“Yes,” he said. “I could have. I fail to see what the problem is with Maribel.”
“The problem is twofold. First, you hardly know her. And second, she is Spanish.”
“Abigail,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I will concede the first point, although I do have evidence to the contrary. However, I never figured you for an elitist who would care about a person’s country of birth.”
“Do not be so judgmental, Jean-Luc. I don’t give even a passing interest in where she was born. I don’t even care where she lives or of what social class she is. Why, did I say a word when you married Kitty? And she was a poor nurse whose family depended on her to provide for them.”
She hadn’t mentioned his late wife since the funeral, so to hear the name from her lips surprised him. “I do remember you warned me not to toy with her affections. But, no, I do not recall any objections of that sort.”
“That is because Kitty suited you, and you needed each other. She had cared for you, and truly, Jean-Luc, she had fallen in love with you before you were ever aware she existed. That you cared for her in return was something I would never have offered comment on.”
“Then what is wrong with Maribel?”
The question was ludicrous because the answer truly did not matter. Still, he felt a responsibility to defend the woman Abigail apparently thought he loved. Or, more likely, thought he was toying with.
“Maribel is a lovely girl. Perfectly lovely,” Abigail said as she reached for her fan to chase away the heat. “In fact, were she not Spanish, I would highly recommend her.” She paused. “For Michel.”
“For Michel?” Outrage rose. “You would recommend her for my brother and not me?”
“Yes,” she said. “You are far too old for a vivacious young woman like her. What in the world would the two of you ever have in common? It is ridiculous.”
“Not so ridiculous as you think, Abigail,” he said, even though he knew the comment strayed into dangerous waters where he ought not go.
“Well, you have offered no reason that I should think otherwise, so I have given you my opinion of the matter.”
“Thank you, Abigail, for your opinion,” he snapped. “I will concede your point on age only because it is based on observation alone. However, I still fail to see what her Spanish heritage has to do with making a good match for me.”
“Oh, darling, are you so blind?” She gave him an appraising look. “Yes, you are. You’ve had that look ever since I walked into the room. You are so in love with that girl that you absolutely cannot see that it is not her who is unsuitable but rather you.”
In love? Hardly, although her kiss did take him off guard and he had found it difficult to breathe when she reached for him. Then there was the strong desire to march right back into the library and repeat the entire event, this time with anyone who cared to watch in attendance.
But love? Hardly.
“Jean-Luc?” Abigail said. “Have I said something that made sense?”
“The opposite, actually. Now I truly do not follow.”
Abigail sighed. “Oh, darling,” she told him as she touched his sleeve. “I so want to be wrong about this, but should her grandfather and my friend Mary learn that you are pursuing Maribel, I fear there will be much opposition to the match.”
He shook his head. “Correct me if I am wrong, but her mother is not a Spaniard. I do not detect any evidence of it.”
“True. My understanding is she fled home to marry Antonio. He’s deceased, you know. I believe she is originally from somewhere in the colonies. Virginia, perhaps?” She shook her head. “But her grandfather? Don Pablo Cordoba will never agree to a marriage between the two of you.”
Marriage. He tried to keep his expression neutral. “And why do you assume that is where my relationship with Maribel is leading?”
“Because if you have moved from calling her Miss Cordoba to Maribel and you feel it appropriate to bring her into our home and kiss her in front of me and your sister—”
“Excuse me, Abigail, but we were not kissing in front of you. You and Gaby walked in on a private conversation.”
“Excuse me, Jean-Luc,” she said as she returned his neutral look. “But there was absolutely no conversation going on when we walked in. Did I miss something?” she added sweetly.
“Nothing that we intended for you to hear,” was his impertinent answer. “Truly, Abigail, you worry for nothing.”
“I worry because except for the fact I did not actually give you life, I am your mother in all ways and in my heart. So you, my beloved son, worry me terribly.”
He leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Stop worrying. I am fine.”
“The last time I heard that, a French lieutenant brought you home in bandages and on death’s door. You were up to something before you left on that voyage, and you’re up to something now. And you know what?”
“What?” he said, half amused and half touched at her fervor.
“I think both times it involved Maribel Cordoba.”
“Stop worrying,” he told her. “I am fine. Now I’m going to go back into the library to see if Gaby has had any more luck getting information from Maribel than you have had getting it from me.” Abigail hurried to catch up to him. “If she has, she better be prepared to tell me.”
Jean-Luc laughed as the coolness of the house enveloped him once more. “If she has, she will be prepared to tell everyone.”
Jean-Luc returned to the library to find Maribel alone. “Where is your inquisitor?” he said with a grin.
“Likely off to spread the word of our engagement,” she said as she returned her attention to the ledger in front of her.
“You’re joking, right?”
She lifted her head to regard him with a look that told him she was not. “I doubt she will go far. She headed out the back door, not the front.”
“That is because the back door is nearest the carriages. No doubt she’s working her way down the street announcing our betrothal to everyone who is anyone in New Orleans.”
