When Micaela remained silent, Jean crossed to her. Taking one of her hands in his, he said earnestly, "I do not like to put this burden on your shoulders, ma chère, but it is important that you understand that this is a troubling time for all of us right now. Alain is most desperate to marry you—he has even mentioned that a great dowry is not important to him." Steadily holding her gaze, he added softly, "Besides saving your brother from an embarrassing situation, there is much to recommend this match, petite. In fact I cannot think of one reason against it. Do not forget, too, that if you marry Alain Husson, you will, in effect, be keeping the shares of the business in the family. With this Américain underfoot, it is important that as a family we all stick together."
Her eyes searching his, Micaela said miserably, "You have given me much to think about, oncle... but I must be truthful with you and tell you that I do not want to marry Alain Husson."
"Not even to save your family?" he demanded.
"I do not know," she admitted huskily. "I shall have to think on it. You ask a great deal of me."
Her heart heavy in her breast, Micaela bade her uncle good night and swiftly left the room.
After Micaela had departed, Jean wandered about, his thoughts unpleasant. He had been so certain that she would accept Husson's offer. Something must be done to make her see sense.
François entered, a question in his eyes. Jean shook his head. "She does not want to marry him."
François's face fell. "I do not understand her. Why is she being so stubborn? Does she want to die a spinster? There are dozens of girls who would swoon with delight if Alain wanted to marry them."
"Unfortunately, your sister is not one of them," Jean replied dryly.
"What are we to do? Alain is pressing me for the money—or Micaela's hand."
Jean took a deep breath. "I think that we shall have to make up her mind for her."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that we shall have to arrange a... situation. A situation which will make it impossible for her to refuse to marry Alain."
François's eyes widened. "You mean...?"
Jean slowly nodded. "Oui," he said heavily. "I find this situation distasteful, but I see no other way out. If your father were alive, he would no doubt simply order her to marry the man of his choice, but we cannot. And so we must stoop to an unpleasant subterfuge." Uncomfortably, Jean continued, "With Alain's help, and I do not doubt that he will be most willing to play his part, we must see to it that your sister is thoroughly compromised and that she has no choice but to accept marriage to Alain Husson."
Chapter 4
The next weeks passed swiftly as Hugh settled into life in New Orleans. He spent long hours at the firm's offices, and by the end of March he was thoroughly familiar with all aspects of the workings of Galland, Lancaster and Dupree. Jean and François remained touchy about the situation, but he had to give them credit for not interfering any more than they did. He also had to admit that Jean had assembled a competent and hardworking staff. Jean Dupree, he conceded, was not a complete fool. In fact, the man had a good business head—when he used it.
His dinner party at the hotel for the Duprees had not yet come about, primarily because the week following his invitation, the ladies and Jean had departed New Orleans for Riverbend. It was sugar-cane planting time, and Jean needed to be there to oversee the setting out of the young crop. François had remained in the city, and Jean had made periodic trips into New Orleans to keep a no-doubt-jealous eye on events at Galland, Lancaster and Dupree.
Hugh had been surprised at the wave of disappointment which had swept through him when he had learned that the Dupree ladies had left the city for the country. He told himself that it was because he would miss Lisette Dupree's leavening presence in dealing with François and Jean, but there was a part of him that knew he was lying to himself. To prove to himself that it really was Lisette's presence he missed, he spent time in the company of Alice Summerfield and her family—much to Jasper's obvious disapproval.
Meeting Hugh as he was on his way out the door to dine at the Summerfield home that evening, Jasper made a face. "The icy Miss Summerfield again, mon ami?" When Hugh nodded, he waved an admonishing finger under Hugh's nose. "I would be careful, if I were you—you may find yourself leg-shackled before you realize what has happened. You have been seen much in her company of late and tongues are beginning to wag—even amongst the Creoles."
Hugh smiled. "I told you I was looking for a wife."
