Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (17 page)

Micaela looked miserably at her brother, one part of her dimly aware that her life had just changed forever, the other unwilling to accept it.

"Micaela!" François said in anguished accents, "It is well past midnight! You have been alone, alone and
un-chaperoned,
with the
Américain
for hours." He looked away from her suddenly white features. Dully he added, "We tried to be discreet, but most of our neighbors and friends had to be told that you were missing in order to help in the search. There is no way we can conceal your dishonor, and there is only one way in which our honor can be restored and your reputation repaired."

The sound of clapping shattered the bleak silence which met his words. "Excellent!" Hugh exclaimed. "I do not think I have seen so realistic a performance in my entire life."

Jean's brow drew together. "Explain yourself,
monsieur!"

"I have no intention of doing so," Hugh said curtly. "Suffice to say that I will play my part in this charade and marry your niece."

"Non!
" Micaela said desperately. "I will not marry this
canaille!"

The three men looked at her, and what she read in their faces made her grit her teeth in frustration. "We have done nothing!" she cried. "It was the storm and
Monsieur
Lancaster's fall from Coquin which brought us here." When the three men remained unmoved by her words, she grasped the front of François's cloak and said urgently, "He has been asleep the entire time—he never touched me! Please, please, you must believe me! There is no need for this to go any further."

Jean sadly shook his head. "You are wrong,
petite.
Whether you and
Monsieur
Lancaster acted improperly or not does not matter—simply by being alone with him, here in this private place for several hours, you have ruined yourself and brought dishonor upon the Dupree name."

She glanced across to Hugh, the amused contempt on his handsome face telling her clearer than words that she would find no help from him. Glaring at him, she said accusingly, "You do not want to marry me—you said so!"

"What?" demanded Jean, his brow darkening. "You are refusing to do what is right and honorable,
monsieur?"

Hugh smiled grimly. "Of course not. If you will recall, not a moment ago I offered to marry her."

Sneeringly François said, "I am sure that you did,
monsieur.
After all, it is no doubt what you planned."

"And what," Hugh asked in a dangerous tone, "do you mean by that?"

"Why only that marriage to my sister is a clever way in which to get your hands on the shares that she controls." Ignoring Micaela's gasp and Jean's startled exclamation, François continued hotly, "I do not believe that it was any
accident
what happened. You saw a chance to compromise my sister and you took it. We would not sell you our shares and so you found another way in which to get your hands on some of them." He glared at Hugh. "I wonder what other schemes you have concocted to wrest the remainder of our shares from us."

Hugh regarded him icily. "You are a damn young fool. But because of the unfortunate situation already facing us, I will not give you the response your ridiculous accusation deserves."

François only curled his lip and looked superior.

There was suspicion in Micaela's gaze as François's ugly words sank in and she wondered sickly if she hadn't misread Hugh's predicament entirely and instead of helping him had herself been maneuvered into an inalterable position.

Jean looked thoughtful. Had the American fooled them all? And yet even if he had, there was nothing to be done.

To save them from scandal, the marriage must take place. Grimly, he said, "Whatever the reason, do I have your word as a gentleman that you will marry Micaela?"

Hugh nodded. Bitterly he said, "You have nothing to worry about—on my honor, I swear that I will marry your blasted niece just as soon as it can be arranged."

Jean nodded coolly. "François and I already decided that if our worst fears were confirmed, your betrothal can be announced at tomorrow's ball." He smiled tightly. "We shall let it be known that, with the family's blessing, there was already an understanding between the pair of you and that the entire purpose of the ball was for the purpose of formally making the announcement of your coming nuptials."

"I do not want to many this beastly creature!" Micaela burst out, appalled at how easily they were disposing of her entire future. "I refuse to marry him! You cannot force me!"

Walking over to where Micaela stood glaring at them, Hugh said grimly, "You have won, Micaela. Cease this playacting and accept your victory. I have."

"Do you know," Micaela spat, her eyes glittering with fury, "that I think it is you,
monsieur,
who has won, and I absolutely
loathe
you for it!"

"Ah, well, I shall have to see what I can do about changing your mind." He smiled crookedly. "Come now! Enough of this! Our fate is sealed, and there is nothing that you can do about it."

Micaela knew that Hugh spoke the truth, but during the long, miserable journey back to Riverbend, she tried desperately to find a way out of the trap in which she found herself. It was all the more galling to realize that by doing an act of kindness for a fellow creature she had brought this on herself. I should have, she thought viciously, left him lying there in the rain.
Zut!
He is far too arrogant to have come to any real harm!

It was a somber foursome which rode through the falling rain, no one pleased at the outcome. Hugh was, however, feeling resigned to his fate. It had never occurred to him
not
to marry Micaela. He was, after all, an honorable man. Yet he had the uncomfortable suspicion that there was a part of him that was actually a little
too
resigned to his fate. He would have preferred a more traditional courtship, but he was not exactly dissatisfied by what had transpired. All of his previous reasons for considering a union between them came flooding back. Nothing had really changed—it was still a good business decision and he would get what he wanted—Micaela in his bed. His mouth hardened. At least now he knew her for what she was, a scheming, greedy little minx.

* * *

Lisette gave a choked cry when she was reunited with her daughter. Micaela's features were white and strained, and Lisette enfolded her into a warm, maternal embrace, scolding and petting at the same time. They were all gathered in the library, the other guests having gone to bed.

Having satisfied herself that her daughter had suffered no lasting damage, Lisette glanced at the three gentlemen, a question in her fine eyes. Hugh bowed, and said quietly, "Your daughter has done me the honor of agreeing to marry me. I hope this meets with your approval,
madame."

