Josette (3 page)

For a telltale second, she cast her eyes downward and a slight flush washed over her cheeks. “Please, call me Josette.” She took in a visible breath, and when she glanced back up, the façade she'd let slip was back in place. Elegantly so. “Madame LeBlanc is far too formal for what and whom we are discussing. I'll be most honest with you, sir. My sister tricked you.”

A jolt ran through him. “Tricked me?”

“Oui.”
Her incredible fathomless eyes seemed to peer into him once again. “She intended for a babe fathered by you to be her escape from the low life she lived along the bayou. In her frivolous youth, she thought to wipe out the social rejection she'd endured by bearing your child. Your family does have a reputation for being honorable.”

“How do I know Alexia is mine and this isn't just another trick?” As if some magnetic force pulled him to her, he took a step closer. A buzz ran through him. His gaze fell to her luscious mouth, and for a brief moment, his only thought was what those lips might taste like. He stepped back, confused at his strong physical reaction to her. What the devil had gotten into him? She'd been speaking of her sister, for God's sake.

Josette gave a soft laugh and extended her hand toward the dark blue velvet sofa. “Be seated,
s'il vous plaît
.” She sat in a chair several feet from him and smoothed the fabric of her gown. Humor danced in her eyes. “Would you care for some lemonade? You suddenly look . . .” She shrugged. “Somewhat parched.”

She knew damn well what he'd been thinking; it was written all over her face. And did the vixen intend to make him squirm? Well, she'd not play him for a fool. His gaze locked with hers. “If it pleases you, Madame.”

She lifted a brow and matched his half-smile with one of her own. “Indeed, it would. Please me, that is.” She called for Vivienne.

Before Cameron had time to think up a clever retort, Vivienne appeared with a tray, serving first him and then Josette before disappearing as silently as she had entered.
Thank God for interruptions.
His mouth was so dry, he forced himself to drink slowly and not guzzle the cool drink laced with mint. “If your sister was planning to trick me, mightn't you be as well?”

Josette sighed. “I suggest you pay a visit to Madame Olympée and consult with her. If you recall, she keeps a tight rein on her ladies. Solange, who called herself Sally when with you, went to Madame with an offer to become her virginal goddess, but only with you as a client. After Madame Olympée schooled my sister in how to take care of a man in the most sensuous of ways, Solange dispensed with any and all methods taught her to prevent a child from coming into the world. She then went about sweeping you off your feet. Unfortunately, my brothers found out—”

He raised a hand. “Please, that part I recall quite clearly. I still carry a scar on my leg from René's knife.” He should take his leave before his growing discomfort became apparent. “I'll speak with Madame this evening.”

“And if you decide to accept your daughter, what then, monsieur?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't know. She's quite the handful. Send her off to school somewhere, I would suspect.”

Josette's dark eyes grew even darker. “She'd only run away. Back to her
maman
.”

“
Maman?
I thought your sister was deceased.”

“I speak of my mother, monsieur. Alexia's grandmother.”

“
Merde
, the voodoo witch!”

“Please, Monsieur Andrews. She is my mother, after all.”

“Your pardon.” He leaned back and studied the woman before him. An ethereal scent floated around her whenever she shifted—something so enticing as to make him want to draw closer yet again, study her breathtaking beauty up close. Blast it all, what was he thinking? She was René's and Bastièn's sister, for God's sake. And her mother was Odalie. Some called the woman a witch while others referred to her as a healer. Whatever she was, he'd only laid eyes on her once, after the melee in Madame Olympée's. He hoped to never run into her again. There was something very dark and very wicked about her he'd never forgotten.

“Your mother raised Alexia? With Bastièn and René lurking about? No wonder the girl is the way she is.” He scowled. “Why didn't you try your hand at turning her out in a proper manner?”

Josette stood and began to pace, but even her strides appeared elegant and filled with grace. “I was barely Alexia's age when she was born, monsieur. I was as wild as she is today, if not more so.”

She paused in front of him, her scent captivating him once again. “What good was I to her? And after my sister died, Maman took fierce control of what was left of Solange—her babe. No one was allowed near Alexia those first few years but Maman. Now we have a problem, you and I, because Alexia is turning into a woman of exceptional beauty. But she is headed in a very bad direction if we do not intervene and help her change her course.”

He gave a tilt of his head. “We?”

She gave a slow nod. “She does not comprehend the exquisite beauty she is becoming. And her spunk and intelligence wreak havoc. I, alone, cannot handle her, nor can I shield her from Maman's or my brothers' influence. I am calling on you to act as her father and help her before it is too late.”

“Then I suggest a school. A far-away school. England has some wonderful institutions out in the middle of nowhere. I should know,” he muttered. “She won't find too many pockets to pick out there. Are you aware she picks pockets? There wasn't a sailor aboard ship who didn't have something or other go missing. She gave it all back at the end of the trip, laughing her fool head off, as if she'd pulled off the greatest feat since the Egyptians built the pyramids.”

He felt around his vest pocket. “Bloody hell! She stole my gold watch. Must have done that on our way over here.” He cursed again. “That's the second one I've lost to a pickpocket.”

“Today?”

“No. I had one stolen from me years ago. My father gave it to me when I turned fifteen. I had the one Alexia lifted off me made as an exact duplicate so he wouldn't know I'd been running wild and lost it. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

Josette broke into quiet laughter.

“You think this funny?”

“Your pardon. I'll see to retrieving it for you. It was your reaction that I find rather humorous, not Alexia's thieving. Your watch is likely intended for Maman. Alexia takes everything to her. It's deceitful and sinful, and something I want to break her of before it's too late.”

“Madame, it may already be too late.”

