Josette (19 page)

Cameron stood. He strode to Michel's side of the room and stared out the windows at the moored ships. “He was insolent. I won't stand for it.”

“If you don't want him here, there's little we can do about it,” Michel said. “But you'll soon be gone, so I do hope you'll reconsider. He can apologize without losing face if given the right circumstances.”

Abbott set down his pen. “I agree. Once he's fully trained, he could run the San Francisco office and Cooper could be sent back here.”

Cameron let go a deep sigh. He'd allowed the events of the day to fray his temper. The run-in with Bastièn, the letter he'd written to Dianah, the fix he was in with Alexia—they coalesced with the haunting idea that he didn't know what to do with himself in the long run, and he'd snapped. “Well, the upstart cannot return without a change in attitude and an apology.”

Michel continued to pace. “Cameron, get hold of yourself. Either make the decision to stay here and run things or go on upriver with Felicité and Alexia until it's time to leave for good.”

Michel was right. The irony that Cameron needed to leave overshadowed his anger. He let out a bemused laugh. “My own shipping company and I'm told I'm not fit to be here. Abbott, would you excuse us for a moment?”

“Now those are welcome words.” Abbott grabbed his jacket and, not bothering to take the time to roll down his sleeves, made his quick exit.

When he was out of sight, Michel turned to Cameron. “What the devil has gotten into you?”

Cameron heaved a breath. “I slept with René's sister last night and Bastièn waylaid me on the way out. There was a bit of an altercation.”

“You what?” Michel pivoted. “Tell me I didn't just hear that.”

“I wish I could.” Cameron pinched the bridge of his nose. How could anything so wonderful between two mature and willing adults turn into such a fiasco?

Michel leaned an elbow on the waist-high maps and charts table and worked his fingers over his chin. “What was that last remark Thibodeaux made about a conversation regarding two women?”

“I think you can figure that one out on your own, cousin.”

“I'm getting a glimmer, but I'd like to hear it from you.”

“I told him to keep his distance from Felicité. He said he would so long as I kept away from his sister.” Cameron felt sheepish now. “I think we'd better send Felicité upriver today.”

Michel muttered a curse and began to pace back and forth. “You realize our supply of rum is once again at risk if Thibodeaux fails to return. Not to mention he knows his way around here, so who can say what other trouble he could stir up.”

“I won't be blackmailed nor have an insubordinate employee.”

Michel ceased pacing and moved to stand beside Cameron, his gaze focused on the dock. “I agree with the insubordination, but I doubt he thinks of it as such, not with his sister involved. Nor would he consider any mischief he thinks up as extortion. More like justified behavior. Why don't you take Alexia and Felicité up to Carlton Oaks? Visit with my father while things here simmer down. I'll speak with René and hire him back with the understanding that he is to show proper respect in the future.”

“What if he declines?”

“He's too smart for that. The trick is to make it easy for him to return. I can handle that part.”

“What if Alexia refuses to make the trip upriver?”

“You're worried she'd refuse? She clearly thinks the sun rises and sets on both you and my sister. I doubt you'll have any problem getting her to agree.”

Michel and Abbott were right. Given a second chance, René could work out just fine, and Cameron would be gone. “I appreciate your doing what you can to smooth things over and hire him back. Convince him he's got a prime position with the company and he'll not find a better opportunity. Not in this town, anyway.”

Michel grunted. “I think you both have those French tempers that you let get away from you.”

“Might I remind you that your mother and my mother were sisters? As much French blood runs through your veins as mine.”

Michel chuckled. “And might I remind you that our fathers are brothers, and I inherited their cooler English temperament?”

“Humph.” Cameron stared out at the
Simone
riding low in the water. The thought of leaving on the clipper and hauling Alexia aboard suddenly seemed more palatable. With the ship leaving port in three days, he could easily be aboard. Even with Alexia kicking and screaming. The devil could have this mess, then.

“Can you find room for me aboard the
Simone
? A cabin with two beds?”

Michel whipped around to face Cameron. “Are you serious? What of all this talk about going upriver with Alexia and my sister?”

