Josette (22 page)

“Good afternoon to you, cousin.” She promptly turned to René. The air fairly sizzled between them. She tilted her head and offered him a coy smile. “And good day to you, as well.”

René returned her smile and lifting her gloved hand, kissed it. “Mademoiselle Felicité. So good to see you.”

It was all Cameron could do not to wipe that sin-filled smile off René's face. The way he looked at Felicité, there couldn't be a pure thought running through the bloody bastard's mind. “Why are you here, Felice?”

She tugged a hat pin free and removed a fancy blue bonnet that had likely cost a small fortune. “To check on Alexia.” She lifted her gaze to the stairwell.

Cameron turned and spied Alexia sneaking up the steps. Hell, she'd have the lock picked on his bedroom door faster than he could get to her. “Damn it, Alexia, get back here.”

“Gots to change, Papa!” She ran the rest of the way up the stairs and disappeared along the corridor.

“Tsk, tsk. Cursing at your daughter,” René said.

Cameron pivoted back to where the Cajun stood. “Don't you have gainful employment that needs tending, or are you bound and determined to further rile your superior?”

“Indeed, I do have duties needing my attention. Regrettably, your daughter has kept me from seeing to them. Had her parent been in proper control of her—”

“Get the hell out of my house before we come to blows.” Cameron turned to Felicité. “When Alexia returns—if she hasn't already climbed off the balcony—I want you to convince her to accompany you upriver for a spell. Tell her you'll be making your departure in three days.”

Felicité's eyes narrowed. “I smell a rat. What are you up to?”

“Since you won't be leaving here for another month, I intend on sailing for England aboard the
Simone
in three days. I'll be taking Alexia with me.”

René sucked in a breath.

Cameron ignored him. “I don't want her knowing anything until the clipper is ready to haul up anchor. That way she won't slip away from me.”

“And then what?” René asked, all arrogance and combativeness gone from his voice.

Cameron thought of telling René it was none of his business, but it was.... He was Alexia's uncle, and she adored him. “She'll become a part of my family. She'll have a better life than she could have here. I'll see she receives a good education and will want for nothing. Felicité will be there as well. Alexia trusts her.”

Felicité's expression grew taut. “She won't trust me if I betray her by lying.”

René exhaled a heavy sigh. “He's right, Felicité. This is no place for Alexia. It's important we all work together to see that she leaves without incident.”

He looked to Cameron. “Perhaps we shouldn't say anything further in front of Felicité. That way, she won't know anything that could leave Alexia feeling betrayed.”

René's abrupt change of sides surprised Cameron. He picked a beignet off the cart and took a bite. Why he was eating yet another one, he hadn't a clue.

Alexia trotted down the stairs wearing a crisp yellow dress, her smile bright enough to blind. Had Josette helped her into it? Surely Alexia would keep a secret for her aunt. And why the silly grin?

“Aren't you the lovely one,” Felicité said.

Alexia looked at Cameron as if waiting for a response from him. He nodded. “Indeed. You look decent once again, but you and I have a few things to discuss this evening before we make our visit to the police tomorrow, so don't think you are out of the woods.”

Alexia's face fell.

Felicité stepped forward. “Have you ever been on a plantation, Alexia?”

She looked at Felicité as though she'd grown another head. “I ain't never been out of the bayou or out of this town.”

Cameron laughed. “Except for a rather tedious trip to San Francisco.”

“
Oui
, that.”

Felicité worked up a pleasant face. “Would you like to be my guest at Carlton Oaks? It's a splendid plantation that sits right on the banks of the Mississippi. We have some fine riding horses there as well.”

That had Alexia's attention.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” Cameron asked.

“Just Satan,” Alexia said. “But he's so old and snake bit that a ride on him means going from one end of the yard and back, one slow clop of a hoof after the other. When would you be going and for how long?”

Felicité shot a nervous glance at Cameron. “We can leave in three days and stay until it's time for me to sail for England.”

Alexia shook her head. “I can't be doing that. My birthday is coming up next week and Maman has plans for me.”

René paled. “You are to go with Felicité.”

Alexia's cheeks turned red and her eyes flashed fury at her uncle. “
Non
. I have to go to Maman's for my birthday. She said so.”

A muscle twitched along René's jawline. “You will do no such thing.”

Cameron watched the argument unfold. What was this about? René hadn't bothered to hide his concern. He shot a speaking glance at Cameron.

“Well.” Felicité grabbed her bonnet and placed it on her head. “Alexia, would you like to accompany me to the bookseller? I have a couple of items on order. We can go to the soda shop afterward.”

