in russet leather; a long, narrow walnut table, and four cane-bottomed chairs which she had scattered about the large room for the time being.

Choosing the leather chair opposite John, Hugh sat down, stretched his long legs out in front of him and gave a contented sigh. "I think that I am pleased with my new house. What is your opinion?"

John smiled. "It is a fine house, Hugh. And I dare say that once Micaela and her mother finish with the furnishings, it will no doubt be an exceedingly grand home."

"And I shall more than likely be destitute," Hugh returned grinning.

The two men talked desultorily for several moments, before Hugh asked abruptly, "Have you thought any more about selling out in Natchez and joining me here in Louisiana?"

"I have thought of little else these past few days," John replied with unaccustomed moodiness.

One of Hugh's brows rose. "And?"

John shot him a dark look. "Did you know," he asked, "that I once thought to marry your very beautiful mother-in-law?"

Hugh jerked upright. Astonishment evident on his face, he exclaimed, "Sweet Jesu, no! I knew that there had been another woman in your life before you and Mother decided to marry, and that she was the reason you were willing to settle for a marriage of convenience, but I never guessed—"

"My marriage to your mother was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I knew how she felt about your father, and she knew how I felt about Lisette, although she did not know her name. She only knew that there had been someone, someone else who held my heart." John sighed and stared out the bank of tall windows which flanked a pair of French doors and overlooked an oak-and-magnolia-shaded expanse of lawn. "Despite both of us knowing our hearts were given elsewhere, jealousy," John said slowly, "was never an emotion between us. We respected how the other one felt and we were grateful for the companionship and affection that we were able to share." He flashed Hugh a fond look. "I was especially happy to be your stepfather. You are a fine man, and I hope you will allow me to take a little of the credit for that fact."

"Gladly, sir, you know that. After Mother died, I do not know what I would have done without you. I barely remember my own father, and I do not think it cruel of me to say that you are the only father I have ever known. I am proud to be your son."

"Perhaps," John said slowly, "fate really does arrange events to work out for the best. If I had married Lisette, you would not be my stepson, and your very lovely bride would never have been born."

"May I say, though you suffered for it and I am sorry for that, I am very, very grateful you did not marry Lisette. I could bear much, but not a world in which there was no Micaela."

"A very handsome sentiment, my boy, one I am sure would please your wife."

Hugh snorted. "The way she is feeling about me right now, I doubt it."

"Trouble?"

"Nothing that will not pass. The silly little fool believes I married her to gain control of the company! Anyone with a pair of eyes can see that I am thoroughly besotted by her." He grimaced. "Everyone but the lady in question."

John grinned. "And have you told the lady in question how you feel?"

"I tried, dammit, but it is deucedly hard to lay one's heart bare when the object of one's devotion is determined to meet any attempt at reconciliation with an icy stare and a haughty toss of her head."

"I know precisely what you are going through," John replied with feeling.

"My esteemed and utterly charming maman-in-law?"

John nodded."Noticed that, have you? I do not know how she has done it, but she has managed to make me the guilty party in what happened between us years ago—when she was the one who jilted me! And worse, dismissed me with a mere note and sent her father and that bastard Renault to confirm the news that she did not want to marry me after all. They took great pleasure in telling me that she was going to marry Renault before the month ended." John took in a deep breath. "I did not believe them at first when they confronted me and told me, but her note and the fact that they seemed to know all about our plans finally convinced me. I knew she was devoted to her father—I will agree that the note was probably coerced out of her—but in the end she did write it." He sighed. "I knew that Christophe had been pushing a match between Lisette and Renault, but I was certain our love was stronger, that she could hold out against their pressure. I was wrong." A faraway look entered his eyes. "And yet, and yet she had given me the most incontrovertible proof of love a woman can give a man. I would have sworn on my life that she loved me. What folly! I should have been prepared for what happened, and I would have been, if I had not taken one look at her and fallen in love." He shook his head. "I was a fool! I knew from the beginning that one of the reasons the Duprees were brought into the business in the first place was because of the hoped-for marriage between Lisette and Renault. Christophe's reasons were strictly practical, aside from the fact that Renault was considered quite a catch. By marrying Lisette to one of the other partners, he would not have to take as much money out of his own pockets to put into the partnership. To his way of thinking, it kept the business in the family. Of course," John said bitterly, "marriage to me, the largest shareholder, was out of the question. I was an American!"

Thanks to Jasper's partisan sponsorship of him, he had not been the victim of that sort of open prejudice himself, but Hugh understood exactly how John felt. And, he reminded himself with a funny little leap in his pulse, I am far luckier than my stepfather. I was able to marry my own little Creole enchantress.

"How do you feel about Lisette now?" Hugh asked. "Is it uncomfortable for you to be around her?"

"Hell, yes! It is uncomfortable, damned uncomfortable, I can tell you, but having seen her again, it would be a thousand times worse not to be around her."

"Ah," Hugh murmured, a knowing grin curving his mouth, "so that is the way the wind is blowing. I wondered. One could not help noticing the impact the pair of you have on each other."

John flashed him a dark look. "Get that smug expression off your face, young man! And stop grinning. There is nothing amusing about my situation."

"Of course not," Hugh replied meekly, but his grin did not abate. "What are you going to do about it?"

"If I can ever get a moment alone with the tart-tongued little witch, I intend to make her listen to me and make it clear to her that I did not desert her—she deserted me! After that I will make her explain where she got such a foolish notion and why she sent her father and the Duprees to send me away in such a cruel manner. And then, as insane as it may sound, I intend to propose to her again and again, until she finally comes to her senses and realizes that I am the only man for her." His jaw hardened. "That I was always the only man for her."

