She Hates Me Not: A Richer in Love Romance (13 page)

As she explained, Kip only half-listened.  Some part of his brain processed Lou’s words.  The rest soaked in her accent, her spirit, her scent.  Lou didn’t wear perfume, not any Kip recognized, but her hair always smelled like a rose garden in summer.

Their near-perfect day had gone swimmingly.  He’d already mentioned marriage.  Snuck in a reference to love.  Enjoyed two proper kisses.  And practiced admirable patience – especially for him.

Then Kip remembered what he hadn’t yet done.

Lou had stopped talking.  Her smile was equal parts inviting and perplexed.  “You okay?”

Apprehensively Kip cleared his throat.  The best way to remove a sticking plaster was to hastily rip it off.  He hoped the same approach worked for confessions.

“Moggie and Beryl told me,” he said.

Lou took a step back.  “Told you what?”

“Why the photo in the
Mail
upset you so much.  I went to visit with them yesterday afternoon.  They explained about your father, the money he supposedly hid, and the people who might be trying to find it – and you.”

Kip said the words so hurriedly, he wasn’t sure Lou understood. 

“Please don’t be cross with them,” he begged. “I just want you to know I don’t care.  I mean, I do care very much about you, but I’m not put off by whatever might happen.  In fact, I want to help you however I can.  Whilst I’m not a particularly keen businessman, I know people who are.  People who can help get to the bottom of things once and for all.”

“
Mon bon Dieu
,” she gasped.  “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

“Just my brother.  I asked him to do a bit of digging.”

Lou sunk onto the couch.  Elbows resting on knees, she pressed her forehead against her palms.  In ragged bursts she breathed like the effort pained her.

Apologizing, Kip sat down beside her.  When he rested a tentative hand on her back, she didn’t shrug it away.  A good sign.

“I meant to tell you sooner,” he said.  “I only want to help.  Can you really spend the rest of your life in hiding?”

“Not if you keep telling people about me!”

“Ben won’t make things worse, I promise.  He’s a Billy no-mates, but he’s trustworthy.  There’s nobody I trust more.”

“What did you ask him to do?”

“Just to have a nose about, that’s all.”  Kip moved his hand across Lou’s shoulders, keeping the motion slow and soft.  “He’ll be subtle.  And whatever he might learn, I’ll be with you to hear it – if you’ll let me.”

Straightening, she looked over at Kip.  Her green eyes were teary.  Her cheeks had gone red.

“Let me help you, Lou.  I don’t want to take over.  It’s not my nature anyhow.  But isn’t it time for you to stop hiding?”

Lou exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for ages.  When she tilted sideways, collapsing against Kip, he caught her and held her close.  For good measure he kissed the top of her head.

“Besides,” Kip murmured. “I know you don’t hate me.  The daisy has spoken.”

Lou quivered against him while she softly laughed.

“Is this what you wanted to tell me at lunch?” he asked.

As quickly as she’d relaxed, she tensed again.  “At lunch?”

“You said you had something to tell me.  Was it this?”

Lou sat up.  She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Before Kip could ask if she was all right, his phone gave an extended buzz.  “Sorry.  It’s Ben.  I texted him earlier.  Mind if I check it?”

When Lou shook her head, Kip opened Ben’s message.

Nothing yet about LA. I’ll text if I hear. But, Kip, she took money from mother.

Kip read the message once.  Then again.  Then a third time to be sure.  His eyes locked onto the last five words.  If his brother possessed an actual sense of humor, Kip would have thought he was taking the mick.  No chance of that with Ben, however.  He was honest to a fault or silent as the grave.

Lou had wedged herself into the corner of the couch – much like she’d done in the limousine on Saturday night.  She appeared almost as defensive, although not so surprised, as when they first exchanged names.  When she pretended to be an American heiress.  And details were off the table.

Kip tossed his phone onto the cushion between them, its message screen still on display.  “Did my mother pay you money to date me?”

"No.”  Lou’s voice trembled.  “She paid me not to.”

