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“Ones who don’t believe the race is clever enough to do what we Moreaux do. That gives us a small advantage in the scheme of things.”
“Why do I get the impression that there may be more afoot here than finding the document and turning it over?”
“Because when my family encounters someone as arrogant and high-handed as Detective Welch, there always is. We’re like a nest of cottonmouths. Poke us and we strike.”
He understood the desire to get back at the Pinkerton, but he wanted no part in their revenge. Returning home was his main mission—that and not going to prison. The detective had mentioned Raven’s prison stint and he wanted to ask about it, but he doubted she’d be forthcoming about the details, so he set the questions aside. “So do you have a plan in mind?”
“Other than searching the house from top tobottom, no. We may come up with something more detailed when we get there and size things up. I assume if Welch had a plan she would’ve shared it. Then again, maybe not.”
“She seemed very focused on you.”
“She didn’t like my calling out her hypocrisy. People like her rarely do.”
“Okay, what about the little things?”
“Such as?”
“Your favorite dessert. A husband should know that about his wife.”
She paused as if thinking. “Pecan pie. Yours?”
“Apple crumble. Your favorite pastime?” he asked.
“Fishing.”
“Really?” That surprised him.
“Do people not fish in Boston?”
“Men do, but not many women in my circle do.”
“Moreaux love to fish. It’s fun and you get something to eat out of it as well.”
He found her accent enchanting. It wasn’t so much a drawl as a musically toned mix of the different nationalities of the city.
“What do you like to do?” she asked.
“Designing the patterns I make for my tailoring business because I enjoy the mathematics tied to it. I also like good books. During the winter months, it’s a good way to pass the time. Do you have a favorite book?”
She shook her head, looking as if she were uncomfortable, and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Inthat moment he sensed a vulnerability in her that caught him off guard. Admittedly, they’d met only a short while ago, so he knew next to nothing about her, but the question seemed to have touched something that lay hidden beneath the tart-tongued warrior queen persona. To his surprise, a part of him wanted to seek it out so he could soothe it. He decided to change the subject. “Have you lived in New Orleans your entire life?”
“Yes. My family goes back many generations.”
“Were your people slave or free before the war?”
“Both. My great-great-grandmother was enslaved by Spanish settlers. Some of her sons were freed, but her daughters weren’t. By the time one of her daughters, my grandmother Fanny, was freed at age fifteen, there were free Moreaux and enslaved Moreaux. Some owned slaves that were family members but freed them, until that became illegal. Others put profits above bloodline and sold their cousins like the other masters in their class. Louisiana is a complicated place when it comes to the race. I’m assuming your family was free?”
“On my mother’s side, yes. Her father, my grandfather, served with the English navy and settled in Boston after the Revolutionary War. My father, Harrison, was enslaved in Texas before escaping and making his way here. Hemet my mother while working on the Boston docks.” He didn’t know how she’d react so he didn’t share that his grandfather owned a fleet of merchant ships or that because of his family’s wealth, he’d grown up never knowing hunger or hard times. “Thank you for letting me know a bit more about you.”
“Same here, but let me state this now so there will be no misunderstandings later. I’ll be your wife in name only.”
“Meaning?”
“We’re both adults here, Steele.”
“True, so I need to know exactly what that means.”
“No intimacy of any kind.”
