Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (25 page)

Dera's dress swished as she walked into the shop, and she found Anna posting the receipts from the day's business.

"I've ordered some new Parisian fabrics," she told Dera. "But there may be a problem if General O'Reilly cuts off our trade with France."

Dera rerolled a bolt of fabric. "That's Dominick's main concern about the Spanish takeover. He fears business will suffer if we're forced to go through other markets for our goods." Dera took note of Anna, who was becomingly dressed in a green frock. She no longer looked like a dowdy lady's maid but was always fashionably dressed. Almost immediately Anna had jumped at the idea of running the shop when Dominick had suggested it. She had taken the job of clerk away from Henri Toups, a small but powerfully built man who doubled as Dominick's driver; but Henri didn’t seem to mind. Within six months he had claimed Anna as his bride.

"That color brings out the glow on your face. Or has someone special put the blush on your cheeks?” Dera teased.

Anna's face reddened. "You know me too well. Henri and I can never thank you and Mr. Dominick enough for the small house he deeded to us for our wedding present. Henri has been making repairs on it all day and I must make him some dinner soon."

"The house was his parents and was sitting idle. I am the one who is grateful to you, Anna. Without you, I would have been lost that time in Ireland." Dera looked away, not wanting Anna to see the pain that still showed in her eyes whenever she thought about Quint.

Anna pressed her arm, reading her thoughts. "I understand. At first, I couldn't imagine why you loved Mr. Quint so much, but now after falling so in love with Henri, I do. Love does peculiar things to people and no one can say where his or her heart will lie."

Dera smiled. “Go find Henri. I can see you’re eager to be with him. I’ll finish up.”

Anna pecked her cheek in gratitude and went out into the late afternoon sunshine.

Dera finished straightening up and began to tally the day's sales. She enjoyed mental activity almost as much as she enjoyed doting on her family. In some respects her life hadn't altered since the days she had spent with Timothy.

She was immersed in totaling the figures and didn't hear Dominick enter the shop through the back.

"Anna is gone?" he inquired.

She looked up. "I told her to go home to Henri."

He came closer and stood behind her. "What are you doing, Dera?"

"The receipts. I told Anna I'd do them for her." She noticed a dark look crossed his face. "You're displeased?" she asked.

"We've been over this before. I don't approve of your working in the shop. Why do you think I hired Anna for the job?"

"Really, I enjoy helping," Dera said. She couldn't understand why he felt so strongly about this. When they married, he told her that her primary concern was to make a happy home for him and Paul, that the house was her domain. She had accepted the situation, but now she felt the whole arrangement was ridiculous when she was quite capable of looking after her family, home and the shop as well.

He removed the receipts from her and placed them in the top drawer of the counter. "I'll attend to this later. Rosette needs your help in the kitchen."

She indignantly placed her hands on her hips, but he put his arms around her, hoping to wilt her stiff stance. "I don't want to argue. Please do as I ask." He tilted her face to his and kissed her with controlled gentleness, so she would know he meant what he said.

She refused to return his kiss. Instead, she withdrew from his arms. "I still think you're being unreasonable." Then she went into the kitchen.

Dominick raised his wine glass in a toast. "To the two most beautiful ladies in New Orleans." He smiled a rich, warm smile at his wife and sister, hoping to make up for snapping at Rosette and berating Dera that morning. He loved them both and when one of them was hurt, he suffered their pain. He couldn't help but notice the difference between them. Rosette, in her blue gown had a beautiful, arresting countenance. Her full lips curved upwards at Dominick's toast in the awareness that he was apologizing, and she forgave him.

Dera, however, was another matter. She sat demurely, but her violet eyes darkened. She hadn't forgiven him. He was sorry for hurting her feelings, and he knew she was only trying to be helpful, but he didn't think it was appropriate for his wife to act as a clerk. Clearly she was being recalcitrant in her silence; he sighed and proceeded with his supper.

The meal had barely begun when the bell rang on the shop door. “Who the devil can that be?” Dominick voiced his annoyance.

“
I’ll see,” Dera volunteered, but Dominick rose instead and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"No, I'll attend to it." He left the room and Dera could distinguish the muffled sounds of Dominick's voice and that of another man. She stopped eating upon his return to the dining room. His face was ashen. "There's a soldier at the door. General O'Reilly requests my presence at the barracks for questioning."

"Oh, no!" Rosette's hands flew to her face.

"I'll go with you," Dera said. She stood up, and he shook his head.

"Stay here and wait for me. I doubt very much if I shall be long. After all, I haven't that much to add to whatever he already knows about the revolt. Jean Baptiste and the others have already given him whatever information that's needed. I will have Henri drive me."

He departed, and suddenly she was sorry for acting peevish. She sat down and toyed with the food on her plate.

"I'm frightened," Rosette said.

"Dominick will be fine. He'll be home soon." Dera tried to appear unconcerned but she was uneasy. She couldn't imagine why he should be summoned unless his involvement with the plotters had been discovered.

She and Rosette cleared the table and washed the dishes as a means of keeping busy. Afterwards, she went into Paul's room and sang an Irish lullaby to him. He curled up in his bed, complacent and innocent. She wanted things to be pleasant for him, but she knew that one day he would grow up and become aware of a world filled with violence, tragedy and suffering. The memory of Quint's face in Kilmainham Gaol rose up before her. Never again did she want to see such hatred reflected on anyone's face. She prayed her son would know only peace and love. She kissed his rosy cheek and went into the parlor and lit the candles.

