Philippe also wondered how she'd regard him if she knew he was in debt and owed too many creditors to count, plus all the gambling debts. Even now, thinking about his penniless state angered him. If only he could borrow the money from someone. He had one last chance to get out of debt, and though he guessed he'd owe his life in repayment, he had to take the chance. He couldn't lose Belle Riviere or Lianne.
He heard her voice from far off. “I expected the seamstress to arrive at the house, but when she didn't come, I decided to visit the dressmaker and to spend time with you.”
“Really?” he asked in disbelief.
“Really,” she said, her courage rising. Lianne held out her hands to him in a forgiving gesture.
Philippe clenched her hands and brought them to his mouth where he kissed her fingers. “I swear I shall never be cruel to you again.”
Lianne managed also to bestow a forgiving smile upon him. “You're not an evil man, Philippe.”
“No, only a foolish one. Let's order supper for two and eat in tonight. I want you all to myself.”
“Buy anything you desire,
chérie,”
Philippe told her the next afternoon as she dressed for her appointment with Madame Dupre. “You're my wife, and I want to show you off at the ball. After all, the Marchands of Belle Riviere have a reputation to uphold.”
Lianne noticed Philippe looked edgy though he gave the impression of naturalness. She tied her bonnet under her chin. “What will you do while I'm gone?”
He shrugged and pulled on a blue coat which matched his eyes. “I have a business meeting.”
“I hope it goes well for you.”
“I do too,” he said, uncertainty in his voice. He didn't know what he'd do if his loan was refused. The banks refused him further credit. What would happen to him and his high life style if his uncle refused him the money? “I'll see you later,” he said and left without further word to her.
Near two, Lianne arrived at Madame Dupre's. The woman appeared pleased to see her and asked her to have a seat while she finished a fitting.
Lianne watched the passers-by and the street traffic from the storefront window while Madame Dupre measured a city official's wife. The woman was middle-aged and overweight, and she insisted the dressmaker's measurements were wrong.
“That cannot be accurate, madame. My waist has always been much smaller than that. You'd best check again.”
“Of course, Madam LeClerc,” the dressmaker said obligingly and rewound the tape measure around the woman's waist. “It's just as you said, madame. You were right.”
“I know my figure,” Madam LeClerc said, taking offense, but Lianne noticed that the seamstress didn't bother to change the supposedly new measurement on her tablet.
As a handsome carriage pulled by, a prancing black stallion came into view, and from Lianne's seat near the window, she recognized its occupant as the quadroon woman who was the mistress of Philippe's friend. Instead of wearing the orange turban as she did the last time Lianne saw her, her curly hair was covered by a bright pink one, and her dress was made of the finest rose satin.
“Look at that whore!” Madame LeClerc's shrill voice carried throughout the shop. “How dare those women cavort around town in their fine carriages and clothes, bought and paid for by white men. It's disgusting. Someone should burn those little cottages on the ramparts where they entertain our men and run those whores out of town.”
“Madame, please⦔ Madam Dupre tried to quiet her customer.
“Well, it's true. Just take a look at the whore. Doesn't she think she's something sitting there like a damn queen. I heard her lover recently married, but does that keep him away?”
Lianne had had enough of the woman's loud voice. She stood up and faced Madam LeClerc. “Please be quiet, madame. Perhaps the quadroon knows of no other life and loves the gentleman who keeps her. Have compassion.”
Madam LeClerc's mouth gaped open. “Just what is your name, mademoiselle?” she asked Lianne after a few moments. “You have a great deal of nerve telling me to be quiet.”
“I am Madame Philippe Marchand, mistress of Belle Riviere plantation.”
“Philippe Marchand, did you say?” Madam LeClerc's eyes glowed in malevolent delight. She'd put this sassy girl in her place, once and for all. No one embarrassed Annalisse LeClerc without regretting it. “I suggest in future, Madame Philippe Marchand, that you keep your comments to yourself.”
“And why is that?”
“Because the quadroon who just rode away in the expensive carriage is none other than your husband's whore.”
“I don't believe you.” Lianne felt the blood drain from her.
Madam LeClerc shrugged her shoulders. “Don't then, though it is the truth. If you don't believe me, you'll find the woman known as Chloe in a small white cottage on the ramparts. I'm certain she goes by the name Marchand there.”
Before Lianne could disgrace herself further, she flew from the shop and entered her carriage. She ordered the driver to take her back to the Esplanade.
Her fingers shook badly, and her stomach felt as if it were tied in knots. She was a huge fool. She should have known Chloe was Philippe's mistress the day he pretended not to know her. Why didn't she realize the truth? She definitely wouldn't have married Philippe if she had but guessed.
She remembered the small boy in the carriage who sat beside Chloe that day. The child was golden-skinned and light-eyed. Could he be Philippe's son?
She spoke to the driver, and when he looked at her as if she were a crazy woman, she repeated the order.
“Take me to the ramparts.”
“Your tea, madame.” Chloe's slender hand extended the fragile china cup to Lianne.
“Merci,”
Lianne said and took a sip of the warm brew though she could barely swallow it. She wondered how she sat so calmly across from her husband's mistress with Philippe's son playing in the next room.
Chloe's gentle beauty impressed Lianne, and the surprise she knew the woman must feel at seeing her was hidden behind solemn but beautiful brown eyes. Lianne hadn't known what to expect when she disembarked in this section of town where small cottages housed quadroons and their children as they waited for men like Philippe to put in an appearance.
She found Chloe's house with little trouble because the expensive carriage was parked alongside the cottage. When Lianne's knock brought Chloe to the door, Lianne could barely speak. But Chloe had smiled and said, “Madame Marchand, how nice to meet you at last.”
