Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (4 page)

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Well aware of how Jean Dupree felt about him, Hugh Lancaster, with a rueful smile, had watched him stalk away down Chartres Street after their unexpected meeting. He had not intended to arrive in New Orleans so soon after his letter announcing his plans, but having made up his mind to move to the area, it had seemed useless to wait. By May, early June, most of Creole society would have departed the city for their plantations and when summer arrived, and with it the fever season, New Orleans would be deserted except for those poor souls who had to remain within the city. Consequently, after a brief consultation with his stepfather, and another attempt to convince the older man to join him, Hugh had wasted little time. Not three days after he had sent his letter to Lisette Dupree, he was stepping on a barge sailing for New Orleans. Beyond personal effects, Hugh had brought little with him—once he reached his destination and found suitable quarters he planned to buy any furnishings or household items he might need.

Strolling down the street in the direction opposite taken by Jean, Hugh decided that he wasn't sorry at the unexpected meeting. The Duprees had to learn of his presence in the city soon enough, and getting it out of the way in this fashion saved him from making a formal call on the family. A twinge of regret nudged him. He would have, he admitted, enjoyed watching Micaela Dupree's magnificent dark eyes sparkle with disdain when she learned who was actually in her home, but it seemed that pleasure was to be denied him. Ah well, there were bound to be other opportunities to bring that delightful expression of smelling offal to her pretty face.

Chuckling to himself, he walked into a coffee shop and looked around for a familiar face. The place was full of Creole gentlemen sitting around several tables leisurely drinking coffee and smoking long black cheroots, their canes and gloves lying on the polished tops of the tables. The rhythmic sounds of the French tongue came to his ears, as did the intoxicating odor of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of fine tobacco.

There was, he decided pleasurably, no place like a coffeehouse in New Orleans. Spotting a lively profile he knew very well, Hugh made his way in that direction, aware of the cessation in noise as he sauntered across the room and aware, too, that every eye was on him.

Hugh did not make it to his destination before his target, a tall elegant gentleman about his own age, glanced over to see what had caused the fluctuation in the various conversations and, spying him, sprang to his feet with a wide smile and a glad cry.
"Mon ami!"
Jasper De Marco exclaimed gaily. "You have arrived so soon! I did not expect you for months, yet. Tell me, all is well with your step
-papa?
It is not bad news that brings you to our fair city so early?"

Giving Hugh no chance to reply, Jasper grasped his shoulders and kissed him exuberantly on both cheeks. Well used to the affectionate French greeting, Hugh returned it and said with a twinkle in his gray eyes, "
Bon-jour; mon ami.
I see that you are, as usual, wasting away the time when you could be helping me toward our mutual goal."

Jasper managed to look mournful, despite the teasing gleam in his dark eyes. "Ah,
mon ami,
I must take you in hand and teach you that there is much more to life than work, work, work. You Americans, business is all you think about."

Allowing Jasper to urge him toward a seat, Hugh murmured, "And you Creoles, all you think about is pleasure!"

"Oui!
And which one of us enjoys life more? Hmm?" Jasper retorted with a grin.

Hugh laughed and shook his head. "You will not catch me arguing with you on that one."

Hugh and Jasper had known each other for nearly ten years—ever since Hugh's first visit to New Orleans. They had gotten into a hot disagreement about the charms of a certain lovely quadroon and had retired, with their less-than-sober seconds, to the dueling field beneath the oaks. Fortunately, the two principals were both more than a little drunk themselves and were both equally expert with the sword. Despite the heat of the moment and the Madeira fumes in their brains, they were impressed with each other's skill and instead of killing each other, as they had sworn vehemently to do, they had left the field of honor as brothers under the skin and had ended the night in Jasper's town house. Even in the morning, when the Madeira fumes had faded, each discovered that he had not been mistaken in his estimation of the other, and their friendship was sealed that very morning over several cups of hot coffee.

