Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (27 page)

"Shh,
ma mie.
Nothing is ever that bad, I can tell you, though you may not think so at this very moment. In time we will either fix it or you will learn to live, if not contentedly, at least
not
unhappily, with it. Come, let us go inside and you will tell me everything,
oui?"

Micaela would not have been human if she had not let Lisette comfort her, but by the time they reached the house she had control over her emotions. Embarrassed that her mother had found her sobbing over an arrogant creature that did not deserve her tears, Micaela sought to disabuse Lisette that anything was wrong with her marriage.

They seated themselves at the table on the terrace, and, sipping her lemonade, Micaela said quietly, "You must think me a goose to carry on in such a fashion!" She attempted a misty smile. "I was just being silly—I have grown spoiled at having him around all the time, and I did not know that parting from him would be so painful."

Lisette did not say anything for several moments, her eyes on Micaela's face. "Is that all it is,
petite!
Just sadness at parting?"

"Mais oui!"
Micaela said airily. "What else could it be?"

Lisette stared at her glass. "I thought that I had noticed coolness between the pair of you, and I wondered if there had been a misunderstanding."

It was as close to asking for Micaela to confide in her that Lisette could come. She had told herself when Micaela married that she would
not
be a meddling
maman-
in-law. But,
Dieu!
It was impossible not to say something when one's child was sobbing as if her heart were breaking!

Micaela sighed. "A little one, perhaps," she finally admitted. And having confessed that much, she burst out, "We have only been married a short time... and he is happy to abandon me here in the country while he remains in New Orleans!" A blush stained her cheeks. "He has left my bed, too. He is already tired of me!" She could not bring herself to mention her fears of another woman.

Lisette laughed. "Ah,
petite,
is that what this is all about? You think Hugh is tired of you?"

Micaela nodded, thinking that there was nothing amusing about the situation.

Lisette smiled at her expression and asked gently, "And have you done anything to make him realize that being away from him makes you unhappy? Or that his absence from your bed troubles you, hmm? It seems to me that lately you have treated your husband with an aloofness and indifference that I find rather astonishing in view of the way you cried when he left."

"I only acted as a proper Creole wife should," Micaela returned stiffly, remembering uncomfortably the icily polite exterior she had shown Hugh these past days.

Lisette made a face. "And what is a 'proper Creole wife,' pray tell me?"

"Like you. You were always serene and unruffled, even when
Papa
was sometimes difficult.
Papa
never made you cry. He always treated you with kindness and respect and you were always cordial to him." Her words sounded silly to her and she ended lamely, "I know that
Papa
was away a lot of the time, but he never abandoned
you
for weeks on end in the country!"

This time it was Lisette who sighed. Her finger running around the rim of her glass, she murmured, "I did not know that I was such a good actress." At Micaela's astonished expression, she added with stunning bluntness, "You are old enough to know the truth—I despised Renault Dupree. And I hated your
grand-pere
for forcing me to marry him."

"B-b-but, but you—!"

"Presented the world with a pleasant facade?
Oui,
indeed I did! What else could I do once the marriage was fact? Weep and beat my breast? Shame myself before our friends and neighbors?" Her voice hardened. "
Non!
I did what other women have done before me—I forced myself to be a 'proper Creole wife'! I compelled myself to accept the caresses of a man who made my flesh crawl with revulsion. I made no complaint or mention of the women he kept, nor of the thousand slights I endured while he was alive. To you, the family, the servants, I acted the role that fate had assigned to me. I was a good, understanding,
proper
Creole wife—and I can think of no worse fate than that for you,
ma chérie."
She leaned across the table and took one of Micaela's hands in hers. Staring into Micaela's dark eyes, she said earnestly, "You have the chance that I never did—you have married an
honorable,
generous man. It is my dearest wish that you shall have what was denied me—a happy,
loving
marriage. And I think that if you will put your pride and hurt feelings aside and be honest about what you feel for him, you shall have it with Hugh." She smiled gently. "Hugh is a fine young man,
petite.
He has been very thoughtful and kind—the fact that I am staying with you this summer is an indication of his concern for your well-being." Lisette gave Micaela's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I know you were coerced into this marriage,
ma chérie,
but I would never have allowed the wedding if I had not been certain that he would do much to make you happy. I knew that he would make you, not only a good husband—Renault was, in Creole terms, a good husband—but with Hugh you have the chance of having a loyal, honest, loving husband!"

"You did not l-l-like
Papa?"
Micaela asked aghast, as she grappled with what her mother had revealed.

Lisette sat back. "
Non
. I did not like him. It is true that at one time there was talk of a marriage between us and that I was not indifferent to the idea, but that was before... She stopped, her inward gaze seeing something that Micaela could not. Lisette's face softened and a dreamy expression entered her dark eyes. "But that was before I met someone else...." She looked at Micaela, and her face grew more tender. "Someone who taught me what love could be like...."

Fascinated and intrigued by this glimpse into her mother's life, Micaela asked breathlessly, "But why did you not marry him? If you loved each other...?"

Lisette gave herself a shake. A bitter note entered her voice. "He loved me, I always believed that even after..." She took a steadying breath. "He loved me," she went on briskly, "but not enough to stand up to
Papa. Papa
was against a marriage between us.
He
wanted me to marry Renault. It was unthinkable that I marry—!" She hesitated, Micaela's riveted stare and rapt expression reminding her of just what she was revealing. Vexed with herself, Lisette smiled ruefully, and muttered, "It does not matter anymore. It all happened a long time ago. I married Renault, and I cannot complain of the life we led. Renault was not a cruel man, just a selfish one, and, most of the time, he was very good to me."

