Winds of the Storm (9 page)

Archer said, “All businesses should have such problems. You go ahead. We'll be fine.”

Just then Zahra, followed by Alfred, swept into Wilma's dress shop. She noticed that the place suddenly went silent and that every eye was directed her way. She ignored them all, except for the pair of speculative dark eyes belonging to Archer Le Veq. She offered him a short nod, then waited for Wilma to finish helping a customer.

Lynette frowned. “Is that the new town whore?”

Archer, eyes on Domino, said, “Yes.”

“She's well dressed, if nothing else.”

Archer noted the green gown and the matching domino. Even with the mask on, she gave the impression of legendary beauty. He also noted that she had garnered quite a bit of attention; so much so that a few of the older women, taking umbrage at her entrance, lifted their noses and huffed out. If their attitudes bothered or affected her, she gave no indication.

Lynette groused, “You'd think Mrs. Gray would keep such base people from mingling with the cultured clientele.”

Archer didn't reply. He was too busy watching Domino and the giant Alfred hovering behind her while she and the shop owner spoke. He could see Mrs. Gray smile and take a small piece of paper from Domino's gloved hand.

“What about this one?” Lynette asked Archer, pointing to an elaborate gown that was hemmed in wide pleats.

He turned his attention back to the drawing, but it was Lynette's displeased face that made him ask, “What's the matter?”

“It would help if you'd pay attention to me, Archer.”

He met her green eyes. “I am paying attention to you, Lynnie.”

“No, you're not. You seem more interested in the whore.”

Archer swung his eyes to Domino, who was approaching him. All the desire he'd experienced before rushed over him like a flood.

Lynette whispered tightly, “You are not to
acknowledge her. I'll not be made a laughingstock.”

Zahra was indeed on her way over to speak to Le Veq. She'd seen the biddies file out in apparent protest of her being allowed to shop in the same room with their illustrious selves, but she didn't care. None of them were important in her scheme of things. On the other hand, Le Veq was important if for no other reason than their business connection, and it would be impolite for her not to offer at least a token greeting. In reality, Zahra just wanted a close-up look at the confection of a woman standing beside him. Was she a relative or his mistress?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Le Veq.”

Once again he was snared by the black velvet voice. “Madame Domino.”

Zahra saw fury in the face of the young woman, who seemed to be making a point of ignoring Zahra. “And who is this lovely young woman?”

Archer replied, “Lynette Dubois.”

But Lynette continued to turn a deaf ear to Zahra's presence.

Zahra asked pleasantly, “Do I offend your person, Miss Dubois?”

A cold-eyed Lynette looked Zahra in the face and stated plainly, “Yes, you do.”

“Why?”

“Well-bred women do not traffic with whores.”

“I see,” Zahra replied, looking her up and down. “Are you Mr. Le Veq's sister, cousin?”

“No.”

“Then you must be his mistress.”

Her chin went up.

“In that case you and I are very much alike. We both accommodate men who are not our husbands,
non?
”

Lynette went beet red, and Zahra smiled coldly. “It has been a pleasure meeting you.
Au revoir,
Mr. Le Veq. Come, Alfred.”

With that, she and the giant walked away and left the shop.

The female clerk assisting Archer and his mistress was hiding a smile. It was obvious that Lynette had not intended the conversation to end with her having egg on her face, but it had. Lynette told Archer coolly, “I don't care for any of these. Let's try another shop tomorrow.”

“As you wish.”

Archer and the clerk shared a look, then he escorted Lynette out into the streets. He hailed a hack and put her inside. Without a word or a backwards glance, she settled into the seat and was driven away. He sighed, shook his head, and walked back to his hotel.

 

Once Alfred and Zahra were back in her office, she took off her gloves and asked him, “So have you learned anything useful about Le Veq?” She would be the first to admit that the encounter with Lynette Dubois had left her a bit testy. Last week the man was plying Zahra with kisses and this week he was buying gowns for his mistress. She wondered why he'd not come around to see her again, and now that the reason had been revealed she felt foolish for
thinking he'd been interested in someone like Domino.

