Wronged (The Cuvier Widows Book 1) (4 page)

Marian swallowed, her mind racing with fear.
She needed some time to think about her situation, decide what she
was going to do. She needed to get away from these two gentlemen
and be alone to think.

“I must go,” Marian said, standing and
picking up her hat and firmly fastening it on her head. “The
children will be returning and I don’t like to leave them alone
with the servants for long.”

“Fine. We’ll talk more about this later,” he
assured her. “But I wanted you to know Jean’s other domiciles took
their toll on your finances.”

“Mr. Soulier, everything about my dead
husband has taken its toll on my life in one way or another.” She
took a calming breath. “Now, I really must go.”

She hurried into the front office area, the
men trailing behind her. A quick glance out the window confirmed
her worst fears. Her carriage sat alongside the curb, surrounded by
newspapermen. “Good heavens, isn’t there any other dreadful news
breaking in this city? Now what am I going to do?”

Louis stood beside her, his hands in his
pockets, and gazed out the window at Bienville Street. “You’re
never going to get out of here through that crowd.”

She turned and gave him an irritated look.
“Thank you, Mr. Fournet, for that brilliant observation. I need to
get home to my children.”

He raised a brow at her and smiled. “I have
an idea. Drew, do you have any more sacrificial law clerks?” Drew
frowned at him. “I think James is still left in the building.
Why?”

“Let’s send him out to Mrs. Cuvier’s driver
and tell the man to pull the carriage around back. My own carriage
is sitting across the street. Most of the news hounds should follow
Mrs. Cuvier’s carriage and then I’ll take her home.”

She glanced at him, an awkward smile on her
lips. It really was a good idea. She just hoped it worked. ‘‘Thank
you.”

“Now you’re going to have to go through those
doors on the far wall, so it appears you’ve gone to the back of the
building while we send James out.”

Marian frowned, but did as they told her. In
a few moments she heard her carriage pull around back. Shouting
voices could be heard in the distance, following her driver.

Drew hurried into the back room where they’d
placed her. “Hurry up, I think we have drawn them to the back.”

She ran back into the lawyer’s reception
area, where Louis stood waiting impatiently for her. “Come on,
we’ve got to get out of here now, before they realize they’ve been
tricked.”

Louis opened the front door and the three of
them stepped outside. The number of newspapermen had dwindled down
to a manageable size, and Drew and Louis hurried her out the door,
one on each side.

Marian felt a moment of sheer panic when the
reporters turned their greedy gazes on her, seeing their lead story
right before their eyes. They began running toward her, like an
unruly herd of cattle.

“Mrs. Cuvier? Mrs. Cuvier? Who killed your
husband? Can you tell us anything about the will? Did Jean leave
the other women any money?” they shouted at her.

“Don’t say anything,” Drew said sharply as
they all but ran down the steps to the waiting carriage across the
street.

Drew protected her right side, while Louis
kept the reporters at bay, shielding her with his big muscular
body. A sense of gratitude overwhelmed her as she realized the risk
the men had placed themselves in, shielding her.

When they reached the carriage, Marian was
completely winded. Louis handed her up into the vehicle and then
climbed in after her. The moment he slammed the door shut, Drew hit
the side of the carriage and immediately they pulled away from the
curb, just as the other reporters rounded the street comer behind
them.

“Good Lord, please don’t tell me it’s going
to be like this until this is resolved. I can’t live this way,” she
said glancing out the window at the reporters who ran behind their
carriage.

“No. I think it will become old news in a day
or two. At least until whoever killed Jean is brought to trial,” he
said, gazing out the window at the reporters.

“The trial.” Marian shook her head. “How am I
going to protect my children from the sensationalism of a
trial?”

“Maybe it would be better to tell them than
to keep the information a secret,” he responded.

She glanced at the handsome man, her new
business partner, who sat across from her. “Are you married, Mr.
Fournet?”

“No, I’m a widower,” he replied.

“Do you have children?”

