Reclaiming His Legacy

by Dani Wade

  “Then you shouldn’t have given it away,” Blake reasoned.

  “I sent several letters through the years demanding the ring back, all of which were returned unopened.”

  “From my limited experience with broken engagements, that’s her prerogative.”

  His father’s snap to attention told Blake he’d touched a nerve.

  “Dammit, this is not the time for your flippant sarcasm. I want that ring and I will have it.” Armand smoothed down his hair and jacket in a move utterly familiar to Blake. Growing up, he’d seen it often after his father’s rages. Blake steeled himself as a wave of unpleasant emotions washed over him.

  “You will get it for me, Blake.”

  “How? You don’t even know if Jacqueline’s daughter still has it.”

  “There’s never been any record of it being found or sold. Which means it’s still in the family’s possession somehow. You will find this woman and get it back from her. With her knowledge or without it.”

  “You expect me to convince her to just hand over a priceless diamond that belonged to her mother?”

  “You’ll find a way. I’m sure a man like you, one who has seduced and discarded numerous women through the years, will have no problem with this mission. It should be a perfect use for the very few skills you’ve actually cultivated in your lifetime.”

  Blake had to admit, that stung a little. Even if it came from his father, who wouldn’t have a nice thing to say about him if he’d used his wealth to become a big-shot CEO, either. Of course, the other skills Blake had developed he kept well disguised behind the facade of his carefree lifestyle. “Those women knew the score going in.”

  “This one won’t. And I forbid you to enlighten her.” He narrowed his gaze on his son. “Until afterward, of course. If you want to tell her you stole from her to save your sister, that’s your business.”

  Armand handed over a file with all the confidence of a man who would get his way. “Read it. Let me know.”

  “I can’t do this.” Could he?

  “And there’s one more condition,” his father went on, as if Blake hadn’t spoken. “Access to Abigail will be limited by me until the job is done. But afterward, you can have her all to yourself. I’ll sign the paperwork to wash my hands of her, and you can give her the upbringing you claim she needs.”

  Bile rose in the back of Blake’s throat. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d walked back through the Boudreaux plantation’s doors, but no part of this conversation had gone according to plan. What business did a man who’d spent his life deliberately avoiding any type of responsibility have raising a young girl with epilepsy?

  As if he could read Blake’s thoughts, his father smirked. “Are you sure a playboy like you is up to the challenge?”

  * * *

  “Sleepy?”

  Madison Landry started awake, embarrassed at being caught sleeping by her boss at Maison de Jardin. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered out, “I’m just not sleeping well right now.”

  “It’s not a problem for me,” Trinity Hyatt said with one of her trademark gracious smiles, “especially since you’re here on your day off. Want to tell me why that is?”

  Madison tried to shrug off the question with a lame excuse. “There’s always plenty to do around here.” And there was.

  The charity, which provided a safe haven and life skills training for abused women and children, was in a constant state of managed chaos. If it wasn’t laundry that needed doing, it was job applications or fund-raising or any number of things. The desk in front of her in the downstairs office was filled to overflowing with paperwork and records.

  Not for anything would Madison admit she’d come over to Maison de Jardin, which shared a border with her family estate, because she needed a distraction. Not because work needed to be done.

  The last thing she wanted to discuss were the sleepless nights. The memories of her father’s last painful days. Dreams where she could hear him struggle to breathe with the pneumonia clouding his lungs, causing fear to tighten her own chest. Waves of gratitude over the old-fashioned doctor who would still come to the house to treat him after her father’s refusal to be moved to a hospital. The stuff of her nightmares.

  Though the understanding expression in Trinity’s soft gaze said she probably knew already. And her boss wasn’t one to shy away from the hard discussions. “Well, I hate to see you suffering from insomnia. I had the same issue after my mom died. Just couldn’t turn my brain off for anything.”

  “That’s definitely an issue,” Madison agreed, fiddling with her pen as she thought back over so many sleepless nights lately. It was one of the few things Madison felt comfortable discussing. She tried distracting Trinity from any deeper issues. “Besides, it’s hard to retrain yourself to sleep well after having to stay alert during the night for so long.”

  Only her attempt at distraction just gave her boss more fodder for discussion.

  “How many years did you take care of your dad?” Trinity asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

  Her gaze swept over the room with familiarity, giving Madison a momentary reprieve. After all, the office had last been Trinity’s. She’d only moved up to take care of Hyatt Heights, the company started by her late husband. He and his parents had established Maison de Jardin in New Orleans when he’d been a young man. But taking over his company meant Trinity didn’t have time to run the charity, too, especially after her late husband’s relatives had gone to court to fight over his estate.

  Madison just happened to be in the right place at the right time. She’d known Trinity since she was a teenager, coming over to the shelter to help whenever she could. Unfortunately, her dad’s illness had prevented that at times. But when Trinity had to move on, she’d trusted Madison to step into the role despite her age, knowing her life experience went way beyond her years.