She turned to him, her lovely features suddenly a portrait of peace. “I was stealing at that age, monsieur,” she said softly. “And I reformed. It only takes the right man to steer Alexia onto a higher path. Though I married a good man, your daughter has not had a decent male around to act as a father. Now that you have discovered her, I would think you would take pride in seeing to her well-being and upbringing. Alexia is incredibly intelligent and learns very easily. She is not entirely uneducated, merely unrefined.”

Cameron snorted. “That's rather like throwing a coat of whitewash on a black horse and calling it an albino.”

Josette sat back down, this time very close. Something in her nearness set his nerves on edge. He wasn't quite sure he liked it—but his body did, blast it all. It wasn't right to be reacting to another's beauty, not when he'd once thought his wife the most beautiful woman in the world.

Josette tilted her head, and there was that discerning look again. “I would dearly like to know your thoughts, just then, monsieur
.
You seemed troubled for a moment.”

As if I would confess my indecent thoughts to you.
“Well, I am troubled. This is a disturbing predicament. Wouldn't you agree?”

“
Oui
, but I beg you. I cannot manage your daughter alone, and I am seeking your word that you will help me find a way to turn Alexia in a different direction. To force her, to send her off somewhere she doesn't wish to go, will only bring disaster. She has to want the finer things in life. She has to want to better herself. Right now, she idolizes Maman, the voodoo witch, as you call her, and that could prove perilous.”

“And where is our darling reprobate at this moment?”

Josette shrugged. “Likely going through my things. Either that or sitting quietly on the edge of my bed and watching your timepiece tick away. Whatever she's up to, you could pull all her teeth and she wouldn't give up your watch.” She laughed again, light and airy. “Oh, you scowl at that. Such an expression ruins your handsome face.”

He raked a hand through his hair. The last thing he needed to hear was that Josette Thibodeaux LeBlanc found him attractive. He was tired and aching, and he needed to announce himself at the company offices before the day was out. Lastly, he had inquiries to make at Madame Olympée's. He needed to hear what she had to say; there was little in this town that escaped her.

He stood. “I'll get back to you, but I must be on my way.”

Josette did the same and escorted him into the hallway. “Vivienne, will you fetch Alexia? It's time for her to take her leave.”

“Take her leave?” Bloody hell, she didn't expect him to take Alexia back with him! “She's to remain with you. I've arranged for Madame Charmontés to have a wardrobe sent over so she'll be well dressed and—”

“Take her with you, monsieur. Leave her here and within the hour, she'll only run off to Maman's and to bayou life.”

“And what's to keep her from running off if she's with me? She can pick a lock or a pocket in the blink of an eye, seems to make no difference to her. But you would know that.”

Josette lifted her chin and folded her hands in front of her. “Take her with you to your workplace. She's a bright girl and she might like it. She delights in new things. When she was above stairs greeting me, she told me she had a devil of a good time while on her voyage.”

Cameron stepped closer to Josette, her scent licking at his nostrils and sending a curl of excitement through him he didn't care for. Not at all. “And has she yet told you of her sail around Cape Horn, where the winds howl and water washes over the entire ship, so cold as to freeze a man's moustache right off? Did she tell you she was tied to her bed so as not to be washed out to sea?”

Josette paled. “
Non
. She did not tell me of such things. She only told me of her good experiences.”

A dawning took place in Cameron. “Tell me something, Madame LeBlanc. If you are so concerned about your niece, and if you try to keep her out of trouble, how did you react when she disappeared?”

Josette took a step back. Her lovely hand went to her breast. “She left a note.”

“Did she now?”

Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth and back again. And then over his shoulder, seeming to stare at nothing. “
Oui
. A note. She said she'd return once she found you.”

“I don't believe you.” He took another step closer. “Why do I have this sneaking suspicion that you did what you suggest I do—find something that interests her—such as locating her so-called father by sneaking aboard one of my ships? Did you pack her a lunch? Enough food so she wouldn't starve until the ship traveled into waters too far out to turn back?”

Her face flushed. “I . . . well, that's preposterous.”

Cameron tucked a curled finger under her chin and lifted. “Why, Madame LeBlanc. I do believe you have your own game to play. You'll understand my reluctance to participate?”

“Take her with you,” she whispered. “If you don't she'll just go off to Maman's and . . .” She stopped in midsentence, walked to the door, and opened it, her jaw set. “I have more pride than to beg, Monsieur Andrews. Good day.”

 

 

When Josette closed the door behind him, she peered through the beveled glass, watched his broad back and fine set of shoulders until he disappeared down the street. What was wrong with her? She should have told him about the letter she'd written to him that never got posted. Just because he'd stood close enough to surround her with his essence, setting every nerve in her body on edge, was no reason to act like the besotted fool she once was. A part of her still hated Cameron. No part of her loved him any longer—that young, passion-filled girl and her fanciful dreams had died a long time ago. Still, there was no denying how the sheer presence of this dark-haired, amber-eyed man unlocked something inside her that had been hidden away since Solange had stolen Josette's dreams.

She turned and made her way upstairs, trying to remind herself that guilt served no good purpose. She'd written the letter to Cameron out of desperation. She wasn't about to explain to him how Alexia had found it and hied off in pursuit of him. Let him believe what he wanted. What did she care?

Hearing Alexia and Vivienne in her cousin's room, Josette strolled in. “Alexia, change your clothing. I'm taking you to Maman's before you run off there on your own. And if you have on your person a gold timepiece you filched from your father's vest pocket, you had better hand it back to him the next time you see him.”

Alexia lifted her defiant nose in the air. “Why, I don't know what you be speakin' of.”

Their gazes locked for a long moment, and then before Josette left the room, she said, “You do not fool me,
pouchette
. I am your
tante
who knows you inside and out, and does not pretend otherwise, not like Maman. And don't you forget it.”