Day Dreamer by Jill Marie Landis Read Free Book Online

Moreau told her curtly. Dismissing her, he turned to Edward. “See that she’s cleaned up and back here in a quarter of an hour.”
    “But, sir, it will take at least—”
    “Fifteen minutes, Edward. Call on Foster for help.” Taking command of everyone in the room, Henre turned to the twin nearest him. “Stephen, go get Cordero. I want him down here immediately. We have put this off long enough. I want to get to bed. And you, Father Perez,” he said, turning to the priest, “should gather up your Bible and candles and whatever ceremonial trinkets you need. While you are at it, you might want to brush the sugar off your cassock.”
    Father Perez stared down at the front of his black cassock. It was dusted with sugar and beignet crumbs. He left the room brushing furiously at them.
    “This way, Miss O’Hurley,” Edward said again.
    Celine refused to budge. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m
not
Miss O’Hurley.” She turned to the old man. “I came here to seek employment. If there is no hope of such, please tell me and I’ll gladly leave.”
    “You really are very good at this, you know. Quite convincing, my dear. Jemma, isn’t it? Your father warned me when I signed the marriage agreement that you were a consummate liar. I see he was right.”
    “Marriage?” She felt a swirl of panic. “But I’m
not
Jemma O’Hurley!”
    “Did you or did you not arrive in the O’Hurley carriage, delivered by the O’Hurley driver? And is that not Jemma O’Hurley’s trunk I saw in the hallway?”
    “I did, and it probably is, but I assure you, I’m not the girl who should be taking part in this marriage to some … some …”
    If Jemma O’Hurley was escaping marriage to this forbidding man, Celine was happy she’d helped her escape.
    “To my grandson, Cordero,” he said.
    Henre Moreau appeared sullen, reluctant even to utter the groom’s name. Celine was too panicked to feel relieved that this ogre was not trying to claim her as his own bride.
    “Take her, Edward, and dry her off or something.” He turned away, leaning heavily on the silver-handled cane, and limped slowly toward the windows.
    “Anton,” Henre said to the remaining twin, who had watched the scene in silence, “go see what is keeping Stephen. He may need help with Cordero.”
    Help with Cordero?
Could Miss O’Hurley’s intended be an imbecile? Was he insane or diminished in some way? What manner of man were they trying to wed to the angelic Jemma O’Hurley, a woman whose heart was set on becoming a nun?
    “Miss, this way,
please
.”
    The distress in Edward’s voice was unmistakable. Hoping that once out of the room she might find a way to escape and eager to get away from the older man’s icy stare, Celine obliged and followed Edward.
    He led her along the corridor to a comfortably appointed ladies’ parlor. A low, cheery fire lit to fight off the dampness burned in the fireplace, although the windows were open. She longed for nothing more than to collapse in one of the deep, upholstered chairs and sleep, but her mind was racing as fast as her pulse.
    Edward stood by expectantly. “Is there anything I can get from the trunk, miss? Your wedding gown? I can beg time and ’ave one of the women iron it. You’ll want to wear it for the ceremony.”
    “I’m
not
getting married.”
    “I’m afraid you are, miss, an’ if I might be so bold as to say it, Cordero ain’t all bad. Known him since the day he was born. It was Foster and I wot raised him ’fore we came to Louisiana. Given ’alf a chance, he could be as fine a gentleman as any—”
    “I don’t care what he’s like. I won’t be staying long enough to find out. I can’t go through with this.”
    “But you won’t have to stay here,” he said. A smile lit his face, erasing some of the worry lines. “We’re sailing for the West Indies by midday tomorrow, miss. You, Cordero, Foster and me.”
    Celine started to protest, and then the meaning behind his words