She looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I forgot all about the handkerchief when Batiste and I left.”
“In the dead of the night, from what I hear. Did your hasty departure have anything to do with the master there?” His voice was deceptively mild, but when Simone looked at him, she saw uncharacteristic anger smoldering in his blue eyes.
“Nothing happened. He . . . he just decided he wanted to marry me,” she assured him quickly.
“I can understand that, even seeing you dressed as a boy.” He chuckled when she shot up from his lap. “What are your plans now?”
“We haven’t really decided. I have some money in New Orleans. Batiste and I thought we might make a start somewhere else.”
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Tom offered earnestly.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Maybe not to you, but when I left Paradis, afraid I’d never see you again, I realized . . . ” He rose and began to pace the cabin. “Hell, I don’t know how to say this.”
Stopping, he turned to her. “I love you, and I want you to be a part of my life. All my work, the whole Queen fleet, won’t mean much if you don’t share it with me. I hope it was Cuvillion you were set against, darlin’, and not marriage, because I want to marry you.”
Simone stared at him in astonishment, but her mind was working. After a moment, she replied carefully, “I’d like to share your life and your work. But not as a wife—as a partner.”
“A partner?” he echoed incredulously.
“I like you a great deal, Tom, but I don’t love you.”
“Perhaps you just don’t know it yet,” he advised pleasantly.
“I can’t marry you,” she went on in a rush. “ But I believe in your plans for the future. I’ll give you every cent I have toward the completion of your new steamboat . . . if you’ll let me operate a gambling salon aboard it. Of course, we would split the profits equally.”
Tom looked at her. The plucky little Creole was serious.
“The games would be honest, of course,” she continued. “None of the sleight of hand I showed you at Paradis.”
“But what about all the running and hiding you’ve been doing?” he asked with a perplexed frown.
“I can continue to keep my identity a secret. I have a plan. We could call the casino Carnival and decorate it as if it were Mardi Gras. The dealers, the croupiers, even I would wear half-masks as part of the decor.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Tom admitted. “But I’m not sure you’d be safe.”
“Let Batiste and me worry about that,” Simone said firmly. “If you agree, I have one stipulation.”
“First you expect me to agree to a hare-brained scheme where you’re hiding right out in plain sight, and then you make stipulations?”
“Only one. I want your word you’ll never be a customer in the casino. You, er, have been known to lose,” she concluded delicately. “I have no desire to have anyone else as a partner if you were to lose the Queen fleet.”
“Can’t I just hire you to manage a casino so you don’t have to hand over your life savings?”
“I want to own a part of it,” she persisted.
“What if it doesn’t work? What if I manage to lose your investment?” Tom tried to reason with her.
“You won’t,” she answered confidently. “If you want me to stay, it’s the only way. Will you take me as a partner?”
“It’s a good idea,” the captain muttered, more to himself than to her. “It won’t take much to get the new boat ready. The design wouldn’t even have to be changed to add a casino.”
With a mighty sigh, he surrendered. “You are the stubbornest woman I’ve ever met. But you got yourself a partner, darlin’. We’ll make a fortune.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The morning was clear and bright when the Creole Queen nosed into the teeming Canal Street dock. Up in the pilothouse, Zack Cameron squinted at his pocket watch with satisfaction and pronounced, “Right on time.”
On the bow, he could see Tom directing the crew to prepare for landing. Shifting to look at the hurricane deck below, he saw the girl, clad in boy’s clothes, a stocking cap covering her luxuriant brown hair. Her big shadow was at her side.
Unaware of the pilot’s scrutiny, Simone scanned the densely forested western shore across the roiling water. Although she had lived in New Orleans all her life, she had never experienced the thrill of arriving by boat.
On the more populous east side of the river, the shoreline was reinforced by sturdy embankments built of rich brown dirt, levees that stood between New Orleans and the muddy, churning Mississippi. Over centuries the river had cut a deep curve in the terrain, so it almost encircled the town. It was no wonder, she mused, that New Orleans was called The Crescent City.