"But amongst the wrong females! What about the so-sweet Cecile Husson? She appeared to be quite taken with you. You could not find a better-connected or wealthier match in the city."
"Too young for my taste," Hugh muttered, and hastily departed. He had hoped that Jasper's promotion of a Creole bride had been an aberration, but such had not been the case. At every opportunity, Jasper shamelessly touted the charms of every eligible Creole female within a twenty-mile radius of New Orleans. One name, Hugh had been irritatingly aware, had been noticeably absent. Which, of course, meant nothing to him. It was Alice Summerfield who currently held his attention, he told himself firmly.
Hugh was startled to find François among the guests at the Summerfields' home, but then he shrugged. It was perhaps a sign of things to come—Creole and American conversing amiably together. Dismissing François's presence, Hugh enjoyed himself that evening at the elegant house of Alice's parents. Alice's father was a genial man who had been a friend of John Lancaster's in Natchez, and his wife was a lavish hostess. Hugh was acquainted with several of the other American guests, and he discovered that he was relieved that it was not to be an intimate family dinner. Aware of several arch looks when he went up and engaged Alice in conversation after dinner, he wondered if perhaps Jasper wasn't right. Mayhap he should be a bit more circumspect for the time being.
Noticing the frown which marred his handsome face, Alice asked, "Is something amiss? You look very fierce."
Hugh's features softened as he gazed down at her appreciatively. She was a sight to gladden any man's heart, in a blue-satin gown which matched her lovely eyes and displayed to advantage her tall, slim, elegant figure. Her blond hair was arranged in ringlets around her chiseled features; her blue eyes were large and limpid, but even as he looked with sincere admiration at Alice, he was conscious that her cool beauty left him unmoved... even bored.
Rousing himself, he smiled at her. "Do I? I assure you that I do not mean to—not with such a charming sight as yourself before me."
"That was a very pretty compliment," she replied sedately, her gaze moving serenely over the other guests. She was confident that it was only a matter of time before Hugh asked her father for permission to solicit her hand in marriage. She would, she had decided calmly, say yes when Hugh asked her to marry him.
Fixing her lovely blue eyes on Hugh's, she said, "Father mentioned that you have bought a new pair of horses, matched chestnuts, I believe he said."
"Indeed I have—as sweet a pair of goers it has been my pleasure ever to drive." He smiled ruefully. "Though until the ground dries out, I doubt I will be able to drive them very much."
Alice gave a delicate shudder. "I know—aren't the roads simply terrible? More like quagmires."
"Well, the rainy season will not last much longer, and then we shall all be complaining about the dust," Hugh replied cheerfully.
Catching sight of François talking with a fellow Creole, Bernard Marigny, who was a member of General Wilkinson's staff, Hugh nodded in that direction. "I was surprised to see François Dupree here tonight. I did not know that your father was acquainted with him."
"I believe that Mr. Marigny introduced us to him." She glanced at Hugh. "He has come several times to call, and my mother is quite taken with his Gallic charms... I must confess that I, too, have found his company delightful. His command of English is very good—it is my understanding that his grandfather insisted that he and his sister learn not only English but Spanish as well."
Franço
is's fluency in English and Spanish came as no surprise to Hugh—old Christophe Galland had been no fool, and it made sense for anyone living in New Orleans to have at least a working vocabulary of the three languages heard most often. It was François's visits to the Summerfield home that surprised him. Why, Hugh wondered, is François making himself so agreeable to the Summerfield family? His gaze slid consideringly to the young woman at his side. Alice? François had no doubt heard the same gossip as Jasper. Was the younger man seeing for himself the woman whose name had been linked to his, or was François putting himself forward as a rival? It was an interesting thought.
Catching Hugh's eyes on him, François smiled sunnily and walked over to where Hugh and Alice were standing. After bowing over Alice's hand and exclaiming his enjoyment of the evening, François looked at Hugh and said, "My uncle has returned to the city. He arrived not a half hour before I had to leave to attend this evening's so-delightful entertainment." This last was said with another bow to Alice.
