Free Gentleman's Trade by Holly Newman

and dancing in the streets. New Orleans has a music unlike any other city.”
    “Drums? You heard drums?” Paulette squealed, pulling on his arm.
    Hugh raised an eyebrow at her strange enthusiasm. “Just this morning,” he said, carefully studying her.
    “Vanessa, did you hear?” Paulette asked breathlessly as she did a little hop.
    “Heard what?” Charles asked, coming out the French doors and shutting them firmly behind him.
    “Oysters! There are fresh oysters in the marketplace!”
    A puzzled expression twisted Hugh’s brow. “I thought we were discussing drums.”
    Vanessa laughed. “Drums are played when a ship docks with a fresh load of oysters.”
    “Ah, I take it, Miss Chaumonde, you like oysters.”
    “Like is too mild a word,” grimaced her brother. “I need not ask what she would like for lunch, and have immediately reconciled myself to banishing the idea of a nice meal in a quiet cafe. I hope, Mr. Talverton, that your feet are not tired. Unless we are fortunate and find a vacant bench along the levee, we shall be standing as we eat.”
    Laughing, Vanessa hooked her arm in her brother-in-law’s and prodded him toward the market. “We shall eat until past sated, then wander through the market and enjoy a pleasant hour.”
    “After which I shall have to return to the office and try to concentrate on my legal work while you two will no doubt return home to nap before some social engagement this evening. You have me at a disadvantage, Vanessa.”
    “Hmm,” she replied mildly, “it is interesting how perceptions may vary. And here I thought you had me at a disadvantage. Father would have us all be frivolous creatures without a thought to call our own. I would gladly exchange places with you.” She sighed ruefully. “Sometimes I have the wild desire to disguise myself as a boy and seek employment as a clerk in Father’s offices.”
    “Mon Dieu! But I believe you are serious!”
    “Speak English, Charles,” intoned a saucy little voice behind them. Vanessa and Charles looked back to see Paulette and Hugh but a step or two behind them.
    “Baggage,” Charles said to his sister, who laughed delightedly.
    Vanessa quickly turned forward, for she felt another hot blush climb her neck. She hadn’t realized they had been walking quite so close to the other couple and hadn’t considered the possibility of being overheard.
    Behind her, Hugh Talverton grinned, then turned his attention once more to Paulette and her nonsensical chatter.
    Only a few white clouds scudded across the blue sky, chased by the spring breeze. The sky looked open and empty and the yellow sun hung like a pendant in the clear ether. The loneliness of the sky was in marked contrast to the color-crowded streets. Vanessa studied the people and the things they passed with new eyes, imagining how Mr. Talverton viewed her familiar surroundings. Was there an exotic quality here, something unique? People from all social levels swarmed the street, and Mr. Talverton was right. The sounds were almost musical but more than that, there was a sense of living theater.
    She had only faint memories of a life in a Virginia city before her family had come to New Orleans, but none of her memories held such vivid color or sound, it was more drab red brick and hushed scurrying. She was proud of New Orleans, proud because she loved it. It was like no other city on earth.
    As they crossed the Place d’Armes toward the marketplace, Vanessa became aware of knots of people, in all manner of dress, speaking volubly in different languages. Smiling Negresses milled through the crowds balancing baskets and cans on their heads, calling out the availability of gingerbread, milk, coffee, rice cakes, and flowers. Brilliantly bedecked quadroon women sauntered elegantly by with their parasols. Choctaw, Houma, and Natchez Indians sat squat-legged, wrapped in tattered blankets, trading for trinkets and strong spirits. Old cart wheels, improperly greased or not greased