“Why bother telling the rest?” she said with obvious sarcasm. Then her expression went serious. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’ve ruined a courtship you’re having with someone, haven’t I?” She sat back in her chair and shook her head. “I was raised by nuns. I have no idea how any of this works, but I am fairly certain I have caused you trouble. My thought was to break the engagement once a proper time had passed.”
He had to laugh at her serious expression. “There is no courtship other than the one Abigail believes we have been carrying on without her knowledge. And as to being unused to the way courtship works, I promise your lack of knowledge at the feminine airs that are put on during this ridiculous ritual is refreshing.”
“I have been learning,” she told him. “Your sister has been a great source of knowledge on how to be a proper lady. My mother and Abigail insisted she tutor me.”
He groaned. “I do hope you haven’t been paying attention.”
“Well, I did try, but somewhere between which fork to use at the table and which way to hold a fan to signal an intention, I gave up.” She paused. “She has no idea, though, so please do not tell her. Gaby does have such enthusiasm for the topic. I would hate for her to know that I do not.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” He glanced down at the ledger and back at Maribel. “But neither you nor that ledger are safe here. I have a place I can take you, but you will have to trust me.”
“I trust you,” she said. “But what about my mother and my grandfather? Won’t they be worried if I do not come home? Or suspicious?”
“Let me take care of that.” He looked up at the clock over the mantel as the front door opened. “And here is the man for the job.”
Jean-Luc stepped out into the hall and motioned for him to come into the library. “Maribel,” he told her. “I think you might find this fellow familiar.”
She looked up from her study of the ledger to fix her eyes on the young man who had spent th
e last eleven years as a ward of the Valmonts. “William Spencer?” she said on a soft breath. “My Will Spencer!”
The physician’s expression froze. “Red?” He looked over at Jean-Luc. “Is it really?”
“It is,” she said before he could respond.
And then Maribel practically launched herself into the young doctor’s arms.
Over her head, William gave Jean-Luc a stricken look.
Likely William Spencer could climb a tree, remain there all day, and still climb down without any aches or pains to show for his effort. And he could certainly pass Abigail’s test of appropriate age.
“Maribel was raised by nuns,” he said, irked that he felt even the slightest amount of jealousy rising up inside him. “She doesn’t realize her enthusiasm at seeing you again is inappropriate.”
“Then I hope she never figures that out,” he said as he returned the embrace. “You look prettier than a picture,” he told her when she finally let him go.
“There is nothing inappropriate in letting my friend know I am happy to see him again.” She offered William a smile. “I thought you were dead.”
“And I thought the same of you.”
“And yet you both are obviously very much alive,” he snapped before catching himself and changing his tone. “As much as I know you two have to discuss, it must wait. There’s a situation brewing, and we need to take evasive action.”
Will knew exactly what he meant, for he had used the words they all agreed upon. “Aye,” he said. “But first I should bring news of her grandfather.” He focused his attention back on Maribel. “He is of decent health as of today,” he said. “I prescribed a change in his diet and indicated that he should be taken from his bed to be allowed to walk more. I find that does a body more good than lying there with the fireplace going.”
“So he will be fine?”
“These determinations are never exact,” he said. “But he is strong and appears he will recover.”
“And my mother?”
He shook his head. “Was I supposed to evaluate her too?”
“No,” she said, “but I wondered what your impression was of her current state?”
“Oh,” he said, “well, she seemed happy that your father was home.”
“He was there?” she asked Will.
“Not at the moment, but she did mention that fact at least twice during our conversation. I thought it odd she spoke of him so much.” He paused. “Now that I’ve seen you, is it also true, then, that your father survived the Venganza?”
“He did,” Maribel said. “Although I have only just learned this.”
Jean-Luc looked to Maribel. “What do you think of your mother’s mentions of your father to Will?”
“I believe I can answer,” Will said. “Perhaps she then would expect me to convey the news to Abigail?”
“She might,” he agreed. “Can you think of another reason?” he asked Maribel.
“No,” she said. “In looking through this ledger, have you seen any expenses that my mother might have benefited from?”
“Not directly,” he said. “Why?”
“It is as much a hope as a theory, but perhaps she and my grandfather are both afraid of what my father will do if they do not cooperate. If she and Abigail are so close, perhaps Mama wanted Abigail to know my father had finally come for her.”
He thought a moment. “You may be right.”
Jean-Luc addressed Will as he nodded toward Maribel. “I will see to her safety. You alert the others.”
“So soon?” Abigail stepped into the room, her smile intact. “Yes, I know. You didn’t think I realized what was going on here.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Will said. “I’m just going to go and wash up for dinner now.”
“Stay.” A command, not a suggestion. Of course Will obeyed. When Abigail used that tone, generally they did.
“Maribel,” she said gently. “Please accept my apology for the way I am about to speak of your father. I understand we are all given our parents and have no choice in the matter, so do not think his behavior reflects on yours or your family.”
“Thank you,” she said.
