Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) by Cindy Caldwell Read Free Book Online

Bernadette asked gently as she rested her hand on Josephine’s arm, its warmth welcome. But she couldn’t confide in Bernadette--she wasn’t supposed to know what she knew. That her marriage would never be a real one--Pierre would see to that--and that she was nothing but an adornment, an unwelcome necessity for an inheritance.
    She turned to Bernadette and patted her hand, grateful that even though this kind woman hadn’t told her the entire truth--maybe she’d been bound to secrecy, after all—she’d done her utmost to make Josephine feel welcome and comfortable, and for that she was grateful.
    “No, nothing’s wrong, Bernadette. Nothing more than the fact that I’m still learning and a little overwhelmed at everything. It’s all new to me.”
    “All new?” Bernadette asked, cocking her head to one side as she regarded Josephine.
    Her eyes flew open as she realized what she’d just said--that this was all new to her, when she was supposed to be familiar, at least, with the ways of society, the language and the culture.
    “Er, it’s so different than back East, where it would be snowing by now. Much warmer here. And very lovely,” she said as she looked away, back out toward the plantation as it disappeared behind them.
    “Ah. I imagine it is quite a change. The South is...well, the South. No place like it on Earth, I imagine. The great meeting place of all kinds.” Bernadette laughed as she wriggled back in her seat, and as the plantation completely disappeared and Josephine turned back to the inside of the buggy, she hid her smile behind her hand as Bernadette’s head fell to the side to the sound of slight snoring.
    Last night must have taken as much out of Bernadette as it had her. She picked up the blanket on the floorboards and folded it once more, sliding it gently behind Bernadette’s head. The housekeeper snuffled for a moment, then sighed and rested her head against the blanket with a smile, her snores continuing for the remainder of the ride.

Chapter Ten
    T he meeting with the bank hadn’t gone as well as Pierre anticipated, but not as poorly as it could have, either. He’d hoped that Mr. Garrison would have been a bit more understanding about the predicament the plantation was in and given him a little more time--but he was happy to have gotten the extension on his payments that he had.
    He shook hands with the banker he’d known most of his life and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Garrison. I will extend my gratitude for my father, as well, as I am sure he will be equally grateful for your understanding.”
    “I wish I could do more, Pierre. I am quite fond of your family--we French must stick together, you know, as our numbers here dwindle--but I’m afraid that is the best I can do. Please inform me when your father arrives. I look forward to seeing him.” The older man bowed slightly in Pierre’s direction and returned to the bank, his black suit tight on his robust frame.
    Pierre rubbed his eyes and turned toward the door, taking a deep breath as he stepped out in the mid-morning sunlight. His shiny, black boots and tan breeches contrasted with the banker’s attire, but he knew he’d be back on the plantation soon, and was anxious to walk among the fields again. Even a few short days in town made him long for the green fields and tall trees.
    He pulled his black hat on and turned toward the hotel he’d been in for the past two nights, ready to gather his things and head home.
    People of all kinds bustled on the busy street--New Orleans had long been the nexus of people from Africa, the North, Haiti, Spain and France--and the street was awash with color. In one glance, he saw people dressed in brightly colored African clothes, cotton clothing from the Caribbean, former slaves and free white men, and women of all classes, from ladies dressed like his mother once had--and the girls he was supposed to have married did--and plain working girls dressed in gray.
    As he glanced across the