  Trinity’s perusal of her old office ended with a look straight at Madison, who squashed the urged to squirm in her seat.

  Madison cleared her throat. “Ten. But the sleeping and mobility issues were only a problem for the last five or so.”

  “Madison,” Trinity said in a voice so gentle it eased Madison’s instinctive panic. “You realize that it’s perfectly normal to not be okay. Right?”

  Madison knew her answers were clipped, but the dread she’d felt for weeks was clawing at the back of her throat with each word.

  Multiple sclerosis was a tough disease. One Madison didn’t wish on anyone after dealing with it up close and personal. The thought of what her dad had gone through always made her sad. He’d lost his business when Madison was young, then been diagnosed with MS before losing the love of his life. But they’d had good times together, too, leaning on each other for comfort and joy.

  Madison could barely respond above a whisper. “I know.” With a hard mental shove, she locked all those roiling emotions away. The more she talked about them, the more power they had. It was better just to move forward. “It’s really okay,” she said, mentally reminding herself that her restlessness and fear and pain could be normalized. “Last night, I spent the time cleaning and reading some more of my mother’s journals.” After all, what else was there to do at three in the morning?

  There was a gentle caution in Trinity’s question. “Are you sure you’re ready to clean out the house, Madison? Your father has only been gone six months.”

  As much as she sometimes wished it didn’t, Madison was well aware that life had to go on. “The house has to go on the market soon. With only me to clean it out...” She shrugged, as if this wasn’t a discussion she’d had with herself a million times over.

  Shuffling the papers on the desk before her didn’t distract her from the ache of knowing she would have to sell the only home she’d ever had. It was falling down around her, even after years of doing the best she could with it, but every one of her life
time of memories involved that house somehow. Knowing she would have to part with it was only making her grief grow exponentially.

  But who knew how long it would take to clean out the clutter and sort through her parents’ possessions? She discovered new pockets of stuff all the time. Just a couple of months ago she’d found a collection of journals that had belonged to her mother. Reading them had brought her memory back in vivid detail. They brought her a lot of solace as she sorted through more and more stuff.

  And she had no idea how she would afford to do any of the repairs the house would need, much less cosmetic work, before she put it on the market. Her job here paid her substantially better than the odd jobs she’d taken to keep her and her dad afloat after her mother’s accidental death, but years of neglect had led to some significant damage in what had once been the most beautiful, stately home in New Orleans’s Garden District.

  Deep down, Madison just wished it was all over and done with. That the house was fixed, sold and being renovated by someone who could afford to return it to its former glory. It might hurt to rip the bandage off, but at least it would be gone.

  I can only do so much...was the mantra she lived by. All of her life Madison had focused on one task at a time, because she was only one person, usually working without any help. Coming to Maison de Jardin had allowed her to be part of a team. But for much of her life, it had been her...or nobody.

  “I’m so sorry, Madison.”

  “Don’t be,” she replied with a shaky smile. But at least she still remembered how to form one. “Coming to work here has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you, Trinity.”

  “Girl, I couldn’t do it without you. Especially right now. I know the women here are in good hands. But—” She grinned. “Enough of all this emotion... I have an exciting surprise for you.”

  “What?” Madison welcomed the change of subject, relief easing her tense muscles.

  “Your dress came in!”

  For most women, the news would be exciting. For Madison, it brought on another fit of nervousness. Next week they would be attending a society fund-raising event, a first for Madison. She’d never had cause to leave her father’s sickroom for such things, nor the funds. But in her new capacity as director for Maison de Jardin, it would be her job to mix and mingle with New Orleans’s best and brightest. Though their legacy from Trinity’s deceased husband should fund them for a long time to come, it never hurt to have support from others who could afford to help.

  Thus, Madison found herself about to be presented to New Orleans high society.

  A generation ago, it would have been Madison’s rightful place. Her parents both came from established families that had helped found this incredible city. The last of their respective lines, the love merger should have cemented them as a power couple.

  But Madison only knew this from a few stories she’d heard from her mother growing up. Her mother had been very secretive about their marriage and choice to live a more isolated life despite their prominent home in New Orleans’s Garden District. Something had happened around the time of their marriage, but Madison had never been able to figure out quite what the scandal had been.

  Which was why she’d been reading her mother’s journals each night after finding them in one of the closed-off rooms on the upper floor of their house. Maybe there she could find some clue to how her parents had met and married. After all, stories like that might replace the sad memories she currently fought off during her sleepless nights.

  Trinity took her hand and led her through the halls of Maison de Jardin to the master suite up on the second floor. It was currently empty, having been Trinity’s room before she moved out when she married Michael Hyatt a mere two months ago. Michael’s tragic death and Trinity’s current battle over his estate left her life a little unsettled. Since Madison lived nearby for the time being, she hadn’t claimed the space as hers, wanting Trinity to still feel like she had a home here if she needed it.

