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  “Good. I’ll have Little Reba bring your plates out to the gazebo. It’s such a fine afternoon. You two can eat there.”

  LeVeq was watching Val with veiled amusement as if he knew the futility in swimming against the strong tide that was his mother. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” he told them. Picking up his tool belt and the ladder, he strode off.

  As he moved away, she couldn’t take her eyes off the way the thin sweat-dampened white shirt clung to his broad shoulders and the slope of his back. He walked as if he’d created the world himself. Each step left her so mesmerized, she didn’t hear what Julianna was saying.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The matriarch smiled knowingly. “The gazebo is this way.”

  Embarrassed at having been caught staring, Val followed her down another gravel pathway that led through large stands of red roses, dark pink hibiscus, and fragrant white gardenias. The combination of scents filled the still air with a lovely sweetness. A gazebo made of wrought iron and wood stood beneath the spreading branches of an ancient live oak dripping with its signature pale moss.

  “What a wonderful setting,” Val said, taking in the surroundings.

  “I’m glad you like it. Drake built this gazebo, too.”

  Val studied the structure and the intricate ironwork. “Who did the iron?”

  “Drake. He’s an architect, carpenter, and a smith. I doubt there’s anything he can’t design or build.”

  Val nodded, fascinated by the swirls and curls of the gazebo’s iron walls, but her immediate needs returned. “Might you know of a place where I can stay while I try and find a new classroom?”

  “You’re more than welcome to stay here, and I have a smaller carriage you may use to get around while you look. Can you drive?”

  “Yes.” Her intended, Cole, had taught her after her father had forbidden it.

  “All of my sons are close by, and I know they won’t mind escorting you on your search if they’re needed. In the meantime, if you wish to gain some income, I could employ you as my temporary assistant to handle errands and correspondence. I always have more work than I can handle alone.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I have interests in real estate, shipping, importing, exporting, and banking.”

  Val found that surprising. Back home, the few women business owners she knew only catered their services to other women as seamstresses, hairdressers, cooks, and laundresses. She’d never met any who moved in the so-called male circles of industry. “Are there other women here with similar interests?”

  “Of course. New Orleans has a long history of females in business. At one point during the early years, free women of color owned a considerable portion of the city’s real estate.” Julianna eyed her for a moment and asked in a serious tone, “What do you want from life, Valinda?”

  She’d never been asked that question before. The constraints of society assumed she’d live the life chosen by her father or husband. “To found a school and chart my own course.”

  “Does your intended want that for you as well?”

  “Yes. He’s probably the only man I know who does.”

  “Then you have made a wise choice.”

  Val thought she had, too, and it felt good knowing someone else agreed, because her father hadn’t. He’d wanted to marry her off to an older man with wealth and status, just as he’d done her sister, Caroline.

  Julianna said, “I’ll be in my study. Come see me when you finish eating and we can talk further about your potential duties.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Julianna smiled and left Val alone.

  Chapter Five

  After Julianna’s departure, Val took a seat on the leather pad covering the gazebo’s iron bench and drank in the scents and silence. Julianna was certainly a remarkable woman. Val thought the LeVeq matriarch and her grandmother Rose would get along famously should they ever meet. Rose made her living as a seamstress and hadn’t remarried after the death of Val’s grandfather. Every man who courted her seemed focused on controlling her money, she’d once told Val, so she’d charted her life alone, seasoning it with feistiness and dogged independence.

  And now, here her granddaughter sat awaiting her meal with Drake LeVeq. She’d never dined alone with a man outside of her family’s acquaintances. What would they talk about? Would she be able to mask her nervousness? More importantly, would she be able to remain aloof? Something told her that women came easily to him and she didn’t want to be viewed as a potential conquest. Yet and still, the prospect of being alone with him filled her with an odd sense of anticipation. She wanted to know more about him, which could be seen as unbecoming for one with an intended, and as the properly raised, straitlaced young woman her father so wished her to embrace and be. But she’d always been daring. Lying dormant inside herself was the young girl who’d enjoyed climbing trees, playing baseball, and who’d without a whimper accepted the whipping she’d gotten from her father in response to her three-day expulsion from Mrs. Brown’s School for Proper Girls of Color, for demanding she be taught science. She sensed being around Julianna was going to make that girl regain her wings and rise. What Drake LeVeq might give rise to, she didn’t know.

  Moments later, he arrived carrying a tray topped by covered silver dishes. His fresh shirt was pale blue. Two buttons at the neck were open exposing the strong lines of his throat. Realizing she was staring again, she quickly looked away.

  “Your food, mademoiselle.” His French accent was another weapon in his arsenal of things she found attractive. Declaring herself immune was a lie.

  “Thank you.”

  He set one of the covered plates in front of her, placed the rest on the other side table, and took his seat. Avoiding looking his way for the moment, she concentrated on unwrapping her tableware from inside the linen napkin.

  “Do you need anything else?” he asked.

