your marriage to Henri Chartier a few months ago.”
In a dark, dank cell, with her brother’s chains rattling as he paced. Shoving aside the wrenching memory, Barbara proceeded carefully.
“The connection between us is tenuous at best and exists only through marriage. You may well choose not to acknowledge it.”
The older woman took her time replying. Really, she had the most unnerving stare. So intense and direct.
“You must tell me why would either of us wish to acknowledge this connection you speak of.”
The blunt question hit right at the heart of the matter. Both women knew there was only one reason an English lady would admit a tie, however slight, to an American commoner of mixed Indian and French blood. Barbara didn’t even try to deny her motives.
“When I learned of your marriage to my great-uncle, I also learned you inherited the fortune he amassed during his years in Louisiana Territory.”
“Yes, it occurs to me you must know of Henri’s fortune.”
The dry comment sent heat spearing in Barbara’s cheeks. She was more used to playing the role of smiling seducer than supplicant. It scratched her pride to sit here and all but beg.
“I make no bones about it,” she said flatly. “I find myself in desperate need of funds.”
“How much do you want?”
All of it.
Every shilling she’d inherited from her first husband.
The urge to lay the demand on the table rose in Barbara’s throat. Ruthlessly, she suppressed it. If she’d learned nothing else from Harry, it was to avoid overshooting her mark. The bishop’s document was her trump card. She’d play it only if necessary.
“I require five thousand pounds sterling.”
Louise Morgan didn’t so much as blink. She must have many times that amount in the bank to take the demand so calmly!
Relief coursed through Barbara. One of the most serious flaws in the wild scheme Harry had devised was a lack of knowledge as to how much of Henri Chartier’s supposed fortune remained, if any remained at all. Sallie Nicks’s offhand remarks had given Barbara some assurance. The fine furnishings in this house had provided more.
Now she knew without the slightest doubt this woman’s wealth was great indeed. Allowing none of her relief to show in her face, she was ready for the question she saw forming in the woman’s remarkable eyes.
“For what purpose do you require these funds?”
“To secure the release of my brother,” she answered. This time the truth served better than any lie. “He fell victim to a fraudulent scheme and was sent to prison.”
It didn’t matter that he’d devised the scheme himself. She waited, half expecting the older woman to refuse and thus force Barbara to play her trump card. Her answer was slow in coming and surprising.
“I know how it is to see someone you love thrown into prison. My husband—my second husband, Daniel—languished in the cabildo in New Orleans for months.”
The older woman’s glance drifted to the window.The deepening twilight outside must have been filled with images from her past, for the face she turned back to her guest held haunting shadows.
“I make a bargain with the devil to secure Daniel’s release.”
Barbara held the woman’s gaze. “I would do the same to secure my bother’s.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, “I can see you would.”
The moment stretched for an awkward length before Louise Morgan broke it.
“I must speak with my husband about this. And you must speak to Zachariah,” she added. “Tell him of your brother’s plight if you have not already done so and let him put his mind to this matter of unjust imprisonment.”
“I would prefer not to involve another lawyer in the matter. The last one cost me a pair of ruby ear-bobs and left my brother to rot in prison.”
The stiff reply won a smile from the older woman.
“I, too, have had sour dealings with lawyers. Why do you think Daniel and I send Zach East to read the law? He’s the only one we trust to
In a dark, dank cell, with her brother’s chains rattling as he paced. Shoving aside the wrenching memory, Barbara proceeded carefully.
“The connection between us is tenuous at best and exists only through marriage. You may well choose not to acknowledge it.”
The older woman took her time replying. Really, she had the most unnerving stare. So intense and direct.
“You must tell me why would either of us wish to acknowledge this connection you speak of.”
The blunt question hit right at the heart of the matter. Both women knew there was only one reason an English lady would admit a tie, however slight, to an American commoner of mixed Indian and French blood. Barbara didn’t even try to deny her motives.
“When I learned of your marriage to my great-uncle, I also learned you inherited the fortune he amassed during his years in Louisiana Territory.”
“Yes, it occurs to me you must know of Henri’s fortune.”
The dry comment sent heat spearing in Barbara’s cheeks. She was more used to playing the role of smiling seducer than supplicant. It scratched her pride to sit here and all but beg.
“I make no bones about it,” she said flatly. “I find myself in desperate need of funds.”
“How much do you want?”
All of it.
Every shilling she’d inherited from her first husband.
The urge to lay the demand on the table rose in Barbara’s throat. Ruthlessly, she suppressed it. If she’d learned nothing else from Harry, it was to avoid overshooting her mark. The bishop’s document was her trump card. She’d play it only if necessary.
“I require five thousand pounds sterling.”
Louise Morgan didn’t so much as blink. She must have many times that amount in the bank to take the demand so calmly!
Relief coursed through Barbara. One of the most serious flaws in the wild scheme Harry had devised was a lack of knowledge as to how much of Henri Chartier’s supposed fortune remained, if any remained at all. Sallie Nicks’s offhand remarks had given Barbara some assurance. The fine furnishings in this house had provided more.
Now she knew without the slightest doubt this woman’s wealth was great indeed. Allowing none of her relief to show in her face, she was ready for the question she saw forming in the woman’s remarkable eyes.
“For what purpose do you require these funds?”
“To secure the release of my brother,” she answered. This time the truth served better than any lie. “He fell victim to a fraudulent scheme and was sent to prison.”
It didn’t matter that he’d devised the scheme himself. She waited, half expecting the older woman to refuse and thus force Barbara to play her trump card. Her answer was slow in coming and surprising.
“I know how it is to see someone you love thrown into prison. My husband—my second husband, Daniel—languished in the cabildo in New Orleans for months.”
The older woman’s glance drifted to the window.The deepening twilight outside must have been filled with images from her past, for the face she turned back to her guest held haunting shadows.
“I make a bargain with the devil to secure Daniel’s release.”
Barbara held the woman’s gaze. “I would do the same to secure my bother’s.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, “I can see you would.”
The moment stretched for an awkward length before Louise Morgan broke it.
“I must speak with my husband about this. And you must speak to Zachariah,” she added. “Tell him of your brother’s plight if you have not already done so and let him put his mind to this matter of unjust imprisonment.”
“I would prefer not to involve another lawyer in the matter. The last one cost me a pair of ruby ear-bobs and left my brother to rot in prison.”
The stiff reply won a smile from the older woman.
“I, too, have had sour dealings with lawyers. Why do you think Daniel and I send Zach East to read the law? He’s the only one we trust to
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