Alarms blared in Jean-Pierre's head as he held up a finger to signal to his brothers that he'd be with them in a moment. After all the toasts about family, he didn't want to let them down today.
"Do you have any reason to believe she knows about our son?" They'd been so careful he didn't think that was possible. But then again, this woman-a menace to the football community for reasons he couldn't begin to guess-was now circulating among their closest friends and family.
Who knew what she might hear this weekend?
"No." Tatiana shook her head, biting her lip, rubbing her arms in a nervous shiver. "But I'm scared. And I have a bad feeling about her. I'm sure she was unhappy with me when I told her I was going to report her for perjury. Attorney-client privilege doesn't apply in this instance since I am no longer her lawyer and I wasn't acting as her lawyer when she spoke to me."
"You told her that?" His insides sank with foreboding.
"I was angry." Her eyes glistened. "I unknowingly helped her ruin an innocent man's reputation."
Jean-Pierre hauled her into a hug as the chamber orchestra finished their song. There were no words to make this better. The guilt in her eyes spoke volumes. It hadn't been her fault she'd believed her client and done her job. He saw that now and wished he could have been more levelheaded then. He held her tighter, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"The wedding is about to begin." He kissed her cheek. "We'll figure it out. Save me a seat and we'll talk afterward."
He didn't like walking away from her when she was so upset. But he had a duty to perform.
His sixth sense niggled in the back of his mind even as he reached the floral archway to wait with Gervais for his bride. Already he knew it was going to be a bad day for a marriage proposal of his own. He just hoped his proposal was the only thing ruined on a day that should be the happiest of his brother's life.
Twelve
The wedding reception was truly magical.
After the sunset beachside vows, guests were ushered into a hacienda pavilion built in the style of traditional Spanish colonial architecture. The tile floors and sun-bleached stone walls supported high arches looking out over the water. A dark tile roof protected them from the sun, while the ever-present solar panels collected the energy to keep the generators running. The chamber musicians had given up their spot to a popular country band and already the foreign princesses were dancing with dashing husbands in various hues of military dress and ornamentation. A few of the younger football players joined them, two-stepping circles around the more formal waltzes of their royal counterparts.
Greenery bedecked every archway and long ropes of ivy decorated the exposed beams overhead. The effect was like having a party in a secret garden. Erika had told Tatiana earlier that they'd purchased the flowers and greens back when they hoped to have the event on Lake Pontchartrain, but if the princess minded exchanging her vows on a beach and having her reception in a hacienda instead, no one would have ever guessed. She danced with Gervais long before any formal introduction of the couple, and Tatiana couldn't help but admire a bride who didn't stand on ceremony.
If a woman only had one wedding in her life, she deserved to have fun during every moment of it. That was one of many reasons Tatiana was on the lookout for her former client while Jean-Pierre consulted with Henri and Dempsey in a far corner of the pavilion. She didn't want more scandal to dim Erika's enjoyment of her day.
"I recognize this young woman all grown up." The male voice close to Tatiana's elbow surprised her. "Care to dance?"
She turned to find Leon Reynaud, the man who had fired her father. Leon had been formidable well into his seventies, but his age had caught up to him a bit. His shoulders had thinned and he'd lost some of the impressive height that had been a genetic gift to his football-playing grandsons. Wispy white hair and overgrown white eyebrows didn't detract from the elegance of his appearance, however. She took in the crisp black tuxedo and starched French cuffs turned back from gnarled fingers as he offered his arm.
"I'd love to, sir, but I'm waiting to speak to your grandson. And are you sure you remember me?" She would be surprised if he knew her. He'd never paid her much attention when she'd visited their home in the past since he'd usually been closeted with her father in business meetings the whole time.
"You're the daughter of the infamous Jack Doucet, if I don't miss my guess. I fired him." He said it with a jovial air, loud enough to turn heads of people nearby. Perhaps he didn't realize how devastating it had been for her father and her whole family at the time-and for years afterward.
They didn't have the resources that the Reynauds did, and losing a lucrative job over a petty grievance between friends had shaken the Doucet family to its foundation.
This week, especially, she'd found herself wondering what might have become of her relationship with Jean-Pierre if they hadn't been separated so acrimoniously back then.
"You have a good memory." She had changed a lot since she was seventeen. Especially in the last few months. Plus, she'd thought the older man suffered from Alzheimer's.
"You should tell my nurse," he grumbled, pointing toward a middle-aged woman in a pressed gray uniform standing a few feet away and taking photos of the table arrangements. "She doesn't think I can remember anything."
"Your nurse?" She studied the woman more closely and realized now the older man was confused after all. "That can't be her. I recognize that woman from Gervais's house. She's on the housekeeping staff."
Leon's eyes bulged. "Confound it, woman!" He turned on the housekeeper and gripped her arm. "I knew you weren't my health-care worker."
His raised voice attracted more turned heads even though the band continued to play. Jean-Pierre was by Tatiana's side almost instantly, while Henri and Dempsey attempted to take their grandfather aside.
"What's wrong?" Jean-Pierre asked, slipping an arm around her shoulders, the muscles hard and firm against her.
She pointed to the maid who darted out of the pavilion the moment Leon released his hold.
"That woman." Tatiana pointed her out, a sinking feeling in her gut. "Leon thought it was his caregiver, but I know she was the same woman who greeted us the night we had dinner at your brother's home. I just said I didn't think that could be his nurse and-"
"Who in the hell was she?" Leon was shouting now, loud enough to pull Gervais away from his new bride.
"Gramps, what's wrong?" He tried, like his brothers, to usher the agitated man aside, but the more they tried to move him, the more belligerent he became.
"You all sent me to a strange place with a woman I didn't even know and tried to convince me she was my nurse." Leon scoffed as if the word left a bad taste. "She's a harlot and a liar. She told me I missed seeing Jean-Pierre's son, but I know damn well Jean-Pierre isn't a father yet."
Tatiana froze.
Everyone close to her seemed to turn stone-still as well. Jean-Pierre looked to her helplessly while his brothers looked at him, all of them waiting for someone to say something. To announce whatever story it was that they wanted to use.
Now was the time, while a whole pavilion full of wedding guests listened. Including Blair Jones, who would surely have reason to want to spread the gossip with malicious glee after Tatiana had threatened to turn her in for perjury.
Tatiana shook her head at Jean-Pierre. She had no idea what to say. If she'd had a good cover story for César, she would have given it out months ago instead of running off to the Caribbean to give birth privately.
"Come on, Gramps." Dempsey slung an arm around his grandfather as some of the fight seemed to slip out of Leon. "Let's step away to figure out what's going on and let Gervais have his wedding, okay?"
"Sure," Leon said agreeably, although his expression remained troubled. "You're a good boy, Theo. Always were my favorite."
Tatiana's heart squeezed painfully in her chest as she listened to him say words destined to hurt his other children-and knowing she'd also lost her window to admit the truth. That she and Jean-Pierre had a child together. End of story.
Wasn't it? But if so, why had they waited so long to reveal it, missed so many opportunities and flirted with disaster this way? It was as if they'd set themselves up for failure.