Page 6 of Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies #3)

It was not a huge house party, by Creole standards, but there was no denying that the spacious Dupree house was full. In addition to Lancaster and the Summerfields there were two Creole families also staying at the house. Both couples were longtime friends of the Duprees, and both lived near each other, about a six-hour ride north of New Orleans. The first couple, Monsieur and Madame L'Aramy and their two sons and their youngest daughter, just turned seventeen, were particular favorites of Lisette's. They were a strikingly handsome family, tall for Creoles. The eldest son, Rene, at thirty years old and with his mother's green eyes, was considered one of the most eligible young men in New Orleans. Gaston, the second son, just twenty-five, was also much sighed over by Creole maidens, and their sister, Rachelle, with her cat green eyes and porcelain skin, was already one of the reigning belles in the area. The second family, Monsieur and Madame Charbonneau, had also brought their older children with them—the son, Bellamy, was a very handsome young man of twenty-seven; there had been a time when he had dangled after Micaela, but it had come to naught, although he was still unattached. His so-charming sisters—Colette, eighteen, and Henrietta, seventeen—were both petite, pretty creatures with masses of dusky curls and merry laughs. With so many young and unmarried guests, the party was likely to prove to be most lively.

Since the festivities were not scheduled to begin until the next day, dinner that evening was composed only of those guests staying at the house and the Husson family. Francois had been particularly insistent that they be invited.

Dinner that evening was a boisterous affair, the antics of the younger members causing smiles and chuckles from the older contingent. And while Lisette had planned no other activities, it wasn't very long after dinner that Francois and Bellamy had prevailed upon her to play the piano and Jean the violin so that they all might dance. Everyone retired to the music room; chairs and tables were pushed aside, and soon one might have thought that a grand ball was being held.

Despite his dismissal of Jean's comment about Hugh and Micaela, Francois, when he was not squiring one of the young ladies about the room, found himself watching the pair of them. Noticing them standing with three or four others near the opened French doors, Francois joined the group.

Jasper made some sally, and Hugh grinned. Shaking his head, Hugh said, "Mon ami, if I followed your advice, I would never accomplish anything and would instead become as frivolous and heedless of business affairs as you are yourself."

"Oh?" Micaela asked with a raised brow. "You find us frivolous, monsieur?"

"But very, very lovely," Hugh murmured, with a deep bow in her direction.

Ignoring the warm rush his comment gave her, over the top of her gaily painted silk fan, Micaela regarded him. "Are you never frivolous, monsieur?"

"I do not believe so, mademoiselle," Hugh answered gravely, a hint of laughter in his eyes. "Americans are not known for their, ah, frivolity."

Micaela gave an exaggerated sigh. Opening her eyes very wide, she murmured, "Merci! How utterly boring you Américains must be."

Hugh's shout of laughter made several heads turn in that direction, but beyond Micaela's strategic retreat to another part of the room, there was nothing to see. One might have wondered, however, at the color in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.

Drifting over to a table spread with refreshments, Micaela waited while a servant poured her a glass of lemonade. Sipping it, she turned back to survey the room, sighing when Alain appeared at her side.

"What did he say to you that makes you look so pleased with yourself?" Alain inquired silkily, as he boldly took her arm and began to escort her away from the table.

Micaela accompanied him a few steps, but when she saw he was attempting to lead her outside, she stopped and said, "Let go of my arm, Alain. I am not leaving this room with you. And to answer your question—it is none of your affair. Now go find someone who may find your company more welcome that I do."

Alain smiled confidently down at her. "Ah, you are still angry with me, are you not, ma belle?"

Giving him a level glance, she said coolly, "No, I am not angry with you. I am simply indifferent to you. And I would appreciate it if you would do as I say and leave me alone."

"Do you know that I find your anger most exciting?" Alain murmured, his smile unabated.

Tapping him sharply on the arm with her fan, she muttered, "Oh, go away! You are tiresome."

Completely unmoved by her manner, Alain's smile only deepened. Kissing her hand, he said softly, "You wound me, ma mie, but your words are my command."

Micaela snatched her hand away and, with an ill-disguised expression of irritation on her pretty face, hastily put the width of the room between them.

Glumly Francois had watched the interplay, well aware that Hugh's attentions had not seemed to annoy her, while Alain's obviously had. There was no denying it—there did seem to be something shimmering in the air between Micaela and the Américain, something that made him uneasy.