She drew a deep, appreciative breath. The atmosphere was a heady mixture—fecund river smells, the faint aroma of spices, and the fragile perfume of fragrant flowers that wafted from somewhere upriver. It was good to be home.
When the paddlewheeler was in place, it gave a mighty shudder and released a billow of steam into the blue sky. A plank was lowered as the bell sounded, alerting passengers to go ashore.
“Wish you’d let me go ashore with you,” Batiste fretted.
“You know you will be safer on the boat,” she answered firmly.
“I’d feel better if you stayed, too.”
“I have business to conduct,” she explained again. “I’ll be safe at Lisette’s. Her last letter said she was certain Marcel was no longer watching her house. Even if he were, he has no reason to suspect Jean-Paul and I are the same. And don’t suggest again that you could disguise yourself, Batiste. You are too large to hide.”
“I know,” he acknowledged glumly. “Is the captain still irritated at you?”
“Oui,” Simone answered with a sigh. “He can’t understand why I masquerade as a boy when he brought my trunk from Paradis. I tried to explain it was safer for the time being, but--”
Grinning, the big man interrupted, “He said . . . ”
“‘You’re the stubbornest woman I’ve ever met,’” they recited in unison, laughing.
As Simone clattered down the companionway, her voice drifted back to Batiste, “Tell Tom I will meet him at Lisette’s tomorrow evening as we planned.”
“Jean-Paul, welcome back,” Simone was greeted by the girls when she entered the house on rue Dauphine. “We feared we would never see our little gentleman again.”
Drawn by the excited voices, Lisette flew from her suite and rescued the lad from the chattering circle of females.
Closing the door to her apartment, she hugged Simone. “It is good to see you, but what are you doing back here, chère? I thought you were safe at Paradis.”
“Safe from Marcel, but not from the marriage-minded Dominique,” Simone responded wryly, kissing her friend’s cheek.
Lisette’s brow quirked, and she laughed. “Mon Dieu, Simone, you do have problems with men.”
“I don’t know what happened,” the girl said sheepishly. “I did not encourage him.” She raked the cap from her head, and her brown tresses fell to her shoulders.
“I know what happened,” Lisette declared. “You’re even more beautiful than when you went away. I see the change in your face, and I suspect the body you’re hiding under those clothes tells the whole story.”
“It was harder to disguise myself this time,” Simone admitted. “I’m terribly uncomfortable.”
“Then you must change. Your things are in the dressing room.”
“I hope you don’t mind that a small trunk will also be arriving,” Simone called as she walked through the bedroom.
“I don’t.” Lisette watched with amusement as the girl loosened the confining wrapping from her upper body and drew a deep, grateful breath.
When she had changed into a robe, Simone joined the woman in the parlor. “Is there any news of Alain?” she asked, settling before the fire.
“Sti
ll nothing.” Lisette’s gray eyes were sad. “After his clothes were found, the investigation virtually halted. It’s as if he vanished from the face of the earth.”
“Do the police still suspect Batiste?”
“They suspect everyone and no one. Is Batiste with you?”
“I couldn’t get rid of him if I wanted to,” Simone answered with a smile. “I did convince him to stay with Tom for now.”
“Tom Franklin?”
“He picked us up below Donaldsonville and brought us to New Orleans.”
Lisette did not miss the slight glow in Simone’s green eyes when she spoke of the young captain, and she felt pleased at the renewed signs of life in this young woman who had known so little pleasure and so much grief. The madam had always liked the brash, likeable Virginian, trusting him enough to enlist his aid to spirit the girl from New Orleans. She had not anticipated an attraction between them, but perhaps it was the best thing. Feeling a twinge of disloyalty to her old friend, Lisette forced herself to put it aside. Poor Alain was dead, and Simone must go on with her life.
She listened with approval as her friend told of her newly formed partnership with Tom and their plans for the Queen fleet. The women visited well into the night, making up for all the talks they had missed.