"What a pity," Alice said. "If only we had known that he was going to be in the city, we would have been happy to invite him to accompany you tonight."
François made a polite noise. "Do not distress yourself, mademoiselle. There will, no doubt, be other times. Besides, it was planned for our friend, Alain Husson, to come by this evening and visit with him. They have—ah—business to discuss."
Hugh flicked a brow upward. "Business? Galland, Lancaster and Dupree business, perhaps?"
"Non! Why, we would not dare to do such a thing without first asking your permission, monsieur," François said mockingly, a challenging gleam sparkling in his dark eyes.
Amused by François's thinly disguised hostility, Hugh merely smiled.
When Hugh did not rise to his baiting, François went on smoothly, "Actually, I think that my uncle does wish to discuss some business with you—he will no doubt see you tomorrow at the company offices."
Deciding that she had been ignored long enough, Alice asked, "Does your uncle plan to stay in the city long?"
"Ah, non. Not more than a day or two—this is a very busy time for him. There is much for him to oversee at the plantation this time of year."
Alice and François began to talk about the plantation, and, only half-listening to their conversation, Hugh stared meditatively at François. Now why does Jean want to meet with me? he wondered. The open resentment and displeasure of the Duprees at his arrival and active presence in the firm seemed to have faded, and Hugh had been growing hopeful that the worst was behind him. Was he wrong?
That question was answered at eleven o'clock the next morning, when Jean, with François at his heels, breezed into Hugh's office. Hugh was seated behind his desk, going over some of the invoices from the previous year when the Duprees arrived, and he glanced up when they entered without knocking.
A quizzical expression on his face, he looked up at them and said, "Good morning, gentlemen. What may I do for you?"
Nattily attired in a gray-striped jacket and an elegant waistcoat above his long, dark gray pantaloons, Jean seated himself in one of the chairs before Hugh's desk. Crossing one booted foot over the other, he said, "I trust that you will forgive the intrusion, but I, we, have a proposal to place before you."
Laying aside the invoice, Hugh leaned back in his chair. His features bland, he regarded the two men in front of him, his brain racing. What the devil were they planning?
Calmly he asked, "Yes? What is this proposal?"
"We have had a family meeting," Jean said, "and we would like to buy half of your shares in the business."
"Thereby gaining a controlling interest," Hugh replied slowly, his sleepy gray eyes unrevealing.
"Oui!" François said. "This current situation is intolerable, and we have decided that this is the only way to resolve it."
"And if I do not want to sell? Suppose I would prefer to buy your shares?" Hugh asked levelly.
Jean's face tightened. "We do not wish to sell, monsieur."
"Even if I do not want to sell either?"
"Mon Dieu!" François burst out angrily. "Why are you being so difficult? We are willing to pay you a good sum for your interest." His lips lifted in a sneer. "A good sum to get rid of your interference in a business begun by my father and grandfather."
"And my stepfather," Hugh said softly, his eyes on François's turbulent features.
François made a disgusted sound and sprang to his feet. "You talk to him," he muttered to Jean. "I cannot." Spinning on his heels, François stalked from the office, slamming the door behind him.
"He is very young," Jean said, his gaze meeting Hugh's. "He loses his temper easily."
"I have noticed it is a trait you seem to share."
Jean smiled ruefully. "You are correct—you must put it down to the excitability of the Creole temperament. We do not have the measured, placid nature of you Américains. And this is why we would like to buy a controlling interest in the business. We think that it will be much better for all of us, if you sell to us and..." Jean grimaced. "There is no polite way to say it—and remove yourself from New Orleans." Jean leaned forward, his expression intent. "Let us tend to our own affairs. We have done so for over twenty years, with little interference from your step-papa—we would like to continue to do so."