The comers of his lips turned up in a smile.
“No children. So you can tell me I don’t know what I’m talking
about and to quit making suggestions that affect your
children.”

“Thank you, you’ve saved me a great deal of
trouble.”

They rode along the edge of the Garden
district, the warm breeze blowing off the Mississippi making the
air damp and humid. For the next couple of blocks they sat in
silence, Marian trying not to notice the way his shoulders looked
broad and firm beneath his suit coat, how clean his hands were, his
nails clipped, and the fingers long and strong.

Clearing her throat, she looked away. What
was wrong with her? She’d noticed men before, but previously the
barrier of her marriage had stood like a wall defending the fort.
That hurdle no longer stood in her way, though it made little
difference. She had no use for a man, no matter how handsome he
appeared.

Finally, the carriage pulled up in front of
Marian’s home and she breathed a sigh of welcome relief. The
morning’s revelations had left her exhausted and she still needed
to think about her finances.

Louis opened the door to the carriage and
stepped out to help her alight. His hand gripped her fingers and
held her steady as she descended the carriage steps.

He held onto her hand a little longer than
necessary and turned her toward him, before releasing his hold.

“Mrs. Cuvier, regardless of the fact that I
know nothing about children, I’m looking forward to calling on you
next week regarding Cuvier Shipping.”

She paused, staring at him, and tilted her
head. “Of course you know nothing of children. Though I do expect
you to know my husband’s business. I look forward to speaking with
you on a subject you’re well acquainted with, Mr. Fournet”

He smiled and stepped back up into the
carriage. “I shall be well prepared in that case so as not to
disappoint you.”

A smile spread across his face and then he
winked at her, before shutting the door and driving away.

Marian frowned and watched the carriage
pulling away, wondering why he winked. Did he think he was being
flirtatious or just trying to lighten the mood? The last time a man
flirted with her she had been poised on the brink of motherhood and
certainly still serious about her vows of matrimony. He must be
trying to lighten the mood, but still there was something about Mr.
Fournet that she didn’t quite trust.

***

In a quaint courtyard cafe on Rue Royale,
Louis met Daniel Comeaux, a gray-haired gentleman who had been a
friend of his father’s for many years. Louis had met the man only
in social settings, but today he met him for lunch with the express
purpose of doing business with him.

“Louis, you’re looking well. How’s your
father?” Mr. Comeaux asked as he sat watching Louis from across the
table.

“He’s well, thank you.”

“I haven’t spoken with him much since I shut
down the mill and moved to New Orleans. I don’t get to spend much
time with him anymore.”

“He still says you handled his sugarcane
better than any mill he’s ever used before or since,” Louis
responded.

The gentleman smiled contentedly. “When you
enjoy what you do, you hope the people you’re working for reap the
benefits.”

“Papa always did,” Louis replied.

“And the plantation? It’s doing well?” Daniel
asked.

“Yes, my brother is more or less in charge,
with my father overseeing things. They had a record crop last
year,” Louis informed him.

“Splendid. I guess you’ve heard that I’m
retiring and trying to sell the mill. It’s way past time for me to
retire. I think I’ve earned some time to spend with my grandsons
and my wife. I’m going to do some traveling and just enjoy life for
a while.”

“Yes, my father mentioned your decision not
to reopen the mill. That’s why I wanted to meet with you. Have you
sold your business yet?”

The man looked at Louis puzzled. ‘‘No.
Why?”

“I’m interested in buying your company.”

“But I thought you were a partner in Cuvier
Shipping.”

“I am. But with your business I could tie in
with my family’s plantation and help not only them, but their
neighbors, just as you’ve been doing for years.”

The man gazed at Louis, sizing him up. “Does
your father know you want to do this?”

Not wanting to disappoint his father if he
were unable to buy the business, Louis had decided not to tell his
father until the deal was complete.

“No. Before I left home, he tried to convince
me to stay at home and work on the plantation. He kept telling me
there was plenty of work, but I didn’t want to be my brother’s
lackey.”

