Wronged (The Cuvier Widows Book 1) (2 page)

Notwithstanding Jean’s bigamies, he would
always be her children’s father and they loved him even if their
parent’s marriage had been dead for many years.

Her sister, Claire, walked into the entry
hall from the back of the house to greet her.

“Hello, I thought that might be you.” Her
eyes darkened to an even deeper shade of green. “I wondered where
you rushed off to. When I arrived the servants told me you’d gone
out”

Claire rattled on, never pausing, her brows
drawing together as she watched Marian. “What’s wrong? Are you
feeling unwell?”

Marian shook her head and walked into Jean’s
study. She went to the brandy bottle on the Pembroke table. With
trembling hands she poured herself a little brandy from the crystal
decanter into a glass. Her sister followed her, still prattling on
about nothing.

“Good Lord, now I really am worried about
you. What’s brought about you taking strong drink? You seldom touch
alcohol.”

“Where are Philip and Renee?” Marian
asked.

“They’re in their rooms. Philip is studying
and Renee is playing with her dolls.”

“Close the door. I’m not ready to tell them
just yet,” she said, her voice quivering.

Claire hurried over to the door of Jean’s
study, her skirts swishing as she walked across the oriental
carpet. When Marian heard the click of the door, she sank down into
the leather armchair behind Jean’s French Provincial desk.

“What’s wrong, Marian? What’s Jean done now?
Only he can make you this upset,” her sister said.

Marian shook her head. The news was still
hard to believe. “Jean is dead.”

The other woman gasped. “Oh my God! How?”

“This morning a clerk from the Chateau Hotel
knocked on the door and told me Jean needed me to come to the
hotel.” Marian sipped the brandy, the alcohol warming its way down
her throat, giving her a boost of strength.

“When I arrived the police were waiting for
me and immediately took me to his room. In the suite Jean lay on
the floor, dead.” She shuddered at the memory of his lifeless body.
“Policemen told me he’d been poisoned. They suspect that someone
killed him.”

“Somebody finally did him in.” Claire stood
and placed her arm around Marian’s shoulder giving her comfort. “Do
they suspect anyone?”

“That’s the worst part.” Marian laughed, but
tears gathered in the comers of her eyes. “They suspect Mrs.
Cuvier.”

“That’s ludicrous! You didn’t even know he
was in town. Did you?” she asked, her eyes growing wide.

“He was due home today,” Marian said, and
then dropped the social bomb that hung over their heads. “I’m not
the Mrs. Cuvier they suspect.”

Her sister’s face contracted quizzically,
clearly not understanding her. “I beg your pardon? What are you
saying?”

“There was yet another woman there who claims
she’s not his mistress. He married not one, but two women besides
me.”

Confusion then dawning realization crossed
her sister’s face as she grasped what Jean had done. “But...but
how? That’s against the law. It’s...it’s bigamy!”

Marian laughed, her voice sounding strained
in the dead man’s study. “Do you think Jean cared he was breaking
the law?”

“But two women? Good Lord, how did the man do
it and get away with so many wives without anyone knowing?”

“I don’t know. I doubt that we’ll ever
understand Jean’s rationale and right now I don’t want to feel any
sympathy for that man.” She took a deep breath. “I know 1 am the
jilted wife, but the woman accused of poisoning him is so young!
And neither woman had any idea about each other or me.”

She paused, glancing at the furnishings of
her dead husband’s study. Once, many years ago, she had loved Jean.
But something changed him, and in the end she’d only felt contempt
for the man she’d married.

“Do you think this woman killed him?” Claire
asked.

“I don’t know. Of the three, I may be the one
who wanted him out of my life the most. Though I could never have
divorced or killed the father of my children.” She drained the last
of the brandy, patted her sister’s hand. “Now I have to tell the
children. No matter how much of a bastard Jean could be, they loved
him.”

For a brief moment Marian and her sister
simply sat in the confines of Jean’s office, gazing around them at
the man’s possessions, contemplating the change his death would
bring.