Though Chloe was Philippe's mistress and probably still slept with him on his trips into the city, Lianne didn't dislike her. Chloe's tenderness, her sincerity, caused Lianne to wonder why such a sweet, beautiful woman would love Philippe.
“Your son is a handsome boy,” Lianne commented after Jean Marc put in a brief appearance to pilfer a sweetmeat from under Chloe's nose, then swiftly returned to his games in the next room. “He favors Philippe a great deal.”
This was the first mention of Philippe's name, and Chloe suppressed a sigh. “I'm sorry you discovered his secret family, madame. Philippe never wished you to know of us.”
“I wonder how many other secrets Philippe keeps from me.”
“I've known him for many years, madame, and I don't know all his secrets, but I will tell you this because I believe you must be aware of the circumstances in which he finds himself. Philippe incurred many debts the last few months. Always he overspent and gambled that which he didn't have. But ever the winner, he managed to pay his creditors. Now, he is deeply in debt and may lose Belle Riviere unless he can borrow the money. Alas, the banks refuse to loan him any money.” Chloe shook her head sadly. “I don't know what will become of him if he loses the plantation.”
Lianne gasped. Her surprise at this news showed clearly on her face. So, Philippe was in debt and he hadn't informed her that Belle Riviere might be lost. Yet Chloe knew. It seemed he confided more in his mistress than in his wife.
“Philippe is a weak man, madame,” said Chloe.
“Why do you stay with him?” Lianne questioned and asked the same thing of herself.
“I love him.” Her answer was given simply, but Lianne heard the intensity with which she replied. “I knew from the beginning that marriage could never be, but I shall always love him. No matter what happens between us.”
“Then I'll make life easier for you and your son.” Lianne placed her cup on the table and rose from her chair. The late afternoon sun bathed the tiny parlor in a rosy light which enhanced both women's features. “I shall ask Philippe for a divorce.”
“Madame, you mustn't!” Chloe jumped up and grabbed Lianne's arm in an imploring gesture. “I won't allow my situation to break up your marriage. Philippe can't marry me, and I accept that.”
“You're not to blame for any of this. I accept responsibility for my mistake in becoming Philippe's wife. I should never have married him. I don't love him.”
“Mon Dieu,” Chloe whispered and wondered why Lianne didn't love Philippe when she loved him so very much. “I'm sorry, Madame Marchand.”
“Don't be. Soon my mistake shall be rectified.” Lianne didn't know what she'd do after accosting Philippe with the news that she wanted a divorce. Probably return to Belle Riviere for her daughter then move back to New Orleans and sing for the company. She knew Daniel would never leave Amelie and she mustn't expect that, still she wondered at his reaction when he learned she'd soon be free.
Lianne patted Chloe's hand. “Thank you for your kindness and hospitality. It grows late and I must speak with Philippe.”
Chloe said nothing else as she opened the door for Lianne. However, when Lianne saw Philippe standing on the other side, a sound of surprise and dismay escaped her.
“What in the name of heaven are you doing here?” He pushed her back into the parlor. A vicious scowl darkened his pale face.
“I paid a visit to your mistress, Philippe. I believe it was time we met.” Lianne didn't know where her courage came from, she just knew the time had arrived to end her marriage. She smiled at Chloe. “I find her to be charming and gracious.”
Nothing had worked out for Philippe that day. The business meeting with his uncle hadn't progressed in the way he hoped. Of course he could borrow from his uncle but not the full amount he needed. He couldn't fathom the man's reasons at denying him the whole amount. Something about the trust his parents had set up for him and Amelie which gave his mother's brother the power over how the money was to be doled out. He had felt like a child as he sat before that hard unyielding face, trembling at the austere picture Uncle Raoul presented with the black patch over his eye.
Philippe had found it difficult to appear charming in the hope that a ready smile might force the necessary funds from his uncle's tight fists. When he inquired as to why he couldn't receive the entire amount, his uncle only said, “In time, Philippe. When I'm ready, the money shall be turned over to you.” But that didn't satisfy Philippe. He needed the money now. The only thing Raoul seemed to want to discuss was his recent marriage to Lianne Laguens, Comtesse de la Varre.
Weariness after the meeting plagued Philippe, and he longed to find comfort with Chloe before presenting a happy facade to his wife. Now, even that small comfort was denied him. A sensation of rage washed over him suddenly.
“You've been checking up on me as if I were a stupid schoolboy!” he ranted at Lianne.
“Don't flatter yourself!” Lianne grew angrier by the moment. “If Madam LeClerc hadn't shouted the news to the world in the dress shop, I'd never have known. And as your wife, I think you owed it to me to tell me.”
He grabbed Lianne roughly by the arm, missing Chloe's alarmed look. “I owe you nothing, Lianne, nothing.”
“I want a divorce, Philippe. I wish to be free of you.”
“Why? Do you think Daniel will want you then? That he'll make an honest woman of you? You'll never be free of me. Not as long as I want you.”
“Philippe, please don't cause a scandal. Jean Marc is in the next room, and the neighbors⦔ Chloe began.
“I don't give a damn about them! Take the boy and get out of here. I have business with my wife. Unpleasant business.”
Chloe regarded him in fear but didn't argue with him. She called Jean Marc; they left the cottage for a neighbor's house where she sent the neighbor's husband with a note to the only person she knew who could control Philippe.
“What do you intend to do to me?” Lianne asked.
Philippe's eyes shone like crystal blue agates. His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Whatever I do, you'll be getting off easy. I won't abide a willful woman as my wife. One other woman defied me once, and what happened to her wasn't pretty.”
Lianne thought Philippe had lost his sanity, and she wasn't about to stay here with him. She made a futile attempt to push past him, but he dragged her to him and dug his fingers into her arm. “You're not going anywhere,” he told her.