"I’m afraid so. He is the only heir and his remaining family is a greedy uncle that must be watched at every turn."
"Does he have land?" asked Millicent.
"He has a rather large plantation that connects to my own in South Carolina."
"I see. And who is watching it while he is here with you?"
"His uncle."
"But, you just said–"
"Yes, I know what I said. The man is greedy, but what can he do. He can’t pick up the house and take it away."
"He could sell the valuables inside," suggested Millie, crossing her arms over her chest.
This brought a frown from Stephen. He placed his elbows on the desk. "This needs some thought."
"Back to my sister and your friend. You believe distraction with his worries keeps him from pursuing her and not her weight?"
"Yes, that is what I believe. Your sister is quite beautiful."
"Oh," said Millie dipping her head.
"As are you."
Millie felt no jealousy and glanced back up. "Perhaps you should go. If father finds you here he will make you leave the plantation at once."
Stephen stood and walked toward her. Separated by a wisp of air, Millie gulped.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"Then I shall stay, even at the risk of being caught."
"But, if you’re caught, not only will father be furious, it could ruin my reputation."
"Then come with me. We can walk along the riverbank and watch the animals dive beneath the water to catch food. Or we can go to the hothouse and bury our faces in blooming roses. Or we can sneak away to your favorite place in the east garden and enjoy the sounds of the birds happily singing."
Millie's eyes widened. How did he know all the things she enjoyed?
She opened her mouth to ask but closed it at the sound of footfalls in the hallway. "You must hasten away. Someone's coming."
Leaning forward, Stephen brushed his lips softly against hers. "Until we meet again, my lady."
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stephen backed onto the balcony and stood off to the side, peering through a crack in the curtains.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Yes?"
"Millie, it's Chandler. Can I come in?"
Millicent opened her door and returned to her spot near the balcony.
Chandler stepped toward her and she moved out of his reach. "What are you doing here? Father said I wasn't allowed visitors."
"I'm not a visitor. I'm family."
"If you're family then you shouldn't have asked to court me."
Stephen grinned and silently applauded Millie for her quick comeback.
"That hurt," countered Chandler
Stephen watched Millie sigh, plop onto her vanity chair, and stare at her reflection in the mirror. "What do you want?"
"I want to visit with you. You shouldn't be alone when you feel poorly."
"You shouldn't worry about me. I'm fine."
"Are you sure? Your cheeks are flushed."
Millie brushed powder on her face. "Is that better?"
Chandler frowned and looked hurt. "I'm sensing you don't want me here."
Millie faced him. "Chandler, you know the rules. You shouldn't be in my room without my chaperone."
He ignored her and picked up the smudged papers. "Writing a letter to your friend? I don't know why you bother. As soon as the girl marries she'll forget you exist."
Millie jumped up and wrestled the papers from him. She shoved them into a drawer.
Chandler tilted his head to one side. The rose lay on the dressing table and he pinched the stem between two fingers. "Where did this come from?"
Millie cleared her throat, but didn't reply.
"I thought you hated roses. I must tell Isaac to bring you a vase full of orchids immediately. The smell will make you feel better in no time."
Millie raised her hand to interrupt, but Chandler continued. "After he brings the orchids, I will have Mary prepare your favorite pink gown."
Stephen knew if he didn't leave soon, he would give his hiding place away by laughing. He could no longer ignore the hilarity of the loathing expressions flitting across Millie's face.
Chandler said, "I'll return soon. And don't worry; I'll take care of everything."
The door slammed and Millie launched herself face first onto her bed. Stephen grinned and climbed onto the trellis to lower himself to the ground. Straightening his coat, he proceeded to the front lawn. Chandler stepped outside the ornate door of the mansion and Stephen followed him. The young man sought after Isaac, finding him near the hothouse. The servant lifted his brow and chewed slowly on a piece of straw as Chandler explained his demands. After listing them, he turned and swaggered back toward the house.
Stephen intercepted Isaac on his way inside the hothouse. The elderly man mumbled loudly under his breath. "Don't know why Miss Beaumont be wantin' orchids when she done got a rash. Only going to make her worse."
"Isaac?"
The man faced him. "Yes, sir?"
"May I ask what Chandler demanded of you?"
"I reckon it ain't no secret. The man said he's seekin' comfort for Miss Millie and she wants orchids sent to her room, but just 'tween you and me, I think he's got that wrong. That girl goes and breaks out in huge welts when she gets anywhere near an orchid."
"Then perhaps we need to inform Mr. Beaumont of the situation."
"I 'spect yer right. I don't think it's a good idea to follow Mr. Wright's orders."
"Exactly."
Henri was in his office hunched over his desk studying a pile of papers. Stephen rapped his knuckles against the door that was already ajar and drew Henri's attention.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Sir, may we come in."
Henri opened his palm and motioned to a chair. Stephen settled into the plush seat and Isaac remained standing. Clearing his throat, Stephen told Henri he had overheard Chandler's request and, after seeing Isaac's confusion, questioned him further.