Claire shook her head. “Bigamy. Even that’s
more than I expected from Jean.” She stood and gazed down at her
sister. “I’ll inform the servants that the house needs to be
prepared for mourning. Have you contacted the undertaker?”

“Yes. On my way home Edward stopped and I
made the arrangements. When the police release the body, he will
prepare it and bring it to the house.”

Claire shuddered. “Do we have to bring that
man back into this house? I’m afraid his ghost will somehow get
trapped here and he’ll bother us in death more than he did when he
lived.”

Marian shook her head. “He’s the children’s
father. We’ll show him respect.”

“I will, but you and I both know this is a
great day as far as I’m concerned,” she turned and walked out the
door leaving Marian alone.

Claire had the courage to say the words
Marian thought, but refused to acknowledge. Jean had been like a
jailer. The marriage she once regarded as a prison sentence
suddenly ended and like a prisoner released she was free. She
closed her eyes savoring her newfound freedom as a widow. She
couldn’t be happier.

***

Louis Fournet leaned against the wall in the
home of his business partner and watched Jean’s widow speak with
her guests. The
real
Mrs. Jean Cuvier wore a black gown that
set off her dark hair making it glisten against her pale skin. She
appeared the grieving widow, as she made her way through the throng
of people, nodding at their condolences, dabbing at her eyes
occasionally, and keeping her children close by her side.

Either the woman was an excellent actress or
she had indeed loved Jean. The newspapers were full of stories of
the two other Cuvier widows, yet wife number one had given old Jean
quite a lavish send off.

The mansion on Josephine Street was brimming
with guests as Louis glanced around wondering if any of the other
“wives” were in attendance. He observed Marian Cuvier as she walked
through the mourners, carrying herself in an almost aristocratic
manner, her head held high. The scandal had leapt from the front
page of the newspapers, shocking Louis with its implications for
the business. How could a man do to his wife and children what Jean
had done to Marian? Louis felt almost sorry for her.

However, that didn’t change his need to sell
Cuvier Shipping and with Jean out of the way, selling the business
should be an easy conclusion. He would find a buyer for the
business, push the paperwork through quickly and then present the
widow with the sale. Cuvier Shipping would make her a wealthy widow
who could escape the damaging scandal of her husband’s death.

“Excuse me,” a young woman said, drawing his
attention from the lovely Mrs. Cuvier.

“I do not believe we’ve met. Were you a
friend of Jean’s?”

The dark-haired older woman gazed at him with
questioning green eyes, and Louis was a little amazed at how
forward she seemed.

Louis smiled. “I’m Louis Fournet, Jean’s
business partner.”

“I am happy to meet you. Jean spent little
time here. We never had the opportunity to meet his business
associates.”

“Who did you say you were?” he
questioned.

“Excuse me. I should have introduced myself.
I’m Claire Bienvenu,” she said extending her hand. “Mrs. Cuvier’s
sister.”

Louis nodded. “Nice to meet you. I intend to
speak to Mrs. Cuvier before I leave. How is she?”

Claire smiled. “She’s holding up well.
Marian’s life has centered around her children for many years.”

Louis noticed the two children at Mrs.
Cuvier’s side. The boy looked to be about ten years old and the
girl at least six. For a moment he felt sad as he realized his own
son should have been close to the boy’s age by now.

He watched Marian reach down and pat her son
on the arm in a comforting gesture.

“Those are nice-looking children.”

“They’re the only decent thing Jean did in
his life,” she glanced at him quickly to check his reaction. “I’m
sorry, I’m not very good at hiding my feelings for my dead
brother-in-law.”

“That’s quite all right,” Louis said thinking
maybe he should stand here with this woman a little longer. The
more he learned about Marian Cuvier, the better he would understand
her.

“So tell me, Mrs. Bienvenu, do you know your
sister’s plans, now that Jean is gone? Has she said anything?” he
asked.

She smiled. “You’ll have to ask her about
that. I know she would want to meet you. Let me get her.”

Before he could respond, Claire walked toward
Mrs. Cuvier. He watched the woman approach Marian Cuvier and
whisper something in her ear. She glanced up, her eyes meeting his
across the room. Smoke-gray eyes, the color of the moss that hung
from the cypress trees, met and held his stare. He nodded in her
direction. No one would ever have questioned Jean’s taste when it
came to women.