The next morning, Simone resorted to her old subterfuge of mourning attire and went to the bank. On learning that she proposed to close her account, the bank president argued and cajoled, for he felt he owed it to the memory of his old friend Alain de Vallière to look after his ward. But he could do little to sway the determined young woman, other than convince her to hold a portion of the account in reserve for emergencies.
That evening, Simone twirled in front of Lisette, her full skirt belling around her. “How do I look?”
Simone’s white satin evening gown was trimmed with rich white lace. A bright green ribbon bordered the low décolletage, and a ruffle of lace cascaded over her breasts, swaying softly when she moved. Her shoulders were bare, as were her arms, and at her neck and earlobes blazed the emerald jewelry Alain had given her, green stones to match her emerald eyes. Her hair was drawn back, sleek and elegant, but her excited smile belied the sophisticated image she presented.
Before Lisette could answer, a knock sounded at the door. She smiled as Simone scurried for a last look in the mirror. Smoothing her skirt and patting at her hair, the girl nodded her readiness.
“Mademoiselle Dupré, you’re even prettier than the last time I saw you,” Tom greeted Lisette, pecking her on the cheek before turning to Simone, admiration in his blue eyes. “So are you, sugar—a lot prettier.”
Simone’s breath caught in her throat as he smiled. Gone was the careless, windblown captain of the river. Tom’s raven curls had been tamed. His fashionable suit was expensively tailored of crisp black broadcloth. A white shirt contrasted with his sun-bronzed skin, and golden cufflinks glittered at his wrists. Amid the luxuriant ruffles on the front of his shirt was tucked an impeccable silk cravat, its blue stripe the same sapphire hue as his waistcoat and his smiling eyes. His trousers fit his muscular thighs as if molded to them, and a pair of polished black leather boots completed the picture of elegance.
While the two stared at each other across the quiet room, Lisette cleared her throat delicately and said, “I think I’ll check on my guests now. Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable? Tom, there’s bourbon for you in the decanter.”
“Thanks, Lise,” he muttered distractedly, his gaze never leaving Simone.
When the door clicked shut behind her, Tom gestured toward the settee. “Let’s sit down.”
When they were settled, Simone asked, “You haven’t changed your mind about having me as a partner in your new steamboat?”
“No.”
“Then here is my investment.” Taking a wad of bills from her reticule, she thrust it into his hand.
His eyes widened. “G-good Lord,” he stammered, “I can’t take all this, Simone.”
“I kept back enough to live on,” she argued. “The man at the bank insisted on it.”
Tom’s jaw dropped at that admission. Then he closed his mouth, and his lips curved in a wondering smile. “You’re the damnedest girl I’ve ever met,” he uttered softly. “I never know what to expect of you. You turn me all around and shake me up. And the hell of it is, I’m beginning to like it.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all your partners,” she teased.
“Everyone so far.” Leaning back, he regarded her seriously. “We’ve got to do some reconsidering here. This is as much money as I have tied up in the new boat and the packets. I propose that you either take back a good portion of it or become my full partner.”
“I’d own half of Franklin Steamboats?” she mused thoughtfully.
“Franklin and Devereaux Steamboat Company, if you say yes.”
“Just Franklin is fine. I’d prefer to be a silent partner.”
“Can’t say I’d like it if you were too silent, darlin’. I’m getting used to your sass.”
Ignoring his teasing, she extended her hand. “I will be your full partner, Tom, but I don’t think you know what you’re letting yourself in for.”
“I can’t wait to find out,” he murmured. Taking her small hand in his, he brought it to his lips instead of shaking it as she had expected. “You and I are going to do just fine together.”
The next morning, Tom took Simone to meet his attorney. His eyebrows shot up when she emerged from the bedroom in full mourning costume, but he said nothing when he saw her to his rented carriage. As he’d said he never knew what to expect from her.
As the carriage rolled across Canal Street toward the American Section, Simone asked, “Where are we going?”
“Settle down, little Creole.” Tom halted the rig beside a two-story wooden building on the wide thoroughfare. “I promised Batiste I’d protect you from the Kaintocks.”
