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

by Busbee, Shirlee

  So who was behind it? Hugh liked Alain Husson for the position, and it was not just his own prejudice against the man which led him in that direction. Alain's unsavory connections and his reputation for being ruthless in pursuit of money owed him were already known. A man who, if rumor was to be believed, hired scoundrels to terrorize and brutally attack his debtors would not hesitate to use such tactics in other matters. He was acquainted with the denizens of New Orleans' underbelly. But was it Alain?

  And if the mastermind was not Husson, then who?

  Jean? François? The notion that it could be one of his wife's relatives had not escaped him. Gloomily Hugh admitted that he had always believed that one of the reasons Micaela had trapped him into marriage was to protect her family.

  But if it had been for her family's sake that Micaela had gone to such lengths to marry him, did she know something? Suspect something? Hugh's jaw clenched. The next time he was face-to-face with his charming wife, he was going to have a frank conversation with her.

  Determined not to think of Micaela or her part in the difficulties at the family company, Hugh shut his mind to the tempting image which erupted in his brain—Micaela standing before him, her dark eyes soft and welcoming, her mouth warmly smiling... With a muttered curse, he damned himself for a fool. As for loving her—he did, he would not deny it, but he sure as hell was not happy about it.

  Dawn was breaking when he decided to seek a few hours of sleep, and it was midmorning when he awoke. After a hasty bath, he dressed and hurried down the stairs. A brief word with Sampson elicited the information that John Lancaster was in the courtyard. Asking Sampson to bring food and coffee out there, Hugh walked out to the courtyard. After greeting his stepfather and apologizing for sleeping late, he took a seat at the iron table where John sat sipping a cup of coffee.

  Conversation between the two men was inconsequential until after Sampson had appeared and served Hugh his breakfast: John had eaten earlier. Once Hugh's crawfish omelette, fresh strawberries, and pain perdu with cane syrup were served, and a piping-hot pot of coffee placed on the table, Sampson withdrew, and the two men were able to talk seriously:

  Between mouthfuls of food, Hugh told John everything that he had learned from Etienne the previous night. It took a long time as he had to backtrack occasionally to explain a particular aspect or point. There was much discussion between the two men about the situation, even more speculation about who the mastermind behind the thefts could be, and several fruitless minutes were spent trying to devise a way to flush their quarry.

  The day was increasingly humid and warm, the air still and heavy. Around two o'clock in the afternoon, Hugh raised his eyes and scanned the dirty-skirted clouds drifting across the blue sky. "It looks as if we may get a thunderstorm, shortly," he said. "Shall we go inside? It will be cooler in the house anyway."

  Settled in Hugh's study, they continued to discuss their problems. John had wanted to know more about Alain Husson, and Hugh complied.

  When Hugh was finished speaking, John leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. "I cannot," he began, "believe that both or even one of the Duprees is involved in this. Jean and I have had our disagreements in the past, but he is an honorable man." John grinned at Hugh. "Perhaps not as good a businessman as he would like to think, but an honest man. He is loyal to his family, mayhap too much, and I am convinced that he would do nothing to harm the company. As for young François..." John's face hardened. "I will tell you the truth—I did not like his father." He sent Hugh a glance from under his elegantly arched brows. "Did you ever meet Renault?"

  Hugh nodded. "Once, on my first trip down to New Orleans—Jasper introduced us."

  "Like him?"

  Hugh smiled. "Not particularly. He was very haughty, very condescending. I thought him a cold, calculating bastard—not someone I would turn my back on for fear of finding a dagger plunged into it."

  "That was Renault," John said grimly. "I only met the boy last night, and I see flashes of his father in him, but I also see a great deal of his mother in him. You know him better than I—is it likely that François could be behind our troubles?"

  "I doubt it. And yet, I cannot entirely exonerate him. If Husson rubs shoulders with the criminal element in the city, François is the one most likely to be in financial difficulties. In much the same way that Etienne was drawn into their intrigue, I could see François being done the same way. It is common knowledge that he owes Husson a tidy sum of money, just as Etienne did. It is possible that François is an unwilling tool."

