***

  Two days later, Max rode his horse into town to take care of some things and to mail his lawyer a letter regarding his son. He wanted to arrange a trust fund for Desiree with the stipulation that if she harassed Paul or came to Rosewood, the money would revert back to Max. Hopefully this money would be used to take care of her other children and convince her to leave him and his son alone.

  Max wanted to restrict her from coming out to Rosewood and making a scene. All she would accomplish would be to upset Paul and make him feel bad for leaving her if she got the chance.

  While in town, he wanted to run down to the parish tax office and check to make sure that the taxes on Rosewood had been paid. If Nicole owed money to the shop owners, it suddenly occurred to him she could owe taxes on the plantation.

  Life would be way too cruel for Max to come this far and then lose the plantation to back taxes. If they were paid, she need never know that he'd verified her payment history. But if they weren't, he'd take care of them today.

  After going to the post office, he pulled up his roan in front of the Iberville Parish Courthouse where the county records were kept. He threw his leg over the saddle and stepped to the ground. After tying his horse to a post he crossed the front lawn and hurried up the steps.

  Inside the courthouse, several windows that resembled bank tellers' stations occupied a corner of the room. As Max walked across the wooden floor, his boots rapped in a staccato rhythm. The sound echoed in the small room and several people standing around glanced at him; he smiled back and nodded in their direction.

  He walked up to the window.

  “How may I help you?” the man behind the counter asked.

  “I would like to verify that my wife has paid the taxes on our land and property.”

  “Where do you live, sir?”

  “I live at Rosewood Plantation,” he said. “My wife is Nicole Rosseau Viel.”

  A frown soon formed on the man's forehead. “Just a minute, sir. There's been a recent transaction, I know, but let me verify what the status is.”

  He hurried behind the counter to a big ledger that lay open on a desk in the back. As he flipped the pages, the little man put his spectacles on and ran his index finger down the page.

  “Oh, yes, here it is. Back on May twenty-sixth of this year, Miss Rosseau signed the deed over to a Miss Consuelo Salvador. We have since recorded a new deed to Miss Salvador.”

  What? Max felt as if someone had just slammed him into the ground. He couldn't have heard that correctly. “I'm sorry, I don't think I understood you. Could you repeat that information?”

  “Miss Rosseau signed the deed to Rosewood Plantation over to Miss Consuelo Salvador on May twenty-sixth of this year,” the man repeated.

  Max stared, stunned. Nicole no longer owned the plantation. Consuelo, her servant, now held the deed to Rosewood. Why? Could Nicole owe money to Consuelo? Could there be some complication to Jean's death that caused Nicole to give the plantation to Consuelo?

  Or since the date was a day before their wedding, could Nicole have signed over Rosewood to Consuelo to keep him from gaining control of the land that she so dearly loved?

  She'd outsmarted him plain and simple. She'd made sure that he would not gain control or even own a portion of Rosewood.

  Max felt ill. He'd married her for Rosewood and the day before the ceremony she'd given it all to Consuelo.

  “Sir...”

  Damn, how could this be happening!

  “Sir ... Are you all right, sir?”

  Jerked back to the present, he stared at the clerk who looked at him anxiously. “I'm all right. Have the taxes on the land been paid?”

  “Yes, sir, everything has been taken care of. Rosewood's new owner is current on her taxes,” the little man said, looking at him nervously.

  “Thank you,” Max said, walking out the door. He felt as if he could strangle the next person he saw. All this time, he thought that the plantation was his, when instead she'd given it to Consuelo.

  He fumed on the way home, wondering how could he speak to Nicole without alerting her to the fact that he'd married her for the plantation. Whatever he said, he needed to be careful or she would know immediately his reason for making her his wife. Nicole was not dimwitted by any means. If this action was an attempt to keep him from taking the plantation from her, it showed her total lack of trust in men and her obvious endeavor at protecting what she considered hers.