L
ou stared at a face that she didn’t know.  It wasn’t Cambridge face or Lydia face or “let’s-put-Liam-McGreevy-in-his-place” face.  Instead, Kip’s expression had a thundery edge – not anger but one of those darker emotions that drove it.

At least Lou had confessed.  With a nudge from Kip’s brother.

“That’s what I was going to tell you at lunch,” she added.

Kip didn’t stare back.  He watched his phone like it was to blame.  It had gone into lock mode, the screen totally black.  He made no move to send a reply.

“How much did she pay you?”

Lou couldn’t bring herself to name the figure.  “She didn’t offer to pay me up front.”

“How much?”

When his blue eyes eventually lifted, Lou cringed at their indifference.  Kip wasn’t furious.  He was wounded.  Wounded and ready to bolt.  Already he’d eased to the edge of the couch, one leg stretched toward the foredeck’s door.

Lou’s mouth felt too dry to make words.  Or maybe she just wished it was.

“Sixty thousand dollars,” she admitted.  “But that’s only because I refused to go out with you at first.”

“If she paid you not to date me, then what was Saturday night about?”

“She wanted me to go to the gala with you and then never see you again.”  Lou kept herself pressed into the corner.  “Your mama was just trying to help you, Kip.  She knew Catrella was going to be there and –”

“Help me?  Help me by bribing a stranger to be my escort?”  Kip rose from his seat.  “What could possibly prompt a respectable person to do that?”

“I told you about my sister,” Lou reminded him.  “Your mama offered to pay her medical bills.  How could I say no?”

“Well, at least we both know your price now, don’t we?”

Her cheeks flushing, Lou stood also as frustration overtook her fear.  “That is so unfair.  I’m not that kind of girl.”

Acting like he hadn’t heard her, Kip moved to the double doors.  “Here I am drumming up ways to defend my honor, not to mention running about town like a lovesick pup, and the whole time you’re being paid to hate me?”

“I didn’t know you when all this started,” she argued.  “I thought it was going to be easy.  One and done is what we agreed, but now –”

From the doorway Kip interrupted.  “It’s not just that you took money from her, although that’s horrid enough.  It’s that you allowed my mother to determine what would happen between us.  You were prepared to let her control you for the rest of your life.”

Lou remained by the couch.  “I wasn’t choosing to be her puppet.  I was choosing to save my sister.  You can’t condemn me for the ‘what’ without acknowledging the ‘why’!”

“I also can’t continue to see you,” Kip said.  “I had so hoped you were genuine.  I thought you might be someone I could trust.”

The words were so sterile, so matter-of-fact, that Lou would’ve sworn it was someone else talking.  All of Kip’s
joie de vivre
was gone, along with the last of his patience.  He was out the door and off the boat before Lou could figure out what to say next.

She gave Kip a thirty-minute head start before leaving the Evangeline.  Lou hadn’t bothered to asked where he was staying, although it wouldn’t be tough to figure out.  There were only a few fancy hotels in Stratford, and Kip never mentioned a car or taxi cabs.  He was probably staying at the Arden.  Regardless, Lou didn’t want to bump into him on her way to the café.

On Bridge Street, Lou ducked beneath an awning to send Beryl a text. 
Are you at home? Can I make a pass?

Beryl’s reply was immediate.
  Yes, duck. Hollyoaks tonight. Any trouble?

Lou didn’t respond.  Instead, she rushed down the familiar streets, getting soaked by rain in the process.  Because of the low clouds and the oncoming sunset, Stratford was already awash in fluorescence from streetlights and lampposts.  As Lou dodged ambling tourists in search of their dinner, she let the raindrops mask her tears.

By the time she reached Imogens’ side door, she’d fallen apart completely.  Sobbing, she let Beryl hug her and then guide her upstairs to where Moggie waited on the couch.  Steam wafted from three mugs of tea.  The television was turned off.