Hugh did not envy his stepfather his task. Micaela was very like her mother, and, with a distinct feeling of unease, he realized that his situation was not so very different than John's predicament. Micaela blamed him for their marriage and believed that he had married her only for the business. Since Lisette blamed John for what happened years ago, it appeared that Lisette, in spite of her own note to him, believed that John had deserted her. But notes, he thought, could be forged.

Hugh stiffened. His gaze intent, he leaned forward. "You recognized her handwriting? And you never spoke to Lisette again until you met her here on Monday?"

John nodded.

"You said she loved you and had agreed to run away with you. Did you believe her, or did you think she was lying when she said those words?"

John's face softened. "I believed her. It took me a long time before I realized that Christophe must have played upon her affection and family loyalty in order to convince her that it was best that she not marry me."

"But at the time you never talked about it with her? You simply took your wounded heart back to Natchez and put it from you?"

"Well, yes," John said, puzzled. "I did not have much choice."

Hugh smiled grimly. "If you did not talk to the lady yourself, then how do you know that she sent Galland and the Duprees to meet with you? How do you know she wrote the note? I have heard often enough what an underhanded schemer Renault Dupree was and what a crafty devil old Christophe was. Is it not possible that somehow they got wind of what was planned and confronted you each separately, telling each of you that the other had changed their mind?"

John looked thunderstruck. He paled, then flushed. His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it with a snap.

Hugh leaned back in his chair. Amusement in his eyes, he murmured, "I see that such a thought never occurred to you. But it is possible?"

John nodded. Recovering himself, he muttered, "Those bastards! The events you put forth sound exactly like something that Christophe and Renault would have done—and I can surmise the identity of the person who exposed our plans—that blasted French maid of Lisette's! She was always spying on her, snooping through Lisette's things. Lisette was fond of her, could never believe that Musetta, or whatever her name was, would ever do any harm. Ha! I cannot prove it, but I'd wager half my fortune that she was the one who ran to Christophe with the information that Lisette and I were planning to run away together."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"There is little I can do about it now—both the men are dead—but I can confront Lisette with what we suspect and find out if she did write the note. If the note was forged, I intend to make her see that I never deserted her." A glow entered John's dark eyes. "And that I never stopped loving her...."

"What about Jean? How much do you think he knew?"

John hesitated. "In those days, he was just a boy, and he was fervently attached to Renault. It is possible that he did not know the whole truth. He may have believed the tale concocted by Renault and Christophe."

"Since it is mere conjecture that brought us to these conclusions, before we proceed further, I have to ask you: are you absolutely convinced that Lisette is innocent? That she did not do as you were told?"

A grim smile played at the corners of John's mouth. "There is only way to find out, is there not?"

* * *

With the influx of company, dinner that evening was an enjoyable affair. Though Hugh's thoughts were on the problems that existed between him and Micaela, he was confident enough of the outcome that he could relax and find, much to his surprise, that Jean and Francois could be very entertaining when they put their minds to it.

Jean seemed to have accepted the fact that a despised Américain was now part of his family and that the very same Américain was going to continue to play an active role in the affairs of Galland, Lancaster and Dupree. The unexpected rapport that had sprung up between Jean and John did not appear to be abating, and Hugh wondered how much of Jean's dislike of things and people American had had to do with Renault's attitude toward them. Perhaps, he was discovering that Americans were not the grasping, greedy, barbaric monsters he had first thought?

As for Francois, there was something different about him this evening that Hugh could not put his finger on. The young man was polite and charming enough, but he seemed preoccupied, and from the surreptitious glances sent his way, Hugh suspected that it had something to do with him. But what? More displeasure about the running of the company? Hugh did not think so.

Francois was being too friendly and pleasant for it to be something disagreeable. Mayhap, like Jean, Francois had finally come to accept the situation gracefully? Hugh hoped so, but he had the uneasy feeling that trouble with Francois was not yet a thing of the past. The young man was too hot-tempered, too volatile for his own good. But it was enjoyable to have the two Creole men in his house and at his table and displaying all the good manners and vaulted charm of their culture.

As for John and Lisette, it was apparent from Lisette's expression whenever she replied to his stepfather that John had not yet had a chance to speak to her alone. Hugh smiled. It was going to be interesting having Lisette as not only a mother-in-law, but a stepmother, too. And he had no doubts about that outcome.

Hugh shot a considering glance down the long length of the linen-covered table to where his wife sat at the other end. Was he being overly confident, feeling that he could gain her good graces once more?

A warm light in the depths of his gray eyes, his gaze ran over her. She was, in his opinion, the dearest thing in the world. Watching her laugh at some sally of Francois's, his heart clenched. He wanted that laughter for himself. And she was a damned silly goose if she believed for one moment that he had married her for the blasted company! He had been in love with her for a long time—a long time before he had realized it himself. Now, he thought wryly, all he had to do was convince her of it. His mind taken up with considering the best method to change her mind, and the marriage-bed delights that would be his, Hugh was not paying attention to the conversation. It wasn't until he realized that everyone was staring at him that he became aware that his wife had posed a question for him.

A set smile on her lovely face, her dark eyes glittering with a challenging light, Micaela said for obviously the second time, "Francois has just asked if he might invite Alain to stay here at Amour for a few days." Fairly daring him to contradict her, she added, "I told him that I would be delighted to open my home to such a dear, dear old family friend and that, naturally, you would have no objections."