Into her mother's shoulder, Micaela hissed, "I do not want to marry him,
Maman!
I did nothing wrong!"

Lisette sighed and rumpled Micaela's dark tousled hair. "Shh,
petite.
I know you did nothing wrong, but the circumstances are such..." She dropped a kiss on Micaela's cheek. "Too many people know what happened,
bebe.
There is no way that we can hide the fact that you were alone with a man not a member of your family for so many hours. You have to marry him."

Micaela realized that further talk was useless and disengaging Lisette's arms, she stood up. Sending her husband-to-be a most unloving glance, she muttered, "Since I seem to have no say in the matter, I shall leave you all to plan my future."

Ignoring Lisette's exclamation of protest, she stalked out of the room. In a daze she walked up the stairs to her room and stripped out of her wet and ruined riding habit, any thoughts of a long, hot bath vanished. Too much had happened and her brain felt fuzzy—she could not seem to think at all. Creeping between the sheets of her bed, she welcomed the blessed darkness which swept over her.

It was sometime later that Hugh was able to seek out his own bed, and he was aware of an odd sense of satisfaction as he entered his room and began to undress. Everything was settled. The betrothal would be announced at the ball tomorrow. The wedding would take place in three weeks, just long enough away to give an air of respectability to the whole affair. If he had any regrets about the hastiness of his wedding, it was that his stepfather would not be able to attend. Getting a message up-river to John Lancaster could take several weeks, and everyone was agreed that the sooner the marriage took place and people had other things to talk about, the better.

There had been a long silence after Hugh departed from the library, leaving each of the three Duprees busy with their own thoughts. It was Lisette who broke it, saying with forced cheerfulness,
"Eh, bien!
It may not be so very bad. He has agreed to marry her—and tonight's ball will be a most appropriate time to make the announcement."

"How can you accept it so easily,
Maman?"
demanded François. "She is marrying an
Americain!"

Lisette shrugged eloquently.

Jean gave a hard laugh. "Your
Maman
has always had a soft spot for the
Américains.
Is that not so,
ma soeurette?"'

Lisette flushed. Rising to her feet, and despite her pink cheeks, she said, "If you will excuse me, I think that I, too, shall go to bed.
Bonne nuit!"

A frown on his face, François glanced at his uncle. "What did you mean by that?"

Jean made a face. "Put it from your mind—it was unimportant. And since we will have a busy day in front of us, I suggest that we try to get a few hours of sleep ourselves before we have to face our guests."

François's frown grew blacker.
"Mon Dieu,
but you seem to be taking all of this rather well," he said hotly. "What about Alain? And my vouchers?" An expression of unease crossed his face. "How will we face him with this news?" He swallowed. "He is going to be utterly furious!"

"I would not worry," Jean said. "Remember that whatever the reasons behind it, your sister is going to marry a
very
rich man, wealthier even than Alain Husson. Console yourself with the knowledge that in less than a month, your sister will be able to dip freely into a purse which is rumored to be nearly boundless!"

Much struck by this observation, François's features cleared magically. "Do you know," he said confidingly as the two men walked from the library, "this marriage to the
Américain
may not be such a bad thing!"

* * *

All during those swiftly passing hours before the formal announcement of the betrothal that Saturday evening, Micaela protested her innocence. But to no avail; her betrothal to the
Américain
was going to be announced as planned that night—the family was adamant. Jean and François had obviously had further conversation with Hugh, because her brother, somewhat amazed, told her that Hugh had refused a dowry. But, he reminded her just before they descended the stairs that night, Hugh's act wasn't as generous as it appeared—she
did
own ten percent in Galland, Lancaster and Dupree. In François's stated opinion, the American had gotten what he wanted.

The evening was a nightmare for Micaela. She kept hoping that something would change the outcome. It wasn't until Jean began to tap a crystal goblet for attention and she found Hugh suddenly at her side, that she accepted that her fate was sealed. Numbly she let Hugh escort her to where Jean stood, Lisette and François flanking him.

Hugh's hand was warm around hers as they joined the others in the center of the room and oddly enough the feel of that strong clasp gave her comfort. Uncertainly she gazed up at his unrevealing profile, wondering what he was thinking. Was he pleased at the outcome? Did he have any doubts about what he had done?

Jean played his part superbly. A smile on his lips, a twinkle in his dark eyes, he said gaily,
"Mes amis,
it has been a secret these past few days, but tonight it gives me great joy to tell you that my dear niece and the
Américain,
Hugh Lancaster, will be married. They are impatient, these two, and the wedding will take place in three weeks."

There was a collective gasp—Jean's words clearly having caught everyone by surprise. Then an excited babble arose, congratulations, exclamations of astonishment permeating the air. There were some disapproving faces in the crowd, a few of the older Creoles aghast at the match, but overall, most of the guests seemed to accept readily the idea of the marriage. That the Duprees were apparently happy with the match stilled even the most outspoken critic.

Micaela did not even have time to blink before she and Hugh were engulfed by the guests. The Creoles, voluble and excited as ever, rushed forward to press kisses and wishes for good fortune upon them. It all passed before her in a frenzy of motion and noise, Hugh's hand the only real thing in a sea of confusion.

She was aware of Alice Summerfield and her parents eventually coming forward to offer their felicitations. If they seemed stiff and cool after all the warmth and spontaneity of the other guests, Micaela put it down to their disappointment at Hugh's choice of a bride—she
had
heard the rumors about his marked attentions to the
Américaine
young woman. Not by so much as a flicker of an eyelash did the older Summerfields give any clue to what they were feeling. Shaking Hugh's hand, Alice's father said, "John is going to be very pleased, my boy. Very pleased. Congratulations." Alice's mother added her own brief words, then it was Alice's turn.