Love Finds You in New Orleans(85)

Rosette set her coffee cup on the saucer without it clattering. She arranged her dress on the sofa, pulling the folds, smoothing. She was thinking, somehow working out the problem as she set everything around her in order. He had watched this so many times over the years that when he saw her begin the ritual, he waited.

She folded one hand over the other on her lap. “This is what we are going to do. Tomorrow morning, you will go to Monsieur LeClerc’s office and tell him you need to speak to him privately. You will tell him what you know about how Paul plans to use the land and why. I promise you, the LeClercs do not want their legacy to be that they were the family who sold prime real estate for a gambling hall.”

“You said ‘we.’ What are you going to do?”

“I will pray.”





Chapter Thirty-Five

...........................




Rosette was right about Louis LeClerc.

At first, he thought Gabriel wanted to discuss Joseph Joubert’s properties. Then, when Gabriel explained he was there to discuss information he had heard about Paul Bastion, Monsieur LeClerc closed the door to his office. After Gabriel told him about Paul’s gambling debts and his real intentions with the property, he ran his fingers over the top of his head and stared at the wall behind Gabriel.

Then, as if he had just realized he wasn’t alone in his office, Monsieur LeClerc grabbed the arms of his chair, stood, and reached his hand to shake Gabriel’s. “Thank you. Thank you very much. I trust this information will stay between us.”

“Absolutely, sir.” As long as “us” included Serafina, Rosette, Gabriel, and, likely, Alcee.

Lottie’s grandfather opened the door. “I don’t know how to repay you for this. I am very grateful.”

Gabriel smiled. “We’ll think of something.”



* * * * *


Justine promised Lottie she’d be over after her Spanish lesson. Or maybe it was her art lesson. Her lessons required more and more of her time, so much so that Lottie told her she would start her own lessons and Justine could then schedule a time with her.

Justine was almost fifteen minutes late. Lottie threw herself across her bed. Is this what her life was going to be like as the bored wife of a wealthy man? So little to do that a friend’s being late was a tragedy? She missed the life where she cared about other people. The children at the homes, the men and women she and Gabriel taught. Maybe Paul would let her build a home for orphans. She could name it after her parents. And then they would live happily ever after just like the fairy tales promised.

“Lottie? I’m here. Where are you?”

“I’m coming!” Lottie scrambled off her bed and practically trotted downstairs. “What took you so long?” She hugged Justine before she even had a chance to take off her cape and bonnet.

“Gracious, Lottie. It hasn’t been that long since we’ve seen one another.” Justine pulled off her gloves. “Let’s see. Oh, I remember, that evening—”

“Don’t say it. If I don’t hear it, I won’t think about it.”

“Even I know that’s not true. You probably hear it in your own brain a dozen times a day.” Justine sniffed and pretended to squeeze her nose shut. “What is that horrid smell? It’s so bad it’s even in my mouth.”

Lottie sniffed. “I must be getting used to it. I think it’s hair and linen. Agnes is teaching someone how to press clothes. Apparently there’s a big demand for slaves who can do that. People even pay them. Well, probably not everyone. It’s so much harder than I thought. And you have to be careful, else things burn and catch fire, and then there are ashes everywhere.”

“I don’t need another lesson. Please tell me Agnes made coffee.” She pulled Lottie toward the dining room.

“Not only that, but she made these little cakes, petits fours, and they’re covered in icing. If I have a cook, I’ve decided I’ll have her make extra desserts and I’ll bring them to Agnes.”

“Well, perhaps it’s best you don’t start counting on cooks. Let’s get our coffee and cakes, and then I must catch you up on what I’ve heard about Paul.” Justine sampled one of the petits fours. “These are very good.”

“Are these just rumors? Honestly, I can’t handle much more.”

“Isabelle said François told her, and the last information he told her was right. You know my sister wouldn’t tolerate gossip. She insists that if two reliable sources agree, then it’s not gossip.”

“Who’s the second person?” Lottie reached for a petit four before Justine swallowed the plate whole.