Love Finds You in New Orleans(92)
“A friend.”
Her grandmother stared out the window. Grand-père stared at Paul.
“Why were you talking to this friend, if you insist on calling him that, blocks away from the opera, unchaperoned? Had you planned to meet him there?”
“Paul, Lottie can face your questions later. Her grandmother and I just want her to rest.”
“As someone who intends to marry her, I think I have the right to question a young woman who ran away from the opera to meet a black man on the street like a—”
“Don’t. I will not allow you to speak to my granddaughter in such a tone or to suggest calling her something so offensive.” Grand-père’s entire body seemed cast in iron.
Lottie heard Paul, but nothing he said was of any importance to her. He lied, he was dishonest, and he used people. She might have to marry him, but she didn’t have to love or like him.
The carriage turned in and stopped in front of the stable. Paul watched Abram and Lottie’s grandfather help her to the ground. Lottie’s legs cooperated, but her chest and sides felt bruised from the corset, and even small breaths were uncomfortable. Paul stood directly in front of her, making it difficult for her to move around him. “Please let me by,” Lottie said.
“I’ll let you by, but first you must remember your obligation to me and my family not to behave in a way that brings shame on all of us. Your actions were reprehensible. I have no idea how I will repair the embarrassing damage you caused to the Bastion name. If your cavorting tonight was your attempt to force my hand in calling off this wedding, you have wasted your time. This wedding will happen.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Lottie wanted to face the worst now.
“Don’t think I do not know about you and that man and what the two of you did on Sundays.” This time her grandparents’ eyes were fixed on her.
Lottie waited for him to tell her.
“Teaching slaves to read and write. We can drag all those smart slaves to the post and chop off their fingers, and you and that man can spend time in jail. So think about that when you want to walk away from me.”
“My name is Gabriel. Gabriel Girod.” He stepped around Paul and stood next to Lottie. She did not know how or why Gabriel materialized, but she decided not to question her good fortune. “Do, please, report us. Will you drag the good Sisters to the post? The ones who have no recollection of anything you would be talking about?”
Paul sputtered.
“And”—Gabriel looked down at Lottie—“don’t ever speak to or about Charlotte that way.”
“Do you think I’m afraid of you?” Paul laughed.
Gabriel held Lottie’s arm and helped her balance. Lottie knew her swaying was more from the fact that Gabriel held her than from whatever the fall may have rearranged in her head.
“No, no, I don’t,” said Gabriel.
Paul scoffed.
“But I have very protective friends who manage to be exactly where I might need them, even in the middle of the night.”
* * * * *
Agnes insisted that Lottie settle on the reclining couch Abram carried into the parlor. “I knows you already fainted, but you gonna put yourself in that couch right now.”
Since Gabriel continued to hold on to her and she had no intention of moving away from him, Lottie allowed herself to be steered in that direction. Agnes shooed him away. “You go on. I don’t want you standing here whilst I’m taking off Miz Lottie’s shoes.”
“I would not think of being so improper, Agnes,” Gabriel answered as if she had offended him. He squeezed Lottie’s hand. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said before he walked away.
Agnes unlaced Lottie’s silk boots, warning her not to move. “You can’t be showing those ankles. You just let Agnes take off these good-for-nothing shoes.”
Lottie smiled, amused by Agnes’s concern for her modesty after her adventures. Now that she wasn’t standing, Lottie felt the stinging burn in the soles of her feet, like walking barefooted on cobblestones during the heat of August.
“I don’t know if these gonna ever look the same.” Agnes held them up, examining them the way she did eggplant at the French Market. “I be right back with some fresh coffee.”
“Could you bring some cakes too?” Lottie’s stomach was having its own adventure, and she hoped food might quiet it.
Resting against the back of the couch relieved some of the pressure of the corset, but so did the disappearance of Paul and knowing he would arrive home with his slaves absent, wondering why the buyer had taken the whole family. By the time he realized what really happened, they would be safely away. The man in the cravat, Joseph Joubert—she wanted to tell Gabriel, but he seemed to have disappeared.