Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (10 page)

"I know—if you had not happened along..." Hugh smiled crookedly and raised his glass. "To you, my friend. You may have saved my life. Certainly you saved me from a vicious beating."

Jasper shrugged. "It was nothing—I am your friend—you would have done the same for me."

Hugh nodded. A dangerous gleam suddenly lit his gray eyes. "But," he said softly, "someone else is definitely
not
my friend. And I intend to find out who."

* * *

Hugh found himself tossing sleeplessly in his bed that night, thoughts of Micaela drifting tantalizingly through his mind—when he was not considering the implications of the attack on him earlier this evening. Staring at the canopy over his head, he finally admitted that events were not following any path he had ever considered.

When he had left Natchez such a short time ago, he'd had his entire future mapped out. He would settle in New Orleans, resolve the trouble at Galland, Lancaster and Dupree and, after a suitable courtship, marry Alice Summerfield and set up his nursery. He would be a loving father and a kind husband, and he would settle sedately into the life he had chosen for himself. It was a future that he had looked forward to and had been confident would be his.

But after seeing Micaela this afternoon and realizing with the suddenness of a lightning bolt that he would gladly, no eagerly, give up a great deal to possess her, he felt badly shaken. And the knowledge that someone hated him or feared him enough to arrange what would have been a brutal beating infuriated him as much as it mystified him. Was it simply the Duprees venting their spleen at his refusal to sell out to them? Or something more sinister that he had not yet considered?

Sleep was impossible. Swearing in two languages, he got out of bed and yanked on a black-silk robe. Entering the adjoining sitting room, he walked over to the sideboard and from a crystal decanter of brandy poured a half snifter of the amber-colored liquor.

His features grim, he wandered about the dark sitting room, absently swirling his untasted brandy. Since he was in no mood just yet to dwell on the attack, he let his thoughts drift to Micaela—as if he could stop them.

Perhaps, he thought reluctantly, even if he forgot about the wild notion of trading his shares for her hand in marriage, marrying Micaela Dupree was not quite the insane idea it had first appeared. There would be, he admitted wryly, several advantages. He would have aligned himself with one of the most respected and aristocratic families in New Orleans. Jasper would certainly be ecstatic, he conceded ruefully. But looking at it pragmatically, it would keep the business totally within the control of the current partners... and allow him to have Micaela in his bed—a notion which crept with increasing frequency through his dreams of late.

On the other hand, he reminded himself coolly, it would create a whole host of new problems—especially if his suspicions proved correct and it turned out to be either Jean or François, or both, who were stealing from the company. With Micaela as his wife, he would find it awkward to accuse her brother or her uncle of thievery—or of hiring someone to beat him soundly. Certainly prosecuting them would be out of the question. A tempting vision of Micaela suddenly floated before him. But there would be, he admitted to himself as he took a sip of his brandy, advantages....

Hugh shook his head disgustedly. He wasn't seriously considering marrying Micaela Dupree, was he? She made her opinion of him clear, and he wasn't fool enough to marry a woman who disliked him. Such a union would bring nothing but trouble, and he wasn't one who went looking for trouble.

He would concede, however, that Micaela aroused some elemental emotion within him. A night or two, he thought wryly, spent in the arms of a clever courtesan would no doubt cure him of his damnable preoccupation with
Mademoiselle
Dupree! In a few weeks, a month, he would look back on this time and wonder how he had allowed himself to be so befuddled by her. She was undeniably a seductive armful, and if she had been of a certain class of woman, he would not have hesitated a moment before setting her up as his mistress. But wife? He shook his head. Ridiculous!

And as for whoever had set those ruffians on him... Hugh smiled like a lazy tiger. He was going to enjoy exposing his enemy—and teaching him a lesson, a lesson that would not soon be forgotten.

Feeling better about the situation, Hugh finished his brandy and returned to his bed. To sleep. And to dream of flashing dark eyes and soft, tempting cherry red lips.

Certain that he had been suffering from an aberration, during the following days Hugh banished any thoughts of Micaela from his mind and concentrated on affairs at Galland, Lancaster and Dupree. There were no further attacks on him, and he wondered if he had been mistaken in what he had overheard. Perhaps.

March faded into April, and Hugh was no closer to discovering his thief—or his attackers—or their reasons. On the twenty-ninth of March, he had written to the firm which handled their affairs in Europe and had requested a
complete
copy of several of the suspicious invoices. He had offered no reasons, but he had asked that they be sent privately to him at Jasper's town residence. There was no point in alarming anyone at Galland, Lancaster and Dupree... yet.

He had also delved more deeply into the tasks of each person employed by the firm. There were only so many people who had access to the invoices, and he was eliminating them from his list of suspects. He had considered that the order for the attack on him could have originated from someone in the company other than the Duprees, but he had found nothing to support that theory. And as for the person who might have altered the invoices—originally he had been suspicious of everyone, but as the weeks had passed he had narrowed down his list.

Hugh had not been inclined to consider Husson on his list of suspects in the beginning, but the more he learned of the man and his connection to François, the more he wondered. The losses had not really started until after Husson had won his shares from Christophe. Of course, the same could be said of Jasper, but the notion of Jasper stealing from the firm was absurd. Husson was a different story though.

The Creole was certainly wealthy, but Hugh had learned through discreet inquiry that Husson was also a great gambler. As was François, Hugh thought grimly. However, Husson seemed to win more than he lost, and there were rumors that a wise man did not often wager against him. Husson was, according to several American friends, nearly unbeatable. More interesting to Hugh, however, was the information that while Husson graciously accepted any man's vowels, only a fool did not repay the debt... promptly. A whisper here and there had come to Hugh's ears that men unwise enough not to redeem their vowels, were not only dishonored, but
things
happened to them... unpleasant things. Noses and legs were broken. Houses and crops burned. Loans were denied. Livestock disappeared. All of which made Hugh wonder if Husson could have been behind the attack on him. It didn't seem likely, but it certainly had been the sort of thing often connected with Husson's name.