Hugh rubbed his chin. He had never considered selling part of his interest, and, in fact, his own sense of honor would not have let him. His stepfather had been generous to him, and he would not make any bargain with the Duprees without first writing to John Lancaster. When John had sold him a controlling interest, he had known that the business would be safe in Hugh's hands. He sighed. Something that could not be said about the Duprees, although he would admit that Jean was not entirely without a business head. But there was another reason which made him hesitate—he knew himself too well, and he was aware that he would never be able to step aside and give the Duprees full rein—not as long as he owned even one percent of the business.
This offer of the Duprees made one thing clear—they were far more unhappy with him at the helm than he had thought, and it was obvious that the past few weeks had been a temporary truce. If the Duprees were desperate enough to make this offer, perhaps he should accept it... with one slight change....
His mind suddenly made up, Hugh said, "I will not sell part of my interest—you may buy all of it—provided my stepfather approves. It is possible that John will even sell you his shares." A cynical smile crossed his face. "Then you will be completely rid of us."
There was a stunned silence. "All of it?" Jean asked at last.
Hugh nodded. "Pending John Lancaster's approval."
Jean made a face. "It is generous of you, but we cannot. I will be honest with you—to buy only half of your shares will nearly bring us to the brink of bankruptcy. There is simply no way that we would be able to buy it all."
"Then I am afraid that we are at an impasse."
"You will not consider selling us half?"
Hugh shook his head. "You have been honest with me—I shall be so with you... I fear that if Galland, Lancaster and Dupree is left in your hands, in less than two years, there will be no business."
"I beg your pardon?" Jean said stiffly, his features congealing into an expression of offended anger.
Hugh sighed. So much for their moment of honesty with each other. "For the past twenty-two months we have taken severe losses, and during that time you have continued to authorize expenditures at the same rate you have in the past. We cannot keep dipping into our capital in this manner."
"I told Micaela that it was useless to try to talk to you," Jean snarled, springing to his feet.
"This was Micaela's idea?" Hugh asked, startled.
Jean nodded curtly. "She knew that her brother and I were upset with the situation, and she suggested that we try to buy a controlling interest. She was even willing to risk every cent of her own small fortune which came to her from her grand-pere." An unfriendly smile curved his mouth. "She agreed to do anyth
ing that would get rid of you! My niece is very loyal to her family—she is willing to do whatever is necessary for her family's sake."
"I see," Hugh replied, with an odd sensation of disappointment knifing through him. It was ridiculous of course. Micaela Dupree's opinion meant nothing to him.
Rising to his own feet, Hugh said softly, "It seems that we have nothing else to say to each other."
"You think so," Jean snapped. "You are mistaken, monsieur, if you think that we shall give in so easily."
Jean left in the same manner as François, right down to the slamming of the door. Shaking his head, Hugh sat down. Unwilling to dwell on the unpleasant scene which had just taken place, even less willing to examine his emotions concerning Micaela's part in it, he buried himself in work.
It was several hours later that he noticed something odd. Starting shortly after Christophe's death, there were, interspersed throughout, invoices that were different. Close examination convinced him that there was nothing on the paper to arouse his curiosity, everything was there that should be, there were no suspicious smudges or indecipherable writing, nothing appeared to be altered, but there was something. It wasn't until he was idly rubbing his thumb across one of pages that it dawned on him—the quality of the paper was just slightly different... crisper, smoother...
His interest piqued, he found the other invoices which had troubled him and discovered the same thing. Buried in the middle of each extensive invoice were, sometimes just one, upon occasion two or three, pages whose quality felt different from all the rest.
Leaning back in his chair, Hugh stared at the dozen or so invoices before him. There could be a logical explanation for the substitution of paper. But it was interesting, he decided grimly, that these odd pages started showing up about the time the company started losing money and that only very large invoices, consisting of several pages, had the different paper. Another thing—the questionable pages were always in the middle... almost as if someone had buried them there knowing that normally they would never be noticed... it had taken him several weeks of searching to discover the differences.
Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) Page 5