Marian Cuvier represented the genteel woman
who lived a life of privilege. She made a beautiful widow,
stunning, in fact. Surely she would want to rid herself of Jean’s
business. However, her husband’s infidelities seriously threatened
her position in society and would keep her name in the paper in the
months to come.

Most men kept mistresses, but Jean had played
a dangerous game of marrying more than one woman at a time and
eventually the conquests had cost him his life. Current gossip said
one of the widows had killed Louis’s partner.

He watched Marian approach, both children
clinging to her waist, their eyes large with grief. She turned her
large gray eyes on him and he smiled. “Mr. Fournet, I am pleased to
make your acquaintance.”

“Mrs. Cuvier,” he said bowing over her
outstretched hand. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Jean was a
character that will be hard to replace.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fournet, I quite agree.”

He chuckled at the memory of the newspaper
articles fresh in his mind. “Sometime in the next week I’d like to
call on you to discuss the business.”

“What about the business, Mr. Fournet?
Everything is well, I presume?” she said, her eyes narrowing.

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to discuss
some options we have.”

She raised her brow. “The reading of the will
is tomorrow morning and I’m sure you’ll be present to hear Jean’s
bequests.”

“Yes, I’ll be there. Perhaps when I call on
you next week I could give you a brief report on the current status
of Cuvier Shipping,” he said, not wanting to mention the fact he
intended to sell the shipping company.

“That’s an excellent suggestion,” she
said.

He noted with interest the way her cool gray
eyes assessed him as if she were deciding if he was an adversary or
a foe. But then again, right now perhaps she felt that any man was
an enemy after Jean’s betrayal.

“Once again, let me offer my condolences to
you and your children on the loss of your husband,” he said, with a
polite nod.

“Then I will see you tomorrow,” she said, and
walked on through the crowd of people.

He watched her move away, her back straight,
her head held high, and the gentle swish of her skirts tempting.
Somehow the quiet temperate woman he imagined beneath that widow’s
garb appeared sharper than he anticipated. Yet she intrigued him as
she moved about the room. A quiet sense of strength seemed to
emanate from her.

Somehow he had expected a quiet mousy woman
who could easily be convinced that selling would be in her best
interest. Unless he’d misunderstood her, the widow was far more
than just a pretty face who had been easily deceived by her
husband.

Selling the business could take a little
longer than he estimated, but he would be getting rid of Cuvier
Shipping whether the lovely widow wanted to sell or not.

M
arian picked up her
skirts in one hand as she climbed the steps to the office of Drew
Soulier, her husband’s attorney. At the top of the steps, she put
her hand to her belly to quell the butterflies rioting in her
stomach. Shouldn’t a wife know the details of her husband’s
estate? Would she have known if she were about to become
penniless?

So far, government code seemed easier to
uncover than the family financial secrets. A thorough search
through Jean’s desk revealed only that the man organized nothing
and kept no detailed records of the family income at home.

The thought of experiencing another painful
truth regarding her husband this week would send her screaming into
the street

“Mrs. Cuvier!” someone yelled.

Marian turned at the sound of her name to see
a man she didn’t recognize running down the street toward her,
shouting her name.

“Mrs. Cuvier, wait! I want to ask you a few
questions!”

She stood, bewildered, on the steps of the
attorney’s office, unable to move, staring as the man ran closer
and closer. The smell of sandalwood tickled her nose and a sense of
being surrounded pervaded her.

Behind her, a deep masculine voice said, “I
think it would be a good idea if we went inside before that
reporter reaches us,” which penetrated the fog that seemed to have
enshrouded her these last few days.

She turned slightly and glanced up into eyes
the color of royalty, a deeper blue than the wisteria that bloomed
in springtime. They were so close and until this moment she never
realized how tall Louis Fournet stood.

Moving her hand from her waist, she gripped
her reticule and turned as he opened the door, bowing his dark
brown head toward her as he gestured for her to proceed.