Alfred said, “Mr. Le Veq is not only prominent but his family is one of the wealthiest and most well connected in the state.”

“What else?” she asked with interest.

“Mother is Juliana Le Veq Vincent. Married to her third husband. A successful broker and financier. Like many of the Creoles, she lost most of her wealth during the war but has recovered nicely. Six sons.”

“So many? Where's our Le Veq in the line?”

“Born third behind eldest, Raimond, who owns a shipping company, and Gerrold, who, I'm told, died in the war.”

Zahra felt sympathy.

“He's also a highly placed Radical. The family is very active politically.”

“How did you get the information?”

“Went to that big city market, told a few maids there I was out of work but had heard the hotel was hiring waiters, and did any of them know Le Veq? Took me a few days, but I was finally introduced to a maid whose employer lives next door to Le Veq's mother. Very chatty woman.”

Zahra smiled.

“She didn't know if the hotel was hiring, but she knew nearly everything else. If I'd asked what color drawers Le Veq wore, she would have probably given me an answer.” He added, “Felt sorry for her in a way. It was real clear she didn't get to talk to folks much.”

Zahra met his eyes. She was learning that this giant of a man had a heart the same size. “You've
given us a start. Now, what happened with Roland?”

“Found him a place and he has the coach.”

Pleased, Zahra nodded. “Good. Anything else to report?”

“Nope.”

“Then I'll see you later on. Thank you, Alfred.”

He nodded, closed the door, and left her in the office alone.

 

Christmas Eve, Archer joined his family for the celebratory midnight mass at St. Louis Cathedral, then journeyed back to Juliana's to open gifts. There would be a large meal later in the evening, but right now they were content to enjoy each other, coffee, cognac, and the small sweet treats prepared by Juliana's cook, Little Reba.

Juliana surprised her sons by gifting them all with matching black velvet vests. “I know it was a silly notion,” she admitted, watching them admire the garments, “but I simply couldn't resist. I used to dress you alike when you were younger, and I suppose I never got over it.”

They all smiled. The vests were finely made, and the sons were now old enough to not resent being given the same gift.

She, on the other hand, was given everything from gifts of jewelry from Archer and Drake, to an elaborate candelabra seaman Philippe had purchased on his last trip to Cuba. Beau, the artisan of the family, gave her an elaborate iron-worked trellis for her garden. As always, Juliana was moved to tears by the generosity of her boys,
but she mused aloud, “I do wish Henri were here, and Raimond and Sable and my grandchildren.”

“And Gerrold,” Archer said somberly. Gerrold Le Veq, their second oldest brother, had given his life to the country during the war. Seven years had passed since his death, but the hole in the family's fabric was still as real today as it had been the day the tragic news had arrived.

Beau lifted his cognac. “A toast to family.”

“Here, here!”

They all lifted their drinks in response, touched each other's glasses as was the tradition, then downed a swallow.

To end the quietness that always overcame them whenever Gerrold was mentioned, Beau asked his mother, “So when is His Majesty due to return?”

“Sometime after the new year.”

Archer cracked, “Raimond can stay away indefinitely, but I do miss Sable, Cullen, and the girls.”

Archer and the other Brats, as Raimond had christened his brothers, enjoyed the way Sable Fontaine Le Veq had upset Raimond's well-oiled life during the early months of their marriage back in '65. Raimond had tried everything to keep from loving the former slave woman, but in the end he'd been so overwhelmed by his deep feelings that he'd even agreed to adopt three children Sable had found living on the streets of New Orleans. The then twelve-year-old Cullen, his twin sister, Hazel, and the younger Blythe were as
loved by the family then as they were now. Later that same year, Sable and Raimond added a daughter of their own, Desiré, and she was as feisty and as beautiful as the House of Le Veq required.