It was worrisome, even though he knew that nothing could come of it—by Friday night Micaela's fate would be sealed—but the situation alarmed him. Arranging a moment alone with both Jean and Alain had not been easy. But having alerted his uncle to the need for a private word, they were able to detain Alain, who was riding his own horse, from immediately following his family as their carriage pulled away. Waiting until the other guests had gone back into the house, the three men stood near Alain's horse, talking in low tones.

"I think that it would be wise if we kept an eye on Lancaster—and my sister," Francois said. He glanced at Jean. "After your remark this afternoon, I paid closer attention to them tonight, and it did seem to me that there is something going on between them."

Alain's face tightened. "Mon Dieu! Are you saying that having spurned me, that Micaela has developed a tendre for the Américain?"

" Non . Non. Nothing like that," Francois replied swiftly. "Only that..." He looked helplessly at Jean.

"He means," Jean said smoothly, "that we should be extremely careful on Friday. If Lancaster is—er—attracted to Micaela, he would naturally be aware of her whereabouts at all times—which might make her abduction from the group more difficult for you."

Alain snorted. Mounting his horse, he said, "Perhaps, it should be arranged that Lancaster is"—he paused—"oh, shall we say, unavoidably absent from Friday's pleasures?"

* * *

Despite feeling that there was some ulterior purpose behind Jean's invitation, Hugh found that he was enjoying himself immensely. The house and grounds were magnificent; Lisette was as warm and welcoming as always; his increasing fascination with Micaela refused to abate, and the growing notion of tasting that ripe, tempting mouth of hers filled him with a feeling of fierce anticipation. Jean treated him cordially and Francois seemed undecided whether to scorn him or charm him—much to Hugh's amusement. His status as a guest of the Dupree family and the fact that he spoke flawless French thawed the icy manner of many of the Creoles and allowed him to participate fully in the many enjoyments offered.

It was much the same for the Summerfield family. Their French might not equal Hugh's, but six months in New Orleans had enabled them to gain a smattering of the Gallic tongue. Summerfield's position on the governor's staff helped, too. The Creoles might not like being forced to accept American possession, but they were not fools either.

The riverboat ride on Wednesday and the tour of the plantation, specifically its sugar-cane operation, proved to be engrossing for Hugh, but despite his best efforts, a part of him was braced for Jean's reasons for inviting him to surface. With every passing hour, he knew that the likelihood of Jean revealing his motives became more certain, and Hugh was aware of a growing tenseness which gradually overshadowed his enjoyment.

On Thursday afternoon, while several of the others were resting up for the evening's entertainment, Jean asked Hugh for a moment in private. Hugh agreed and followed Jean to the other man's office in the small building behind the main house.

Once they were seated, Jean said bluntly, "I am sure that you have guessed that I had a specific reason for inviting you to attend the party?"

Hugh nodded.

Jean smiled crookedly. "You have had time to think about what we proposed last month. I hope that further reflection on your part has allowed you to see the wisdom of selling out to us." Jean looked sheepish. "And as for your invitation here—I thought that perhaps in more, er, pleasant and relaxed surroundings we could more amiably discuss our proposition."

"We can discuss it," Hugh said equitably, "all you want, anywhere you want, but it will not change anything. My position remains the same—pending my stepfather's approval, I will sell you all my shares or none."

"You stubborn, stubborn Américain !" Jean cried angrily. "Why are you being so unreasonable? We are willing to pay you a fair price! I have explained to you that we can not afford to buy all your shares. There is only enough money to buy half."

"Then, as I said the last time we had this conversation—we are at an impasse," Hugh said quietly. He hesitated then added, "Unless you wish to sell me your shares?"

Jean could not have looked more affronted if Hugh had spit in his face. "Sacrebleu! Sell you the entire Dupree interest in the firm? You insult me, monsieur ! It is our company!"

Hugh sighed knowing there was no arguing with the other man. Jean was conveniently forgetting that from the very beginning John Lancaster had held the largest share of the business—fifty-five percent—and that the remainder had been split up between Christophe, Renault, and Jean. Originally, Christophe had owned twenty-five percent and Renault and Jean each ten percent. The Duprees in fact had owned the smallest share in the business when it began and upon Renault's death, his original ten percent and the additional ten percent he had received from Christophe when he had married Lisette was now split between Micaela and Francois, giving his two children each ten percent. Christophe's remaining share had been further reduced when he had lost two percent to Husson and three percent to Jasper; upon his death Christophe only retained ten percent—which was now owned by Lisette. It was all very confusing, but the fact remained that with Hugh owning forty-five percent and John ten percent, the Americans still controlled the largest block and the Creole faction the smallest. And there seemed no way out of the dilemma.

