She Hates Me Not: A Richer in Love Romance

by Greene, F. E.

  In her inbox Lou found exactly what she was hoping to see. The subject line was always the same – BBL. Bonjour, Boudé Lou. She and her sister both used acronyms in place of actual names. Somehow it bridged the distance to have a secret code and inside jokes. Without those, Lou would feel even farther from Santa Fe, and Améline, than she actually was.

  Oh my BL! Mais I don’t know how you did this, but THANK YOU! The cashier’s check arrived yesterday at the spa. I cried until bedtime. Tiffany is going with me to the doctor next week, and my treatments should start right after. If we begin now, my prognosis is good. I don’t want to pick with you, cher, but this is nothing honteaux, right? Because it’s a downright miracle, and I’ll be praying the Glory Be for days! How’s ya Moggie and dem? Hugs to both and twice as many to you! Miss you, cher! APA

  By the end of the email, Lou was weeping again. Quietly she sobbed into her sleeves, catching her tears as they dripped. Her heart might be hurting for how she’d treated Kip, but to know that Amy could be healed reaffirmed everything she’d done. Her three days with Kip Richmond would never be her proudest moment. But tomorrow she’d go to confession and let grace erase her guilt.

  Lou closed the email and clicked the trash can to delete it. There was another in her in-box, and not from Améline. Frowning, she examined its address.

  LBRichmond@richent.co.uk

  Lou’s heart beat faster as she opened it. The hair rose on her arms, and a frisson made her twitch. The email contained one sentence.

  Open the attached.

  Imagining the order in Lydia’s mother-superior voice, Lou didn’t rush to obey. It didn’t look like junk or spam, but attachments carried viruses. Moggie’s computer was already Jurassic, and Lou didn’t want one of her emails to be the reason it went extinct.

  But Lydia Richmond didn’t seem like the cheap-trick type. If she was going to take a person down, it wouldn’t be by loading malware on an ancient computer. She blackmailed people with money, not for it. Her miracles came with strings.

  Squinting as if the attachment might pop like a balloon, Lou clicked on the paper clip icon. It was a PDF of a newspaper story. More specifically, an excerpt from a London gossip mag – one with international appeal.

  Does Catrella Delcombe have competition? Kip Richmond seems to think so. The 27-year-old “uncatchable bachelor” was seen again in the arms of his mystery date only days after a tête-à-tête with Catrella in the south of France. CelebSitesOnline learned from a source that, “Kip is ready to settle down with Cat. He’s just sowing his last few oats.”

  Ready or not, Kip may lose both women if he refuses to choose between his long-time love and his American arm-candy whose name, according to the source, is Lou Aucoin. Will Kip float away with his current amour or drop anchor with the heartsick Catrella?

  This time the article contained three pictures. One of Catrella looking pouty and perfect in her glossy red dress. Another of Lou and Kip, a shot she’d already seen, kissing on the theatre terrace. And a third photo of them kissing on the banks of the Avon just one day before. The Evangeline’s name stood out clearly. In the background was the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.

  Lou pressed a hand to her chest as her breathing grew swift and shallow. Who was taking photos of Kip on a random Monday afternoon? Did he have a paparazzi stalker? How could the paper get away with printing absolute lies?

  All the picture lacked was a giant arrow aimed directly at Lou. If anyone from SoLa was searching for her, their toddler could connect those dots. Why had she given her boat such an obvious name? Any Cajun would know its significance. She might as well fly the Acadian flag from its stern.

  And why would Lydia Richmond send this story to her? Kip’s mama had already caught them kissing, and Lou didn’t try to deny it. When Lydia played her trump card, Lou fell right in line. But Lydia obviously couldn’t control her younger son. Kip wouldn’t allow it if she tried.

  Lou realized a hand had settled onto her shoulder. Moggie knelt beside her. Beryl hovered behind. Both asked what was wrong in their contrasting fashions. Then each focused on the screen.

  “Oh dear.” Adjusting her glasses, Beryl tilted in for a better look. “Is that an actual news article?”

  “I wouldn’t call it news,” Moggie said.

