Love Be Mine (The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3) (49 page)

But I do not have to remain a coward... To end this odious situation, all I have to do is confess all to Hugh. He stared for several endless minutes at his face in the mirror, feeling a powerful resolve build within him. Telling Hugh, he realized, was the only option before him. The truth was going to come out sooner or later. It would be far better if he were to speak first, rather than to wait like a craven coward for the blow to fall. And then there was the matter of Alain. Hugh would be warned. Hugh would know where the danger lurked.

Feeling better than he had in a very long time, François dressed swiftly. Not giving himself time to think, to crawl back into the black hole of despair where he had lingered these past days, he went in search of his brother-in-law.

There was a new purpose in his step, and a firm resolve dominated his young face as he walked down the stairs.

Knowing Hugh was an early riser, François headed directly to the sunny morning room, where they all habitually gathered first thing in the morning. To his relief, only John and Hugh were seated at the round table, enjoying a cup of coffee.

If either of the other men were surprised to see François this early, neither revealed it. They greeted him warmly, and Hugh indicated the pot of coffee on the long buffet, and said, "Sampson just brought that in—it's fresh and hot."

François shook his head, saying, "Forgive me for my intrusion, but may I have a private word with you... now?" He glanced apologetically at John. "I hope that you will forgive me for interrupting your own conversation."

Hugh and John exchanged looks. Hugh shrugged and rose to his feet. "Certainly, it is no imposition. I was going to examine that new mare I bought last week from Jasper—you may accompany me to the stable." A smile crossed Hugh's face, and he said to John, "Micaela should be down shortly. When she comes, tell her where we have gone and that I would not object, after her coffee, if she joined me there." He glanced over at François. "You do not mind?"

François shook his head and muttered, "What I have to say will not take long."

A second later they set off, unaware that from the upper floor, Alain watched them go, his eyes hard, his lips curled in fury. It seemed that his hand was being forced. He would have to act swiftly.

Having gotten this far, François suddenly found that he was speechless. He did not know how to begin and for several minutes they walked in silence. They were almost to the stables before François said desperately, "Could we walk a bit farther? I do not want anyone to overhear what I have to say."

Hugh's brow rose, but he indicated a path that led eventually to the river. The stables disappeared and the green, half-tamed wilderness had closed in on them before François, stumbling at first, and then finally in a rush, disclosed all. That he was consumed with guilt and deeply ashamed of what he had done was apparent, from not only the anguish in his voice, but the deep lines of pain on his face. He did not spare himself. He took the blame, his eyes fixed unflinchingly on Hugh's face as he told of the reckless gambling, the initial pilfering , and then the burgeoning network of thievery with Alain which had led ultimately to Etienne's murder. Lastly, he admitted his suspicion that Alain still meant to kill Hugh.

Hugh's expression did not change as François spoke, but his brain was working furiously. Alain he could handle, but what the devil was he going to do with François? Revealing his part in the thefts would destroy Lisette, not to mention how Micaela would feel. And then, he thought slowly, his gaze moving over François, there was this suffering young fool in front of him. The boy had obviously already punished himself a great deal, and the fact that François had come to him and confessed everything; was distinctly promising. François, Hugh had decided sometime ago, was not inherently bad, just young, full of foolish pride, and spoiled. Youth would pass, the spoiling could be corrected, and as for the foolish pride? Hugh smiled. Pride was not a bad thing; they would just have to work on the foolish part.

One thing was certain, however. François could not get away without enduring some sort of punishment. He had stolen. And he had gone along with Alain, whatever the reasons behind that decision. Hugh looked thoughtful. It was possible that they could keep this between themselves. Micaela and John would have to know, and no doubt Jean, but there was no reason to distress Lisette. François would suffer enough just knowing that the men knew of his crimes. But what sort of punishment? Prison was not an answer. Banishment? Banishment, perhaps, to the offices of one of their English importers? Remove him from all that he had known and make him actually work for his living for a few years? It could even, Hugh thought, liking the notion, be given out that the decision to leave New Orleans was François's own, that he wanted to learn more of the business, strike out on his own for a while. That would create a reason for his departure. Perhaps.

Looking at François's hangdog expression, Hugh almost grinned. The poor young fool! It was time to put him out of his misery.

"I appreciate the fact that you came forward on your own," Hugh said quietly, his eyes fixed keenly on François's woebegone face. "It shows that beneath all that posturing and bluster, you have a strength of character that will give you good service in the future."

"What sort of future do I have?" François exclaimed despairingly. "I have shown myself to be a liar, a thief, and someone without any honor. My life is
ruined.'"

"You are also young. You made mistakes, deplorable mistakes that you must pay for, but all the blame does not lie on your shoulders alone. Had you been left to your own devices, I am quite certain you would have stopped the petty thieving once your debts were paid. I would like to believe that you would have found a way eventually to repay what you had stolen. That is something we will never know, but you have made a good start by coming to me and admitting what you have done. I am relieved, I will confess, to learn that you had nothing to do with Etienne's death and did not know about it until too late. Murder is not something that can be overlooked." Hugh grimaced. "No doubt, in time, we shall be able to put this behind us. It is not," Hugh said softly, "the end of the world. In fact, it might just be a new beginning for you."

A spark of hope lit François's dark eyes. "A new beginning? You would trust me? You would give me another chance?"

Hugh nodded. "In time. After you have proven yourself—in England. I have decided that you should go away for a while. See another part of the world. And in particular be a safe distance away from the influence of Alain."

François looked aghast. "England?" he said in faltering tones. "I am to be banished to
England?"

"Yes. It will be good for you, build that strength of character a little more," Hugh said dryly.

François swallowed, dismayed, but it was clear that he was willing to do whatever Hugh decreed to redeem himself. "And Alain? What about him?"