“Leaving in three days could be a godsend. I've never looked forward to anything so much in my life as ridding myself of the Thibodeaux family. If God punishes for mistakes, he's doing a fine job of it.”

Michel froze in place and stared at the door.

A chill ran down Cameron's spine.

He turned.

Alexia stood at the threshold, her face blank and pale.

Merde!
Cameron stepped forward. “Alexia, I didn't mean you. I meant your uncles.”

Her eyes wide and filled with . . . nothing, she turned and ran.

“Alexia, don't . . . oh, hell.” Cameron started after her.

Felicité stepped over the threshold. “Now you've done it.”

“Was that the full seven drops or merely five?” Josette stood in her laboratory, trying to recall the exact amount of tincture of polygonum root she'd added to the potion she was concocting for Madame Olympée's thinning hair.

“Drat, not another batch ruined.” Unable to vanquish the image of a naked Cameron from her mind, nor the thrill her thoughts of him produced, Josette couldn't concentrate. After Bastièn's morning visit, she should be too angry with Cameron to think such impious thoughts. But there they were, tramping through her mind like lustful imps, igniting small flames in her belly and swelling her breasts.

Both exhausted and euphoric—the former caused by little sleep, the latter from a night of exquisite lovemaking that had produced a few sore muscles and a bit of tenderness in secret places—she'd have put off coming to work, but Madame Olympée's order was due today, as were several others. She forced herself to focus once again on her project.

Would two drops more or less matter so much? She huffed out an exasperated breath. The thought of cheating even one time repulsed her. Meticulous attention to detail was what gave her customers their smooth, unwrinkled skin, their lush, healthy hair—and kept them returning from as far away as Baton Rouge.

Josette loved the subtle art of alchemy. Every jar and bottle leaving her premises had been filled with a creation specific to the individual. Of late, she'd begun dabbling in
eau de parfum
. Transforming the soul of a flower or blossom into a liquid that blended with the unique oils of a woman's skin was breathtaking. It was also a challenge that caused her to lose track of time while experimenting. A pleasant loss, that. Of late, she'd been creating scents exclusive to the individual. She had a knack for it. No, tired as she was, she would never compromise her work, not even by one drop, more or less.

Another thought of Cameron washed through her. Had she compromised herself with him last night? A small smile caught a corner of her mouth. Not in the least. Good Lord, had the man cut his teeth on Casanova's memoirs? Her heart tripped in her chest and her pulse beat a new rhythm. Even her bare toes had met his deft hands . . . and tongue.

Once again, she shoved thoughts of him aside. She must concentrate. What to do since little remained of the precious herb until the next batch could be distilled? As much as she detested falling back on something Maman had taught her, she retrieved a pendulum from the silk pouch she kept amongst her beakers and vials.

Holding the golden pear-shaped bob by its chain, she suspended it over the small glass bottle and emptied her mind, her intention focused on the extract she'd introduced into the mix, and the exact number of drops she'd used. In seconds, the dowsing instrument felt weighted, as though it wanted to plunge itself into the mixture. Then it began to slowly move counterclockwise. Counting each full circle, the pendulum stopped dead at five.

Josette sighed in relief, added two more drops to the potion and went about correcting the remaining batches she'd botched.

The pendulum had been the only thing her mother had ever given her, presented on her fourteenth birthday. She hadn't known at the time that Maman had far more in mind than presenting Josette with an instrument she could use to dowse for anything from the depth of a well to potions for the ill. As it turned out, after Solange died, Maman had decided to train Josette in the voodoo arts. But Josette had refused to have anything to do with that aspect of her mother's work.

There was a tap on the door, a signal that Josette's lead shop girl sought entry. “
Entrez vous
.”

Elise slipped inside. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned her back against the panel, her cheeks blotched pink.

“Good heavens, what is it?”

“I beg your pardon, Madame. It's Monsieur Vennard. He's gone straight to your office without permission. I told him you were not in, but he called me a liar and marched right past me. There was little I could do to stop him.”