Few Creoles would even acknowledge an American, much less befriend one, but Jasper De Marco, the only son of a great French heiress and a major Spanish official, cared nothing for a man's nationality. Hugh had proven himself to Jasper's satisfaction to be an honorable man. Besides, as he told his friends and family with a teasing sparkle in his dark eyes, he did not want to be enemies with a man who was nearly as good as he with a sword.

Once Hugh had been served his coffee and Jasper's cup had been refilled, the two men talked for a few minutes. Replying fluently in French to Jasper's questions, not for the first time, Hugh silently thanked his stepfather for insisting he learn the language. From the moment Hugh had first expressed an interest in joining Galland, Lancaster and Dupree when he had been a youth of sixteen, John had been adamant that he learn French—otherwise, his stepfather explained, he would be always at a disadvantage when dealing with the partners in New Orleans. And thinking of the many sharp exchanges he'd had with Jean Dupree, Hugh had to agree with his stepfather.

"Now what,
mon ami,
brings that look to your face?" Jasper asked.

Hugh grimaced. "I was merely thinking of our good friend, Jean Dupree."

"Ah, yes, our esteemed partner. I wonder how he is going to take the news that you are moving to New Orleans."

"Badly," Hugh said with a grin. "I met him on my way here and informed him that I intended to become a permanent resident. He was
not
pleased."

Jasper laughed. "If only I could have been there!"

The two men were vastly different in temperament; Hugh, thoughtful and carefully controlled; Jasper, hotheaded and reckless, but together they made an effective team. Less than a year in age separated them: Hugh would turn thirty-one in April, while Jasper had turned thirty-one the previous August. They both had black hair and were dark-complected, but any similarity ended there. Hugh was built like a powerful oak to Jasper's graceful beech, although their heights were nearly identical. Both had compelling eyes—Hugh's being a pale, striking gray; Jasper's a gleaming black with a sleepy cast to them which, like Hugh's deceptively lazy glances, masked an agile brain. They were a very handsome pair, but again very different; Hugh's features were far more craggy, his black brows heavier, his nose bolder, and his jaw more stubborn than Jasper's chiseled profile. But if they were very different in looks and personality, there were some things that they shared; each had lost his parents at a young age and had been raised by another relative—in Hugh's case, his stepfather, and in Jasper's, an uncle—it was a bond between them. They were both wealthy and used to arranging events to suit themselves, and they took delight in testing their wits against each other.

Pushing aside his coffee, Hugh asked, "Have you been able to discover anything?"

"No,
mon ami,
I have not," Jasper replied disgustedly. "Though I have wasted much time and charm in ingratiating myself with one of the bookkeepers, a young man by the name of Etienne Gras, it has done me little good." He grimaced. "The three percent that I won from old Christophe Galland just before he died does not give me much power—and Jean has given orders that while everyone is to be polite and helpful to me, they are not to answer my questions—
he
will answer them. The Duprees tend to think of the business as solely theirs. They forget it is only
partly
owned by them."

Hugh smiled grimly. "It will be interesting to see if
Monsieur
Jean will try to keep
me
from getting answers to my questions."

"Now that is one confrontation that I must insist you put off until I can be there to see the expression on his face."

"I shall try my best," Hugh replied. "But tell me, since I have arrived long before you expected me, can you recommend a place for me to stay until I can find permanent quarters?"

"You will, of course, stay with me," Jasper answered promptly. "Until you find a place that you wish to buy, it is nonsense for you to reside anywhere else—my home is yours, you know that,
mon ami."

Hugh dipped his head in acknowledgment. "If you are certain it will not be an inconvenience, I will gladly accept your invitation."

"Inconvenient? I shall be happy of company—my home was built for a large family and there are only myself and my servants rattling around in it."

"So when, my friend, are you going to do your duty and find a wife and start producing the next generation of De Marcos to fill up your empty house?" Hugh asked, teasing.

"Ah, I am waiting for you to sample the waters first. I wish to see how you survive domestication before I attempt it."

