Secret Baby Scandal(18)

"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.