Unless, Hugh mused, he was insane enough to offer his shares for Micaela's hand. Shaken by how appealing he found that idea, he said in a harsher tone than he intended, "As I said, we seem to be at an impasse."

An ugly look on his face, Jean muttered, "I hope, monsieur, that you do not regret your stubbornness."

"Are you threatening me?"

Jean smiled tightly. "Non. Warning you, perhaps. You are, after all, my guest and it would be the height of incivility for me to threaten you while you are under my roof."

Hugh stared steadily at him. "Would you like for me to leave?"

His quick temper ebbing, Jean shook his head. "Non, monsieur. You are my guest, and if you were not so hardheaded and stubborn, I might even learn to like you."

Hugh smiled, "And I, you."

In something resembling cordiality, the two men left Jean's office, going their separate ways upon reaching the house. Hugh went in search of Jasper, who was also staying at the Dupree house. An inquiry to Lisette elicited the information that Jasper was at the stables taking another look at a mare which Jean was thinking of selling. The stables had been included in the tour, so Hugh knew which direction to take. The path to the stable was a pleasant one, winding along a bluff which overlooked the river, skirting a small white gazebo before dropping down and curving through a small woodland which concealed the stable area from the house and its grounds.

Hugh was concentrating so deeply on the conversation with Jean and trying to find a workable solution to their mutual problem that he was upon the gazebo before he realized it. His approach had been silent, and it was clear the two occupants of the gazebo were unaware of his presence. He would have continued on his way, or at least let the two people inside know that he was there, if he hadn't heard something that stopped him in his tracks.

"—but I do not want to marry him! And how you can persist in believing that he would even consider a match with me after the way I have treated him?..." She muttered something under her breath and added tightly, "Francois, I insult him, or attempt to, nearly every time I am in his company. Didn't you notice my manner with him last evening? I know that he seems impervious to my remarks, even amused by them, but you are foolish to think that marriage will eventually result."

"Whether you want to marry him or not is not the point," Francois said swiftly. "If you cannot bring yourself to care for him, then you must view your union as a business liaison—if you married him, your shares of the business, added to his, would increase his authority."

"He does not need my shares—he is wealthy enough without them!" Micaela exclaimed exasperatedly. Her voice softened as she said, "I would do just about anything for you—you know that. You are my brother and I love you, but, Francois, you are being utterly selfish to expect me to throw away my life simply because it will be convenient for you—or good business!"

Bitterly Francois replied, "But Caela, you are not fair! I am not asking you to mary some decrepit, ugly old man—I am pleading with you to marry a man who is young and handsome and who will be one of the wealthiest, most influential citizens in New Orleans before many more years pass. What is so selfish about that?"

"Have you not heard a word I have said? I do not want to marry him! I do not even like him very much."

"But Caela, think of it! If you were to marry him, it would solve all of our problems." A wheedling note entered his voice. "And would it be so very bad? You would have your own home, servants to command, a handsome, doting husband. I have seen the way he looks at you—despite the way you treat him." There was a taut silence, then Francois added, "Are you very sure that his fortune does not tempt you?"

"Oui!" Micaela spat. "Do you really expect me to marry a man I do not like simply because you wish it—for his fortune?"

"But it is not just for me," he persisted stubbornly. "It is for Jean and Maman as well. Have you thought of them? You know that our finances are troubled at the moment, and that your refusal to marry him affects all of us, even Maman."

"Unfair! You know that I would do anything for Maman!"

"Then think of her," Francois urged. "Think of her before you throw away an opportunity to enrich us all."

"Oh, leave me be!" Micaela cried, her distress carrying clearly to Hugh.

"But you will think about it?"

"I will think about it," she answered dully.

Deciding that he didn't want to be discovered shamelessly eavesdropping on what was an extremely intimate conversation, Hugh drifted away. His pleasant mood had been destroyed by what he had just overheard. And while he was not a vain man, he was certain that he could guess the identity of the man who had been the subject of the conversation between Micaela and Francois. It could be, he thought with a black scowl, none other than himself. He doubted that anyone else, other than himself, had been the object of Micaela's pointed little barbs. And her comments had always amused him... until now.

It never occurred to Hugh that the two younger Duprees might be talking about somebody else. Who else did she insult at every turn? Last night's exchange went through his head. And to think he had thought her enchanting! His lips thinned. Of course they had to have been talking about him. Aside from her manner toward him, who else could so easily solve all their problems? And as for the connection to the business... Hugh snorted. She had been right about that—he sure as hell didn't need her shares.