  "Possible, but likely?"

  "I do not know," Hugh said disgustedly. "François was not happy about my arrival or my marriage to his sister. Last night you saw him at his most charming, believe me."

  They speculated on the problem for several moments longer, before John said, "Enough of this for now. Tell me more about your bride. When do we go to Amour?"

  Hugh hesitated. He had known this question was coming and he had not yet decided how he was going to handle it. Walking a narrow path between truth and mendacity, he said slowly, "Etienne admitted to me last night that upon orders, he had destroyed the message which had arrived several weeks ago alerting us to the possible arrival of Le Lys Bleu and her cargo. Apparently Le Lys Bleu herself also carried a message for us, which Etienne also destroyed, about another ship which would be sailing approximately six weeks behind her. Assuming she sailed as indicated she should be, barring pirates and storms, arriving around mid-July. Etienne said that Le Coq will be carrying another large consignment for us. I want to be here when she arrives."

  "I understand, my boy, but there is nothing stopping us from leaving the city for a few days, is there? Perhaps even a week or more? Nothing is likely to happen until Le Coq arrives. And it is the fever season. Anyone with any sense has already left the city." He smiled. "I did not travel all this distance to die of fever in New Orleans, did I?"

  "Of course not," Hugh said easily. "It is too late today to start for Amour, and after last night I am longing very much for a good night's sleep. I shall send a servant tomorrow to let Micaela know that we shall be arriving on Thursday. That will give me tomorrow in which to make certain that all is well at the office, and that Etienne is following my orders."

  * * *

  On Wednesday, as he had planned, Hugh went to the office. He finished up a few details and was pleased to see Etienne, looking a little haggard-eyed, busy at work. Except for a sudden paling when Hugh asked him to join him in his office, Etienne seemed as always.

  Hugh did not keep him long. Only long enough to let him know that he would be leaving the city on Thursday and would not be back for a week, ten days.

  "If you need me," Hugh said, "for... anything, send someone you can trust with a message. Amour is not above a hard three-hour ride from the city. I can be here the same day I receive any message from you."

  Etienne nodded. He turned to go, but Hugh called him back.

  "You have placed enormous trust in me," Hugh said quietly. "I shall not fail you. I do not believe that any harm should come to you and I would not willingly place you in any danger, nor ask you to risk your life." He hesitated before saying, " But if these men are as ruthless as you say, if something were to happen, I promise you that your mother and sisters will not suffer."

  Etienne's eyes searched Hugh's. What he saw there must have reassured him, for he said huskily, "Thank you, monsieur. I have worried much over my decision to talk to you. You have relieved my mind."

  A half hour later, having told Monsieur Brisson where to reach him and when he would be returning to the city, Hugh left the office. Upon his return home, he found that a message from Jean Dupree had arrived. Sipping a glass of port in a shady corner of the courtyard, Hugh read the message. He glanced across at his stepfather, who was sitting beside him.

  "We shall have company at Amour," Hugh said. "Jean writes that he and François will visit on Monday or Tuesday. They are going to Riverbend for a few d
ays and then will come to Amour. They do not say for how long they intend to stay."

  John laughed and shook a teasing finger at him. "Ah, my boy, that is what you get for marrying a Creole girl—have you not heard the saying that when you marry a Creole bride, you marry her and her five hundred relatives! Be happy that the Dupree family is small."

  They spent a pleasant afternoon and evening and around eleven o'clock they had just decided to retire for the night, when Sampson knocked on the study door and entered with a note for Hugh. Puzzled, Hugh slit open the sealed missive and quickly read the contents. His face tightened.

  Having dismissed Sampson, he said to John, "It is from Etienne. He writes that he has important news for me, news that will not keep, but that he is afraid to come to the house. I am to meet him at midnight at the company's warehouses."