Lou sat down on a towel-covered chair and rung out her hair with a dishcloth.  Neither woman asked her any questions while she continued to bawl.  Beryl’s face was pinched with empathy.  Moggie looked as tranquil as a saint.  When Lou had calmed down enough to talk, she wiped her face with the cloth and reached for her tea.

“Kip found out about the money.”

Moggie tilted her head.  “He found out?  Or you told him?”

“Half and half,” Lou said.  “His brother sent him a text.”

“His brother is aware about the payment?”

Heaving a sigh, Lou sipped her tea before relaying all the facts she knew.  She held nothing back, hating the details about her own deceptive behavior.  Kip had every reason to despise her.  The notion made her slump in her chair.

“Maybe I’ve been spared a heap of trouble,” she concluded.  “They seem like one
bracque
family.  And that Lydia Richmond is meaner than a moccasin.”

“Snake or shoe?” Beryl asked.

“Snake.”

Beryl smiled sadly.  “My nan always said that we marry a family, not a person.”

Lou almost spilled her tea.  “Who told you I was gonna marry Kip?  Did he say something to you?”

“Not to us, duck.  Did he say something to you about marriage?”

“He might’ve dropped a hint today.”

“Oh dear,” Beryl fretted.  “Even fairy-tale characters take longer than that.”

Lou rolled her eyes.  “It’s not like we made any promises.  And we certainly won’t be now.”

“You seem to be feeling better,” Moggie observed.

“I feel as sleazy as Kip thinks I am.”

“Hush, now,” Beryl said.  “You are anything but sleazy, and if a posh toff like Kip Richmond can’t see it, then he doesn’t deserve to know you.”

“I took money to date and diss a guy.  That’s not good-girl behavior.”

“You took money to help your sister,” Beryl corrected.  “The end most certainly justifies those means.”

“Speaking of which…”  Lou tossed the dishcloth on the table.  “Can I use your computer?  I’m expecting an email from Amy.”

Moggie gestured at a desk wedged into a corner.  “Help yourself.”

While she and Beryl returned to their soap opera, Lou logged on to the computer and into her account.  She changed email providers as well as addresses every six months at the most.  Her ledger of passwords remained tucked beneath a paperweight from a Welsh town called Fishguard.  Lou hadn’t been there.  If a place couldn’t be reached by narrowboat, then it wasn’t on her list.

In her inbox Lou found exactly what she was hoping to see.  The subject line was always the same – BBL. 
Bonjour, Boudé Lou. 
She and her sister both used acronyms in place of actual names.  Somehow it bridged the distance to have a secret code and inside jokes.  Without those, Lou would feel even farther from Santa Fe, and Améline, than she actually was.

Oh my BL! Mais I don’t know how you did this, but THANK YOU! The cashier’s check arrived yesterday at the spa. I cried until bedtime. Tiffany is going with me to the doctor next week, and my treatments should start right after. If we begin now, my prognosis is good. I don’t want to pick with you, cher, but this is nothing honteaux, right? Because it’s a downright miracle, and I’ll be praying the Glory Be for days! How’s ya Moggie and dem? Hugs to both and twice as many to you! Miss you, cher! APA

By the end of the email, Lou was weeping again.  Quietly she sobbed into her sleeves, catching her tears as they dripped.  Her heart might be hurting for how she’d treated Kip, but to know that Amy could be healed reaffirmed everything she’d done.  Her three days with Kip Richmond would never be her proudest moment.  But tomorrow she’d go to confession and let grace erase her guilt.

Lou closed the email and clicked the trash can to delete it.  There was another in her in-box, and not from Améline.  Frowning, she examined its address.

[email protected]

Lou’s heart beat faster as she opened it.  The hair rose on her arms, and a
frisson
made her twitch.  The email contained one sentence.

Open the attached
.

Imagining the order in Lydia’s mother-superior voice, Lou didn’t rush to obey.  It didn’t look like junk or spam, but attachments carried viruses.  Moggie’s computer was already Jurassic, and Lou didn’t want one of her emails to be the reason it went extinct.