  She removed the silver top from her plate and eyed the grits topped with shrimp, scrambled eggs, and toasted baguette slices. “No. I should be fine with what I have.”

  “Excellent.” His plate was piled high with chops, yams, collards, and bread. There was also a large bowl of gumbo and rice. He must’ve seen the wonder on her face because he said, “Roofing is hard work, and I’m still a growing boy.”

  Amused, she nodded.

  “Shall I say grace? Or would you care to do the honors?”

  She was so surprised, all she could say was, “No, go ahead, please.”

  He nodded, bowed his head, and whispered the words. He finished with, “Amen.”

  She echoed the word and tried not to show more wonder.

  He picked up his cutlery and began in on a chop. “Problem, cheri?”

  “I—wasn’t expecting you to say grace.”

  “No?” he asked with a hint of humor in his voice and dark eyes.

  She shook her head.

  “We were raised in the Catholic faith and grace is always recited before a meal. In fact, when we were little, my brothers and I would fight over the opportunity. Saying grace pleased our mother and we lived to please her. We still do.”

  Val forked up her grits and shrimp. It was a dish she’d never eaten before and it was so flavorful, she hummed with delight.

  His eyes shot to her.

  She froze in response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that aloud.”

  “There isn’t a man alive who doesn’t enjoy hearing a woman’s pleasure.”

  Heat flared inside her and she realized she had no business being alone with him.

  “Tell me about yourself, cheri. Where’s home?”

  Deciding that talking about herself was a far safer subject than her pleasure, she replied, “New York City.”

  “Siblings?”

  “One. An older sister named Caroline.”

  “Are you close?”

  “We were before she married two years ago. She lives in Philadelphia now, so I don’t see her as o
ften as I’d like. Her elderly husband doesn’t care for traveling.”

  He searched her face as if seeking the answer to something, and she wondered if he sensed the sorrow she felt watching her sister’s vibrant personality slowly dimmed by marriage to a man thirty years her senior. She took a sip of water from her glass as if it might wash away her sadness. “Tell me about you. What was it like growing up with so many brothers?”

  “Fun. Bruising at times because we fought constantly, and there were times when I wanted to bury one or more under this gazebo. But I wouldn’t trade them for all the pearls in the Orient.”

  She laughed lightly. “Caro and I had our moments, too. The day she told my parents I’d climbed to the top of the neighbor’s big maple tree, I wanted to bury her somewhere, too.”

  “You climbed trees?”

  She nodded. “My father was so furious he made me stay inside for a week.”

  “He was probably worried you’d fall.”

  “He was more worried about me being a rebellious hellion, as he called me. Proper, well-raised girls don’t climb trees, or kneel in the dirt shooting marbles, or play baseball, or all the other things I liked doing.”

  He’d stopped with his fork partway to his mouth.

  “Yes?” she asked, humor in her voice. “Have I shocked you?”

  “I think I’m in love.”

  “No, you aren’t. Eat your food.”

  “How good are you at marbles?”

  “Skilled enough that Cole and the other boys refused to let me play with them after a while.”

  “Cole?”

  “My intended.”

  “Ah.”

  Once again, he searched her face as if silently seeking answers. He turned his attention to the bowl of gumbo. “Tell me about him.”

  “My father works for his, so we’ve known each other our entire lives. He’s a newspaper editor. He and his business partner, Lenny, are in Paris hoping to get financial support to start their own paper.”

  “Is it a love match?”

  Val paused. It was now her turn to study him. She replied truthfully, “No, it isn’t. I take it you believe there is such a thing?”

  “I do. You?”

  “There are no love matches in my family or in the families of my acquaintances, so I err on the side of saying no.”

  “Raimond and Sable have one, as did my parents, as did our great-grandparents Dominic and Clare.” He added softly, “Love is real, cheri.”

  The passion he put into the words coupled with his accent were such a heady combination, if he professed the moon was made of ice cream she’d ask for a bowl and spoon. She eyed his full lips and remembered the gentleness of his fingers on her scraped cheek. Common sense urged her to get up and run from him like her slips were on fire because Drake LeVeq was dangerous in ways an engaged, untouched woman like herself couldn’t even imagine, but lord help her, she was drawn to him.

  “If you aren’t marrying for love, then why are you?”

  “To be free to live my life the way I want. Cole will allow me that, and I won’t have to be chained to a man I can’t abide.” Like her sister, she silently noted.

  “You don’t believe a man who loves you will offer you that same freedom?”

  “If marriage gives me the freedom I desire, why do I need love?”

  “For the companionship. Adoration. Bed games.”

  “Bed games?” she echoed doubtfully.

  From his amused manner she assumed he was talking about marital relations. The proper, well-raised Val would’ve shied away from such an improper discussion, but the girl her father called Hellion asked, “Are you speaking of marital relations?”

  “I am.”

  “Bed games are played with mistresses and women of the night, not wives.”

  He sat back, eyes shining. “Are you sure? A wife can be both mistress and wife.”