Henri turned and spoke to Isaac. He listened, only responding after Isaac finished. "Isaac you did the right thing in bringing this to my attention. Besides, what was Chandler doing visiting Millie anyway? Does he not know the censure he could bring upon her?" Henri sighed and released Isaac to return to his duties. After the servant left he added, "Thank you, young man, for your prompt action. For as long as Chandler has known my family, I can't believe he didn't know about the orchids. Surely he wasn't trying to make her worse so the suitors couldn't visit her?"
Stephen remained silent. Henri pondered as he paced. Stephen stood to leave and caught sight of a list of figures on Henri's desk. He frowned.
"Pardon me, but are those your profits for this year's cotton?"
Henri stopped pacing and hurried back to his desk. He flipped the pages over, but then his shoulders sagged. "I'm afraid so. They aren't as good as I'd hoped. "
"But you've run a successful plantation for years. The use of your unique style of planting different crops, rotating fields, and allowing one field to remain fallow, would be a boost to any plantation."
"I'm glad to hear you say that."
"What could possibly be the problem?" asked Stephen.
"Honestly?"
"Of course."
"Truth is, I'm no good with figures. I know I have enough money to make it through the off season, but somehow we always come up short."
"Would you mind if I looked at the figures?"
"You? What would you know about accounting?"
"My family has owned a plantation in South Carolina for years. My father is a wonderful planter but he doesn't have a head for figures, either. I keep the books and we come out in the black every year."
Henri tapped his forehead. "If I allow this, will you give me your word as a gentleman to keep my financial situation confidential? I can't have Millicent's future husband knowing there might be a risk with her d
owry. Excluding you, of course."
"Of course. You have my word."
Henri handed over the ledger. Leaving the room, he hesitated at the entrance for only a second, as if he might change his mind, but shook his head and closed the door.
Alone, Stephen poured over the figures, line by line. Worry knitted his brow. Mr. Beaumont did indeed have a problem and for the sake of the Beaumont Plantation he hoped he could fix it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next two days passed slowly. Being cooped up in her room, Millie did little but gaze at the walls and wait for someone to bring her food.
Mary stayed long enough to fret over Chandler's almost fatal mistake. "I can't believe he was set on sending orchids to you. Didn't he know they would make you worse?"
"Apparently not."
Millie listened to her servant rant, all the while enjoying having company. After Mary left there was more boredom. The doctor checked her regularly and her sisters and father visited when they had free time. She fretted over Stephen, however. Why had he not returned? He'd already sneaked into her room twice since arriving at Bayou Sara. What was keeping him away now? Had he left and returned home? Would he do so without saying good-bye?
Determination made Millie sit straighter. Today she would ask her father about him. If he questioned her curiosity she would make something up. Then again, she might just tell him the truth.
"Millie, my little dove, can I come in?" Her father knocked and called.
She jerked her door open and he raised his brow. "I'm sorry, Father. I'm just so bored."
"I need for you to come downstairs."
Her eyes widened. "You do?"
"Yes. There is someone who wants to speak with you."
Millie lifted her skirts and practically ran past her father. The rash along her arms was almost healed and there were no other outbreaks on her body.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Father, where should I go?"
"Slow down, child, before you break your neck."
"I can't! I'm so glad to be free of my room."
Henri laughed and she smiled.
"Go to my den, my dove."
She scrunched her face at the nickname and hastened downstairs. The room was dimly lit and she waited for her eyes to adjust. Behind her father's desk sat a familiar figure. Candlelight reflected off his face, highlighting blue eyes.
Millie swallowed.
"Miss Beaumont, please be seated."
Confused by his professional tone, Millie followed Stephen's instruction. Her father stood behind her, placing his hands along the top of her chair.
"I've been reviewing your father's expenses."
Millie shifted uncomfortably. What did that have to do with her?
"I've noticed some irregularities."
"Irregularities? I don't understand."
"It seems purchases were made but no items were delivered."
"I still don't understand."
"The receipts were signed by you."
"What?"
Stephen leaned forward and clasped his hands. "Your father isn't upset. We just need to know what happened to the items you signed for."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked over her shoulder at her father and then back at Stephen.
"You signed for food supplies, extra items for the stables, such as hay, saddles, horseshoes, and a multitude of other odds and ends."
"I did no such thing." Millie's temper flared.
Stephen leaned back in his chair and tapped a quill on a writing blotter. "I told you, Henri."
"That you did, and I never doubted for a minute."
Millie almost shouted, "What is going on? You can't bring me down here and accuse me of stealing from my own family and not tell me why. I demand to know."
Her father stepped in front of her and knelt. "Stephen and I know you would never do such a thing, but we needed for you to be aware that something strange is going on."
Millie looked at Stephen and his mouth widened into a grin. She asked, "Why are you smiling? Someone is stealing from my family? What are you going to do about it?"
Stephen knitted his brows together. "I'm doing all I can. We're searching for the missing supplies. I've talked to the servants who should have received the items and they've confirmed they received nothing. We've sent out letters to the suppliers, but it will take time to hear back."