  "It could be a trap," John said, his eyes troubled.

  "It no doubt is a trap," Hugh replied grimly, "but if this note is not from Etienne, it is the first time that I have had any direct message from the men who are stealing from us. If only Jasper had not left the city today. I will have to go. It may be the only way I can find out more about them."

  "More than likely," John snapped, "you will find out how a broken head feels!"

  "Perhaps. But I am not going in blind. I will be ready for treachery, and I will be armed."

  "I am going with you. I may not be Jasper, and I may not be a young buck anymore," John muttered, "but I can still shoot and I am handy with my fives."

  Hugh hesitated, but the stubborn expression on his stepfather's face stilled any remonstrations. "Very well," Hugh said with a grin. "I shall be happy to have your company."

  There was no conversation between the two men as they left the house less than an hour later and made their way to the warehouses. Both were armed, Hugh comforted by the feel of the pair of pistols hidden on his person and the knowledge that John was similarly armed. The knives they both had concealed in their boots added to his sensation of being prepared for whatever might come from this nocturnal visit.

  As they drew near their destination, the scent of the river came sharply to their nostrils, and the warehouses loomed up in black bulky shapes against the starlit sky. The flickering glare from the Carondelet lamps which hung from chains on the corner posts at each street intersection lent only fitful light, and As he had already experienced, Hugh was aware of how easily an ambush could be launched from any of the dark alleys.

  Approaching the warehouse, Hugh was startled to see that one of the large doors was standing wide-open, clear yellow light spilling out into the darkness. He and John exchanged glances.

  "It would seem," John whispered, "that whoever sent you the note is already inside."

  "And not hiding that fact either," Hugh retorted.

  Cautiously the two men entered the cavernous building. The light came from a lantern which had been left sitting on top of a large crate near the entrance of the warehouse. It was still and silent. Hugh took a dozen or more wary strides into the warehouse before he stopped so suddenly that John, following closely behind, barreled into him. Grimly the two men stared at the scene that lay before them.

  At the edge of the dancing yellow light lay the body of a man, scarlet rivulets of what could only be blood radiated outward from the still form. Snatching up the lantern, Hugh brought it closer to the body.

  Etienne Gras lay dead on the floor of the warehouse. His throat had been cut, the vicious wound extending nearly from ear to ear. He looked much the same as he had when Hugh had seen him earlier, except now the dark eyes revealed the stark terror of his final moments....

  Chapter 14

  The company hired night watchmen to patrol the premises, but it took Hugh and John several minutes to find the pair of them sleeping off a night of hard drinking in a small room at the back of the warehouse. Staring at the bleary-eyed sots who were supposed to be guarding the place, Hugh was not surprised that those behind the thefts and Etienne's death felt they could do as they wished.

  The city guards were sent for, and by the time they had arrived and Hugh and John explained their finding of the body and answered the questions of the local authorities, it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. The two Lancasters decided that no good would be served by waking Madame Gras at that hour of the morning to tell her that her only son was dead.

  An hour after first light, Hugh bathed and changed his clothes and prepared to wake Madame Gras with the tragic news of Etienne's death. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life, and it did not help that he was consumed by guilt. He might not have wielded the knife which had killed Etienne, but it certainly had been his actions which had set in motion the events which had led to the murder. A tight ball of fury fought with his guilt, and he swore to himself that Etienne's murder would not go unpunished.

  The meeting with Madame Gras was every bit as grim as Hugh had thought it would be. The family was shattered, and he spent several hours with Etienne's relatives genuinely commiserating with them for their loss. As the word spread of the tragedy, other relatives arrived, and by the time Hugh departed from the modest Gras home, it was filled to overflowing with grieving family members—grandparents, uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews. Hugh was able to leave knowing full well that Madame Gras and Etienne's sisters were being enfolded into the extended Creole family bosom. Before he departed Hugh had a private word with Madame Gras and her elder brother, Laurent Cloutier, who seemed a sensible man. With delicate tact he explained that Etienne's family would suffer no financial hardship because of his death. The relief in Madame's grief-ravaged face did little to soothe Hugh's sense of guilt. As he walked away, he was conscious that it would be a long time before the image of Etienne's dead body faded from his mind.