It was clear that Alain Husson was not a man to be trifled with. And François, Hugh had discovered, owed Husson a
very
large debt. It was murmured that the debt had been growing for some time and that Husson had finally demanded his money but François was having trouble meeting that demand. It was possible, Hugh considered, that Husson had put pressure on François to repay his gambling debts and François had been compelled to do so the only way he could—steal from his own company. Then again, Husson and François could be in collusion with each other and whether the idea to steal from Galland, Lancaster and Dupree had come from François or Husson made little difference. They also could have conspired to have him beaten, thinking to drive him out.

Because he had nothing definite to go on, Hugh was forced into a waiting game. Until the next large shipment arrived from Europe, or the copies of the invoices he had sent for were finally in his hands, he could do nothing.

At a standstill in his quest to find the thief or the person who had ordered the attack on him, and strangely reluctant to proceed with his courtship of Alice Summerfield, Hugh found himself irritated and frustrated. With an eye toward purchase, he had looked at several prospective town houses and had even seen a few larger estates in the country. He would need both eventually, but viewing the various houses and lands did not give him the pleasure he had thought it would. Some spark, he acknowledged, was missing.

As April melted into May and the days lengthened and grew warmer and more humid, he found himself oddly restless and unsettled, nothing holding his attention for very long. Even Jasper's lively company did not soothe the impatient, ceaseless stirrings within him, and his temper grew short.

The invitation to stay several days at Riverbend came as a total surprise, and Hugh was doubly irritated by the flush of anticipation and pleasure which had rushed through him when he had read Lisette's note. His bad temper vanished, and for the first time in weeks he found himself looking forward to an event with eager expectancy. It was, he told himself firmly, the prospect of getting away from the city and seeing more of the lush Louisiana countryside that had raised his spirits. It had
nothing
to do with the fact that he would see Micaela. Nothing.

Some of Hugh's anticipation lessened when he learned that it was a large house party that he had been invited to attend. He was pleased and not surprised that Jasper had been invited, but the news that Alice Summerfield and her parents had also received an invitation brought a faint frown to his face. The connection had to be François, but what in Hades was that young puppy trying to do? Cut him out? Hugh snorted. The way he felt right now, François had his blessing.

The Husson family had also been invited, but would not be staying at Riverbend. Like the other neighbors who would be attending the various entertainments scheduled for the Dupree guests, they would be riding and driving over each day and returning to their own home afterward. Why this pleased Hugh when Jasper mentioned it, he did
not
care to speculate.

* * *

Micaela had been startled when Jean first proposed the house party to Lisette one evening at dinner. She had stared at his unreadable features and had wondered what was behind this sudden decision. The news that Jean intended for Hugh Lancaster to be amongst the invited guests made her eyes widen.
Ma foi!
Had her
oncle
had a change of heart about the
Américains?
It seemed so, especially when Jean went on to mention that he also intended for the Summerfield family to attend the house party.

Micaela looked across the table at François's suspiciously bland face. It had been François, she recalled, who had introduced her and Lisette to the Summerfields when they had come into the city in March, and she had wondered then what had prompted her brother's interest in the
Américains.
Of course,
Mademoiselle
Summerfield was very lovely, but surely François was not...

Her gaze narrowed as she studied her brother. Was he thinking of marriage? To an
Américain!
Bah! That was unlikely... as unlikely as her becoming Hugh's mistress. Or her marrying Alain Husson.

Later that evening as she prepared for bed, Micaela frowned when she thought of Alain Husson. He had paid several visits to the plantation since she and Lisette had returned from their last trip to New Orleans and his determined pursuit of her had become so persistent and so unrelenting that she was feeling decidedly harassed. Despite her previous strong hints and increased coolness to him, Alain seemed oblivious to the fact that she was not enamored with him and that she had no intention of marrying him—if he should be so foolish as to ask her!

* * *

During the days that followed Jean's announcement of his plans for the house party, Alain's pursuit of Micaela continued and her manner toward him became increasingly sharp, sometimes bordering on rudeness. Her less-than-welcoming manner did not seem to faze him, and there appeared no escaping his attentions—not when François was always inviting him to visit or stay for dinner.

This evening was no exception. Alain had come to dine. Once the meal was finished, Alain asked, as he usually did, if he could escort her for a stroll around the gardens before he departed for his own home. Micaela accepted with ill-disguised reluctance. No one else seemed inclined to join them, so they were alone as they left the dining room and stepped out into the warm night air.

Determined to make it as short a walk as possible, Micaela set off at a brisk pace down the winding path which ambled through the extensive gardens at the side of the house. They had not gone far before Alain asked, "Why are you in such a hurry,
ma coeur?
It is a beautiful night—almost as beautiful as you...."

Micaela snorted and cast him an exasperated look. "And I have told you repeatedly that I do not find your compliments welcome—nor, I might add, speaking plainly, your continued pursuit. I have asked, no, pleaded with you to turn your attentions elsewhere, but you refuse to listen to me."

Alain smiled. "Ah,
ma belle,
you do not really mean that. You know that I adore you... that both our families are waiting in momentary expectation of our announcement that we shall be married." A complacent expression on his handsome face, he reached for her hand. "Perhaps," he purred, "I have been too discreet and sedate in my courtship... perhaps you have been waiting for me to show you how much I desire you."