  He rode slowly back to Rosewood, needing time to collect his thoughts and cool his anger. At first he'd been completely stunned, and then he wanted to go back to Rosewood, pack his bags, and ride out, taking his son with him. But finally, on the last half of the ride home, his common sense began to prevail over his temper.

  Leaving now, when he was closer than ever to getting everything that he wanted, would be foolish. After all, Consuelo was his wife's trusted servant and Max had every intention of keeping his marriage to Nicole intact.

  There was still a chance he could get the land back. It might take a little longer, but he would overcome this obstacle just like he'd surmounted everything else to get Rosewood back for his family. He would win Nicole's trust and then she would get the plantation back from Consuelo and he'd still end up with the land.

  Max kicked his horse and hurried on to Rosewood.

  ***

  Nicole sat in the office, her head bent over the desk, her pencil scratching figures on a piece of paper. As he entered, she glanced up at him, her blue eyes widening at the sight of him, her mouth turning up in a smile.

  God, she looked beautiful, and behind that smile was a calculating woman with a head for business unlike anyone he'd ever met before. She'd outsmarted him plain and simple, and now he had to make her aware he knew—and see her reaction.

  “I've been doing some calculating on how much profit we could make off the crop this year. We may do all right, after all,” she said. “After I give you half, I should have enough left to plant next year's cane tubers.”

  She stopped when he didn't appear excited at her news. Her brows drew together in a frown. “What's wrong?” she asked. “Is Paul all right?”

  The fact she feared for his son left him with a warm feeling. He shook his head. “Nothing is wrong. I happened to be at the courthouse today and I thought I would check to make sure that the taxes on the plantation had been paid.”

  “Oh,” she said, gazing at him with interest. “I thought I asked you not to concern yourself with plantation business.”

  “You did, but I don't take orders very well. Though it appears I didn't need to worry about the taxes. Consuelo has already paid them for this year,” he said, watching the way her eyes grew wide as she realized he knew her name was no longer on the property title. She picked up her pencil and tapped it on the desk. “Yes, she's very thorough.”

  “Is there something you need to tell me?” he asked, unable to prevent the caustic tone from slipping out. “Such as why Consuelo's name is listed on the tax rolls and not yours?”

  “There's nothing special about it. We have a temporary business arrangement, similar to the agreement between you and me. The land is mine and eventually I'll have it back. But until that time, the plantation is in Consuelo's name.”

  Nicole gazed at him defiantly, her eyes daring him to say out loud that he knew the reason she'd put Consuelo's name on the property deed. But he wouldn't give her that satisfaction. Instead, he'd tackle it from another angle.

  Max leaned against the desk, his arms folded in front of him, and crossed his legs at the ankles. He took a deep breath and released it slowly to control his anger and make her wait just a little longer for his response.

  “Why did you want to know?” she questioned.

  “I was concerned that if you didn't own the land, it could affect my portion of the crop money.”

  She blinked in surprise and gazed at him with a quizzical expression on her face. “How could Consuelo owning the land possibly affect the crop?”

  “Well, if you don't own the land, you could be forced to pay a portion of your earnings to Consuelo. I just want to make sure I'm still going to receive half the payment for the crop.”

  The tension that previously held her body tightly seemed to dissipate and she relaxed. “Don't worry about Consuelo,” Nicole said. “This is just a temporary arrangement that has nothing to do with the crop. You'll receive your money,” she said, gazing up at him, scanning his face as if searching for any sign that she'd caught him in his lies.

  She had indeed signed over the land to Consuelo to keep him from getting the plantation. He reminded himself that he'd come this far and was so close to getting what he wanted; he couldn't ruin everything now with his temper. He took a deep breath and released it slowly.

  No one could say that Nicole Viel was an addle-brained twit; she knew exactly how she'd protected her land from him. Yet could he really blame her for her actions? Now Max felt even more compelled to make sure their marriage lasted.