  The trip to Amour had naturally been postponed until after Etienne's funeral, which was held on Friday. Hugh sent word to Micaela that they would be delayed, but he did not mention why. Hugh also notified the other partners of Etienne's death and requested their presence at the funeral. It was then that he discovered that none of them, despite having said differently, had actually left the city. Although Hugh could find no obvious faults, their various reasons for remaining in New Orleans, even Jasper's, seemed specious.

  But watching the four men as they expressed their sympathy to a heavily veiled Madame Gras at the cemetery on Friday, Hugh speculated about them. Which one, he wondered savagely. Which one of those men either murdered Etienne himself or ordered it done.

  Hugh dismissed Jasper from his list of suspects—might as well suspect his stepfather as Jasper. To his surprise, he found that he did not feel very comfortable putting Jean on his list either. He and Jean had come a long way these past months and whether it was simply that closer association had engendered a mutual respect for each other or whether it was just that they were both older and less inclined to take offense so easily, he did not know. It was probably a bit of both, but Hugh found himself hoping that when the guilty party was unmasked, it would not be Jean Dupree.

  He still favored Alain as his villain. For obvious reasons he did not want François to be the culprit behind the ugliness. But watching Alain and François walking off with their heads close together as they conversed, Hugh was aware of a sense of unease. He could not ignore the fact that François was very good friends with Alain, and that old adage, "birds of a feather, flock together," ran through his mind.

  Hugh called a meeting at his house immediately following the funeral. Originally he'd been determined to use his personal fortune to pay for the generous sum which would be settled upon Etienne's family, but after a great deal of argument, John convinced him that the company should pay the money—Etienne had been an employee, and whatever guilt Hugh might feel, what happened was not his fault. Hugh didn't like it, but he could see the sense of it and he took a certain satisfaction in knowing that whoever had killed Etienne was going to be livid that company funds were being expended in such a manner. Picturing th
e chagrin of the murderer, he smiled without mirth. He was looking forward to watching the expressions on the faces of the others when they heard the news.

  Everyone gathered in the main salon of the house. After some brief comments about the tragedy, Hugh explained the purpose of the meeting. There was an astonished silence when he finished speaking and though he was watching closely, no one reacted significantly.

  "But why?" exclaimed François, puzzled. "It is not our fault that Etienne died."

  "You think not?" Hugh inquired with a lift of his brow. "He worked for us, and he was killed in one of our warehouses. I think we bear some responsibility for the tragedy."

  "Then pay him out of your own fortune!" snapped François.

  "I find that I agree with my friend," Alain said smoothly. "It is no concern of ours. It is unfortunate, but..." He gave a very Gallic shrug.

  "Well, I, for one, see nothing wrong with the idea," said Jasper. "The sum will not hurt the company, although our profits may dip a little more for the time being."

  François glared at Jasper and slumped back in his chair. A muscle jumped in Jasper's jaw, and he sent François a hard look. "I thought Etienne was your friend—will you see his mother and sisters brought to ruin?"

  It was Alain who answered. "Friendship has nothing to do with it. It is a matter of business, of money. I would not have accepted Christophe's shares in the company if I had known," he said in a sneering voice, "that it was going to be turned into a charity."

  "If that is the way you feel," Hugh retorted, "I am willing to buy your shares right now."

  Alain sent him a hooded glance. "Are you?" he purred. And at Hugh's nod, he named a price nearly five times their value.

  The words had hardly left his mouth before Hugh said, "If you will sign an agreement to that effect this afternoon, I shall have the money transferred to you on Monday morning before I leave for Amour."