“But you’re a Kaintock.”
“You don’t need protection from me. I suspect it’s going to be the other way around,” he grumbled, helping her down from the carriage.
“Welcome back, my boy.” Hiram Anderson, Tom’s stout and balding attorney, greeted them jovially in the anteroom to his office.
“Hello, Hiram.” Tom beamed as the attorney pumped his hand. “I’d like you to meet Miss Simone Devereaux, my new partner.”
“P-partner?” Hiram sputtered, turning to the woman who was lifting the veil away from a young and pretty face.
“How do you do, Monsieur Anderson,” she greeted him in charmingly accented English. “Tom has told me so much about you.”
“How do you do. Tom,” he said to his client, “may I see you in my office?”
“Not without my partner,” the captain answered mildly.
Exasperation was plain on the attorney’s ruddy face. “As you wish. Come in, both of you.”
When they were seated, Hiram faced them across the desk and demanded, “Tom Franklin, what in tarnation—begging your pardon, ma’am—have you done? Have you been bluffing with a pair of deuces again?”
“Not since I lost the money to finish my boat,” Tom admitted candidly. “To answer your question, Hi, what I’ve done is to sell half of Franklin Steamboat Company to Miss Devereaux.”
“Half . . . as in equal?”
“Isn’t that what it usually means?” The young man frowned.
“But, Tom, a woman in business?” Hiram’s voice was pleading. “It just isn’t done, especially not in Louisiana.”
“Monsieur Anderson,” Simone cut in pleasantly, “many things are not done because they have not been tried. Why shouldn’t I be Capitaine Franklin’s silent partner? Because I know nothing of cargos and engines? It was not my knowledge of those things he needed. He needed money to finish his boat, and I gave it to him.”
Hiram stared at her mutely, unable to argue with her logic.
“And she gave me some great ideas, Hi. I tell you, we’re going to make a fortune,” Tom interje
cted eagerly. “Steamboats aren’t just for carrying freight and a few passengers. They’ve become floating hotels. Simone made me see that we could take it even a step further. My boat—our boat is going to be big, three full decks high, not including the hurricane deck or the pilothouse. Why shouldn’t a boat that large have a casino with square deal games and the prettiest hostess on the river?”
“You’re proposing Miss Devereaux run this establishment?” Hiram asked disbelievingly.
“She’s proposing she run it,” Tom corrected ruefully, “and she’s already told me I can’t play there.” Chuckling when the attorney stared at the girl in awe, he added, “I know she looks like a frail little thing, but she’s got a will of pure iron.”
“I’m afraid he is right,” Simone affirmed with a dazzling smile. “I know it may take time to become accustomed to a woman in commerce, but consider this: If I keep Tom from bluffing with a pair of deuces, we may indeed, as he says, make a fortune.”
“Perhaps my wife has been right all along,” Hiram muttered. “She said all Tom needed was a good woman. I’ll draw up the partnership papers right away.”
After their meeting, the couple drove to the shipyard outside of town to inspect the new boat. They picked their way through seeming chaos to the huge, unfinished shell of a paddlewheeler. Supported by massive steel horses and still without its enormous sidewheels, the steamboat resembled a building uprooted from its foundation. Pieces of the paddles were stacked beside the hull, and two steel cylinders lay on the ground, smokestacks waiting to be set over the engine room.
The noise in the yard was deafening, but the din was soon replaced by the murmur of voices as the workmen drifted toward lunch.
“Come on,” Tom said, taking Simone by the hand, “they won’t be back for a while. We can explore.”
He led her up a steep, swaying gangplank to the main deck of the deserted shell, where the pungent scent of oil lingered over shiny newly installed machinery.
Together they climbed the curving staircase on the bow to the boiler deck, the second level. They passed the long rows of cabins, which flanked the ladies’ lounge, on their way to the cavernous area set aside as the Grand Salon, the common area and dining room of the big boat. A carved wooden bar occupied the center of the room, waiting to be installed.
The Emerald Queen (A Vieux Carré Romance) Page 21