Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) Read Online Free PDF Page B

now. You know that if she’s to take a place in society--you, as well, as we both know you’ve been avoiding it for years--it can only help that she is easy to look at.”
    “What, then, is the problem?” Pierre asked as he flagged the bartender.
    Jerome cleared his throat and tugged at his sleeve. “When I retrieved her at the dock, along with Bernadette, I noticed that her clothes were--a bit worn. Her shoes were scuffed and dirty, and--”
    “We’d just mentioned that she’d had a long trip. Couldn’t those things be attributed to that?”
    Jerome nodded at the bartender and took the bill, scanning it as he reached into his pocket. “I suppose that could be, yes, and I don’t imagine that she’d be wearing any finery on the steamboat.”
    Pierre nipped the bill from his cousin and shook his head. “This is on me.”
    “Pierre--” Jerome started and reached for the paper but Pierre moved his hand behind his back.
    “I appreciate your support, but I am not broke--yet--and you have done me a great service today. And thank you for that.”
    Jerome shook his head and leaned his elbows on the table. “Thank you, cousin. And while she might not have been wearing her finest on the trip, she brought only one bag with her. And it was very small.”
    Pierre looked up at Jerome as he set coins on top of the bill on the table. “Oh?”
    “Yes,” Jerome said as he stood and nodded toward the bartender. “She’d said that she had more trunks coming, but I don’t think I believe that.”
    Pierre stood and pulled his hands through is black, wavy hair. He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, shrugged it over his broad shoulders and tugged at his shirtsleeves. “I see. So you believe she is untruthful?”
    Jerome held his palms out and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to imply dishonest as much as possibly embarrassed. As yet, we know very little about her circumstances in coming here. Time was of the essence with your father returning shortly, and she did say that she spoke French and was aware of cultural expectations.”
    Pierre opened the door for his cousin, inhaling the crisp autumn air of New Orleans. He loved the plantation, but always enjoyed visiting the city and he looked up Bourbon Street at the bustle of activity.
    “I suppose she could have had someone else write the bit of French that was in her original letter.” Pierre turned and walked toward his hotel--the one he always stayed in when he had business in town that required more than one day.
    “I will say that I investigated that at my earliest opportunity. I could barely get a word in edgewise with Bernadette babbling as she does.”
    Pierre laughed. Bernadette had been a fixture in his life as long as he could remember, and truthfully felt more like family to him than servant. “I do understand that. And?”
    Pierre looked over at his cousin, patting Jerome on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. This is all a bit much for me to take in. Have we made a mistake? It isn’t too late to send her back where she came from, is it?”
    “Pierre, Pierre, you haven’t even met her yet. Please at least wait until you have. We’ll find out more, I’m sure, and we do have a little time as you’ve decided to wait until your father arrives to actually marry her.”
    “That seemed the most prudent approach, under the circumstances. After all, there is the inheritance and plantation to think of, and she is a perfect stranger.”
    “If it’s any consolation, she does speak French, and with an educated accent, I might add.”
    Pierre turned toward the hotel, taking care to walk more slowly. He let out a sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets. “All right, I’ll at least meet her. But you know that I will have very little time to spend with her. I won’t even be back on the plantation to meet her until tomorrow night.”
    “I think she may appreciate a night to rest from the trip, Pierre. Tomorrow is soon enough.”
    Pierre stopped and turned to