Hugh looked thoughtful. "Then you should start counting your days of freedom."

"What? Do not tell me that you are getting married!" Jasper exclaimed, dismayed.

Hugh shrugged. "I am thinking of it. As my stepfather reminded me, I am his only heir, and he is not a young man any longer—he would like to see me settled and with children of my own before he dies."

"I do not believe my ears! Surely you are jesting?"

"No, I am not. I believe that it is time for me to find a wife and, God willing, beget some heirs for my stepfather."

With great trepidation, Jasper asked, "And have you decided upon your choice of a bride?"

The image of Micaela Dupree flashed unexpectedly across Hugh's brain, but he shook himself irritably and murmured, "There is a young American woman, Miss Alice Summerfield—I knew her and her family in Natchez, but she has recently moved to New Orleans. Her father is on Governor Claiborne's staff, and I think she would do well enough."

Jasper looked offended. "Do well enough!" he spat the words out. "Listen to yourself,
mon ami!
Do well enough.
Non. Non!"

"Now why are you so upset?" Hugh asked with lazy amusement. "Do not you Creoles have arranged marriages? Is it not true that, in most cases, bride and groom have not laid eyes on each other a half a dozen times before they are wed? Do not tell me you expect to marry for love?"

"My parents had just such an arranged marriage of which you speak," Jasper admitted bitterly. "And they fought like a cat and a dog tied together in a sack. I was almost relieved when they died of the fever—at least I did not have to listen to their battles anymore."

"I am sorry," Hugh said quietly. "I had forgotten—I did not mean to make light of the situation."

Jasper flashed his ready smile. "It happened a long time ago,
mon ami,
but I would not like to see you married to this cold-blooded American girl."

"Now how do you know she is cold-blooded?" Hugh asked, nettled.

"She is American, is she not?" Jasper asked. At Hugh's wary nod, he said, "Then what more do you need to know? I am sure that she is very prim and proper, perhaps even lovely, but I would wager you my new stallion that ice water runs in her veins."

Thinking of Alice's cool, slim blond beauty and her politely aloof manner, Hugh decided not to take up Jasper's wager. Instead with an edge to his voice, he demanded, "Then what do you suggest I do? Marry one of your Creole beauties?"

Jasper beamed at him. "But of course,
mon ami!
You would have a charming and loyal companion, a loving mother for your children, and a soft, warm, yielding armful for your bed. What more could a man ask for in a wife?"

Hugh snorted. "Since I have not committed myself to Miss Summerfield, I shall take your suggestion under advisement—but I make no promises to you. In the meantime, I think I should get my things settled in your house. And after that, I think we should pay a visit to Galland, Lancaster and Dupree."

The two men made a commanding pair as they left the coffeehouse, and Hugh was again aware that there were many eyes upon him and that most were not friendly. Stepping outside onto the banquettes, he asked with a sigh, "Do you think your countrymen will ever get used to being American? Or to Americans?"

"Perhaps. In time. Many are still very resentful at the trick Napoleon played upon us."

The two men chatted amiably as they walked along the wooden banquettes, enjoying the unexpectedly fine weather. The morning was almost warm, and gentle golden sunlight danced on the uneven rooftops of the buildings, and dappled the wrought-iron grillwork adorning the galleries for which New Orleans was famous. Jasper's town house was on Dumaine Street, and they were about to leave Chartres and turn up Dumaine when Hugh spied a pair of feminine figures, discreetly followed by a black manservant, not a half block in front of him.

Despite the shawls covering their heads and partially obscuring their features, he recognized at once the spirited tilt of the younger woman's head. As they drew nearer, he was aware of a sudden leap in his pulse when Micaela Dupree's dark, startled eyes met his. Sweeping his hat from his head, Hugh bowed to the women.

"Bonjour, Madame
Dupree,
Mademoiselle
Dupree," he said politely, his words and actions echoed by Jasper.