Love Finds You in New Orleans(32)

“If I have it, I might as well wear it,” Lottie said. Then the more it will wear, and the faster I can donate it. Lottie couldn’t think of the orphanages without thinking of Gabriel. He’d opened her heart to those children, and she would be forever grateful. But she missed him. She missed watching him play kickball with the older boys or jumping rope with the girls, who giggled at his clumsiness. And she missed looking into his eyes and feeling like she would never be cold again.

“I guess,” Justine answered, without sounding at all convincing. She stood and peered through the open doorway into the main house. “Where is Agnes? We should be leaving.”

“Wait here. I will find my gloves and Agnes.”

“Your bonnet. Don’t forget,” Justine cautioned, before smiling.

Lottie heard Agnes’s voice coming from the foyer, so she headed in that direction. Halfway there, she saw him…standing with his back to the front door, his hat in hand, speaking to Agnes. It being too late to retreat, she continued toward them and willed her voice to sound normal.

“Gabriel, so good to see you.” She smiled as evidence and clasped her hands so as not to wring them dry in front of him. But the smile he returned barely turned up his lips. Lottie felt the awkwardness of having intruded, like the way she had when, much younger, she’d slid open the parlor door and witnessed her grandparents kissing. No one could truly pretend it didn’t happen, and yet that was exactly what they did.

“He just now leaving. I told him you and Miz Justine had a lesson,” said Agnes as she patted Gabriel’s arm.

Whatever caused him to be so solemn and to find Agnes here, it had to be important. Lottie didn’t want him to leave without what she suspected was the solace he sought. “Yes, but we have time. Please, finish. We can wait in the gallery.” She nodded in Gabriel’s direction. “Please give your mother and sister my regards.” Lottie glanced at him and wondered how “handsome” and “anguished” could coexist in his face.

“Lottie, I appreciate your kindness, but Agnes and I are finished,” said Gabriel.

What Lottie wanted to say was, “We chased one another with slimy frogs, hid from Agnes in the stable, and dared one another to eat a raw oyster. What happened?” Instead, she replied, “Thank you.”



* * * * *


“If my mother insists on these lessons being in the afternoon, then either Monsieur Gautier will have to come to one of our houses or someone will have to drive us in a carriage,” Justine said, holding her gloved hand over her nose. “A parasol and a bonnet have no value when it is chilled outside.”

Agnes and Lottie, walking behind Justine, shared a small shrug. “I have a heavier, longer cloak—would you like to wear it? I would be comfortable in yours.” Lottie started to untie the ribbons of her dark blue quilt-patterned cloak, but Justine looked over her shoulder with an expression that caused Lottie to check her hem for mud splatters.

“You’re supposed to be promenading, remember? My faded brown mantelet over your dress would be most unappealing. People would think your grandmother raised a ragamuffin.” She covered her nose with her hand again and continued walking.

Lottie started to speak, but Agnes shook her head, leaned toward her, and said quietly, “We almost there. Ain’t no point discussing now.”

She didn’t know what the point was until Agnes, as Justine walked through Monsieur’s door, said, “Sometimes it’s hard for people to see somebody get what they want. Especially when the person who got it don’t want it.”





Chapter Fourteen

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“Ladies, with Mademoiselle LeClerc’s party so soon, we should review behaviors appropriate to genteel society. We would not want you to disgrace your families.” Monsieur Gautier stared thoughtfully at the ceiling then returned his gaze to Lottie and Justine perched on the settee. “Or your deportment teacher.”

The list of bad habits certain to forever doom them as models of rectitude included never admiring themselves in a glass, laughing immoderately, placing their hand upon anyone ever, taking snuff from or giving it to a stranger, winking, or crossing their legs. Lottie, fearing she would demonstrate another unladylike habit by nodding off to sleep while he spoke, waited for him to take a breath before she said, “Monsieur, perhaps it might be more to our benefit to simply relate what we can do, since the list of undesirables is so lengthy.”

Monsieur rose from his murky-yellow upholstered armchair, clasped his hands in front of him, and pierced Lottie with his stare. “Mademoiselle, you have just illustrated an unpleasant aspect of gentility in conversation, which is that sarcasm is most unbecoming to a lady.”