Bennett disapproves.
Wringing her hands, she whirled from the mirror and nearly tripped over Napoleon. He yelped and scrambled beneath the dressing table. “Oh, mon petit.” Blinking back tears, she crouched. “Forgive me.”
The tiny dog rushed into her outstretched arms, and she swept him against her bosom, holding tight to the only living creature who would love her forever, without judgment.
“What are we to do but go forward, mon amour? Monsieur Bennett cannot disapprove if he does not know.”
God willing, he’d never see through the masquerade. Only Lucien Bouchard would gain from exposing her deception, and Lucien did not know where to find her. Madame Espallier had guaranteed silence in exchange for the last of Jo’s inheritance.
An inheritance Céline had purchased with her life, from a man so enraptured by her caramel skin and erudite manner that he killed her in a jealous rage.
A knock on the door lifted Jo to her feet. She smudged at the corners of her eyes.
“Josephine?” With a single word, Jenny’s musical voice soothed the raw edges of Jo’s spirit.
“Entrer.”
“Are you ready for supper?” The café au lait complexion, benevolent smile, and kind gaze that swept into the room with Jenny could have belonged to Maman. The Creole’s fingertips whispered against Jo’s cheek. “What causes you grief, ma chère?”
“I…” Jo grabbed the first suitable explanation she could find. “I stepped on Napoleon.”
Jenny’s brows rose in chastisement. “Were you underfoot again, little emperor?”
Pinning his ears flat against his skull, Napoleon squirmed. Jo’s heavy heart floated back into place, raising the corners of her lips. She kissed the top of her bodyguard’s head.
Jenny linked her arm with Jo’s. “You look exquisite.” She leaned close and whispered. “Bennett will trip over his tongue.”
****
Were Monsieur Bennett inclined to trip over his tongue, Jo wished he would hurry. Perhaps he’d break a leg in the fall.
Aside from a terse greeting and the requisite bow upon their introduction, he occupied his father’s throne at the head of the table like a usurper, barely speaking except to compliment a meal he called superb.
Though the crown roast of veal filled the room with a succulent aroma, Jo could not vouch for her betrothed’s assessment. The ponderous silence in the dining salon, coupled with Bennett’s frank scrutiny of her every move, tightened around her throat like a garrote.
Jenny’s meal sat untouched, as well, though her gaze never rose from the china plate. Even Napoleon, who planted himself on Jo’s slippered foot, seemed unnaturally subdued.
Only Amon’s presence—the surreptitious, encouraging glances he sent her every time Bennett looked away—kept Jo in her seat.
Lifting a piece of meat from his plate with his fingers, Amon patted his leg with his other hand. “Napoleon.”
Bennett snapped a level stare to his brother. “Do not feed that animal from the table.”
Unperturbed, Amon ferried the morsel out of sight. “Why not? This animal eats from it.” He cut another bite of veal.
“You haven’t in years.” The bland look on Bennett’s face didn’t change, but his tone acquired an edge. “What are you doing here now?”
“Eating.” Amon sliced a sidelong glance to his brother as he raised his fork. “You?” He jabbed the veal between his teeth.
Jo studied the standoff from behind the curtain of her lashes, resisting the urge to squirm. Whatever sculptor had chiseled the brothers’ features from a common block of marble neglected to breathe any softness into Bennett’s. She’d never seen a man’s expression under such rigid control. How could two siblings look so alike and be so utterly different?
Bennett returned his attention to her. “What arrangements have been made for the ceremony?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but words stalled in her dry throat.
“None.” A reassuring blue gaze captured Jo. Amon nodded to her wine goblet. “We didn’t want to bother Pa with details until he feels better.” White teeth glittered from a thin smile. “And we thought it might be impolite to arrange your life without your input.”
“Amon.”
Jenny’s warning hiss, the first word she’d uttered all evening, extended Amon’s arm in her direction. Without abandoning the staring match with his brother, Amon flattened his palm on the tablecloth.
Bennett rose, drawing himself to his full height before tossing his napkin onto his plate. A growl wound upward from the small body warming Jo’s toes.
The Collier heir aimed a sharp glance at the noise before addressing his brother. “I have business in Austin. The wedding will take place three weeks from today. Family only.” A hint of disquiet flickered across his face. “Father doesn’t need the excitement of a big affair.”