  Somehow he had to up his side of the stakes and make them even; but how? What could he do to hang on to the plantation and ensure his place here? What besides convincing Nicole that their marriage could last would keep her from sending him away? What could possibly tie them together forever? The idea hit him and he couldn't help but smile at her.

  A baby. He needed to get Nicole with child.

  Max smiled at Nicole, remembering the night in the gazebo. He didn't mind a bit trying to impregnate Nicole. It would be downright fun.

  “As long as you and Consuelo are all right with this deal, then it won't bother me,” he said, suddenly feeling cheerful.

  He turned and walked through the plantation kitchen and then across the verandah into the main house. If he could get his wife pregnant, there'd be no question of his staying and no doubt that the land would be returned to Nicole and Max.

  Now the question would be how to breach Nicole's guard and tempt his wife back into his bed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nicole sat in her bedroom parlor. Her embroidery lay in her lap. She'd started this piece months ago and laid it down when she'd realized she was with child. Now once again she'd picked up the wall hanging, hoping to complete it before they held the harvest dance at their home.

  She'd met with Mrs. Reuss and they decided on a date that was less than a month away. Though it wasn't much time, the Thanksgiving holidays would soon be upon them and Nicole wanted the party held before Max left.

  Nicole pulled her needle through the linen cloth, the tiny stitches making a delicate pattern, her hands shaking at the thought of her husband.

  She took a deep breath and sighed. Max confused her in so many ways. When he'd found out about Rosewood she'd expected him to be angry, but instead he'd seemed more concerned about the money he anticipated making from the crop than not owning the land through marriage. Now, she didn't know what to think. By ensuring the plantation remained hers, could she have overreacted somehow? Could he truly not be interested in the land, but only in the crop? Yet how could she have risked the plantation she loved and how could she have known Max would be trustworthy when they'd very first married?

  Part of her wanted to give in to Max's suggestion that their marriage be real in every way, while another part refused to trust him with her heart. Jean's deception had scarred her and left her cautious, fearful of trusting any man completely ever again. Yet she could not deny that she cared about Max. A strong man, gentle and caring, he'd been good to her. So why couldn't she accept their marriage and embrace Max as her husband for the rest of their days?

  Because she still couldn't trust him.

  How could she learn to put her faith in an honest, upstanding man like Max, and give him her heart? After everything that Max had done for her, didn't he deserve to receive her faith?

  He knew the truth regarding the land and he hadn't seemed particularly bothered by the fact that Consuelo owned Rosewood. Maybe Consuelo was right, that Max was a good man, and maybe Nicole needed to put the past behind her and give him a chance.

  Consuelo walked into the parlor; her dark complexion seemed pallid.

  “Are you feeling all right, Consuelo?” Nicole asked, looking up at her. “You look pale today.”

  “It's nothing. I didn't sleep well last night. I'll be fine once I get a good night's rest.”

  “Why don't you lie down and rest this afternoon? Maybe you're coming down with something,” Nicole warned.

  “If I get a moment. Right now, there's a Mr. Drew Soulier here to see you. He came to the gentlemen's door, but he wants to speak with you. Do you want me to put him in the main parlor?”

  Nicole remembered the letter she'd written several weeks ago to Drew regarding the diary and knew that must be the reason for his visit.

  “Yes, please do, and if you don't mind, bring us some tea, Consuelo,” she said, rising and laying her stitching aside. She followed the older woman into the main parlor and then waited until Consuelo showed Drew in.

  Drew Soulier looked the same as she'd seen him at the reading of Jean's will, though his face appeared more drawn, with lines around his eyes that weren't there before. He wore a worried frown.

  “Mrs. Viel, how good to see you again,” he said, walking into the main parlor. “You're looking much happier than the last time we met I was pleasantly surprised when I read you'd remarried.”

  She smiled. “Yes. Shortly after Jean's death, I married Mr. Viel. Please have a seat.”