Rosette was already there, staring into the darkness of the October evening outside the window. Her face was a mask; Dera had no idea what her thoughts were.

She settled herself on the couch and picked up her sewing, but her hands were clammy from fear, so she tossed it aside and also positioned herself near the window to wait for Dominick's return.

An hour later Dera and Rosette saw the carriage thundering up the Rue Royale. They rose at once. "It's Henri," Rosette said and rushed to the door.

Henri, breathless and shaken, ran into the small parlor. "You must come with me to the barracks. Dominick has been arrested and they will not let me see him."

"Mon Dieu,"
Rosette whispered in a low, shocked voice.

"What are the charges?" A sense of
déjà vu
rocked Dera as she remembered Quint’s arrest.

“
Conspiracy to commit treason, madame, but I have also learned that O’Reilly has signed the death warrants for five leaders of the revolt. You must come and speak for him."

Things were worse than Dera had feared. She never imagined the general would condemn the leaders to death, and since Dominick had been indirectly involved in stirring up the farmers, he, too, could be condemned. He was so proud, so gentle, that she doubted he would ever be able to survive a prison sentence, no matter how short. "Take me there, Henri."

"I'm going, too," Rosette said.

"But someone has to look after Paul."

"I shall get Anna," Henri offered.

Anna came at once, and Henri drove the two women to the barracks. They entered an anteroom and waited on wooden benches until an officer appeared.

"How may I help you?" he asked Dera.

"I should like to speak with General O'Reilly about my husband. I am Madame Saucier."

"Ah, yes. The general has retired for the night, however, his aide is available."

"Can he help me?"

"Colonel Flanders is highly respected. If anyone other than the general can assist you, it would be the colonel."

Dera waited while the officer announced her. Rosette nudged her elbow. "I want to go in with you.”

"It would be better, Rosette, if you wait here."

Rosette's eyes glinted. "I am Dominick's sister. I have the right."

"I'm his wife." Dera whispered so no one would hear the angry exchange of words between them.

"You don't look or act like a concerned wife. No one would guess your husband has just been arrested. Doesn't anything upset you?” Rosette said in a low, condemning voice.

Dera was indeed frightened for Dominick's safety, but she had learned to hide her emotions and hated for anyone to see how deeply she felt about things. "Rosette, do as I request."

Rosette folded her arms in a huff, knowing she had to obey Dera in Dominick's absence. She seethed inwardly because Dera treated her like a child and had no conception that she had grown up.

"Madame Saucier, the colonel will see you," the officer summoned her. She followed him into a tiny room, strewn with papers and books on the table tops. The officer left, and she saw another man, whom she presumed to be the colonel. He had his back to her and was sorting through some documents. His broad shoulders filled out the uniform of the regiment.

She cleared her throat. "Colonel Flanders, I am Madame Saucier. I've come about my husband."

At the sound of her voice, the man stood erect, his blond head shot up. Then slowly he turned to the side, his beard and mustache gleaming golden in the candlelight. He stood full face in front of her and her heart almost stopped.

She looked into eyes which were incredibly dark and familiar. To keep from falling, she grabbed the table for support.

"I don't believe it's you," she said, feeling horribly weak.

At first, he didn't reply. He, too, had never imagined he'd see her again, but now she stood before him, more beautiful then he remembered and looking fresh and pink despite the miserable heat. He pulled himself together. "I shouldn't be surprised by you at all, but I admit 'tis a shock to find you here in this God forsaken colony."

Dera's gaze met Quint's own, her pulse quickening in the same familiar way. "Did you change your name because of Avery's death?"

"Changing my name was a way to forget Ireland. . . and you."

Her skin prickled at the coolness of his tone. He motioned her to a chair while he lazily leaned against the desk and surveyed her in silence.

"Don't stare at me," she said, growing uncomfortable.

"You never minded it before this. I know what beauty lies beneath that fragile piece of silk you wear.”

"I'm married, Quint."

He laughed, not bothering to hide his amusement. "As I recall, you were married to someone else when you allowed me to sample the delights of your body."

"Dominick is different. He is nothing like Avery. But I'm not here to discuss my past. I was told you could help my husband." She looked at him with such earnestness that he realized she cared for the man.

"So, Saucier is your husband. I remembered him from his stay at Fairfax Manor, but I never thought you would marry him." He turned and picked up a document. "The general has already signed the arrest warrant. Your husband has admitted his part in the revolt last year and quite proud of himself he is, too."

"Not unlike yourself," Dera interjected.

"Aye, I know the feeling and can appreciate his zeal. However, he's a fool as are the others who were involved."

"How dare you say such a thing, you who are filled with bitterness!" Hot fury stained her cheeks.

Quint sighed in exasperation. "You still don't understand, but 'tis no longer a concern of mine. Your valiant husband wouldn't have accomplished anything of lasting value. France had already relinquished claim to Louisiana and had no intention of reclaiming it. The expense was too much. I do believe your husband’s intentions were honorable, but I question the motives of the others involved. They cared naught for honor, but only for the opportunity to continue their underhanded practices in making money. Even now, one or two of them declare their allegiance to the Spanish crown to escape execution. Not everyone is as noble as your husband. To prove his point, he has even refused to take the oath."