"Don't mind Henri," Dempsey warned. "He's had locker-room manners for so long we don't know if we can fix him."
"You all flunk the manners class," the platinum-haired beauty informed them from her seat beside the fire. Only now was it evident the woman was pregnant, the empire waist of her dress settling on a baby bump. "Some of us have not been introduced to our guest."
Jean-Pierre escorted Tatiana over to Gervais's fiancée, who must not have been quite as frightening as she sounded since none of the Reynauds appeared chastened in the least.
"Erika, my apologies. Thank you for having us. Please meet Tatiana Doucet." His hand was steady on her spine, a warmth that gave her courage.
Because no matter how the family responded to her now, they were bound to behave differently once they found out about the son she'd kept a secret from Jean-Pierre. That is, if they didn't know already. Would Dempsey have mentioned it? But looking into the cool blue gaze of her hostess, Tatiana couldn't glean a guess one way or the other. Which was rare for her since she'd always been good at sizing up a jury.
"A pleasure to meet you." Her fingers closed around Tatiana's, a collection of delicate silver rings pressing against her skin. But Tatiana's gaze was all for the impressive sparkler on the woman's left hand; it seemed to throw rainbows of reflected firelight into the dark evening. "We have all been curious who Jean-Pierre would bring to the wedding. You can imagine our surprise when we heard his date announced in a press interview rather than an RSVP."
Henri's wife, Fiona, a woman Tatiana had only seen in photographs online, came to stand beside Erika. A petite brunette with a ponytail almost to her waist flanked the princess's other side.
Tatiana took a moment to formulate a response, but the woman with the ponytail leaped into the momentary silence.
"Actually, Dempsey announced our engagement in a postgame conference, so I wasn't at all surprised." She thrust out her hand. "I'm Adelaide."
"So nice to meet you." Tatiana remembered reading that Dempsey had proposed to his longtime personal assistant, a friend from his childhood.
"I'm Fiona, Henri's wife," the other woman said, shaking Tatiana's hand. "And I'm thrilled to have finally evened out the gender gap at family events, so you are most welcome, Tatiana."
"Thank you. I'm grateful for the chance to reconnect with the Reynauds." Her gaze slid over the faces of each brother as they crowded closer to their respective women. She really had missed their friendship even though she'd never been as close to the others as she'd been to Jean-Pierre. "I didn't realize until recently what a mistake it's been to allow my father's quarrels to become my own."
"There is a family dispute?" Erika frowned, turning her crystalline-blue gaze to Gervais. "I thought the problem stemmed from the court case-" She must have sensed the sudden tension in the group because she cut herself off midsentence. "Forgive me. I have been away from diplomacy for too long and my skills are rusty."
Tatiana's cheeks heated as the blaze in the fireplace flared high.
"There is nothing to forgive. Long after my father argued with Leon, I added fuel to an old fire by taking a case that pitted me against a well-known football player who is a friend to this family." She hadn't known the connection at the time-not until the case had gone to trial.
She swallowed hard, feeling the convivial atmosphere fading. Even easygoing Henri wouldn't meet her eyes.
"But the case is done," Jean-Pierre reminded her-and everyone else-while a server moved silently around the patio setting up trays and glasses. "And I've never held her father's choices against her. So I thought it was well past time for her to return to New Orleans."
Uncomfortable as she was about subterfuge, she shifted slightly closer to him, grateful for his support among people who respected Marcus Caruthers, the player whose career she'd effectively ended.
No, she reminded herself. The man who had effectively ended his own career by firing an assistant after she'd complained about sexual harassment in the workplace. Tatiana steeled her spine again; she needed to recover her lawyerly disposition even more than she needed her prebaby body.
"Actually, Jean-Pierre is being kind. He came to my rescue after I made a very offhanded remark to a man I didn't realize was a reporter." She'd been a babbling, nervous wreck before she had finally confronted Jean-Pierre about their son. She needed to be careful she didn't become a babbling nervous wreck all over again. Cursing postpartum hormones, she turned to Erika, feeling as if she owed her hostess an explanation. "So I was as surprised as anyone that he invited me to be his guest for the week. It was quick thinking on his part to deflect interest from my comment, and I'm truly grateful he did since I didn't mean it and because it gave me the chance to reconnect with all the Reynauds."
A beat of silence followed. Beside her, she sensed Jean-Pierre's tension in the way he held himself. For her part, however, she felt relieved to share the truth.
The family shared uneasy glances. What had she said?
"We had hoped you were a couple," Adelaide explained, perhaps seeing her confusion. "Photographs from your boat ride today are already appearing online, so we hoped-"
"Let's have a toast," Gervais proposed, coming to Adelaide's rescue. He waved forward a server who'd been setting up a small outdoor bar. "It's time we celebrated your return, no matter how unorthodox the circumstances."
The young man tending the bar brought a tray full of glasses in one hand and two distinctive black bottles of champagne in the other. Another server, a woman dressed in a tuxedo shirt and pants that matched the man's, joined him to help him pop the tops and quickly pour champagne for everyone but Erika, who was given a fresh glass of seltzer. Tatiana decided a small, social sip of champagne would not derail her nursing.
Gervais didn't miss a beat, raising his cut-crystal flute as soon as it was placed in his hand. Everyone else followed suit and waited for his toast. Tatiana could hear the waves of the lake against the shore nearby in the quiet.
"To Jean-Pierre and Tatiana, reunited after too long."
Grateful for the way the eldest Reynaud smoothed over the strained moment, she relaxed for the first time since she'd walked in the front door. But before she could lift her glass to her lips, the maid who'd admitted them reappeared at Jean-Pierre's side.
"Excuse me." She spoke in soft tones that Tatiana could overhear. "I believe the guest you invited is here, sir."
"Of course. Hold that thought, Gervais." Jean-Pierre strode toward the back of the patio, where Lucinda was standing at the door, a small bundle in her arms.
All at once, Tatiana remembered that the biggest hurdle of the night still awaited them.
And while the timing felt a bit awkward to her, Jean-Pierre grinned, as if a big reveal had been his intention all along.
Her knees turned to water as she stood alone with the rest of the family. All eyes turned to Jean-Pierre as he escorted Lucinda into the firelight with her precious charge cradled in her arms.
A collective gasp sounded. Tatiana could feel the shock travel from one Reynaud to the next, like Sunday football fans performing the wave around a crowded stadium.
"When Tatiana said she was glad to reconnect, she didn't mention the reason we are happiest to be together." He stared at her in the shifting shadows from the burning torches all around the party, his expression full of paternal pride.
"Meet our son, César."
Seven
Somehow, the zydeco music continued playing on Gervais Reynaud's expansive patio and pool deck. The servers poured more champagne and Gervais offered a toast to César Reynaud, the first of the next generation. People helped themselves to hors d'oeuvres while conversation slowly recovered.
Tatiana sat on a far ottoman, nibbling on a grits-and-gumbo crostini topped with a tiny shrimp skewer. She knew it was delicious, as it incorporated all the flavors of the famed Cajun stew. But she barely registered the taste.
Everyone offered congratulations. Of course they did.
She'd murmured polite acknowledgments and enough commentary to be social, but as the focus shifted fully to the baby, she was able to clear her head long enough to take a much-needed deep breath and calm down. Because all the while Jean-Pierre showed off his firstborn, she seethed at the way her son's introduction to his family had been tainted by half-truths.