  Lou startled them both when she jumped up from her chair. “I have to go.”

  “Go where?” Moggie rose to her feet.

  Clutching her chest, Lou backed away until she collided with an open window. “I have to disappear for a while. You can do without me, right?”

  “I suppose,” Moggie replied. “But we’d rather not. Why do you need to disappear?”

  Lou spun to check the court below. “You know who’s after me.”

  Rapidly her mind did the travel math. The first photo ran on a Sunday. Fly out of New Orleans on a Monday. Transfer in Miami or Dallas. Land in London on a Tuesday. Set out for Stratford by rental car which was a two- to three-hour trip.

  They could already be in town. If they’d trailed her from the boat, they’d also know about Moggie and Beryl. As long as anyone believed the hidden money existed, Lou was a liability for everyone she loved.

  Her thoughts shifted to her own travel plans. “I’m taking Evangeline down the Avon toward Tewkesbury. I’ll moor up for the night at Luddington and keep going from there at dawn.”

  Beryl gestured at the window. “But it’s already sunset. And it’s raining.”

  “It won’t be night for another hour.” Lou glanced around for the raincoat she’d forgotten to wear. It didn’t matter. She was used to running between the raindrops.

  Moggie moved to stand in the flat’s main doorway. “Are you sure you’re not overreacting?”

  “I know you think I’m paranoid. Let’s say that I am. What’s the worst-case scenario here? I take off for a few months and come back looking like a fool. The sky doesn’t fall, and you can say I told you so until the bayous all run backwards.” Pausing to catch her breath, Lou joined Moggie at the door. “But what if I’m right? I can’t tell these voyous what they want to know. And sometimes the best way to hurt a person is to hurt the people they love.”

  “This isn’t a James Bond film,” Moggie said.

  Easing between them, Beryl’s expression had grown as depressed as the weather. “Are you taking your mobile?”

  Lou hugged her. “I’d better get rid of it. Lydia Richmond found my number. She found my email, too. Obviously I’m not as good at hiding as I thought.”

  “Ring us when you can, duck.” Beryl clung until Lou pulled away.

  Moggie embraced her also. “I hope you’re wrong, Lou.”

  Lou squeezed her tightly. “And I hope you’re right.”

  Letting go, Lou raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She shoved through the door to the court without slowing to lock it behind her. There’d be plenty of time later to miss her friends. Her only goal at the moment was to cast off and get as far down the Avon as she could.

  This change was temporary, Lou promised herself as she hurried toward Wood Street. She walked as swiftly as she could without attracting attention. She tried not to think about Kip.

  Even if her worst fears were imaginary, Lou would never see Kip Richmond again. Maybe the voyous would find her – or not. It still felt like the sky was falling.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Twirling a pen around his fingers, Kip waited for Ben to pick up. It was only half six, but he’d barely slept. Already the day seemed eternal. Overcast skies muted the sunrise, and a fine mist curtained the world.

  For Kip, the last twelve hours were just as gloomy. His initial indignation had changed gradually to remorse, and he regretted leaving the Evangeline before Lou could explain completely. Even if her reasons changed nothing, he might be able to forgive her – if not forget.

  At last Ben answered the call. He examined Kip for all of three seconds before shifting toward a different screen. “You look like a dog’s breakfast.”

&
nbsp; Kip felt like one, too. “Did you see the article?”

  “Yes. Do you think Catrella had a hand it in?”

  Kip frowned at the suggestion. “A hand in what?”

  “Getting these stories in print. Cat still has a few tabloid hacks in her handbag even if her career is in tatters. No wonder she made short work of you,” he added. “You’re far too trusting.”

  “Clearly,” Kip agreed. “Why are you at the office already?”

  “I get more done before everyone shows. Why aren’t you at the office with me?”

  “I’ll be there tomorrow. There’s a charity cocktail do in Canary Wharf this evening. Donors for India and so forth. Mother is sending Yannick to collect me.”

  “To grab you by the scruff and drag you home, more like.”

  Kip chuckled at the image. It wouldn’t be necessary. Much as he wanted to chase after Lou, it would land him in the lap of another scheming woman who lied much too easily and used his family like a cashpoint.

