Page 124 of Frankly, My Dear

“But—” Etienne started to say.

“One more word out of you today and you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“But—” Selene protested.

“Or you either.”

“I can’t sit anyway,” she muttered under her breath.

James heard her. And despite the danger surrounding them, he grinned with masculine satisfaction.

God, she loved the brute. “Okay,” she agreed finally, wanting to help him in any way she could.

Hours later, Victor and the guardsmen had searched the house, sugar fields, outbuildings, and quarters, to no avail. They finally left, without Fleur, swearing to come back with tracking dogs.

With a loud exhale, James sat down next to Selene on the settee in the garçonnière parlor. His mother handed him a cup of strong Creole coffee.

“But I don’t understand, James. How can Victor track a free black woman?” Mrs. Baptiste asked.

“Atwood forged documents detailing Victor’s purchase of a slave named Fleur two years ago.”

“Then there is nothing to be done,” Mrs. Baptiste said with a shrug. “You must return the girl to Victor.”

“No!” Selene cried out, speaking up for the first time. “Fleur is pregnant, and Victor is going to kill her.”

Mrs. Baptiste raised an eyebrow in question at her vehemence. “And how do you know this, chérie?”

“I just do,” Selene said weakly, casting her eyes downward at James’s warning glare.

“I must tell you, mère, that I would return the will to Victor if I thought his perfidy would stop.” He turned to Selene. “I know you have the will. I demand you give it to me.”

“Fine, I’ll run upstairs and get it,” Selene replied.

“The will is not yours to relinquish, James,” Mrs. Baptiste snapped when Selene had left the room. “I have no objection to Selene handing the document over to you. But until I am dead, I do not want to hear of your giving up rights to what I earned.”

James lifted his hands in a begrudging gesture of acceptance. Then he turned to Selene, who had returned, taking the will from her hand. “I have no intention of returning Fleur. But I must get her off the plantation before Victor brings the dogs.”

“I was thinking, James…do you suppose Pierce would be willing to take Fleur with him?” Selene asked tentatively. “Maybe some family traveling on one of his wagon trains would need a girl to help them.”

James’s troubled face brightened. “Hmmm. That might work.”

Suddenly Selene thought of something else. “Victor sent dogs here once before with his overseer,” she reminded him, “and they didn’t do him any good then.”

“Ah, but he had no legal right to search then. The dogs were not let loose.”

Selene nodded with understanding.

But Mrs. Baptiste no longer listened. Instead, her attention honed in on her son’s hand now laced intimately with Selene’s on the couch.

“Do you plan to wed?” she blurted out to James.

He made a low, hooting sound of laughter at her bluntness. “Oui, I hope to.”

“And you, Selene? Are you sure you want this stubborn son of mine?”

“I’m sure,” Selene said, locking eyes with James. Her heart thrummed wildly at the love she saw reflected in the blue depths.

“I will send notice to Father Sebastian in St. Martinsville to begin announcing the banns this Sunday. Perhaps he can perform the ceremony here at Bayou Noir in, say, one month?” Mrs. Baptiste said, her fertile mind already making detailed plans.