  Drew took a seat on a settee and Nicole sat down in a rocking chair close by. “So how is Layla's trial going? I read in the papers that you are her lawyer.”

  “Yes, I am. Unfortunately, the prosecution has quite a case against her,” he said, his brows drawing together in a frown. “It hasn't been easy.”

  “Do you think she killed Jean?” Nicole asked.

  “I don't know. I took this case to defend her and that's what I intend to do,” he said, his green eyes serious. “Your letter mentioned you'd found something of Jean's that I might want to see.”

  Nicole nodded. “Have you ever wondered if Jean married or was involved with more women than just the three of us? It's obvious the man was a womanizer, but what if there was a fourth woman? Or even a fifth?”

  “I'd say with that many women in his life, Jean should have died of natural causes,” Drew said. “Why? Do you have reason to believe there's another woman?”

  “I have a diary that indicates so,” Nicole said with a smile. “When Consuelo and I went through Jean's things, we found the journal. But who the woman is, I don't know. Someone ripped out the page that likely showed her name and there are no dates. In the diary she mentions a child she bore by Jean before he ended their affair.”

  Drew frowned. “He never mentioned another child to me. Of course, even as his lawyer, I'm learning things about Jean that shock me. Do you know the child's name?”

  “Julianne, but she died of yellow fever. There's nothing to indicate what happened to the woman. Her diary ends on a very ominous note, almost as if she were contemplating suicide.”

  “May I see this diary?” Drew asked.

  Nicole smiled. “Why don't you take it with you? You might find something that I missed. I only ask that when you find this mystery woman, please tell her she's not alone. That Jean hurt many women, including the three of us considered to be ‘The Cuvier Widows.'"

  “It may take me a while to find out who she is, but once I know, I'll be sure to tell you,” he said. “What other information did the diary give you?”

  “She met Jean when she was just a young debutante and he convinced her he would leave his wife and marry her. From her writings I gathered that she had an older brother who disliked Jean.”

  “Is his name in the diary?” Drew asked. “Maybe we can track her down through him.”

  “There were no surnames mentioned at all. Though she calls him by his first name, I can't remember what it was exactly. She mentions him on the last page. Let me get the diary for you.”

  “Here you go,” she said, handing him the journal and then returning to the rocker. “I've read the entire book and I think it helped me resolve some lingering feelings. For Jean to have so many women, it wouldn't have mattered what I did. I couldn't have prevented his roaming any more than any of his other wives, and I can't be held responsible for Jean's cheating.”

  “Of course you couldn't stop Jean. You were a victim, just like the other women, Mrs. Viel.” He took a deep breath. “Jean was my client and I never knew that he led this triple life. Frankly, I don't know how he could juggle so many wives, and I've seen the destruction his lies caused.”

  Drew took a deep breath and stood. “Thank you for writing and telling me about the journal. If you should find anything else, please let me know. Layla will hang if she's convicted and right now I'm not winning this trial.”

  “Just promise me that when you find out who the woman is that wrote this journal, you'll tell me. I think she needs to understand that she's not alone,” Nicole said.

  “I will. Thanks again, Mrs. Viel. I must get back to New Orleans today and be in court tomorrow. You still may be called as a witness.”

  “Of course. Good-bye, Mr. Soulier," she said, and walked him to the door on the men's side of the house.

  With a click, she closed the door and leaned against the portal, thinking of Layla. At first she'd hated the woman for killing her husband, but now she wondered if someone else could have murdered Jean. But who? Who could have wanted him dead?

  Marie came running into the men's parlor. “Mrs. Viel! Mrs. Viel! Come quickly, Consuelo has collapsed!”

  Nicole felt her heart skip a beat and then pound hard in her chest as she hurried after Marie into the kitchen out back. “What happened?”

  “I don't know. She was standing beside me making the tea you requested and then she made a moaning noise and fell to the floor,” the petite black lady said, wringing her hands.

 

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