Hugh's face grew grim. "You may safely leave Alain to me."

There was a crackle in the brush behind them as Alain stepped forward, a nasty smile on his lips, a pistol held in his hand. "And what precisely," he asked jeeringly, "do you intend to do about me,
Monsieur
Lancaster?"

Hugh stared at Alain and then at the pistol in his hand, the barrel pointed directly at his heart. "Do you plan on killing both of us?" Hugh inquired with only polite interest evident in his voice.

"Originally, no," Alain admitted candidly. "You were the only one I wanted dead." He speared a venomous glance at François. "But that situation has changed since my onetime friend decided to come whining and crying to you. I am afraid that I will have to kill you both now."

"Hmm, and how do you propose to do that?" Hugh asked. He wore an expression of boredom on his handsome face as he calculated his chances of getting the pistol away from Alain—and not getting killed in the process.

Alain smiled. "Why, I think that François will kill you and then the poor misguided boy will turn the pistol on himself. The explanation for this tragedy will be obvious when his systematic robbing of his family's own company is discovered. Of course," Alain added modestly, "I shall have to make arrangement that certain—ah—damning evidence against him is found. But that should not be difficult for a man of my talents. It will be clear that you had found him out and that, in despair, he shot you, then killed himself." Alain's smile widened. "A rather tidy solution to a complicated business,
oui?"

Startling all of them, François leaped in front of Hugh. "
Non
!" he shouted, shielding Hugh's broader form with his own body. "You will not kill him! You will have to kill me first!"

"Very well, if you wish," Alain said coldly, and took aim at François's forehead.

What happened next astonished all of them, the attack coming out of nowhere. One minute Alain was on the point of firing and the next a stout tree limb came crashing down viciously on his pistol arm. Micaela, looking like a fiery young Amazon with the tree branch clutched in her hand, stepped out of the concealing brush and snarled, "
Non
! You dirty beast! You will not kill
my
husband or my brother!" Her bosom heaving, her eyes flashing, she was a magnificent sight. Her expression was so fierce that for a second even Hugh was taken aback.

Micaela's intervention had given them precious seconds, but Alain recovered instantaneously. His face contorted with fury, he swiftly swung the pistol up and fired in the direction of the other men. Hugh and François were already in motion as the pistol went off. The sound of the shot and François's scream were almost simultaneous; then Hugh was on Alain.

Oblivious to François's slumped form on the ground, Hugh fought for possession of the pistol, knowing that there was one more shot left in the weapon. Together he and Alain swayed, their hands grasping for a firm hold on the pistol, each man trying to turn it on the other.

Micaela spared an anguished glance at François's crumpled body, but her husband was her first concern. Holding the tree branch menacingly, she watched intently as the two men fought. Fearful of striking and inadvertently hitting Hugh, she held back, waiting impatiently for an opening to help her husband.

Alain and Hugh were locked together, the pistol between their two bodies, each man straining with all his might. They swayed almost like dancers, their faces contorted, their muscles bulging as they fought, and then, shockingly, the pistol went off. Micaela's heart stopped, only to begin to beat again when she saw
Alain fall to the ground, dead, a scarlet bloom on his breast.

Her club fell from her fingers, and she flew into Hugh's arms. "
Mon amour,"
she crooned. "I was so frightened. I did not know what to do when I heard him say he was going to kill you."

Hugh kissed her. "You did exactly the right thing," he said huskily. "How did you find us?"

"John told me you had gone to the stables, but you were not there—one of the stableboys had seen you and François go this way." She shuddered. "He did not mention Alain, but I caught a glimpse of him creeping up on you and after all you told me I was suspicious. When Alain pulled out his pistol, I knew he was up to no good, and I looked around for something to use as a weapon."

"Good for you," Hugh said. Smiling down into her face, he murmured, "Have I told you how much I love you?"

She dimpled and started to reply when there was a sound behind them. Together they turned to look at François. He was sitting up, his hand held to his head, blood seeping slowly through his fingers. He glanced dazedly at them. "I am still alive," he said in a voice of wonder. His eyes fell on Alain's still form. "Is he dead?"

"Very," Hugh said dryly. "How badly are you hurt?"

Hugh and Micaela helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, but gave them a ragged smile. "I shall live—perhaps with an interesting scar, but alive nonetheless."

* * *

"Do you think the story will hold together?" John asked thoughtfully, as he and Hugh and Jean were sitting in the study late that evening. François, weak from loss of blood but in no danger, was upstairs being fussed over by his mother and sister.

Hugh shrugged. "As far as we are concerned, Mr. Husson ordered his carriage and horses and left very early this morning for New Orleans. We were careful that no one saw me leave driving his vehicle. It was several miles from here before I left the carriage with his body in it and scattered his belongings along the road. When he is found, his death will, no doubt, be put down to bandits. We will be extremely shocked and saddened when we hear the news of his death, which should be sometime tomorrow. We know nothing, but that he left us in good health. As for François, he is under orders not to stir from
Amour
until his wound is completely healed." Hugh took a sip of his brandy. "And as for the shots anyone may have heard here this morning," he said quietly, "I was merely shooting at a water moccasin when François and I went on our walk." Hugh grinned. "It was unfortunate that François had to fall and cut his head, but it was not serious."

Jean nodded. "It sounds plausible enough to me. But what about the thefts from the business?" His expression grew heavy. "And François's part in it?"

Hugh finished off his brandy. Rising to his feel, he walked across the room to replenish his snifter from the decanter on the table. After pouring the other two men additional brandy, he reseated himself and murmured, "What thefts? Our fall in profits lately was only one of the usual cycles in business. We shall, I guarantee you, see a notable increase in revenue in the coming months. As for François's part?" Hugh glanced steadily at Jean. "What
are
you talking about?"