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Authors: Emilie Richards
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certain surprises myself in the last few days,” Antoine said.
“Is Claire—?”
Antoine waved away the question. “Claire is fine, as fine as a woman can be with a husband who plays her for a fool.”
Lucien couldn’t think of a response. He fell short of perfection, but what man didn’t? He labored to provide all that a woman could desire. He performed his social obligations as a man of his standing was required to; in public and at home he displayed the good manners and breeding of his class. In what way had he harmed his wife?
“Do you know what I mean, Lucien?” Antoine asked.
Lucien glanced up at the sky. It was quickly growing darker. “Shall we discuss this under shelter?”
“I’ve taken the cottage nearest the dining room for the night. We can talk there.”
Lucien nodded. He knew better than to show either irritation or dread. Antoine might be fifty, he might appear frail to one who didn’t know him, but his appearance was deceptive. The reins of both his family and his business were tightly twisted around his spidery fingers. His slightest whim could effortlessly change the course of either.
Thunder boomed in the distance as they made their way along the track past the dining room to Antoine’s cottage. Krantz filled the doorway of the dining room and nodded as they passed. Lucien was cold and wet enough to wish for either coffee or some of Krantz’s excellent brandy, but he knew better than to stop.
The cottage, formerly a slave cabin, was simple, attractive in the summer, like all the others, with wisteria vines blanketing the gallery railing and beds of flowers scenting the air. Now, with the hotel nearly deserted and rain battering the shingled roof, the cottage looked as desolate as a much-sought-after belle when the last waltz of the ball has ended.
Both men took off their coats and shoes at the door. Someone had laid a fire in the fireplace, and Lucien went to stand in front of it. Antoine crossed to the table, where a decanter waited, and poured himself a drink. He didn’t offer one to Lucien.
“Rather a poor afternoon for a sail, wouldn’t you say?” Antoine asked, when his drink was half finished.
“It wasn’t bad when I left. Then the time got away from me. When I realized the weather was worsening, it was too late to do more than bare my head to the rain.”
“Did you consider stopping on the chénière to take shelter? I’m told the people there are quite hospitable.”
“I didn’t consider it. I knew Claire would be concerned if I didn’t come back tonight.”
“Quite the conscientious husband.” Antoine toasted him with the remainder of his drink.
“What’s this about, Antoine? I made the trip to Grand Isle at Claire’s request. I saw nothing wrong in going sailing this afternoon as a small compensation.”
“Small compensation?” Antoine laughed. “Oh, I think it was more than small, wasn’t it? From what I’ve been told, when you visit Grand Isle, your compensation is abundant.”
Lucien didn’t like the direction of the conversation. There were certain things all men did, but rarely discussed. That Antoine would come so dangerously close to mentioning his son-in-law’s mistress was unthinkable, the violation of a gentlemen’s code. Lucien didn’t know how Antoine had found out about Marcelite, but he didn’t see how Antoine could fault him for taking pleasure where he found it, not unless Claire was mistreated.
“All lives are made up of duty and occasional reward,”Lucien said, when the silence had stretched too thin. “Mine is no different.”
“No? And what happens when the reward becomes a duty, too?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s very simple, really.” Antoine poured himself another drink. “Suppose something from which you take great pleasure becomes a burden. What do you do?”
“That would depend on what it was.”
“Let’s make it simpler, then. Suppose a man has a woman whom he loves. The woman is
“Is Claire—?”
Antoine waved away the question. “Claire is fine, as fine as a woman can be with a husband who plays her for a fool.”
Lucien couldn’t think of a response. He fell short of perfection, but what man didn’t? He labored to provide all that a woman could desire. He performed his social obligations as a man of his standing was required to; in public and at home he displayed the good manners and breeding of his class. In what way had he harmed his wife?
“Do you know what I mean, Lucien?” Antoine asked.
Lucien glanced up at the sky. It was quickly growing darker. “Shall we discuss this under shelter?”
“I’ve taken the cottage nearest the dining room for the night. We can talk there.”
Lucien nodded. He knew better than to show either irritation or dread. Antoine might be fifty, he might appear frail to one who didn’t know him, but his appearance was deceptive. The reins of both his family and his business were tightly twisted around his spidery fingers. His slightest whim could effortlessly change the course of either.
Thunder boomed in the distance as they made their way along the track past the dining room to Antoine’s cottage. Krantz filled the doorway of the dining room and nodded as they passed. Lucien was cold and wet enough to wish for either coffee or some of Krantz’s excellent brandy, but he knew better than to stop.
The cottage, formerly a slave cabin, was simple, attractive in the summer, like all the others, with wisteria vines blanketing the gallery railing and beds of flowers scenting the air. Now, with the hotel nearly deserted and rain battering the shingled roof, the cottage looked as desolate as a much-sought-after belle when the last waltz of the ball has ended.
Both men took off their coats and shoes at the door. Someone had laid a fire in the fireplace, and Lucien went to stand in front of it. Antoine crossed to the table, where a decanter waited, and poured himself a drink. He didn’t offer one to Lucien.
“Rather a poor afternoon for a sail, wouldn’t you say?” Antoine asked, when his drink was half finished.
“It wasn’t bad when I left. Then the time got away from me. When I realized the weather was worsening, it was too late to do more than bare my head to the rain.”
“Did you consider stopping on the chénière to take shelter? I’m told the people there are quite hospitable.”
“I didn’t consider it. I knew Claire would be concerned if I didn’t come back tonight.”
“Quite the conscientious husband.” Antoine toasted him with the remainder of his drink.
“What’s this about, Antoine? I made the trip to Grand Isle at Claire’s request. I saw nothing wrong in going sailing this afternoon as a small compensation.”
“Small compensation?” Antoine laughed. “Oh, I think it was more than small, wasn’t it? From what I’ve been told, when you visit Grand Isle, your compensation is abundant.”
Lucien didn’t like the direction of the conversation. There were certain things all men did, but rarely discussed. That Antoine would come so dangerously close to mentioning his son-in-law’s mistress was unthinkable, the violation of a gentlemen’s code. Lucien didn’t know how Antoine had found out about Marcelite, but he didn’t see how Antoine could fault him for taking pleasure where he found it, not unless Claire was mistreated.
“All lives are made up of duty and occasional reward,”Lucien said, when the silence had stretched too thin. “Mine is no different.”
“No? And what happens when the reward becomes a duty, too?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s very simple, really.” Antoine poured himself another drink. “Suppose something from which you take great pleasure becomes a burden. What do you do?”
“That would depend on what it was.”
“Let’s make it simpler, then. Suppose a man has a woman whom he loves. The woman is
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