Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (6 page)

Satisfied with his afternoon's visit, Hugh was whistling to himself as he strolled back toward Jasper's house. Once there, he made himself at home in Jasper's study, writing notes to various American acquaintances in the city, advising them of his presence. One of those polite notes went to Alice Summerfield's father, and as he sealed the letter, Hugh looked at it thoughtfully, Jasper's words about a cold-blooded American coming back to haunt him. Was he being unwise to court Alice? He had always found her a charming companion, reserved yes, but then one did not want a forward hoyden for a wife. Admittedly, with her pale blond hair, soft blue eyes, and tall, slender build, she was a lovely woman, but he was aware that she aroused little passion in him. Of course, he reminded himself, he was of an age when he should not be consumed with a youth's wild, indiscriminate lust. He was fond of Alice. He admired her. She was well connected, came from a good family, and had money of her own—he did not have to fear that it was solely his fortune that attracted her.

Alice would be an asset to him, he admitted. She would see that his household ran smoothly; she would preside graciously over his table and, in time, God willing, would present him with the heirs which would please his stepfather. Surely those were all legitimate reasons for marrying her? Then why did he feel uneasy about it?

Jasper's words slid slyly through his mind, followed swiftly by Micaela Dupree's image, her dark eyes flashing, her saucy mouth tempting and beckoning. Hugh felt his body tighten with a powerful surge of desire. Damn Jasper! These unseemly thoughts of Micaela Dupree were his fault. He would be courting Alice Summerfield,
not
that haughty piece of work, Micaela Dupree.

If Jasper found his friend short-tempered and out of sorts that evening, he put it down to Hugh's preoccupation with work and proceeded to bedevil him about it, which, of course, did nothing to improve Hugh's mood. It was with relief that Hugh sought out his bed, and as he laid there, his thoughts of his best friend were uncharitable—at best.

By morning Hugh had recovered his usual good spirits. He spent several hours arranging things to suit himself at the offices of Galland, Lancaster and Dupree. He had also taken time to pay the warehouses on Tchoupitoulas Street a visit and, having made his plans for remaining in the city and taking a firmer hand in the business known to the dockworkers, was feeling satisfied with himself. Whoever was stealing from the company was not going to find it as easy as he had in the past—he would see to that!

As he bathed and dressed that evening for dinner at the Duprees, Hugh was conscious of a feeling of anticipation, an almost boyish eagerness that he had not felt in a long time. Checking his cravat one last time in the cheval glass in his room, he told himself firmly that his light mood had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he would be seeing Micaela Dupree shortly. He was merely pleased with his day's work.

Micaela could not say that she was looking forward to the coming evening. Yet she could not deny that she took especial care with her dress that evening and that there was a sparkle in her eyes that a dinner with friends and family should not have put there. Her dark, gleaming locks, piled high on her head, were held in place with pearl-and-ebony combs and her pale pink silk gown lent a rosy glow to her alabaster skin and intensified the cherry hue of her lips. A fringed shawl in delicate shades of cream and green was around her shoulders, and as she descended the stairs to join her mother in the second-best parlor, she was conscious of a flutter of excitement—and annoyed by it.

The dinner party had grown since Lisette had invited Hugh and Jasper. Alain Husson, his sister and Micaela's best friend, Cecile, had also been invited, as well as their widowed mother,
Madame
Husson.
Madame
Husson's sister-in-law,
Madame
Marie Husson, had been included in the invitation, as much because she was related to the Duprees—Renault and Jean's father had been her brother—as the fact that being a widow herself, she lived with the rest of the Hussons. And, of course, Jean and François would be there—resentfully. Both men had been put out when they had learned who was to be their dinner guest that Saturday night, but Lisette had arched a brow at their protestations and wafted serenely from the room. It was, as she had informed them,
her
dinner party. They could attend or not.

Despite the undercurrent of tension, the evening went well—everyone was, after all, on their very best behavior. It was true that
Madame
Husson and
Tante
Marie, as she was known to Micaela and François, as well as Alain and Cecile, were coolly polite to the
Américain
in their midst, but Jasper, ably assisted by Lisette, was quick to smooth over any awkward moments. Jean kept a civil tongue in his mouth, and François followed his uncle's lead. Micaela ignored Hugh, allowing herself only the occasional surreptitious glance in his direction; Cecile, not yet eighteen, was plainly awed by the tall, handsome
Américain,
and Alain, who was Micaela's most persistent suitor, chose to pretend that Hugh was not present and lavished the majority of his conversation and longing looks on Micaela.

Hugh had met Alain Husson only once previously, and he held no particular opinion about the man. He knew that, like Jasper, Alain had gained a small share in Galland, Lancaster and Dupree two and a half years ago because of Christophe's penchant for reckless gaming. The wager, if he remembered correctly, had had something to do with how far a frog would leap. Hugh grimaced. The Creole love of gambling and their willingness to wager large sums on the most ridiculous events mystified him.

Alain was about Hugh's age. He was not tall, but he was built like a bull, solid, with powerful shoulders and strong, muscular thighs. He was handsome, his features attractively sculpted and his smile most charming, but watching him bend his dark head attentively next to Micaela's, Hugh decided that he didn't care for the man.

When the ladies rose from the table, leaving the gentlemen to their tobacco and wine, there was a moment of silence. Then Jasper said gaily as he looked across the table at Hugh, "This is most fortunate,
mon ami
—it so happens, that with the exception of your step-papa,
Madame
Dupree has assembled all the partners in Galland, Lancaster and Dupree in her dining room tonight. Now would be an excellent opportunity for you to explain what you have been doing since your arrival and what your plans are for the company,
oui?"

In the act of lighting a slim, black cheroot, Hugh glanced wryly at Jasper's mocking face. Trust Jasper to put the cat amongst the pigeons.