Alexia's face lit up. “Can I, Papa? I promise not to run off or steal anything.”

“Don't think for a moment that I trust your word any longer, Alexia. But understand this—you have lived in the bayou and with your aunt in town, nowhere else. Therefore, should you do anything other than accompany Miss Felicité, I know where to find you. And believe me, if you run off again, the end result will not be a pleasant experience for either of us. Which would make me all the angrier.”

René stepped forward. “Have I ever broken my word to you, Alexia?”

She shook her head. “
Non
.”

He gave her a stern look. “Then rest assured, should we have to go looking for you, I will be right beside your father.”

“Come along.” Felicité slipped her arm around Alexia's shoulders. “I could use some fresh air, and the bookseller awaits.”

On the way out the door, she turned and, behind Alexia's back, shot both men a murderous glance that told Cameron she didn't appreciate either man's way of dealing with Alexia.

Alone, Cameron turned to René. “What the devil is going on?”

René's brow furrowed. “This birthday coming up will be Alexia's fourteenth. From what I just heard, Maman has decided to take Alexia through a very dangerous rite of passage, one in which she will join her grandmother in all aspects of her work. Including the dark side. I don't approve of her intentions. Neither do my siblings.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment while Cameron's blood turned cold.

Marie appeared out of nowhere. “I'll see Monsieur Thibodeaux out, if you please. Felicité knows where the latch is that unlocks the gate, but I doubt you would.”

René turned to leave but paused at the door leading from the parlor to the front entry. He sent an overt glance up the stairwell. His lip curled into a sardonic smile. “Enjoy what's left of your day.”

Cameron swallowed a sharp retort. When the door closed behind René, Cameron raced up the stairs.

The room was empty.

“Josette?”

He examined the bed where pillows were in place and the counterpane held nary a wrinkle. Checking every corner of the room and not finding her, he stepped onto the balcony.

Nothing.

He peered over the railing and laughed.

Below him, a scrap of pale green fabric clung to a climbing rosebush. Apparently, Josette could indeed take care of herself. Or she'd had assistance, which would explain Alexia's silly grin when coming down the stairs.

And he was supposed to teach his daughter to walk the straight and narrow?

Josette shot up in bed, gasping for breath. Damn that blasted nightmare. Would it never leave her? She'd floated in dark space, the earth a million miles away. Not a sound filtering through the terrible emptiness. In a flash, she'd landed back in the murky waters of the bayou, her family huddled together and staring at her in horror. Then they dashed off. She tried to catch up to them. She ran and ran until she awoke, breathless and perspiring, her heart galloping in her chest.

And breaking in two, yet again.

But this time she'd heard someone call her name.

Hadn't she?

That part seemed frightfully clear.

Wait.

Did she just hear it again? Shaking off her brain fog, she strained her ears.

“Josette!” Vivienne rushed through the door.

“What's wrong?” Josette grabbed her robe and sprang from the bed, shoving her arms through the sleeves as she went.

“It's René and Bastièn. They've been hurt.”

“Oh, dear Lord.” Josette ran out the door with her cousin limping behind, her bad hip slowing her. “Where are they?”

“In the kitchen,” Vivienne huffed.

“What happened?”

“I don't know. Bastièn fairly dragged René into the house, blood all over both of them. Bastièn said he only got knocked upside the head, but René needs stitches. Régine put water on to heat. I've laid out your supplies.”

“What time is it?”

“The hall clock struck two when I came for you.”

“How did you hear them when I didn't?”

“I couldn't sleep so I was downstairs brewing a pot of tea when they arrived.”

Josette reached the kitchen ahead of Vivienne. She dizzied at the sight of René laid out on the long metal table, his forehead bloodied, the white enamel beneath him looking as though someone had butchered a pig. Bastièn and Régine worked at cutting René's jacket and vest off him.

Dark stains marred the front of Bastièn's once white shirt. A crimson line trickled from a gash to the left of an eye already bruised and swelling. He swiped at the wound with the back of his hand. It came away smeared with blood.

Josette edged him aside. “Sit. You need attention as well.”

He gave a grunt and kept on laboring. “I can look after myself later. I only got a punch to my face.”

“Hush. This is no time to argue. Vivienne, give him a cloth to press against his cut. Régine, grab a lantern and collect some ice for both their faces.” Josette's voice grew calmer as her orders became more assertive. “Pull up a chair, Bastièn. You can oversee me until it's your turn.”

He muttered a litany of French curses, and something about not telling him what to do. Nonetheless, he discarded his jacket and vest, then swept a chair to the head of the table, where René lay immobile.