“It's not your fault. The man is an arrogant cur.” Josette removed the work apron covering her green gown and pushed the completed bottle toward Elise. “Paste Madame Olympée's special label on this, if you will, and see she gets it. Leave the other bottles for now. I'll tend to Monsieur Vennard.”

Leaving her laboratory, Josette paused in front of the closed door to her office and drew a breath. She could do this. She could stop this man from trampling over her like a runaway horse. The idea of his attempting to purchase Belle Femme under veiled threats grew more ludicrous by the day. If worse came to worst, she would have to speak to her brothers. But that would be her last resort. She had other solutions in mind.

Pushing the door open, she marched straight to her desk and sat. Not bothering to glance up, she removed her pistol from a drawer, along with a small bag that jingled. She emptied the bag of bullets. Slowly, one-by-one, she loaded the six-shooter.

“Monsieur Vennard. Not only did you offend my employee by your crude behavior, you broke my rules by entering my private space without permission. I'll not have you coming in here again. Nor will I have you approach my home.”

The slide of steel against steel caused her to glance up. Vennard sat in front of her, a malicious glimmer in his eyes . . . and a sword pointed straight at her.

She managed not to flinch. Instead, she propped her elbows on her desk, and wrapping both hands around the butt of the gun, directed it straight at his heart. “I had a hunch that cane of yours afforded you more than a walking stick. You do realize you've placed yourself in jeopardy by exposing your little secret.”

A low chuckle left his throat. “Tell me, Madame LeBlanc, how have I endangered myself?”

“I can pull the trigger right now, and claim you came at me with your weapon. My employee will confirm you forced your way in here. My shop is not for sale. Leave at once.”

He lowered his sword and tapped it against a knee. “You amuse me. I did not come here about your business. If you recall, I said I'd be back in two weeks to discuss the sale. Which I will do.”

“If you are not here to discuss Belle Femme
,
then why are you here?”

“My daughter was recently married.”

Her hands were getting tired, but she refused to lower the gun. “You know I am well aware of that fact, Monsieur Vennard, seeing as how you saw me in Antoine's. What is your point?”

He brought the sword up in a half-salute. “Please, Madame LeBlanc, do set the pistol down before you accidentally pull the trigger.”

Behind his calm demeanor lurked malice. He was having a difficult time keeping it from showing. A sinking feeling ran down the back of Josette's throat and settled in her stomach. She set down the gun but kept her hand wrapped around the butt, just in case he came at her with the sword. She'd use it if she had to. Wouldn't she? For pity's sake, what was the man after?

“Go on,” she said. “You have two minutes before I send for the police . . . those you have not paid off, that is.”

He lifted a brow. “My daughter is eager to live in the new and elite section of town where you reside. She is determined to have the largest and finest home around, but she is too impatient to have one built. I believe the most opulent residence at present would be yours, Madame.”

He retrieved an envelope from inside his jacket and slid it across the desk. “This will more than compensate you. I expect you to be out by the end of the month.”

A high buzzing sounded in Josette's ears. Had she actually heard him right? He wanted her residence as well as her shop? Was he out to ruin her entirely? She steeled herself against the tremors shooting through her and tried for as much calm as she could muster.

“Not only do I have no intention of selling my shop to you, but the idea of vacating my home so your spoiled daughter can take up residence is laughable. Now, before I either call the police or take this gun in hand, I'm curious as to why you are trying to get rid of me. Because obviously, you are.”

He stood and, sliding the sword back into the cane, looked her over with disdain. “Why? Because you are nothing but trash, Josette. Illegitimate Cajun trash who dares to walk the streets of this town pretending to be a lady. You belong back in the bayou. I'll not have this town sullied by your presence in the grandest home in the wealthiest district. Nor will I condone your owning a shop between the finest jeweler in town and the finest couturier. You do not fit in here. You are an embarrassment, and I'll not have it.”

That old familiar feeling took hold. All her life she'd never fit in, at home or otherwise. And she didn't know why. Perhaps men like him had reinforced those terrible feelings that she was no good. Instilled them in her long before she was old enough to discern what their sideways glances meant. Or perhaps it was the common knowledge that she and her siblings were a bunch of thieving bastards that had filtered through early on.