Despite having considered marriage with Micaela, the knowledge that she obviously did not want to marry him sat ill with him. In her conversation with her brother, she had made it plain that his wealth and position could not compensate for having to have him as a husband, and it rankled. It was one thing to think about marrying a woman who seemed to enjoy their stinging repartee and another to wed a female who had clearly expressed her obvious repugnance at the idea of marriage to him. Mademoiselle Dupree did not have to worry about any more advances on his part. The lady had made her position painfully clear, and he bloody well was not going to pine after a woman who disliked him.

Telling himself that he had escaped a near disaster, and that he would be on his guard for the rest of his stay, Hugh forced himself to smile at Jasper when he spied the other man coming toward him. And if Jasper noticed that his friend seemed unusually preoccupied, he kept that knowledge to himself.

As planned, dinner that evening was held al fresco in the gardens adjacent to the house. Tables had been set up outside near the house, brimstone was burned to keep the insects at bay and servants bustled about waiting on guests. The stately trees surrounding the area were strung with lanterns, and the soft light cast a glow over the meandering paths of the gardens, which were lined with scented flowers. But Hugh had no eye for the bucolic loveliness when, after dinner, he and Jasper joined several other guests and began to stroll through the lantern-strewn gardens.

An unaccustomed feeling of betrayal and resentment had been raging in his breast during the hours since he had overheard that damning conversation at the gazebo, and the passing time had not lessened it. But aside from his resentment, he was angry with himself for letting a pretty face blind him to the reality of the situation. Actually, he was furious that he had allowed Micaela to invade his dreams and disgusted with himself that he had considered, even for one moment, marriage with her.

Of course, he reminded himself viciously, staring blindly at the gardenia bushes awash with white blooms at the edge of the oyster-shell path, it wasn't as if the lady had given him any encouragement. She had made her dislike of him plain. Fool that he was, he had chosen to be amused, chosen to believe that there was something other than dislike which prompted her actions. Grimly he admitted that he had allowed himself to be captivated by her tart sallies and flashing eyes, instead of shearing off and going in search of more welcoming company. Fool!

One good thing had come from his eavesdropping. At least now he was forewarned that Micaela might try to sink her objections to him and encourage his pursuit. His lip curled. To be married for her family's sake and his fortune held no allure at all for him. If the lady gave in to her brother's appeals and threw any lures his way, he'd be ready for them. A nasty smile crossed his face. He was almost looking forward to rebuffing her advances. Almost.

"And what," Jasper asked, "brings that sort of smile to your face, mon ami?"

Shaken from his unpleasant thoughts, Hugh started, but, recovering himself, he smiled, and murmured, "Nothing that you would want to know about, believe me."

Jasper cocked a brow. "Hmm. I wonder. You have been very quiet this evening... are you certain there is nothing wrong?"

They came upon a small group admiring the golden swirl of tiny fish in a large pond, and the moment for private conversation was lost. Hugh stiffened when he spied Micaela standing next to Cecile Husson. Lisette and Mes-dames L'Aramy and Charbonneau comprised the remainder of the group.

It was not surprising that the ladies had stopped to watch the fish. It was a very pretty spot, the walkway around the pond bordered with bright blooming scarlet and pink azaleas and beyond them several huge magnolia trees ringed the pond. The pond itself was eye-catching with its raised, rippled edge and striking tilework. Blue and pink water lilies floated serenely on the surface of the pool, the light from lanterns glinting like stars on the water.

Micaela's heart leaped when she caught sight of Hugh's tall form. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. All it took was one look from his heavily lidded gray eyes or that crooked smile of his, and she was filled with giddiness. And if he were to touch her, to hold her as Alain had done... Micaela swallowed with difficulty, stunned by the shocking heat which bloomed low in her abdomen.

Watching him beneath her lashes as he and Jasper greeted the ladies, Micaela finally admitted to herself something she had known all along: Hugh Lancaster was dangerous to her. Dangerous, because she feared that no matter how hard she tried to act cool and indifferent around him, her reckless heart had very different ideas.

Made miserable by the earlier conversation with Francois, Micaela's thoughts had been chasing themselves around in her brain like rats in a trap all afternoon. She would do much to save her brother, but she balked at ruining her own life for him. But Lisette... Francois had used the one weapon that could strike a fatal blow—her mother. For Lisette, she thought wretchedly, she would sacrifice herself. And while Lisette had not even once hinted that marriage to Husson was desirable, Micaela knew that there was only one way out of her quandary. She would, the next time he pressed his suit, accept Alain's offer. The decision brought her no joy, and seeing Hugh Lancaster, realizing that the emotions he aroused within her breast were stronger, more powerful, more exciting than anything she had ever felt before in her life, only made the knowledge that she was going to force herself to marry Alain Husson all the more wrenching.