"But the man you loved? What happened to him?"

A sad smile on her face, Lisette said simply, "Oh, he went away and never came back...."

Micaela gasped, everything her mother had just told her suddenly coming together. The most outrageous thought occurred to her. Her eyes wide and startled, she breathed, "You were in love with Hugh's stepfather, John Lancaster!"

Lisette stared at her for a long time, and then she said simply,
"Oui.
Very much so."

* * *

Hugh rode back to New Orleans, staring moodily at the passing countryside. His heart felt like lead in his chest, and he was conscious of a strong inclination to get drunk and get into a brawl in some rank den of vice. The only ray of light in his black gloom, and it was faint at that, was Micaela's generous response to his frantic embrace. He grimaced. But then what else had he expected? She was a good
Creole
wife, he thought sarcastically.

She could despise him utterly, but her upbringing would not allow her to repulse him or, God forbid, cause a scene. He almost wished she had slapped his face and screamed at him than to have melted against him and made him aware of all that sweet warmth and silky delight he was denying himself.

Once the coach reached New Orleans and he had been set down in front of his home, he dismissed the driver and vehicle. His temper and strong sense of ill use had not abated, and, cursing Micaela and his own unruly emotions, he entered the house. The place felt empty and uninviting as he wandered through the premises, and he cursed himself again for not damning the consequences and remaining at
Par Amour,
and in his wife's bed. It didn't help his temper any to admit that he could have stayed in the country. Staying at
Amour
might have meant frequent trips into the city, but he wouldn't have exiled himself from the very thing that he wanted with a painful intensity—his wife, in his arms and in his bed.

He spent a restless night, tossing and wrestling with his bedclothes, the knowledge that he had sent his wife away eating at him like acid. If he hadn't been so full of stiff-necked pride, he could have been at
Par Amour,
taking his pleasure of his wife, instead of sleeping, alone in his very big, very empty, bed.

His mood was not greatly improved when he rose the next morning. But stubbornly telling himself that he had made the right decision, he dressed. After a lonely breakfast, without much enthusiasm, he walked to his office.

And of course, there was little there to occupy his time or thoughts. He would give Jean credit for having competent men working for them—men who knew their jobs and made, for the most part, the owners' presence superfluous. Besides, he was sick of looking at cargo lists, and he had already discovered what he needed to know. Until something new was added to the current state of affairs, there was nothing for him to do but sit and wait... and brood. Not a happy prospect.

Seated at his desk, he stared grimly at the litter of papers which marred its smooth gleaming surface, his thoughts straying to his wife. What was she doing now? Had she slept well last night? His lips tightened. No doubt!
He
wasn't around to distress her with his presence.

Impatiently he rose from his chair. Stepping from his office, he walked over to where Etienne was working. Hugh glanced around. Seeing that no one was nearby or paying any attention to them, he asked softly, "Did you find any discrepancies in the invoice I asked you to go over?"

Etienne started and flushed.
"N-n-non, Monsieur
Lancaster. Everything was in order."

Hugh stared at him. "Do you remember what we talked about at the warehouse?"

Etienne nodded and swallowed. "
Oui, monsieur,
I have not forgotten your words."

"The offer is still open, but I would suggest that for anyone who wishes to take advantage of it, they not delay."

His voice barely above a whisper, Etienne muttered, "I understand."

Having done what he could to move things along, Hugh returned to his office. Seated once more behind his desk, he glared at the papers scattered across the surface. He had remained in town for this? To sit here and stare?

Inevitably his mind wandered to Micaela, and he wondered again what she was doing at this very moment. Enjoying a leisurely breakfast with her mother on the terrace? Strolling near the lake? Sleeping late? A tight ache in the region of his groin at the thought of Micaela lying in bed provoked something very near a growl from him.

Furious at the way she dominated his thoughts and not liking his own company very much, he stood up. He would go to one of the coffeehouses. Perhaps Jasper had not left the city yet and he could find some congenial company.

He started across the room when there was a knock on the door. "Yes? What is it?" he snapped as he flung open the door.

A tall, distinguished gentleman stood there before him, a faint smile on his darkly handsome face, a dimple lurking in his cheek. The gentleman was nearing fifty but wore his age lightly, his shoulders broad, his body still lean and well muscled, and though the majority of his hair was still thick and black, there were striking silver wings at his temples. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a twinkle in his dark eyes.

"Papa!
It is
damned
good to see you, sir!" Hugh exclaimed delightedly, a wide smile crossing his face, his bad mood vanishing as if it had never been. Impulsively locking his stepfather in a powerful hug, he added, "When did you arrive? I have been half-expecting you, but I thought I would have advance word of your arrival."

Putting his elegant curly-brimmed hat on one of the chairs Hugh indicated, John Lancaster seated himself in another, and murmured, "It has been rather lonesome since you left, my boy, and when I received your letter telling me of your sudden marriage, why nothing would do but that I immediately order my bags packed and take the first ship leaving Natchez for New Orleans." The twinkle became more pronounced. "You are not the only one who can make swift, decisive plans, you know."

Hugh laughed. "I never doubted it, sir." Taking another chair near his stepfather's, he leaned forward eagerly. "How long will you stay? I hope for a long time. Now that you are here, mayhap, I can convince you to move to New Orleans."

"Perhaps," John said. "I have put most of our affairs in the capable hands of Mr. Norton, our esteemed business agent in Natchez, and have told him to expect me when he sees me. I am sure that he will continue to do the same admirable job he has always done for us, so I am here for as long as you wish."

"Excellent!" The gray eyes warm with deep affection, Hugh said, "I have missed you, sir—I did not realize how much until this very moment. It is good to see you."