Heaven knew she'd worked hard to clip her roots. Had steered so far from being the subject of gossip, she now existed in a kind of solitude that threatened to drive her mad at times. No matter what she did to improve her lot in life, she was still an outcast.

Oh, why was her heart pushing back and forth against her chest so? Her home, her shop—she'd acquired them through sacrifice and pure grit.

She could not lose them.

They would be all she'd have once Alexia was gone.

“Get out,” she said, so softly even she barely heard the words, but there was no mistaking the threat in them. She stood, tossed the envelope in his face, marched to the door, and yanked it open.

Elise stumbled in. Josette caught her before the girl tripped and fell. Elise glanced at the gun on the desk and at Vennard. “I . . . I was concerned, Madame. I heard raised voices.”

“Monsieur Vennard was just leaving, Elise. Please see him out, then return immediately.” A click of heels down the hall and Josette returned to her desk. She shoved the loaded gun into a drawer and bent over, holding her stomach and swallowing bile.

Elise returned and shut the door behind her. “I am truly sorry, Madame. I . . . I was afraid for your safety.”

“I should send you away,” Josette said, feeling that much sicker inside. She'd trusted Elise.

The girl paled and began to tremble. “Please, Madame. I am responsible for the care of my parents and younger brother. I am trying to get him educated so he can have a better life.”

“Have you listened at my door before, Elise?” Was there no one Josette could rely on but herself?

Elise lowered her gaze and picked at a nail. “Your brother is very concerned about you.”

Josette couldn't contain the shock that swept through her. “Which brother?”

“René.” Elise raised a fluttering hand to the cameo at her throat.

“And you've been spying on me for him?”

A tear slid down Elise's cheek. She nodded. “I'll collect my things and leave immediately, Madame.”

The girl had to be taken with René to have stooped so low. She'd been a devoted employee since the day the doors opened for business. “I'm not going to let you go, Elise.”

Elise's head snapped up. “You won't?”

Josette shook her head. “Since you've snooped in my affairs, it's only fair you answer my question. Have you been sleeping with my brother?”

Another tear ran down Elise's cheek. “Please don't think badly of me. I love him.”

“Oh, you fool. Every woman he touches thinks she's in love with him. He'll not return your feelings in the long run.”

Elise wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and met Josette's gaze. “I know there will never be anything permanent between us, but I'm certain he cares for me. At the moment, anyway. I am content with that.”

“But he will use you and toss you aside. I know my brother well.”

“You do not understand, Madame. I will not leave my parents so long as they live, nor will I forsake my sibling. It is what I am committed to doing. I know perfectly well I am unlikely to find a man who will take on such a burden, and also be capable of loving me with the kind of tenderness and expertise your brother has shown me.”

“Good heavens.” Josette remembered to breathe and sucked in air. “I know both my brothers have a way about them that women adore, but I've never allowed myself to dwell on the . . . well . . . their personal lives.”

She paused, as thoughts of Cameron invaded her mind once again. Wasn't she up to the same thing as Elise? Cast no stone.

“I know you do not approve, Madame,” Elise said. “But tell me, what is wrong with giving myself the opportunity to feel love? What is love anyway?”

Josette frowned. “I'm not certain what you are getting at.”

Elise began to fiddle with her cameo again. “When someone loves you, you can see it in their eyes, the way they care for you. But the love of which I speak? Isn't it in reality what only I am feeling inside? Ushered in by the way René showers me with his tender affections? I'm no fool, Madame. You may think he's using me, but in a sense, I am using him as well. Rest assured, I know how to take things one day at a time.”

Josette looked away. How could she argue with Elise when Josette was doing the very same thing?

The color had returned to Elise's cheeks, and her trembling ceased. A wisp of a smile touched her mouth.

Josette smiled back. “By the look on your face, I'd say you are thinking of René as we speak.”

Elise's grin widened. “
Non
, Madame. You came in this morning looking all dewy-eyed and refreshed, as if you'd taken a lover.”