Heart hammering, she shot Bastièn a glance. “Remove your shirt as well so Régine can wash out those stains.”

She leaned over René and spoke softly. “Can you hear me?”

He groaned. “
Merde
. I still have my ears attached, don'cha know.”

“Good,” she said, not feeling at all as chipper as she tried to sound. At least he wasn't unconscious. But she knew René. As quiet and still as he lay, he was in pain. “Vivienne and I will have to cut off your shirt.”

His lids fluttered open, confusion dulling his eyes. “
Non
. Do not ruin my good jacket and shirt.”

Well, the jacket was in ruins and already discarded, but apparently he'd not been fully aware when that occurred. “I'll see to replacing whatever is beyond repair.”

She nodded to Vivienne, who stood on the opposite side of the table. Together, they proceeded to cut away the bloodstained shirt. “Careful. Some of the fabric is already sticking to congealed spots.”

They eased away the linen. Several short gashes and five long slits still spilling blood marred René's body. A chill slid down Josette's spine. She bit her tongue to keep from uttering an oath. Every one of his wounds had been inflicted by a razor-sharp knife. She signaled Vivienne to press cloths to the active lacerations while Josette wiped down his torso with witch hazel.

Completing her examination, she heaved a sigh of relief. “You've been slashed in several places. Some veins were nipped, which accounts for the copious bleeding, but the lacerations aren't all that deep. Your new jacket might have actually gotten in the way of the knife and saved you from something far worse
.
”

“My new jacket, she can be saved,
oui
?”

“For pity's sake, René. The condition of your clothing should be the least of your concerns.”

Bastièn turned sideways and, resting his elbow on the chair's back, pressed the folded cloth to his wound. “You do not understand a man's way of handling dire situations,
ma soeur
. Ah, but wait. Could it be you have been plying us with your clever repartee not to placate us, but as your own way of coping?”

She shoved an errant curl behind her ear and swallowed a curse. “You should know since this isn't the first time you two have shown up during the devil's hours in need of repair.”

“And likely not the last,” Vivienne muttered.

“Humph.” Bastièn gave her a sidelong scowl.

Josette swiped her forearm across her damp brow. “Hush, you two. René, the stitching will take a while, which means you'll need a dose of laudanum so your muscles don't tighten up when things get tedious.”

He tried for a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Is that your way of saying you are about to inflict even more pain upon my person?”

She decided to ignore his comment. “We'll need to turn you over to inspect your back. I don't think any ribs are broken, only bruised. Your trousers need to come off so we can assess the full damage.”

René's hand slid to the buttons on his pants. “
Non
. They did not get me below the waist or at my back. Their intent was to gut me.”

Josette's breath froze in her lungs. She looked at Bastièn, who still held the rag pressed to the side of his own head. He gave a nod.

Régine scurried in with a small bucket of ice.

“Crush some and wrap it in a square of cloth, then hold it to Bastièn's face,” Josette said. “Are you injured anywhere else?”

“
Non
. I was behind René when they came at him from the front, so they couldn't have got at his back.”

“Who are
they
?” She needn't have bothered to ask. Vennard had called his henchmen into action. Just as he'd promised. She bit at the inside of her mouth. Oh, she should never have threatened to shoot that awful man. What a rash and reckless thing to have done. And here she was, looking at the consequences of her actions.

Shoving the disturbing thoughts to the periphery of her mind, she concentrated on her tasks. “Vivienne, will you wash Bastièn's face with witch hazel and get him ready for me,
s'il vous plaît
?”

At Bastièn's grumbling, Josette shot him a frown, then caught herself and went back to light banter. “Would you like to know a little secret,
mon frère
?”

He winced at the solution Vivienne dabbed on his cut. “Unless you can tell me who is so eager to send René and me to the cemetery, I am in no mood to play your guessing game.”

Josette forced herself to maintain a breezy monologue. “My secret is that I have never been able to decide which of my two brothers is more handsome. But if you won't allow me to stitch that cut at the side of your face, then you'll have an ugly scar and René will win.”

Bastièn grunted. “A horse could trample me, and I would still remain better looking than my brother.”

Now it was René's turn to grunt.

At least Josette's chitchat had managed to lighten their mood. “Vivienne, give Bastièn a dose of laudanum before I stitch him.”

“
Non
,” he muttered.

She clamped her jaw against a fierce bid to snap back at him. “Tsk. Tsk. So stubborn and hardheaded you are. It's a wonder anyone managed to break your skin.”

