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

by Busbee, Shirlee

  "If I can ever get a moment alone with the tart-tongued little witch, I intend to make her listen to me and make it clear to her that I did not desert her—she deserted me! After that I will make her explain where she got such a foolish notion and why she sent her father and the Duprees to send me away in such a cruel manner. And then, as insane as it may sound, I intend to propose to her again and again, until she finally comes to her senses and realizes that I am the only man for her." His jaw hardened. "That I was always the only man for her."

  Hugh did not envy his stepfather his task. Micaela was very like her mother, and, with a distinct feeling of unease, he realized that his situation was not so very different than John's predicament. Micaela blamed him for their marriage and believed that he had married her only for the business. Since Lisette blamed John for what happened years ago, it appeared that Lisette, in spite of her own note to him, believed that John had deserted her. But notes, he thought, could be forged.

  Hugh stiffened. His gaze intent, he leaned forward. "You recognized her handwriting? And you never spoke to Lisette again until you met her here on Monday?"

  John nodded.

  "You said she loved you and had agreed to run away with you. Did you believe her, or did you think she was lying when she said those words?"

  John's face softened. "I believed her. It took me a long time before I realized that Christophe must have played upon her affection and family loyalty in order to convince her that it was best that she not marry me."

  "But at the time you never talked about it with her? You simply took your wounded heart back to Natchez and put it from you?"

  "Well, yes," John said, puzzled. "I did not have much choice."

  Hugh smiled grimly. "If you did not talk to the lady yourself, then how do you know that she sent Galland and the Duprees to meet with you? How do you know she wrote the note? I have heard often enough what an underhanded schemer Renault Dupree was and what a crafty devil old Christophe was. Is it not possible that somehow they got wind of what was planned and confronted you each separately, telling each of you that the other had changed their mind?"

  John looked thunderstruck. He paled, then flushed. His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it with a snap.

  Hugh leaned back in his chair. Amusement in his eyes, he murmured, "I see that such a thought never occurred to you. But it is possible?"

  John nodded. Recovering himself, he muttered, "Those bastards! The events you put forth sound exactly like something that Christophe and Renault would have done—and I can surmise the identity of the person who exposed our plans—that blasted French maid of Lisette's! She was always spying on her, snooping through Lisette's things. Lisette was fond of her, could never believe that Musetta, or whatever her name was, would ever do any harm. Ha! I cannot prove it, but I'd wager half my fortune that she was the one who ran to Christophe with the information that Lisette and I were planning to run away together."

  "So what are you going to do about it?"

  "There is little I can do about it now—both the men are dead—but I can confront Lisette with what we suspect and find out if she did write the note. If the note was forged, I intend to make her see that I never deserted her." A glow entered John's dark eyes. "And that I never stopped loving her...."

  "What about Jean? How much do you think he knew?"

  John hesitated. "In those days, he was just a boy, and he was fervently attached to Renault. It is possible that he did not know the whole truth. He may have believed the tale concocted by Renault and Christophe."

  "Since it is mere conjecture that brought us to these conclusions, before we proceed further, I have to ask you: are you absolutely convinced that Lisette is innocent? That she did not do as you were told?"

  A grim smile played at the corners of John's mouth. "There is only way to find out, is there not?"

  * * *

  With the influx of company, dinner that evening was an enjoyable affair. Though Hugh's thoughts were on the problems that existed between him and Micaela, he was confident enough of the outcome that he could relax and find, much to his surprise, that Jean and François could be very entertaining when they put their minds to it.

  Jean seemed to have accepted the fact that a despised Américain was now part of his family and that the very same Américain was going to continue to play an active role in the affairs of Galland, Lancaster and Dupree. The unexpected rapport that had sprung up between Jean and John did not appear to be abating, and Hugh wondered how much of Jean's dislike of things and people American had had to do with Renault's attitude toward them. Perhaps, he was discovering that Americans were not the grasping, greedy, barbaric monsters he had first thought?