After going home to get some sleep, Archer bathed, dressed, then set out on Christmas Day to see Lynette. He would spend the afternoon with her before returning to his mother's home for the big Christmas feast.

When she answered his knock on the door, she greeted him with uncharacteristic coolness. He assumed she was still simmering over her encounter with Domino. Undaunted, he kissed her smooth cheek. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas to you as well, Archer. I have a gift for you.”

While he shed his coat and hung it on the peg by the door, she returned with a small package wrapped in bright blue cloth.

“Thank you.” Inside he found a set of white linen handkerchiefs. A prominent
A
had been embroidered on the corner of each. “These are real fine, Lynnie. Thank you.”

“I hoped you'd like them. I did the needlework myself.”

“They're just what I need.”

She smiled for the first time.

He eased her into his arms and gave her a soft kiss. “What would you like to do today?”

“You pick, as long as it doesn't involve talking to whores.”

Archer ignored the dig. “How about a ride through the park?”

“No. I hear that woman has been parading around in that vulgar red coach of hers. I'd rather we didn't run into her.”

“So you plan to spend the rest of your life hiding at home?”

“No, Archer, I don't. But I do wish you had listened to me and not acknowledged her.”

“She's a client, Lynette. I could hardly ignore her when she walked up.”

“Considering who she is, and that everyone in the shop heard the way she spoke to me, I would think you'd cut your ties to her.”

Archer stepped back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. She's a whore, and in spite of her snippy words to me, she and I have nothing in common. Nothing!”

He studied her silently.

“And if you cared for me, you'd do as I asked.”

Archer drawled, “And that would be, what?”

“Tell her you won't cater her affair. I'm sure she can find someone else.”

“How about we take that drive—get some air. You're obviously distressed.”

“Yes I am, and a drive is not going to cure that. She insulted me, Archer, and you just stood there.”

He said tightly, “If I remember correctly, you drew first blood, Lynette. Were you expecting her to just slink away?”

“I was expecting not to have to deal with her at all,” she responded just as tightly.

“Well, I won't be canceling my contract with her.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Because this is business, Lynette, and you do not get to call the tune on the way I make the money that puts the jewels on your wrists or the gowns on your back.” Archer was reminded of his brother calling Lynette passive. Not anymore.

“I think you should leave, Archer.”

“And I agree.”

He retrieved his coat, hat, and cane. “I'll call on you in a few days.”

“Fine.”

But as he left, they both knew this might possibly be the beginning of the end.

 

“What's the matter?” his mother asked, stepping out on her verandah, where he'd gone to seek a bit of solitude away from the festivities inside.

“Why does something have to be wrong?” he drawled emotionlessly.

She took a seat at the table. “Because it is cold out here, Archer, and of all of my sons, you have the warmest blood. If
you
are out here in this chill, you are distressed over something.”

He smiled softly, then turned her way. She'd always been an insightful parent, and he wondered if it was the result of her having raised them alone after their father's untimely death at sea during the twelfth year of their marriage. “I think it is time to find a new mistress.”

His mother's voice held surprise. “Oh, really?”

He then told her the story.

“Interesting,” was all she said.

Archer turned to her. “You are dying to say something, Mama, so go ahead. I'm big enough to take whatever it is.”

She gave him a small smile. “Well, to be truthful, I've never cared for her.”

“Mama, you've only met her twice.”

“Indeed. However, each time was in a shop, and each time she impressed me as being a tad greedy.”

Archer dropped his head into his hands.

“You asked, son.”

He righted himself. “I know, but why can't she understand that my relationship with Domino is strictly business.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, Mama. I find the woman intriguing, but that's all.”

“Well, I hope I raised you to have the sense not to become enamored of someone in her occupation.”

“Don't worry.” Although thoughts of her haunted him daily.

“Well, whatever you decide to do about Lynette, remember that life is too short to be unhappy. Take it from a woman who knows.”