She managed to hide her unhappiness all evening, smiling and laughing as if she hadn't a care in the world as she mingled with their many guests, but the sight of Hugh's lean, handsome features and the realization that whatever silly, girlish notions she might have about him were finished caused her mask to slip slightly. When he approached her after greeting the older ladies, and bent politely over her hand, she was unaware of the softening of her gaze, the naked vulnerability in her dark eyes as their glances met.

To her astonishment, Hugh's manner was coolly abrupt with her. Leaving her perplexed by his coldness, she watched as he turned to smile warmly at Cecile. Have I offended him? she wondered. It was true that she had made some provocative statements in his presence and that some imp always prompted her to behave just this side of outright rudeness, but he had never seemed to mind. In fact, she thought with growing puzzlement, he had seemed to like the thrust and parry of their conversation, lazy amusement gleaming in his eyes those times when she had been particularly outrageous. And she could not deny that she had looked forward to their verbal tussles. What had changed?

Jean, Francois, and Alain Husson came up to them just then, and the groups merged, each gentleman offering an arm to the ladies. Despite Alain's determined push to her side, it was Hugh's arm that lay beneath Micaela's slender hand as the enlarged party began to walk slowly down the garden path. Hugh and Micaela brought up the rear, Jasper and Cecile walking in front of them.

The expression in Micaela's usually laughing eyes when they had met had not gone unnoticed by Hugh and while just the day before, it would have caused his pulse to pound, this evening it only added fuel to his fury. Convinced that she had given in to Francois's pleas and was now attempting to lure him into her web, his anger hardened. The lady, it would appear, has made her decision. Little fool! Does she believe that all it will take is a limpid glance from those lovely eyes of hers to melt my heart? She will find, he vowed grimly, before she is much older that she is very much mistaken.

It was that vow which prompted him to make certain that he was Micaela's escort as they strolled through the garden. Determined to make his position clear—as much because he preferred plain speaking as the unacknowledged worry that he might, even knowing that her emotions were not involved, succumb to her wiles, he maneuvered events so that they were at the end of the line of couples.

They had not walked far when he halted and let the others increase their distance between them. Micaela's glance was startled as she looked up at him.

"What is it, monsieur ? Why do we stop?"

Steeling his emotions against the lovely picture she made in the lanternlight, her dark hair piled elegantly on her small head, her eyes full of mystery and her tempting mouth only inches from his, he said bluntly, "I think I should tell you that while I find your company delightful, I have no intention of allowing myself to be trapped in any snare set by you or your family. You are, I will admit, a tempting baggage, but I will not marry you under any circumstances, so I suggest that you put any ideas of that sort out of your head."

Micaela blinked, hardly believing what she was hearing. As the full import of his words sank in, she stiffened. Full of Creole pride, her quick temper soared. She stepped away from him, glaring, and spat, "How dare you!" Ignoring the stab of pain in her heart, nearly choking with righteous indignation, she sputtered, "You are mad! And vain and conceited if you think that I would lower myself to marry such as you!" Her straight little nose went up in the air, her dark eyes flashing as she regarded him across the small distance which separated them. "You need not bother to escort me further," she said with icy disdain. "Fortunately this is my home, and I can find my way alone. I certainly do not need or want the company of someone like you—you boorish, ill-bred Américain!"

"Since we understand each other and I have nothing now to lose," Hugh said darkly, a peculiar look on his handsome face, "I might as well confirm your opinion of me and satisfy myself...."

His hands gripped her shoulders, and, before she could react, his mouth came down urgently on hers. Micaela's lips stung from the barely leashed hunger of his mouth, the heat from his kiss, burning her, making her dizzy, making her pulse race and her heart pound like thunder in her chest. But there was an unbearable sweetness in his embrace, too, and for one fleeting moment she let herself melt against him, let her lips soften.

His muffled groan and the realization of what she was doing brought Micaela hurtling back to reality. With a gasp, part shame, part fury, she tore herself from his arms, which, to her amazement, had somehow closed around her and had been holding her cradled next to him. Her eyes wide with shock and anger, her hand connected to his cheek before she had time to think. The sharp sound echoed through the night.