She turned to Jean-Luc. “There is a man out there somewhere who has been terrorizing my friend for the better part of ten years. Don Pablo has paid to keep him away from Mary and has paid dearly to keep this girl hidden away and safe. The money has run out.” She paused to look at Jean-Luc. “It ran out three years ago, actually.”
“Three years ago?” Maribel shook her head and then closed her eyes. “Oh,” she said when she opened them again. “You and Mr. Valmont …”
“Have been helping,” she offered. “Yes, although that would just as well be our secret, thank you very much. Your grandfather is a proud old man and it would kill him if he knew, and I did tell your mother that information would not be disclosed publicly.”
“How does he think money has gone into his coffers, then?” Jean-Luc asked.
“It is my understanding that he believes his son has finally come to his senses and contributed his share.” She paused as if considering her words carefully. “The ruse worked until Antonio had the audacity to arrive on their doorstep. I cannot prove it, but I believe his presence in that home is what caused that old man’s illness.”
“It is possible a shock of some sort would contribute,” Will said. “But impossible to say for certain.”
“Jean-Luc,” she said. “I engaged you in a spirited conversation regarding this young lady because I needed to see what your intentions were. And I had to know if she is safe with you.” She paused. “Given factors and situations we do not discuss, I have reason to believe she may be in only slightly less danger with you than she would be at home with her mother.”
He said nothing, allowing the accusation to hang in the silence between them. Sadly, she was likely speaking the truth.
But then Abigail usually did, even if the truth was not welcomed.
“I will spare you my opinion of this supposed relationship between you and Miss Cordoba. However, I stand by what I said in the garden. And, you,” she said to Maribel. “I have no doubt you kissed him first as a diversion so that we would not know why you two were conferring at that desk.”
Maribel slid Jean-Luc a glance and added a smile. “I like her.”
“Just wait,” he told her. “We like her too, but her honesty can be a bit brutal.”
Abigail stifled a smile. “However, both of you enjoyed that kiss far too much for my comfort. I suggest once this trouble is behind you, the two of you should have a serious discussion about whether the marriage plans you have tormented Gaby with should in actuality take place.”
“See,” Jean-Luc said. “Brutal.”
“But honest,” Abigail said. “Now, I need no knowledge of whatever plans you’ve made for situations like this, but I have no doubt there are plans. Go on about it all, but do one thing first.”
“What is that?” Jean-Luc asked.
“Get that young lady’s mother and grandfather out of his house and back here so we can keep them safe.”
Jean-Luc glanced over at Will. “Send Rao and Piper. Tell them they’ll need at least two extra men, and make sure they know they could be facing danger.”
Will hurried away but then stopped just short of the front door. “Maribel,” he said. “It’s great having you back.” And then he was gone, leaving Jean-Luc and Maribel alone with Abigail.
“Now, as for you two,” she said. “Something happened between you that has bound you together.” She nodded to Jean-Luc. “You spoke of her constantly during your recovery. She has meaning in your life.” Then she turned to Maribel. “You were a child and now you are a woman. Do not confuse how you felt about him when you were a child to any feelings that may grow as an adult. They are not the same. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Maribel said. “But there is nothing—”
“There will be.” She shook her head and then reached for Jean-Luc’s
hand. “I have done all I can do here. Please, Jean-Luc, take care of her.”
“You have my word,” he told her. “Now if there’s nothing else you wish to say, then we must go.”
Abigail smiled. “Oh, there is plenty more I wish to say, but I best keep my mouth shut.”
“Will wonders never cease,” he said as he kissed Abigail on the cheek. “Do tell my father I have seen a miracle and will report back on it when I return.”
“Watch your manners, son,” she told him. “And yourself.”
“I promise,” he told her then caught Maribel’s attention. “We should go now. It’ll be best if you don’t ask for any details. Just know we’re going and your family will be safe.”
She nodded as he retrieved the ledger and returned it to the valise. “Thank you,” Maribel told Abigail. “The words seem so very inadequate.”
Abigail offered an embrace and Maribel accepted. Apparently Abigail whispered something that caused the redhead to lift her head in surprise. A moment later, they stepped apart and Maribel followed him outside.
“What did she tell you?” he asked.
“That when you asked what she told me, I should tell you it is something you already know.”
Of course. All Jean-Luc could do was laugh.
Maribel followed the captain’s lead as they traveled under cover of darkness toward the river. Bypassing the docks, they climbed into a small skiff that had been tied up not too far from the live oaks where they spent the afternoon.
A man wearing a dark cloak awaited them. He revealed his face only after their journey downriver was under way.
“Mr. Rao,” she said softly. “It is you.”
“Always was me when you thought it was,” he whispered. “Sure wish I could’ve admitted it sooner, but promises were made, and, well, I was always one to keep my promises.”
“I do understand.”
“Quiet, both of you,” Jean-Luc said.
They were in the skiff so long that Maribel’s eyes began to drift shut. When the skiff thudded against something, her eyes opened and she found herself cradled in Jean-Luc’s arms. The skiff was now tied to a larger vessel.
The Pirate Bride Page 21