  Eyes glued to his mobile, Ben picked up a mug with his free hand and sipped its contents. “Do you want to know what I’ve found out about Lou Aucoin?”

  Kip waffled on a response. “It hardly matters now, but go ahead.”

  “Early replies indicate there’s no hidden money. No unearthed fortune. No secret accounts in the Caymans or Belize. If there were, then the Yanks would have seized them by now. Seized the funds or used them as bait to trap other men as unethical as Aucoin seemed to be.”

  “So Lou’s afraid for no reason?”

  “Apparently,” Ben said. “Of course, I’ve been at this for less than a day. And, with apologies, the sordid histories of your paramours are not first on my daily agenda. Or last.”

  Kip removed the pen’s cap and began chewing. “Bit harsh, that.”

  “Is it? You have a tendency to be your own worst enemy, Kip. Unless Catrella is in the room.”

  “Oi.” He flicked the cap at Ben’s image. “It’s easy to throw those stones when you hide in a glass office all day.”

  Without looking over, Ben smirked. “Did Lou mention why she needed the money?”

  The question did nothing to improve Kip’s mood. “Her sister’s ill. Cancer, she says.”

  “Same as her mother, then?”

  “You’ve done your digging.”

  “Not at all,” Ben said. “A bit of googling, and the details came rushing back. The Aucoins are infamous, Kip. The father’s crimes made international headlines. Seems he became entangled, all too willingly, with some exceedingly disreputable men. Tech-savvy gangsters. Mafia types. Their misconduct robbed employees of pensions and stockholders of profits. It’s unlikely either sister would receive a warm welcome if they ever returned home.”

  Kip swiveled to top up his coffee from a tray on the bedside cabinet. “Why don’t I recall this?”

  “Well, you were cocking about at uni, weren’t you? The lost fortune of Robert Aucoin has become a sort of modern-day pirate legend. I still hear his name mentioned as an ice-breaker at cocktail parties in the States. Whatever became of the Aucoin treasure? You know Americans. They love a tall tale with an ambiguous ending. It’s essentially their historical record.”

  “So it’s possible that someone could be after Lou, if they believe the stories. Anyone who lost big in the fallout might be hunting for literal payback.”

  “Absolutely,” Ben affirmed. “If life were a BBC drama.”

  “Most stories are rooted in truth,” Kip argued.

  “Even those about you and Catrella?”

  Annoyed, Kip set down his cup and left the bed to pace beside it. “Why would Mother bribe someone to go out with me?”

  “Because on some level that’s how most business is done.”

  Kip grimaced at his brother’s professional ethics – or lack thereof. “What kind of person does whatever another tells them in exchange for money?”

  “I believe that’s called a job,” Ben said.

  “You know what I mean. I hope. Otherwise I’ll be visiting you in the open prison of your choice.”

  “I don’t think the judge lets you choose.” Ben smirked again, falling silent while he sent a text. “What would you do to save my life if you found out I was dying?”

  Halting, Kip pretended to be mildly enthused. “Are you dying?”

  “Aren’t we all?” Ben looked squarely at the camera. “Honestly, Kip, what would you do to save my life?”

  “Almost anything, I imagine. But it’s not the same.”

  “Yes, it is.” Ben’s gaze didn’t waver. “It’s the same instinct, the same desire – to protect those we love from suffering. If Amy is Lou’s only family, then of course she would take money to give her sister a fighting chance. Neither she nor Mother did anything illegal. We could debate the ethics of their choices. Or you could give the girl a second chance as long as you swear by the sun, moon, and stars that Lou Aucoin is not another Catrella.”

  “She’s not,” Kip promised. “She’s brilliant. But how do I know that I can trust her?”

  “Because Lou didn’t ask for a penny more than what her sister needed. That is not the behavior of a greedy person. And remember, saying no to our mother is like trying to stop an express train with a feather.”

  “Did Mum tell you this?”

  “After two glasses of wine.” Ben’s attention shifted back to his tablet. “But please feel free to ask her yourself.”