  Laid across the pale blue bedspread was a beautiful lavender dress. Madison gasped, letting her fingers train over the soft flow of material.

  “It’s an unusual color for a redhead,” Trinity said. “I think it’s gonna be a fabulous choice.”

  Madison hoped so.

  This was how she would be presented to society. Her stomach churned, though her nerves were a welcome distraction from her earlier grief. First impressions were a big deal. While her family name had been well known in NOLA in the past, history had slowly erased it from the current consciousness. The South still prided itself on its history, and the history of its families, but money stood for a lot more. It was the way of the world. Madison knew that and knew she couldn’t change it. With her father’s illness, her family had drained its coffers until all they had was social security and what little she could eke out from various odd jobs. Her father’s health meant she couldn’t go to work full-time.

  She had to remember, this was her job now. Making a good impression would allow her to be helpful to the charity—now and in the future. But that didn’t ease her nerves.

  Should she back out now? Give in to the fear and tell Trinity she would need someone who could better handle this part of the job?

  “Let’s try it on!” Trinity exclaimed, her excitement puncturing Madison’s growing fears.

  When she stepped back into the bedroom suite after changing, Madison didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. The bodice was fitted, with only one strap made out of fabric flowers that went over her left shoulder. Multiple layers of chiffon allowed the skirt to swing around her legs to right above her knees.

  “A killer set of strappy heels and you’re all set.”

  Madison chuckled. “Let’s just hope I don’t break a leg in them.”

  “You’ll be fine. It just takes practice.”

  Madison brushed her hands down over the gown, learning the shape with her shaking fingers. She didn’t even look like herself. It was hard to take it all in.

  “We can do your hair like this,” Trinity said as she lifted Madison’s mass of thick auburn tresses to the top of her head. “With some drop earrings and curls.”

  “I feel kind of like Cinderella,” Madison said with an unsteady laugh.

  “Well, maybe you will meet a Prince Charming at the ball. It’s really just a good ol’ New Orleans party, but you know good and well there will be dancing. Won’t that be fun?”

  The very concept was foreign to a practical girl like Madison, but the transformation hinted at in the mirror egged her on. After all, she’d never been someone who backed away from what needed to be done. Ever. “I could use a little fun.”

  Trinity gave her an exaggerated wide-eyed look in the mirror.

  “Okay,” Madison conceded, “I need quite a bit of fun.”

  “As long as it’s safe.”

  And requires nothing that makes me think too hard. In fact, a Prince Charming might be a little too complicated for her right now. Her life had always been and continued to be full of responsibilities and organization and obligations... She needed some space from all of that.

  Madison smiled at herself in the mirror.

  And who knew? Maybe she could find a Prince for Now to have some fun with. A girl could dream, right?

  Two

  What the hell was he doing here?

  Blake should have been perfectly at home at the party being held at the home of one of Louisiana’s most famous power couples. It was the type of event where people with money gathered to discuss local gossip and politics, and generally impress others with their money and intelligence...or lack thereof. Blake frequented many such parties all across Europe. The only change was the language and food. The people were mostly the same.

  While he usually anticipated getting lucky at such parties, he’d never gone to one for the express purpose of initiating a one-night stand.

/>   Yes, casual sex was a part of his lifestyle, but the women he spent time with were always on the same page. He made sure of that up front. The fact that the only plan he could come up with—in terms of feasibility and expediency—was to get into the Landry home by way of a one-night stand brought on a completely foreign feeling of shame.

  But for Abigail, he’d do what he had to.

  Hell, even reporting Armand for neglect wasn’t an option. His father had more than one city official in his pocket. Besides, could he risk the possibility that Abigail might be forced into foster care before he could get everything worked out? At least at home there was a sympathetic housekeeper to keep an eye on her. Sherry couldn’t be with her all the time, but she was always nearby and looking out for Abigail. At least, that’s what Blake had gathered from their phone conversations. Given the odds of her ending up some place worse than his father’s house, Blake knew his best bet was to get the diamond as soon as absolutely possible.

  So, as uncomfortable as the idea made him, his only choice seemed to be seducing Madison Landry to fulfill his father’s demands...unless he wanted to resort to breaking and entering.

  It hadn’t taken him long to spot the woman he sought in the crowd, though she appeared much younger than he’d anticipated.

  Even in the photographs in the file, she hadn’t looked quite as old as her twenty-six years. Maybe it was her pale complexion or the dusting of freckles across her nose that she hadn’t bothered to hide for tonight’s occasion. But somehow he’d expected the hard life that had been briefly chronicled in the file to show on her face.

  She’d also spent most of her time here barely speaking and rarely venturing from the table she was standing near. He’d been anticipating someone eager to display herself on the marriage market, rather than the quiet woman he saw before him. After all, she was young, single and had too hard of a life to be a party girl. She wasn’t dancing, though she moved slightly to the music as if it intrigued her. There was no steady round of interested men introducing themselves. Certainly no flirting.