  As for François, there was something different about him this evening that Hugh could not put his finger on. The young man was polite and charming enough, but he seemed preoccupied, and from the surreptitious glances sent his way, Hugh suspected that it had something to do with him. But what? More displeasure about the running of the company? Hugh did not think so.

  François was being too friendly and pleasant for it to be something disagreeable. Mayhap, like Jean, François had finally come to accept the situation gracefully? Hugh hoped so, but he had the uneasy feeling that trouble with François was not yet a thing of the past. The young man was too hot-tempered, too volatile for his own good. But it was enjoyable to have the two Creole men in his house and at his table and displaying all the good manners and vaulted charm of their culture.

  As for John and Lisette, it was apparent from Lisette's expression whenever she replied to his stepfather that John had not yet had a chance to speak to her alone. Hugh smiled. It was going to be interesting having Lisette as not only a mother-in-law, but a stepmother, too. And he had no doubts about that outcome.

  Hugh shot a considering glance down the long length of the linen-covered table to where his wife sat at the other end. Was he being overly confident, feeling that he could gain her good graces once more?

  A warm light in the depths of his gray eyes, his gaze ran over her. She was, in his opinion, the dearest thing in the world. Watching her laugh at some sally of François's, his heart clenched. He wanted that laughter for himself. And she was a damned silly goose if she believed for one moment that he had married her for the blasted company! He had been in love with her for a long time—a long time before he had realized it himself. Now, he thought wryly, all he had to do was convince her of it. His mind taken up with considering the best method to change her mind, and the marriage-bed delights that would be his, Hugh was not paying attention to the conversation. It wasn't until he realized that everyone was staring at him that he became aware that his wife had posed a question for him.

  A set smile on her lovely face, her dark eyes glittering with a challenging light, Micaela said for obviously the second time, "François has just asked if he might invite Alain to stay here at Amour for a few days." Fairly daring him to contradict her, she added, "I told him that I would be delighted to open my home to such a dear, dear old family friend and that, naturally, you would have no objections."

  Chapter 18

  Torn between laughter and a strong desire to swear, Hugh stared back at her. Lifting his wineglass in a private toast to her, he murmured, "Of course I have no objections to Alain's presence in my home, if that is your wish, my love." He smiled like a tiger. "Any friend of yours, my dear, is naturally a friend of mine. I shall look forward to his visit." He glanced at François. "And when," he asked with nothing more apparent than courteous interest, "would Monsieur Husson be arriving?"

  François looked from Micaela to Hugh. "I—uh—thought that if it was agreeable I would write him a note tomorrow and have a servant deliver it to his home in the afternoon. It would probably be at least Saturday or Sunday before he arrived."

  "Good!" Hugh said. "We shall look forward to his visit." He sent his wife a bland look. "Will we not, my dear?"

  Nonplussed, Micaela stared back at him. She h
ad not expected him to create a scene, but she had not been prepared for him to just accept Alain's intrusion into what was a family gathering. She had been positive that he would attempt, even if only briefly, to wiggle politely out of inviting Alain to stay with them. Instead he had turned the tables on her and had graciously acceded to François's request. Feeling deflated and losing all interest in Alain Husson's proposed visit, she shrugged and muttered, "Oui. It will be most pleasant."

  The conversation passed on to other topics, but Micaela only paid half a mind to what was being said. Watching her husband's dark face as he laughed at some comment made by Jean, she was aware of despair. She loved him—the handsome, unfeeling wretch! And he did not love her—during the past two days he had made no real attempt to heal the breach between them and had calmly accepted her cool rebuffs to the few overtures he had made. If he cared anything at all for her, he would not have let the situation between them continue. Nor, she admitted miserably, would he have allowed them to sleep apart. It was clear to her from the way he was acting that he felt only the most tepid of emotions where she was concerned. Why else would he have agreed so easily to have as a guest in their home a man he knew had been a rival for her hand? Bah! She did not understand him at all!

