Free Creole Fires by Kat Martin

Endicott’s brother-in-law. He had fallen ill two months ago, so Clarissa had been staying with her sister, Margaret, in New York to await his recovery.
    “Besides,” she finished, rolling her pale-blue eyes, “Margaret can be such a trial.” Tendrils of pale blond hair that escaped from smooth, carefully coiffed coils on each side of her face floated with the shake of her head. “I couldn’t wait to get home.”
    “It’s good to have you back,” Alex said dutifully, and Clarissa smiled. She was a tall woman, finebonedand sparsely built. She was pretty, in a straightforward sort of way.
    Though she was English by birth, her family had arrived in Louisiana when she was a child. The Endicotts owned Elmtree, one of the larger neighboring sugar plantations. But they had made the majority of their fortune in the engraving business. Endicott and Company printed individual currency for most of the southern states, each with its own monetary value and differing rates of exchange.
    Clarissa stepped back to look at Alex, noting the lines of fatigue beside his eyes, the tiredness no amount of pretense could hide.
    “Still working late, I see.” Her words rang with concern, but also a note of approval. The Endicotts believed in hard work. They’d built a dynasty over the years; Clarissa intended to see it grow and prosper.
    “I meant to get in a little earlier, but with Fortier’s note coming due, we’re under a great deal of pressure.” He never minced words with her. As the woman he would marry, she expected the truth and gave nothing less herself. It was part of their arrangement.
    A servant appeared carrying two crystal snifters of brandy and a stemmed glass of sherry on a silver tray. Each of them picked up a glass, and they seated themselves in front of the marble-manteled fireplace, which with summer coming on was brightened by a spray of purple wisteria instead of a fire.
    “It doesn’t really seem fair,” Thomas said. “François let the place run down so badly you’ve got to work fourteen hours a day just to get it back in shape.”
    Alex sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It really wasn’t his fault. My father knew my brother’s capabilities. François has never been interested in the family businesses. Father expected too much of him.”
    “As I understand it,” Clarissa said in that no-nonsense way of hers, “your father needed you to manage his affairs in France, which left him very little choice.”
    “Yes,” Alex agreed, “I suppose that’s true.”
    “François is a self-indulgent, spoiled little boy,” she said. “You’re better off without him.”
    Alex forced back a denial. Though what she said was true, it was not her place to say so. Compassion wasn’t one of Clarissa’s virtues. “He’s having some problems right now. He’ll settle down.”
    “He’d better,” she said. “After we’re married, Belle Chêne and Elmtree will be one. I certainly don’t expect him to be squandering Elmtree money the way he does yours.”
    A muscle bunched in Alex’s jaw. Marriage to Clarissa wasn’t going to be easy. But the advantages, at least as far as Belle Chêne and the du Villiers were concerned, far outweighed the obstacles.
    “François is my responsibility, Clarissa, not yours.” As his wife, Clarissa would have her say in family matters, that much was only fair, but the final decisions would be his. He had made that clear before they’d decided to marry. He was certain it wouldn’t be the last time he would have to make his point.
    Clarissa seemed to be weighing her next words. “You’re right, darling, of course. And speaking of responsibilities, that’s one of the things I wanted to discuss. Thomas, I’m glad you’re here. I want all of thisspelled out in detail; everything’s to be completely legal.”
    Alex arched a brow, but didn’t speak. Clarissa was an intelligent woman. Whatever she had in mind would probably benefit both of them.

5

    While Nicole waited