But Lydia Richmond didn’t seem like the cheap-trick type.  If she was going to take a person down, it wouldn’t be by loading malware on an ancient computer.  She blackmailed people with money, not for it.  Her miracles came with strings.

Squinting as if the attachment might pop like a balloon, Lou clicked on the paper clip icon.  It was a PDF of a newspaper story.  More specifically, an excerpt from a London gossip mag – one with international appeal.

Does Catrella Delcombe have competition?
  Kip Richmond seems to think so.  The 27-year-old “uncatchable bachelor” was seen again in the arms of his mystery date only days after a tête-à-tête with Catrella in the south of France.  CelebSitesOnline learned from a source that, “Kip is ready to settle down with Cat. He’s just sowing his last few oats.”

Ready or not, Kip may lose both women if he refuses to choose between his long-time love and his American arm-candy whose name, according to the source, is Lou Aucoin.  Will Kip float away with his current amour or drop anchor with the heartsick Catrella?

This time the article contained three pictures.  One of Catrella looking pouty and perfect in her glossy red dress.  Another of Lou and Kip, a shot she’d already seen, kissing on the theatre terrace. And a third photo of them kissing on the banks of the Avon just one day before.  The Evangeline’s name stood out clearly.  In the background was the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.

Lou pressed a hand to her chest as her breathing grew swift and shallow.  Who was taking photos of Kip on a random Monday afternoon?  Did he have a paparazzi stalker?  How could the paper get away with printing absolute lies?

All the picture lacked was a giant arrow aimed directly at Lou.  If anyone from SoLa was searching for her, their toddler could connect those dots.  Why had she given her boat such an obvious name?  Any Cajun would know its significance.  She might as well fly the Acadian flag from its stern.

And why would Lydia Richmond send this story to her?  Kip’s mama had already caught them kissing, and Lou didn’t try to deny it.  When Lydia played her trump card, Lou fell right in line.  But Lydia obviously couldn’t control her younger son.  Kip wouldn’t allow it if she tried.

Lou realized a hand had settled onto her shoulder.  Moggie knelt beside her.  Beryl hovered behind.  Both asked what was wrong in their contrasting fashions.  Then each focused on the screen.

“Oh dear.”  Adjusting her glasses, Beryl tilted in for a better look.  “Is that an actual news article?”

“I wouldn’t call it news,” Moggie said.

Lou startled them both when she jumped up from her chair.  “I have to go.”

“Go where?”  Moggie rose to her feet.

Clutching her chest, Lou backed away until she collided with an open window.  “I have to disappear for a while.  You can do without me, right?”

“I suppose,” Moggie replied. “But we’d rather not.  Why do you need to disappear?”

Lou spun to check the court below.  “You know who’s after me.”

Rapidly her mind did the travel math.  The first photo ran on a Sunday.  Fly out of New Orleans on a Monday.  Transfer in Miami or Dallas.  Land in London on a Tuesday.  Set out for Stratford by rental car which was a two- to three-hour trip.

They could already be in town.  If they’d trailed her from the boat, they’d also know about Moggie and Beryl.  As long as anyone believed the hidden money existed, Lou was a liability for everyone she loved.

Her thoughts shifted to her own travel plans.  “I’m taking Evangeline down the Avon toward Tewkesbury.  I’ll moor up for the night at Luddington and keep going from there at dawn.”

Beryl gestured at the window.  “But it’s already sunset.  And it’s raining.”

“It won’t be night for another hour.”  Lou glanced around for the raincoat she’d forgotten to wear.  It didn’t matter.  She was used to running between the raindrops.

Moggie moved to stand in the flat’s main doorway.  “Are you sure you’re not overreacting?”

“I know you think I’m paranoid.  Let’s say that I am.  What’s the worst-case scenario here?  I take off for a few months and come back looking like a fool.  The sky doesn’t fall, and you can say I told you so until the bayous all run backwards.”  Pausing to catch her breath, Lou joined Moggie at the door.  “But what if I’m right?  I can’t tell these
voyous
what they want to know.  And sometimes the best way to hurt a person is to hurt the people they love.”