  There was one glimpse of light on her dark horizon—Hugh's denial of Alice Summerfield's assertions. The American woman's words had long haunted Micaela, and his statement that there had only been friendship between them rang true. Besides, Micaela desperately wanted to believe him. If she took his words as fact, at least she would be able to banish the specter of being married to a man who loved another. Of course, she admitted gloomily, he could be lying, but in this instance, she did not think that he was. She realized now, with the aid of hindsight, that Alice had been spewing venom hoping to cause problems between them—which was precisely what had happened. Alice's words alone would not have been enough, but, coupled with the circumstances, they had certainly added their own share of misery.

  But why, she wondered, had he agreed to Alain's inclusion in what was a family gathering? Perhaps, she mused with an ache in her heart, she meant so little to him that Alain's presence meant nothing to him?

  With her imagination conjuring up a bleak future, she was relieved when she rose from the table at the end of the meal. Leaving the gentlemen to their Madeira and sherry, she escaped into the sitting room with her mother. While Lisette sank gracefully onto a delicate rosewood chair covered in pale green damask, Micaela moved restlessly about the room.

  After watching her pacings for several moments, Lisette asked, "What did you hope to accomplish by staging that scene tonight, petite? Inviting Alain Husson to come and stay here was not a wise thing to do. It was foolish of François to make such a request of you in the first place, but you were twice as foolish to challenge your husband in that manner." She hesitated, then went on, "I trust that you have not come to regret that you did not accept Alain's offer when you had the chance?"

  Micaela made a face. "Non. I do not care a fig for Alain Husson. I love my husband—but he is such a dolt!"

  Lisette smiled, her worried frown vanishing. "Ah. I understand. Men can be so, so, stupid sometimes, can they not?"

  Micaela eyed her mother speculatively, her own troubles forgotten. "Oh? Is any particular male proving to be annoyingly stupid these days, besides my husband, of course?"

  It was Lisette's turn to make a face. "It shames me to admit it, but even knowing that he abandoned me all those years before, I still find John Lancaster far too attractive for my own good. For my peace of mind I wish he had been bald and fat!" She sighed. "When he smiles at me, when he looks at me, I forget everything and remember only that I loved him once. I have tried keeping him at arm's length, but he is persistent." An angry sparkle lit her fine eyes. "Perhaps," she muttered, "if he had been as persistent years ago as he is now, things might have been different. But too much has happened. He betrayed me and hurt me immeasurably. I cannot forgive him, nor could I ever trust him again. But he still has the power to charm me, and it frightens me. I am afraid that if he decides to make a long visit with you, I may go home early." She glanced at Micaela. "Will you mind?"

  Considering her own troubles, Micaela understood perfectly how her mother felt. She shook her head, and said gently, "I will miss you, but we shall have other visits when there are no annoyingly stupid males around, oui?"

  "Or at least," Lisette replied with a twinkle, "you shall have ceased feuding with your husband and decided that he is not quite so annoyingly stupid?"

  Micaela looked wretched. "I do not think that he cares anything for me, Maman." Too ashamed to admit that Hugh had thought her the greatest conniver alive, she stared out the windows, furiously blinking back an embarrassing rush of tears.

  Lisette smiled. "Petite, you do not see the way he looks at you. I cannot say whether he loves you or not, but he cares a very great deal for you. As I mentioned previously, it is obvious to anyone who is in the same room with you both."

  "Oh, Maman, are you sure?"

  Lisette's smile became tender as Micaela swung around to face her. "As sure as I can be of anything, ma chérie." She looked down at her hands folded in her lap and said slowly, "Micaela, I have warned myself against being a meddling maman, but I would give you some words of advice. Do not let pride and little misunderstandings destroy what you and Hugh already have. Talk honestly to your husband, let him know how you feel about him, tell him that he has made you unhappy and why. If after that, he still continues in the same manner, then you will know that his actions are deliberate and not just unthinking or unknowing."