"Is that it?"
"Yes. Now we wait."
Millie's father said, "Stephen is right. Now we wait. However, I have good news. The doctor has released you and Jacques is waiting for you in the parlor.
Pure torment followed Millie as she left Stephen and her father's presence and walked toward the parlor. Not only did she have to wait to see who had stolen from her family, she had to suffer the company of Jacques from France. She wasn't sure if the man had a last name. If so, he'd rudely neglected to share it.
All morning and into the early afternoon Jacques talked of the virtues of his native land and the downfalls of America. Millie bit back a retort. If it's so wonderful why did you leave? Apparently, Jacques didn't notice her disgruntled attitude and continued his attempts to charm her with his accent and descriptions of his homeland.
"France is beautiful this time of year. Not like here in America where everything is dying."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. All year one can see beauty in the countryside or the towns. You should visit me and my family there."
"I don't think that will be possible."
"But why not? You would look beautiful in a Parisian gown. If you ever travel to Washington D.C. you will see women in such gowns. They crowd the streets in their finery just as they do in Paris."
Standing alongside Jacques, Millie glanced away and rolled her eyes. He reached for her elbow and led her along the narrow pathway. When they reached a bench she sat down.
"Our time will soon be up, are you sure you do not wish to continue farther, Mademoiselle."
She feigned exhaustion. "I'm sure Monsieur Jacques."
He responded in rapid French. Millie's brief introduction to the language was no match for a man speaking his native tongue. Finished, he looked at her and said, "Oui?"
Millie knew the word meant yes, but she wasn't about to agree to something she couldn't understand. "Perhaps we should return to the house. The wind has shifted and I'm growing cold."
Instead of offering his coat as Stephen had, he started toward the house. When she didn't immediately follow, he turned to face her. "Are you coming?"
Puffing air through clenched teeth, she lagged behind. He didn't wait for her to catch up. Instead, she was forced to follow like a puppy tagging after its mother. He held the door open when they reached the large entrance and glared at her when she entered.
Once inside he closed the door softly and said, "We've had an interesting evening. I do hope we can meet again. I believe Michael awaits you next."
Jacque left and Millie slumped against the nearest wall.
"That bad, huh?"
Stephen's voice startled her and she jumped. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. Let me guess, he talked about Paris and then himself, and then Paris again."
"How did you know?" She leaned closer and whispered, "Did you follow us?"
Stephen laughed. "Not this time, dearest. I just figured it was something he would do."
"Since you seem to have an understanding of how my suitors will act, what do you think about Michael?"
"I haven't quite figured him out. He's older and a widower. I understand he loved his wife, so he might talk about her, but then again, he might not. Sometimes the reminder of something painful is best avoided."
"Great. Another wonderful conversation to look forward to."
Stephen spoke against her ear, his breath warm and teasing. "Don't worry. Tomorrow afternoon is our time."
Shivers raced along Millie's spine.
"Millicent, I'm waiting for you." Michael stood in t
he doorway of the parlor, his expression grim.
Millie sighed and called, "I'm coming."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Stephen plopped into a chair as Millie left the room. Sweat gathered on his palms and he swiped them on his breeches. Thoughts of Millie in the company of another man were driving him crazy. Currently, the Beaumont financial situation was all that kept him sane.
Rubbing the aching spot between his temples, he focused his attention. The similarities between his family's estate issues and the Beaumont Plantation's baffled him. How could two households so far apart be plagued by supply shortages, falsified records, and payments without delivery? What did they have in common?
Stephen paced the office. Mary delivered the midday meal to him on tray. Without moving from the window, he thanked her. Outside in the garden, Millie and Michael sat. A couple of times Millie stood as if to walk farther, but Michael didn't move, forcing her to sit again.
She fisted her hands in her lap, twirled her hair, and stared into space. Stephen couldn't be happier.
"Hello, my friend," said Charles from the open doorway.
Stephen faced him and offered him a seat and a portion of his food.
"Thank you, but I've already eaten. Dolly, the family cook, makes quite a spread."
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," said Stephen, taking a seat behind Henri's desk. "Why are you back so quickly?"
Charles shifted nervously in his seat.
"Was your trip to New Orleans successful? Did you find anything I can use against Chandler?"
"I'm afraid not," said Charles.
Stephen narrowed his eyes and Charles raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "It wasn't my fault. The horse we bought in New Orleans wasn't up to the task."
"How far did you get?" asked Stephen, sighing.
"Bayou Sara."
"Great. So the horse couldn't go any further; then what?"
Charles shrugged. "I waited in town until I could hitch a ride with the supply wagon."
The words struck a chord and Stephen placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward.
"I see you've already taken your place in the family," said Charles.
Stephen frowned. "This is not the time." He rubbed that spot between his temples again. "I don't get it. I've poured over the books a dozen times. The money should be there, but it's not."
Millicent, Southern Hearts Series, Book One Page 13
