Free Josette by Kathleen Bittner Roth Page A

rug, and the table, then grabbed his jacket, cravat, and vest. On second thought, he tossed them back down. The hell with it. He didn’t need them where he was headed.

Chapter Six
    Josette sat in a parlor chair opposite her brother, wishing he would call it a night. Using a long-handled spoon, she went about the mindless task of crushing mint leaves and slices of lime in the bottom of her glass, muddling the juices with the iced, dark liquid. She breathed in the heady scent, then took a sip. “This had better be my last one or I’ll never make it up the stairs. I’m already a bit light-headed.”
    A slow smile curled a corner of René’s mouth. “I should like to witness you having to crawl up the steps as a result of enjoying yourself. You lead far too dull a life.”
    She ignored his comment and took another sip. “There’s something different about the taste from what you’ve made in the past.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    â€œThis has—oh, I don’t know—there’s a subtle elegance to it, if one can describe liquor in such a manner. In any case, it goes down far too easily.”
    â€œIt’s Gosling Brothers rum making all the difference.” A cut-glass decanter sat nearly empty on a low table between them, along with a carafe of the iced concoction. Rivulets sweated down the outside of the latter, disappearing into a folded cloth beneath it. “A supply arrived from Bermuda just yesterday.”
    â€œBermuda? Why all that way when plenty of rum is brewed right here in America?”
    He took a long swallow. “Ah, but this happens to be the finest in the world. Even you notice its superior quality. We couldn’t get any here until now.”
    Lifting his glass to the lit chandelier, he studied the rich, dark liquid. “And since you keep a nice supply of ice buried under a pile of straw in that hutch out back, I thought you might appreciate a sampling of the very best, oui ?”
    She barely managed a half-smile. “So you gifted me with this fine brew for your benefit as well as mine?”
    René chuckled, but then he tilted his head and grew serious. “What be the matter, chére ? You’re off somewhere in your own world tonight.”
    She fought a heavy sigh. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m merely fatigued. I had a rather taxing day after I left Maman’s. I was also concerned you wouldn’t keep your word. Thank you for returning Alexia to me.”
    â€œHave I ever not kept my word?” He made a clicking sound with his tongue. “You should know better.”
    â€œYour pardon.” She didn’t dare let on that Émile Vennard had paid her a visit. Why in the world would that louse want to purchase her shop and run her out of business? What would he want of her after that—her home? Ask her to leave town? She’d been through this before with him, knew what was coming next if she refused his offer. At first, there would be veiled threats indicating Bastièn and René might meet with a series of unfortunate accidents. If she still said no, then her brothers would eventually lose their lives altogether.
    The man was a formidable presence in New Orleans, with more clout than any ten men. She’d sold her husband’s holdings to him after Bastièn took a mysterious beating in an alley, and a runaway horse nearly trampled René to death. Both had taken weeks to heal. But what would she do without her business? It was the only thing she cared about in her sorry life besides Alexia—and one way or another, her niece would soon be gone—to Maman or with her father. Much as Josette would like to, there was no holding on to Alexia forever.
    â€œYou’re biting your lip, Josette. What’s the matter?” René’s voice had grown cold and his words fell hard on her ears. “Are you concerned now that Alexia’s father has returned to