Evan nodded, without missing the warning in his brother’s voice. Apollo had fulfilled his end of the deal, finding the proof Evan needed to get the Braeburn out of his father’s hands. Evan would, in return, assist his brother in claiming his place as the heir to the dukedom of Annan.
“I’ll be ready.”
Three
Paris was a long way from Hispaniola, Luz mused as she took in the lively scene at Le Grand Véfour. Antonio, a cousin of Aurora’s who had been living in Paris for a few years, had brought them there, claiming it was the place to see and be seen. And there certainly was lots to see; at almost midnight the place was bustling with people.
Luz sank into the red velvet banquette as she took in the scene. The expansive dining room was flanked with rows of round tables, filled with diners all dressed in the latest fashions. The walls were embellished with elaborate white molding, done in the wedding-cake style. Paintings of Bourgogne landscapes displayed on baroque gold frames lined the walls. That, paired with the mouthwatering aroma of butter and garlic wafting from the sizzling platters the servers carried around the room, made for a true feast for the senses. It was Paris, after all, and here absolutely nothing was considered too much when it came to indulgence. This was not a place for those pursuing moderation, and after the year she’d had and the travails she was sure awaited her, Luz would partake as much as she could.
“We have champagne.” Manuela’s delighted voice pulled Luz from her reverie and back to her friends. “I do love these chaperone-free adventures,” her friend announced happily.
“Amaranta’s going to stop letting you do whatever you please one of these days, Manu.” Aurora was the most reluctant of the group when it came to mischief—at least the kind that didn’t involve more political causes. Still, she took the glass of champagne Manuela handed her and gulped it down thirstily.
“Never. She wants us to enjoy ourselves!” Manuela asserted, and though their cousin Amaranta was quite lenient as a chaperone, these evening adventures were certainly pushing her boundaries.
Luz just shook her head at her beautiful friend. For the evening, Manuela had selected an emerald green gown which enhanced all her best attributes. The fabric had been selected for her by Charles Frederick Worth himself, and the jewel color contrasted against Manu’s deeply brown skin was stunning. Her friend could be fanciful and a bit naive when it came to the people she cared for, but she knew the power of her beauty, and she wielded it with ruthless precision. Tonight Manuela was out for blood.
The plan was to dine first and then walk to Le Bureau, the most notorious—and luxurious—brothel in Paris for what was being billed as aspecial programin honor of the exposition. Amaranta, as lenient as she was, would never approve of evenings at brothels. Which was why Manuela suggested they curate the report of their intended entertainments for the night. According to her, what Amaranta did not know would not hurt her. Luz tended to agree and had happily smiled and nodded along when Manu informed Amaranta that after dinner they’d take in a performance of Jules Massenet’sEsclarmondeat the Théâtre Lyrique.
In truth, Le Bureau was of interest to Luz not for its scandalous reputation but because it was owned and operated by Sédar and Seynabou Cisse-Kelly, a pair of Irish Senegalese siblings, who were extremely good people to know if one was in the business of selling spirits. Tonight she intended to introduce herself to Seynabou, who Antonio assured her would connect her to the right people and perhaps become a buyer herself. Luz was optimistic about the possibility. One thing she’d seen again and again in the time she’d worked with a salesforce made up of only women in Santo Domingo was that women in trade were unmatched in their resourcefulness and could be magnificent allies.
She no longer could count on formal channels to keep her business afloat. A person could only have so many doors slammed in their face before they gave up the illusion that what worked for some could also work for them. Men would not deal with her—nothing surprising there—so she would have to carve her own path going forward, and she would not accomplish that by having tea with society ladies.
“Antonio, did Luz tell you about her encounter today?”
“Manu,” Luz warned as her friend offered her a feline grin. “There is nothing to say.” She lied even as her stomach swooped at the mention of her clash with the Scot distiller. The distiller who had not been present tonight at the judging. Shehadlooked for him, she’d berated herself for it, but she had let her gaze stray more than once looking for a tall figure with sable hair.
“Nothingto say? About the Great Scot?”
Aurora snorted at the name Manuela had given the man. Luz knew better than to encourage her and bit back a smile.
“He was positively taken with our Leona.”
“Taken?” Luz scoffed, then turned her attention to Antonio, who had his hands propped on his chin as if he was settling in for a bedtime story. “The man was a nuisance.” An exceedingly attractive nuisance, but a nuisance, nonetheless. “He almost ruined my display,” she explained.
“It seemed he saw the error of his ways,” Aurora reminded Luz. And he had done that, or at least finally recognized that one table was not enough for both of them to properly feature their spirits. When she’d arrived at the reception that evening, she’d found two smaller tables side by side where the one they’d argued over had been. On one all her bottles had been artfully placed, almost exactly as she’d initially arranged them. The Scot’s whisky bottles—Braeburn, she’d learned—stood on the other.
She’d been annoyingly pleased when she’d found a note on heavy paper, pinned under the Dama Juana.
I hope this manages to keep an impending diplomacy incident at bay...at least for now.
-ES
He thought he was clever, and she really ought not to have been as charmed as she was by the note. But hehadfixed their problem and found a way to get them both what they wanted.
“You didn’t back down, and that’s what matters,” Aurora continued, bringing Luz out of her reverie. “And you did magnificently at the judging tonight, querida.”
“And looked wonderful doing it,” Manuela added, making Luz blush. She caught a reflection of herself in a mirror on the wall opposite them. She did love this midnight blue gown. Having only recently come out of mourning, she hadn’t worn anything this sumptuous—or exposed—in an age. She took in the cap sleeves threaded with silver that gave the illusion of constellations. The plunging bodice which frankly revealed almost too much. She was dressed to make a statement this evening, even if she wasn’t yet certain what in particular she wanted to communicate. Even if she’d chosen the dress while a certain distiller, and the possibility of seeing him again, had been plaguing her mind.
“Glasses raised, mesdemoiselles,” Antonio quipped, mercifully distracting Luz.
“To our rum Leona. Congratulations on winning the selection,” Manuela declared, a little louder than necessary, causing a sea of heads to turn in their direction.
“Salud,” Luz echoed, puffing up with pride. There had been almost one hundred spirits in the judging, and only twenty were selected for an award. It was all the sweeter to have seen her rum be selected for a gold medal this evening after so many weeks of setbacks. Tonight’s success was a timely reminder for her that if she managed to get Caña Brava into the hands of the right people, she would succeed. She knew what she had. It was just a matter of others catching up to that. And this rum maker was not giving up without a fight.
“Ay no, Luz,” Manuela grumbled, hand flapping in her direction. “That’s not the countenance I expect to see on a woman who is about to conquer Parisian nightlife.” Manuela liked to appear to the world like she was selfish and vain, but her friend was one of the most observant people she knew. Manuela was attuned to the people she loved: she’d probably seen the fretting written all over Luz’s face.
Luz shook her head, not wanting to bring the mood of the table down with her, and instead veered right into the one thing she ought not be thinking about. “Don’t mind me. I was just wondering why after all the commotion this afternoon, the Scot could not bother to make an appearance.”