Tears of rage and hurt sparkling on her lashes, Micaela spun on her heels, intent upon putting as much distance as possible between herself and the infuriating creature behind her. She froze, and her breath caught in her throat as her gaze fell upon Alain Husson; Francois was standing just behind him.

"What is going on here?" Alain asked tightly, his hands clenched into fists at his side. "What have you done to her?"

"Oui," Francois chimed in. "What have you done to my sister to distress her so?"

It was obvious that they had not heard or seen all of the exchange, perhaps none of it, but it was also clear that they had picked up on the tension between Micaela and Hugh. The air was suddenly thick and full of dangerous currents, and Micaela's heart pounded with fear. Recognizing that Alain was spoiling for a fight and that she must act swiftly to prevent a tragedy, Micaela forced a smile onto her stiff features. "Ma foi!" she said lightly. "It is nothing. I have the headache and am going to the house." Stopping in front of Alain's rigid body, she touched the lapel of his jacket. Softly, she added, "Truly, Alain, Monsieur Lancaster has done nothing to make you look at him in that manner. Come, you may escort me to the house."

Alain paid her no heed, his gaze locked on Hugh's taut features. Almost absently he put Micaela away from him, and, stalking up to Hugh's silent figure, he said, "Well, monsieur, what do you have to say for yourself?"

One of Hugh's brows rose. "I do not," he said levelly, "feel that I owe you an explanation."

"Do you not," Alain said with relish, an ugly expression glittering in his dark eyes. "I am afraid that I must take a different view, monsieur."

"I repeat, it is not any of your business," Hugh said slowly, aware that he was treading on treacherous ground.

Her eyes wide with alarm, Micaela grasped Francois's arm. "Do something!" she hissed. "Stop them before this goes any further."

"I think," Francois said, "that you should leave. You have done your part."

She stared at him as if she had never seen him before in her life. "You want this to happen," she breathed. "You want them to duel."

Francois tore his gaze away from the two principals. "You are mistaken. I did not arrange this situation—you did. And now you must live with the consequences of your own folly. Go away, Caela, there is nothing that you can do."

With a stricken look at Hugh's hard face, she picked up her skirts and fled. Racing down the pathway, she searched for Jasper De Marco. Hugh would need him.

Alain gasped at Hugh's cool reply, his face twisting with fury. "I find you insulting, monsieur" he choked out.

Hugh shrugged. He was aware that he might have been able to defuse this situation if he had wanted, but he discovered that he had no intention of turning away from the dangerous predicament in which he found himself. In fact, he thought with fierce satisfaction, facing Husson on the dueling field had definite allure.

"It is unfortunate that you feel that way," Hugh murmured, aware that Alain was trying to incite a challenge from him, "but I think that it is your problem. Not mine."

"Mon Dieu! Are you stupid, Monsieur Lancaster?" When Hugh smiled, Alain's tenuous hold on his temper was lost, and, reaching across the space which separated them, he furiously slapped Hugh on the cheek. "I challenge you, monsieur, to the duel! Name your seconds!"

A breathless Jasper, having been found by Micaela, who had frantically whispered the dangerousness of the situation into his ear, suddenly ran up. He was closely followed by Rene and Bellamy. Arriving to hear Alain's words, Jasper winced. Coolly he said, "Of course, I shall act as Monsieur Lancaster's second."

"And I shall be honored to be Husson's second," muttered Francois. Rene joined Jasper as Hugh's second and Bellamy found himself aligned with Alain and Francois.

The most immediate formalities out of the way, Francois asked Jasper, "When do you want to meet to discuss the conditions?"

Hugh spoke up. "There is no need for such refinements." His eyes fixed on Alain's angry face, he said slowly, "I believe that choice of weapons and place are mine." At Alain's curt nod and despite Jasper's protestations, Hugh said grimly, "Then there is no need of further discussion. Pistols at thirty paces, at dawn tomorrow." He bowed to Alain. "You may have the choosing of the site."

It was only when Hugh, Jasper, and Rene were in Hugh's room that Jasper let his agitation show. " Mon Dieu! Are you deliberately trying to get yourself killed?"

Worriedly Rene added, "Alain is reputed to be very good with the pistol."

Hugh shrugged. "I am not exactly a novice myself."

"That is not the point!" Jasper bit out. "The point is that in a matter of hours, you are going to be standing and facing a man who will be aiming a pistol at you. And firing that pistol right at your breast, hoping to kill you!"

Hugh smiled lazily. "You are forgetting something."

"What?" Jasper snapped.

Hugh's smile deepened. "I get to fire back."