  Returning to the bed, Kip grabbed his phone and opened a new message. The money you paid Lou. Was it for her sister’s treatment in hospital? Nothing more? After sending the text to his mother, he counted to ten.

  Her reply took twice that long. Why do you ask?

  Answer the question.

  Yes. Kipling, I want you to know

  Ignoring her response, Kip tossed his mobile on the bed. “You’re correct. It was for Lou’s sister.”

  “Feel better now?” Ben asked in a tone less engaged than before.

  Kip wasn’t sure. Especially when his phone began to dance on the duvet. Groaning, he reached over to silence it. “I should find Lou and try to patch this.”

  “I thought you hated the girl.”

  “No, she hated me,” Kip corrected. “Or at least she pretended. My feelings are quite the opposite.”

  “You can’t love her,” Ben scoffed. “You’ve known her for less than a week.”

  “I’ve never met someone I’m more likely to love.”

  “Go to it, then. But do have a wash first.” With a click Ben ended the call.

  For a long minute Kip stared at the lifeless screen. While he didn’t need his brother’s permission to do anything, Ben’s support was reassuring all the same. It was Ben who stood by Kip through the bleakest of times. No lectures. No judgment. Just a heap of forbearing, if sterile, love while their mother screeched and railed.

  If Kip went after Lou again, then he jeopardized her agreement with his mother and, by design, Amy Aucoin’s health. The terms of the contract were crystal clear – an evening at the gala and no further contact. One and done. That’s how Lou phrased it. Clearly their scheme had gone off its rails, but Lou wasn’t to blame. Not once had she contacted Kip.

  Knowing Cat would be at the gala, his mother chose Lou as Kip’s shield. Was it such a small world that she’d pick the one girl who feared what most others craved? Too many women would leap at the chance to be his next Catrella. To be pictured in the tabloids. To see and be seen with him. While the truth was hardly flattering, it was Kip’s reality.

  Until he met Lou Aucoin.

  To be fair, Kip checked his own motives. Was he now pursuing Lou to defy his mother?

  No, that was merely a perk. What Kip felt for Lou ran inexplicably deeper than anything he’d known before. Impulsive as he was, this didn’t resemble yet another impetuous whim.

  Which is why at half seven, showered and shaved, Kip stood knocking on the side door of Imogens Café with a bouquet of daisies in hand. Showing up at Lou’s boat se
emed a bit too bold. Better to wait in a neutral location than return to where things had gone wrong.

  To Kip’s relief, Moggie answered the door. Immediately he apologized.

  “So sorry to bother. Can Lou spare a minute? I won’t keep her for long.”

  Moggie’s face was sadly serene. “Lou’s gone. She left yesterday evening in the Evangeline. She’s trying to put some distance between herself and the town.”

  Kip lowered the bouquet. “Because of me?”

  “Lou saw that article in the paper, the one from yesterday. It sent her into an absolute panic.”

  “Of course it would,” Kip realized aloud. “How long will she be away?”

  Moggie hesitated. “She mentioned months.”

  “Months?” Kip repeated. “But what about work? How’s she going to live?”

  “I’m not sure she took all that into account.”

  Of course she wouldn’t. Kip might not be paranoid, but he knew how it felt to act rashly. Little details ceased to factor. All that mattered was the overarching desire. Go there. Take that. Acquire. Escape.

  Lou was escaping. But she needn’t do so alone. What Kip desired now was to find her.

  When door opened further, Beryl joined Moggie beneath its frame. She peered at Kip over the rims of her garish reading glasses. The pungent scent of patchouli drifted into the court.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged onto the mat.”

  Kip lowered his head contritely. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where Lou’s gone?”

  “South on the Avon, down Tewkesbury way,” Moggie answered. “She moored at Luddington for the night.”

  “Which, I’m guessing, isn’t far?”

  “A ten-minute drive by car. Which, I’m guessing, you haven’t got?”

  As Moggie musingly watched him, and Beryl continued to glare, Kip nodded in response. He’d need a car with a decent Sat Nav and a sense of how far Lou might travel. Most car hires opened at nine in small towns, even a tourist haven like Stratford. An hour and a half seemed like an agonizing delay.