“I’m sorry to hear that.” She felt an unwelcome sympathy for Ashley. “I have a friend who works in recruiting. She’s in New Orleans.”
Gabriel smiled faintly. “I can talk to my sister, but I won’t hold out hope. She doesn’t exactly have a lot of what I would call marketable skills. She’s really more used to looking nice and judging people. As you can see, she’s quite good at drinking. That’s about the sum of her qualifications. But I thank you for trying. And Sylvie, if my sister warned you about Charles, that’s the one thing you should listen to her about. Charles will do anything to get what he wants. And I fear that includes hurting you.”
“He can try,” Sera said under her breath.
“I have no doubt he will,” Gabriel replied before nodding to someone behind her. “Congratulations, Rene. I was just telling Sylvie here that your marriage is going to shake things up.”
Rene’s hand found her waist and he moved in close to her. “In a good way, I hope. I know it’s going to be good for me.”
Gabriel nodded. “I’m sure it is. Good night, Sylvie. It’s nice to see you again. I think I’ll take my sister home.”
He walked off, his keys in his hand.
“Rene . . .” Sera began and there was a righteous look in her eyes.
But they didn’t need more drama. Sylvie turned to her new husband. “Are you done with the family stuff for the evening? Because it would be nice to dance with my husband.”
“I’m all yours. I promise. No more family for the night. At least not my family,” he swore. He took her hand in his and led her to the dance floor.
But she could feel all eyes on her. She might have put off the drama, but it was far from over.
* * *
* * *
Hours later, Rene poured two glasses of bourbon and wished he’d done what he’d wanted to do in the first place. He’d wanted to tell Sylvie to screw it all and hop on a plane to Hawaii and not come back for a few weeks.
He’d thought about handing everything over to Charles and letting him deal with the vultures for once while he strode away with his wife.
He could build something wonderful for Sylvie. They could let Charles have the old place and make something new and fresh. Whatever she wanted. They could live wherever she wanted. He didn’t have to work another day of his life.
But the very reasons that made Sylvie Martine his perfect wife would keep her from running away from the problem.
“I’m sorry I had to deal with them this evening. After Charles showed up at the courthouse this morning, I should have expected they would descend on Papillon.” He passed her a glass. She was still in the dress she’d worn this morning but she’d kicked her shoes off the minute they’d hit the library. She’d sunk down onto the sofa his grandmother claimed had come over from France after World War I and put her feet up. Like most of Darois House, the furniture had a history. Every room had some story of the ancestors he was supposed to live up to. He couldn’t walk on a damn carpet without remembering a lecture about how his grandfather had done such and such great thing so it could be in this house.
But she looked right sitting there, like she’d always belonged there, like that soft, sweet woman was what had been missing from this fussy room all his life.
“They seemed like a lot to deal with.” She took the glass and examined the liquid for a moment before bringing it to her nose and taking a whiff. “This smells delicious.”
He’d been surprised when she’d asked for bourbon. He’d always seen her drink wine. Apparently his family had driven her to the harder stuff. “It’s a ten-year aged in charred American white oak. It’s not the most expensive, but I love the flavor.”
Bourbon was something he appreciated. Not too much, of course. He didn’t overindulge, but it was a comfort at the end of a long day.
She would be a comfort to come home to.
“Sometimes it’s not about the cost. It’s about what you love,” she said, taking a sip. “Ah, there’s the burn. I know it’s weird, but I like that little burn you get.”
He sat down across from her and took a sip of his own. “I usually have a drink down here in the evenings. You should join me. I would like the company. And I truly am sorry about tonight. I didn’t want to get you dragged into that mess.”
He’d tried to avoid it. He’d sent her off with her friends rather than keeping her close where she could hear the never-ending battering of his relatives. He’d done what he always did when he was at a family function. He’d left his mother with someone who would be kind to her. In this case, it had been Marcelle and Delphine, and Lisa Guidry had taken care of all them, helping his mother to the buffet and getting her a glass of sherry to sip. His mother had a wonderful time.