  Micaela bit her lip. "But suppose you are wrong? Suppose he does not care as deeply for me as you seem to think? I will have humiliated myself—and for nothing!"

  Lisette sent her a long look. "Pride is a cold companion. Do you wish to share your bed for the rest of your life with only your pride to keep away the night's chill? Or do you want a warm and loving husband by your side? It is true that I might be wrong. Hugh might not love you; he might have simply married you because of the business. Do you not want to find out the truth?"

  Her eyes huge in her face, Micaela stared at her mother. "I am frightened, Maman," she admitted. "I think I almost prefer not knowing how he feels, if it means learning that he really did marry me just for business reasons."

  "Listen to me, petite!" Lisette said urgently. "Your marriage came about as it did because of an unfortunate set of circumstances. Hugh was as trapped as you were. But that does not mean that if you had been given time, he would not have courted you and married you in a more traditional fashion. It is only because you feel you were forced to marry him that you are so uncertain about him. And as for François's opinion that Hugh deliberately arranged events to his own advantage—it is all nonsense! Only the wild conjectures of a hotheaded, foolish, and impetuous boy. François does not really believe it himself, though he would rather choke than admit it to anyone. You know your brother, he is always full of fits and starts." The twinkle returned to Lisette's eyes. "And since when has your brother's opinion mattered so much to you anyway? Are you not clinging to François's silly idea as a way to protect yourself from possible hurt?" When Micaela remained silent, she asked softly, "Do you really enjoy living in this netherworld you seem to have created? Neither lover, nor enemy?"

  Micaela took a deep breath. "Non! But I do not feel very brave at the moment. I am angry and confused. And I would not be very sensible if I were to confront him right now."

  "You do not have to face him right away, ma chérie. Think about it, if you wish. But Micaela," Lisette warned, "do not wait too long. You may miss a chance for real happiness and have only yourself to blame. The situation which currently exists could become a habit."

  Micaela managed to get through the remainder of the evening, and she even found herself smiling at some of the quips thrown out by the gentlemen when they joined the ladies a short while later. She could not deny, however, that she was grate
ful when the evening ended and she was able to retreat to her own suite of rooms.

  Lying alone in her big gauze-swathed bed, she played over and over again in her mind the evening's events, her mother's words echoing in her head. Her mother was right. Micaela knew that. And she had never considered herself a coward, but when she envisioned seeking out her husband and boldly revealing that she was in love with him and that she wanted his love in return, her courage failed. Even Lisette's reassurances that Hugh did care deeply for her did not revive her quailing spirits. Perhaps if they had not had that terrible argument on Monday afternoon....

  * * *

  She spent a restless night and the soft lemony rose glow of daylight found her still with no definite plan. But the situation could not go on, she decided, as she lay there staring at the spreading golden light. Maman was right—it could become a habit—a terrible one.

  Micaela was not the only one to wake at dawn from a night of less than restful repose. John Lancaster had spent much of the night wrestling with his bedclothes and getting little sleep, the knowledge that he and Lisette might both have been duped revolving like a burning beacon in his brain. By dawn, he was determined to have a private word with her, even if he had to abduct her to do it.

  Springing from his bed, he dressed, his brain formulating several different methods of accomplishing his goal. Having decided upon the most immediate needs for his scheme to work, he raced from his room and though daylight had just broken, instantly set his scheme in motion.

  After having taken care of the practical matters, John went in search of Hugh. Fortunately Hugh was an early riser, and, finding his stepson sipping his first cup of coffee of the day, John asked for a private word with him. Hugh studied his stepfather's face for a second and, rising to his feet, suggested they retire to the study, where they were not likely to be interrupted.

  Hardly waiting until Hugh had shut the door behind him, John said bluntly, "If the truth is to be discovered, I must speak privately with Lisette. Since she has thwarted my every attempt to do so, I have decided upon desperate measures." He took a deep breath and blurted out, "I intend to abduct her, and I need your help."