Taking in an appreciative drag of his cheroot, Hugh watched the thin stream of blue smoke rise toward the ceiling. "I had thought to call a meeting tomorrow, but if you gentlemen...?"

Jean nodded curtly; the others concurred.

Taking a sip of his Madeira, Hugh said mildly, "I expect that most of what I plan to do will affect you little. I will warn you, however, that I intend to take an active part in the running of the business. By that I mean, except for certain times of the year, most notably the fever season, that I shall be at our offices every day and that little will be done without my having first overseen it." He shot Jean a sardonic look. "I do not, of course, expect you to change your habits. I assume that you will continue as you have in the past."

His face resentful, Jean's lip curled. "You would become a
'chaca'
a tradesman?"

"I
am
a tradesman," Hugh said levelly, not rising to the challenge. "And I think you forget that it is 'trade' which is our business."

Jean sniffed. "Very well. You will be at the office every day and nothing will be done without your permission. What else?"

"Why nothing," Hugh said. He stared at the burning tip of his cheroot before adding softly, "There is one thing more, though—I have taken over Christophe's old office for my private and personal use. I hope that you will not mind. For the amount of time the rest of you spend there, I am sure that you can comfortably manage your affairs in one of the other two private offices."

"You are throwing us out of my
grand-pere'
s office?" François demanded angrily. "What right do you have to do such a thing?"

Hugh smiled grimly. "The right of someone who intends to get a great deal of work done in that office... and my right as owner of the major shares of the business."

There was a sullen silence, but neither of the Duprees offered further challenge. Hugh waited a moment before saying quietly, "I know that the next few months are going to be trying for all of us—I shall try not to step on too many toes, or offend your sensibilities if I can help it, but I intend to find out precisely why we seem to be losing so much money. You can either help me... or..."

"But of course, we will help you," Jasper exclaimed. He looked around at the others. "It is to our advantage,
oui?"

Grudgingly the other three nodded, François going so far as to say, "Perhaps this will be a good thing."

Alain shot him a look, and François became very interested in his wineglass.

Throwing down his napkin and rising to his feet, Jean said, "Since there is nothing else to discuss, shall we join the ladies?"

It was clear to Micaela that something had happened in the dining room to upset her brother and uncle the instant they entered the room, and she felt a faint stab of anxiety. What had the
Américain
said to them to make both men look so grim?

As the gentlemen gravitated toward Lisette, who was pouring coffee near the cheery fire, Micaela plucked at François's sleeve. He glanced at her, and she tipped her head, indicating a small alcove near one end of the large room.

Discreetly, brother and sister retired in that direction, and Micaela asked in a low voice, "What is wrong,
mon cher?
What did the
Américain
say to you?"

François's jaw hardened, and his hands clenched into fists. "The arrogance of the creature! Not here two days, and already he has commandeered
Grand-pere's
office and loftily informed the rest of us that it is to be his alone!" His dark eyes burned as he added dramatically. "We shall be nothing more than lowly clerks if he has his way!"

Micaela looked shocked. "He is going to make you work as a clerk? But you are one of the owners! Can he do this?"

Resentfully, François said, "Apparently, he thinks he can do anything he pleases and that we must obey him."

"But we are
owners,
too!"

"Tell that to him!"

Furious for her brother, Micaela's delicate lips thinned. How dare this, this,
usurper
dictate to her family! Why he wasn't even one of the original partners. How dare he!

Sipping his coffee near the fire, over the rim of his cup Hugh had observed the interplay between brother and sister, and, from the expressions on their faces, he had a very good idea what had been said. If the angry cast to her mouth was any indication, it was obvious that Micaela was committed to her brother's camp. He sighed. He might have been a little high-handed in his manner, but, dammit, things had been allowed to slide for too long, and he didn't have the patience or the inclination to tread carefully around the excitable sensibilities of the Duprees. It was better, he told himself wearily, that he establish his position right from the start. In time, perhaps, he could use more finesse in dealing with them. But not now.

Returning to join the group clustered around the fire, Micaela's sense of injustice grew as she watched Cecile hang on every word that passed Hugh's lips. Cecile was clearly entranced, and Micaela found herself holding Hugh's easy charm against him. Her chin lifted. No doubt he was amusing himself at Cecile's expense. How sad that her friend was being taken in by such a blackguard.

Accepting a cup of coffee from her mother, a militant light in her fine eyes, Micaela wandered over to where Hugh, Cecile, and Jasper were standing. She stood listening to their banter for a few moments, then asked Hugh, "So,
Monsieur
Lancaster, have you found a place to stay in our fair city?"

Hugh's brow lifted. The proud little
mademoiselle
was deigning to speak to him? He sent her a lazy smile. "Indeed I have,
Mademoiselle
Dupree—Jasper has kindly offered me the hospitality of his home for as long as I wish."

Micaela cocked her head. Taking a sip of her coffee, then slowly turning away, she said softly over her shoulder, "How strange... I would have thought that you would have made your quarters at the offices of the company. But then, it
is
possible, I suppose, for the premises to survive without your presence during the night."

Cecile smothered a gasp, and Jasper laughed aloud. Hugh smiled, although there was a glint in his gray eyes which made Micaela strangely breathless. He bowed low, acknowledging her barb, but instead of feeling victorious, Micaela stalked away with a sense of having survived a dangerous escape.

Alain appeared at her shoulder, and she spent several moments conversing with him and recovering her composure. She liked Alain and was flattered by his attention—he was considered a very eligible
parti,
and there were several other young ladies who would have been ecstatic to have him dancing attendance on them. But Micaela could not bring herself to accept his attentions seriously. François and Jean both had been pushing his suit for several months now. Was that why she could not bring herself to say yes and become betrothed to Alain? Because they wanted it so desperately?