* * *
Hugh's appearance that afternoon when he arrived at the Dupree plantation was as far from the description of a sleeping tiger as one could get. After he had swung off his horse, a big, restive bay, she greeted him as she stood beside her mother and Jean on the wide steps of the plantation house. Micaela confessed to herself that she had never met such a virile and exciting man. One lazy glance from his surprisingly long-lashed gray eyes and she was aware of herself in a way she had never experienced. She felt... female, and something inside of her responded irresistibly to his very maleness. It was unsettling. So when it was her turn to welcome him, she said coolly, "Monsieur Lancaster, how... ah, nice that you could bring yourself to leave behind the pressing affairs of Galland, Lancaster and Dupree and accept my uncle's humble invitation to join us for a few days."
Still holding her hand in his, Hugh grinned. Little vixen! If they were alone, he'd teach her to watch that impudent tongue. In fact, he thought with a sweet stab in his loins, he'd enjoy teaching her some pleasurable uses for that sharp little tongue.
A glitter in his gray eyes, Hugh murmured, "But mademoiselle, surely you know that the promise of your charming company holds far more allure for me than mere business."
Micaela blinked at the compliment, and she looked very young and vulnerable. Adorably so, Hugh thought.
Flustered, she managed to stammer, "H-h-how, very g-g-gallant, monsieur."
Jean's gaze narrowed. The interplay made him uneasy, and he was frowning as he watched Hugh, escorted by the two women, disappear into the house. Between Lancaster's meddling at the firm, Husson's pressing for payment of François's debt, and Micaela's stubborn refusal to marry Husson—he needed no further complications at this date. Worriedly Jean played back the exchange between Micaela and Hugh. Lancaster's interest in Micaela had better not go beyond polite flirtation.
Later that afternoon, after all the guests had arrived and everyone had been shown to their rooms and were dressing for dinner, Jean had a word with François. A troubled frown between his eyes, Jean asked François, "Have you noticed, er, anything unusual between your sister and the Américain?"
François, who was reclining comfortably in a chair in Jean's office, looked astonished. "Micaela and Lancaster? Are you jesting?"
Jean shrugged. "Just an idle question. When they met this afternoon, I thought that there was something."
François snorted. "You are imagining things. Lancaster's interest is well-known to lie with a certain blond, very lovely Américaine."
"Which is why the Summerfields were invited—and why you have been paying much attention to this same young lady, non?"
François laughed, his dark eyes dancing. "She is very lovely, even you must admit—Américaine though she is. And if I can tweak the tiger's nose by flirting with his intended bride, why would you deny me my pleasure."
"Is that all it is—tweaking Hugh's nose?"
"Of course, what other interest would I have in an Américaine female?" François asked, surprised.
Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, Jean muttered, "We need no complications, remember that."
It was François's turn to shrug. "But we will have none after Friday night, will we? My debt to Husson will be paid, you will have the capital you need for the plantation, and Husson will have what he wants—Micaela."
"Everything is arranged?"
François nodded. "Everything. Husson knows what he has to do, and he is most eager. With my help, it will be easy enough for him to separate her from the others—I shall be blind and deaf—except to the comfort of the rest of our guests, of course. And I shall swiftly lead them away. The fact that two of our party disappear on the ride will not be noticed until after we return home, and by then it will be dusk. Far too late to go looking for the two missing members. It will be Saturday morning before we can institute a search for them." Reluctantly, he added, "And by then, it will be much, much too late for Micaela. Honor will demand that she and Husson marry." François could not meet Jean's gaze, a nagging feeling of guilt rushing through him, especially when he realized that it was his debts that had brought them to this point—his debts and unrelenting pressure from Husson.
Unhappily, Jean muttered, "If only there were some other way." He grimaced, knowing there was not, and said bleakly, "It is unfortunate that circumstances have driven us to this dishonorable, desperate plan. We, who should protect her, are willing to sacrifice her for our own gain."
Chapter 6
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. François 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 François 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, François, 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, François 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.
&
nbsp; "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 François 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," François 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," François 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 François 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 cannot 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 François, 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, "François, 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," François 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, François, you are being utterly selfish to expect me to throw away my life simply because it will be convenient for you—or good business!"
Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) Page 8