  Val decided she was in over her head with this conversation because his statement made no sense. “Do you have a mistress?”

  He nodded and said, “I do.”

  Why she found that disappointing wasn’t something she wanted to explore. After all, they meant nothing to each other. “If a wife can be a mistress, do you plan to marry her?”

  “No. She’d be appalled if I asked her to.” He paused for a moment before chuckling. “I see I’ll need to be on my toes debating you.”

  “I agree.”

  “Your confidence is intriguing. Were you not intended for another, I’d court you.”

  Her breath caught. “You’re very bold, Captain.”

  “I’m descended from pirates. Boldness is in my blood.”

  The warmth coursing through her veins had nothing to do with the New Orleans heat, and everything to do with the dazzling titan watching her so closely. Her ties to Cole notwithstanding, she wondered what it might be like to be courted by such a man.

  “If I set aside my boldness and ask very politely, may I call you Valinda?”

  “You may, yes.” That he was equal parts pirate and gentleman only added to his captivating allure.

  “Thank you. Please call me Drake.”

  “I will.”

  For a moment the potent silence between them made words unnecessary. The air seemed thicker, charged. Dragging her attention away from his eyes, Val returned to her meal, and missed the titan’s knowing smile.

  When they were done eating, he gathered the dishes and piled them on the tray with an efficiency that showed him no stranger to the task. “Besides talking with my mother, are you doing anything else today?”

  “I’d like to let my students know about the school closing, somehow.”

  “Do you have a plan in mind?”

  “I’m not sure. I know where a few are employed. If I can speak with them, I’m hoping they can spread the word for me.” She didn’t want her students to think she’d abandoned them or didn’t care enough to offer an explanation as to why classes were discontinued.

  “Where do they work?”

  “One is a pastry chef at the St. Louis Hotel. His name’s Eb Slayton. Dina Watson works for a cigar maker. I have the name of the shop on a paper in my bag.”

  “I’ve nothing pressing for the rest of the afternoon. I could drive you if you’d like? Mother’s coachman has the day off, so I’m sure she won’t mind us borrowing her carriage.”

  Val weighed the offer. Contacting her students was a priority, and truthfully, she was enjoying his company. “If she’s okay with delaying our conversation, I’d be grateful for your assistance.”

  “Then, let’s go speak with her.”

  After Val explained the situation, Julianna gave her approval. The pleased Val went up to her room to get the name of Dina’s cigar shop and joined Drake in the carriage for the drive to the Quarter.

  Riding alone with a man who wasn’t family was also new for Valinda and as they got underway, she tamped down her nervousness. Were you not intended for another, I’d court you. His declaration remained breathtaking, but she was convinced it had been nothing more than idle banter. Men didn’t court women like herself. As her father once railed after yet another suitor chose to not call on her again, she was too educated, independent, and opinionated. Her eyes swept over Drake’s large scarred hands handling the reins and his barn-broad shoulders. Beside him she felt like a Lilliputian from Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. She’d given him the name of the cigar shop they were bound for and learned he and his brothers patronized the establishment regularly.

  “Thank you for helping me with this.”

  “You’re welcome. How many students do you have?”

  “Fifteen. We only meet Mondays and Thursdays because those were the days most could find the time to attend. Tuesdays and Wednesdays I teach children at the convent.”

  “You enjoy teaching?”

  “I do.” That she couldn’t now left her sad and she sighed.

  He must have heard her because he looked over and asked, “What’s wrong?”


  “Things aren’t going the way I’d envisioned. Cole will be returning to America soon and my stay here will end. I don’t feel as if I’ve accomplished much.”

  “Can some of your students read that couldn’t before?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’ve accomplished a great deal. Being able to read will change their lives for the better.”

  His words soothed her unhappiness. “That’s kind of you to say. Thank you.”

  “It’s the truth, cheri. If you’ve only taught one person to read, that’s one more able to pass the skill along to their children and others. In your small way you’re lifting their future.”

  She appreciated that balm as well.

  “When you leave New Orleans, will you and Cole go back to New York?”

  “More than likely.” And she would resume her job at her grandmother’s dress shop, while searching for a place to teach.

  “Is New York a good place to live?”

  “If you have money, but where we are is cramped and crowded. The streets are fouled by sewage and refuse. The city fathers have been trying to clean up the area, but it’s been slow going.”

  “New Orleans was that way, too, until General Butler arrived with the Union troops and cleared out all the offal that made the streets so putrid. It was probably the only thing the people on the losing side of the war didn’t hate him for.”

  She’d read about the general in the New York papers and the infamous chamber pots sold in New Orleans that sported paintings of his face at the bottom of the bowl. “Has your family always lived here?”

  “My great-grandparents came to New Orleans after their island home off the coast of Cuba was destroyed by a hurricane.”

  “Were they free?”

  “He was. She was a slave. He stole her from her mistress during a sea voyage.”

  Val stared.

  He glanced over and chuckled at the look on her face. “He was a privateer.”