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to cast a shadow in the hallway. Indeed Mama Dell must be trying hard to hear what would be said next.
    “Might I ask one thing?”
    “Of course,” she said.
    “My chaperone has always been the one to whom I have looked to guidance.” Isabelle cut her eyes toward the ample shadow in the hall and then back at Emilie. “Perhaps you will make any arrangements to see me through her.”
    A silent nod let Isabelle know the mademoiselle had understood. “Of course.” She paused only a moment. “I would have it no other way. Unless she decides to interfere in our studies. In that case, I would find it impossible to keep her on as your companion.”
    Mama Dell’s shadow drew closer. “Whatever do you mean?”
    “Never mind, Isabelle. I’m sure I will not have to send anyone away. I know how much you adore her.” She paused to wink. “However, I do hope the woman realizes that no matter what sort of friendship the two of you have, causing you harm during this year that I will be tutoring you would bring grave consequences.”

Chapter 3

    New Orleans
    April 1834

    J osiah Carter leaned against the rough brick of the warehouse and breathed deeply of the thick New Orleans air before continuing his journey. Nearly three decades in age, today he felt twice that. Perhaps the weight of his current situation could be blamed for it, but Josiah preferred to think not.  
    He touched the gold watch in his pocket and resisted the urge to check the time again. If all went according to plan, the great Hezekiah Carter of the grand Virginia Carters would be none the wiser. The old man might have the ear of the president himself, but he’d never muster the power to best his elder son.
    Not again. Josiah would not allow it.
    Inhaling the fetid air was unbearable. Josiah covered his nose and mouth with the thick fabric of his cloak and forced his mind to focus on tomorrow’s sail. He ticked off the itinerary as he walked through the narrow alley bordering the docks. Barring the need to stop along the way to wait out bad weather, the Jude would make arrival in London by month’s end.  
    Not soon enough to suit him.  
    Perhaps he might find the time to make a holiday of the trip. He smiled. Yes, a few days of leisure might be a welcome diversion.  
    Fool. Your father will never let you rest, not until he extracts his retribution.  
    Josiah shook off the truth of the thought and focused on another: Only a meeting with I. M. Gayarre remained before he could ready his ship to sail.
    To his left, the newly renamed Jude bobbed at anchor, a former slaving ship and an abomination among vessels, yet for nearly a week since its departure from Cuba, his alone. At least it would be upon completion of the night’s transaction. After taking receipt of Monsieur Gayarre’s gold, Josiah would pay his debt to the Jude ’sformer owner and then flee New Orleans, never to return.  
    Josiah smiled at the thought. Gayarre was expected some time before daylight, their meeting arranged for dockside at the Jude . The Café des Artistes stood nearby, and a stop there seemed the proper choice to begin the evening’s entertainment. Perhaps a pint and a hot meal would relieve the ache in his gut and accelerate the waiting. From his post at the café, he could watch the only avenue leading to the vessel.
    Stalking past clusters of dockside roughs and piles of empty barrels and rotting cargo, Josiah patted the dagger hidden within easy reach in the folds of his cloak. On a good night, the knife remained there; many nights ashore, however, it did not.
    Bone tired and purposefully wearing his vile disposition, Josiah watched a dark-cloaked figure approach. Surely he would not be facing trouble so early in the evening. Why, the sun had barely fallen below the horizon, and the constellations were only just becoming visible.  
    “Announce yourself.”  
    The figure continued toward him, small enough to be a child yet moving swiftly and seemingly unafraid. Framed