The man chuckled. “You were much younger
then.” Louis grinned. “Yes. Now I see this as an opportunity to
work with my brother and father again. But I want to do it on my
terms.”

“That’s understandable.” The man picked up
his wine glass and sipped from it “Do you have the capital to
finance the business?”

Stalling for time, Louis picked up his own
wine glass and sipped. The alcohol soothed its way down his throat
“I own half of Cuvier Shipping and I intend to sell the business as
quickly as possible. That’s where my capital will come from.”

The man laughed. “Don’t you think you’re
going to have a hard time selling now that Jean has not one but
three women going after his money?”

“No, according to law only the first wife
owns part of the business. The other two received nothing.”

“Damn! Didn’t they know about the other
women?”

Louis shook his head. “Apparently not. It
seems Jean kept them in different cities. The day he died was the
day they found out about one another.”

“Damn shame.” Daniel shook his head.
“Couldn’t you borrow the money from your father? I’m sure he’d be
happy to help you.”

“Probably. But I’m thirty-five years old and
I want to do this without my father’s help. Call it my foolish
pride, but I don’t want his money,” Louis said, the memory of his
father telling him he wouldn’t amount to anything still vibrated
through his head even after all these years. “In fact, I would
appreciate your not saying anything to my father about our
conversation.”

Daniel nodded and sat his wine glass back
down on the table. “Okay, let’s meet with my lawyer and we can draw
up the specifics of the sale. In the meantime, I’ll give you
several months to sell Cuvier Shipping.”

Louis smiled and held out his hand. “It’s a
deal.”

The older man glanced at his hand. “You’re
sure this is what you want and that you’ll be able to sell the
shipping company?”

“There won’t be any problem selling Cuvier
Shipping,” Louis said, thinking of how Marian would probably jump
at the chance to sell the business and bring in money to replenish
the family coffers.

The older man shook his hand and then lifted
his wine glass. “Here’s to a quick sale of Cuvier Shipping.”

***

Jean had been dead for almost two weeks and
the newspapers had yet to forget about the three women. After the
incident with the newspapermen, Marian had kept her children home
from school. The thought of her babies surrounded by a crowd of men
shouting questions left her shivering with fright. Soon there would
be some new scandal to report and hopefully the newspapers would
forget about Jean Cuvier’s wives and her children could return to
school. But until she thought they were safe they would stay
home.

Marian looked up from her correspondence to
see a servant in the doorway.

“Mrs. Cuvier, a Louis Fournet is here to see
you,” the maid announced.

“Thank you, show him into the study. I’ll be
right there,” she said. The servant nodded her head and backed out
of the doorway.

Marian stood and brushed a piece of lint from
her black skirt. She wore the color of mourning in deference to her
children’s feelings, not because she was honoring Jean’s memory.
Philip and Renee would know the truth regarding their father soon
enough, but for the time being she would protect them and their
memory of Jean.

Pulling her hem aside, she made her way down
the hall to the study.

As she entered the room, Louis Fournet stood,
his back to her, gazing out upon Josephine Street.

“Good morning, Mr. Fournet,” she said,
standing behind him. He turned and glanced at her, his dark blue
eyes assessing her with a look that reminded her of warm, lazy,
summer days. The compassion of that look seemed to linger,
spreading through her.

“Mrs. Cuvier, I hope you are well and have
recovered from our carriage ride the other day?”

“Of course, though I still worry about
newspapermen. I do hope this dreadful business dies away soon.” Oh
God, how could she have used the word “dies” in the same sentence
as Jean’s scandal? Inside, Mr. Fournet, must be laughing at
her.

He smiled showing even white teeth, the cleft
in his chin prominent. “There will be some other event to take
their attention away soon enough. But today I came to show you I’m
more knowledgeable in regard to business than I am to
children.”

“Oh yes, now I remember. We were talking
about children that day and you made a suggestion that I found
rather lacking in merit.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a widower,
not a father. You seem very close to your children.”