Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) by Cindy Caldwell Page B

orange-flavored liquid and closed his eyes as it warmed his tongue. “I see no other option but for her to return to Massachusetts. I can give her enough money for a while to see her through.”
    “See her through what? Until she can find another job?”
    Pierre sat back down by the fire. “I can think of no other way. Keeping her here is not in her best interests, nor ours.”
    Jerome sipped his liqueur and paced behind the chairs. His eyebrows rose and he sat down beside Pierre, leaning toward him. “What if you taught her?”
    Pierre’s head snapped up and he scowled at Jerome. “What? That’s preposterous.”
    “No, it isn’t. Think about it. She’s here, and we have less than two weeks to produce a wife--or at least an option for a wife. No young lady in her right mind, even if she’s thrown herself at you, would entertain the idea at this point. A two-week courtship may as well be blasphemy.”
    Pierre chuckled. “You’re right about that. Even if I wanted that--which I don’t, because they would expect a real marriage--it’s not possible, either. So what, exactly, are you suggesting?”
    Clearing his throat, Jerome said, “I am here to help with the plantation needs. You could take the time before your father comes to help teach Josephine what she would need to know to make this all go away. She’d have a place to stay and you will get your inheritance.”
    Pierre tugged at his sleeve as he stared at the fire. “I suppose--if she’s willing--we could give it a try. If we’re not successful, we could still let her return to her previous life and avoid the embarrassment we’ve actually set her up for.”
    “Exactly,” Jerome said, setting his empty liqueur glass down on the table. “So, you’ll do it?”
    Pierre stood and set his glass down next to Jerome’s. “I’ll consider it--on one condition.”
    “Oh? And what is that,” Jerome said as he turned toward the door.
    “That we tell her the truth, and that she is willing--as we should have done from the beginning.”
    Jerome shook his head as he reached for the door latch. He opened the door and passed through. “I don’t know about that, my friend. Do you trust her? With all that information about the stakes involved here?”
    Pierre looked from his cousin to the fire. “You may be right. I’ll tell her what she needs to know, and decide later about the rest. She seems like a very kind girl, and I can’t in good conscience go forward without her knowledge and consent.”
    Jerome shook his head. “Always the nice one, aren’t you? I think it’s our only option, whether she knows it or not, and you’d be a fool not to take advantage of the opportunity. Besides, she’s pretty easy on the eyes.”
    Pierre frowned as he watched Jerome head up the stairs. His fists clenched as he thought about how cavalier Jerome sounded about the fate of another human being. Without doubt, Josephine was lovely, and had seemed very kind--and more than a little horrified--and certainly had put herself out to try to help him. As he stirred the last embers of the fire so that he could go to bed, he leaned against the mantle, his head resting on his arm.
    As the final red glow disappeared, he turned off the remaining lantern and crossed to the large window that looked out over the plantation. Several lights remained in the houses of the people who counted on him and the plantation for work, food and even friends. The plantation was mostly self-sustaining, and they’d even started a school for the children of the workers.
    Horses grazed under the full moon, their coats glistening in the shadows cast by the rustling branches of the willows.
    The Willows. The only home he’d ever known. He still couldn’t determine why they were not making a profit, but it was real, and he needed his inheritance--at minimum to buy him some time until he could find out what was wrong.
    He sighed and turned to go upstairs. It appeared that Josephine Depardieu was the only