Vivienne finished cleaning Bastièn's wound. Régine handed him the clean cloth filled with ice, and all three women settled in to work on René in silence. Every so often, he flinched at the needle Josette ran in and out of his flesh, but otherwise said nothing. Oh, how she hurt for him. This was all her fault.

Filled with guilt, she offered him a small smile and a tender touch on his arm. “You've a nasty cut on your forehead that's going to require a few stitches, as well.”

He managed a half-grin. “Don't mar my face or Bastièn might win your favor.”

She chuckled softly. “I'll use the finest catgut, and with my special creams, the scar will fade to nearly nothing—like the other over your eye. Soon, the ladies will be falling at your feet.”

“
Merci
, because they do not end up there now.”

“Liar,” she teased. “I hear Mademoiselle Felicité Andrews is so taken with you that her brother is having conniptions.”

René lowered his lids from Josette's gaze and turned his head.

Oh, dear.
Did her brother covet something beyond his reach?

Foolish man.

Hadn't he learned from what she endured that he'd never be accepted by polite society? Old hurts coalesced with her anger over what had taken place tonight—an assault instigated by a man of high social standing. A man who'd recently called her trash.

She needed to change the subject before René sensed her agitation. “I don't imagine I have to tell you that you'll be spending the night here so I can keep an eye on you.”

“I doubt I'd be able to make my way home, anyway.”

Good grief. Was he traveling in and out of the bayou every day for work? She hadn't considered that part of his new situation. Well, if Bastièn intended to reside here, why shouldn't René as well? A curious lightness swept through her. The idea of having them both live with her on a permanent basis carried a certain appeal. Especially with Alexia about to take her leave. But would that bring Maman calling on them? Josette doubted it. The boys were faithful. They'd continue visiting their mother regularly.

“Régine, can you soak some strips of cloth in my lichen infusion? I'll wrap René's torso with them to keep his wounds from getting infected.” She pointed to the most serious injury. “This one will need a bit of the pine resin and baking soda mixture first.”

Régine only nodded and joined Vivienne in tearing cotton sheeting into strips. Régine had been efficient but closed-mouthed throughout this ordeal. Was her silence because of the boys? It wouldn't do to have her retreat to her father's farm, back to a life of drudgery. She enjoyed cooking and taking care of the kitchen as though it were her own. Josette would have a talk with her in the morning.

“Some of Louis's nightshirts are packed in a trunk upstairs,” she said. “We should dress René in one.” She glanced over at Bastièn.

He shook his head. “None for me.”

Vivienne set down the linen cloth she'd been tearing into strips and limped toward the kitchen door. “I know right where they are.”

René wrinkled his nose. “
Non
. I will not sleep in one of those ridiculous things.”

Exhausted, Josette lost her temper. “Then sleep naked for all I care. You have no other clothing here, you stubborn ass. I hope you know your shirt is in shreds, so you'll have nothing to wear tomorrow. At least until I can send to the tailor for something.”

“We're the same size,” Bastièn said. “He can wear one of my shirts until I can get a few of his things from Maman's
.
I'll be going there first thing for the remainder of my belongings, anyway.”

René struggled to sit up, gritting his teeth. “I must go to work tomorrow. I'll need to borrow a cravat and vest as well.”

Josette sat in stunned silence for a moment. René, who'd quit most every job he'd ever held within a week of starting, was intent on going to his workplace so soon? She'd never seen him so dedicated to anything. “You will not. I don't see how anyone can object to your missing a few days while you heal. I'll send along a note to the shipping office in the morning. Now lie down and have a bit more laudanum while I see to Bastièn's cut.”

She worked on Bastièn amidst a flurry of curses and complaints that he'd have done a better job on himself while looking in the mirror. Bastièn's grumblings left René begging for a shot of rum in order to tolerate his brother's insufferable peevishness.

Once she'd finished tending to Bastièn's wounds, he stood and assisted René off the table, but not without a snide remark regarding René's complaints. Josette followed as Bastièn escorted laudanum-drugged René up the stairs, halting at the first bedroom they came to.

Bastièn cocked his head at Josette. “Unless you wish to observe while I rather crudely help René dispense with his trousers and drawers, I suggest you take to your own room.”

“Humph.” She opened the door for them. “Sleep well, René. It will aid you in healing faster.”

“
Merci
,” he mumbled.

Josette closed the door behind them. She leaned against the wall and waited for Bastièn. He'd refused the laudanum so he'd be alert enough for what she had to say. She let go an exhausted sigh.

In moments, he reappeared and walked beside her to his room. “This wasn't an accidental encounter,” he said. “I think those three men were after René. Or whichever one of us they stumbled upon first.”