Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) Read Online Free
Author: Cindy Caldwell
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Western, Short-Story, Massachusetts, Religious, Christian, Louisiana, Inspirational, Bachelor, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, father, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Charade, Fifth In Series, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, plantation, Subterfuge, Privileged Childhood, Speaks French, Mississippi River
she’d worn to the factory--and cringed at the sight. How had she ever thought she could pull this off, present herself as anything other than she was--a simple, plain factory worker? And one without a job, at that.
Her stomach fluttered as the boat approached the dock. She pressed her nose to the glass as boatmen scurried around, grabbing ropes and tying knots as the boat came to a halt. Pulling her handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed at her face and noticed the dirt on the white linen. When Michelle’s future husband had invited her to stay the night in Corinth, she’d been anxious to get along further to meet her fate. Now, though, she had a passing thought that she should have, that maybe she’d have been a little more presentable with a shorter stint on a boat rather than a longer one on a train.
She smiled as the kind captain of the boat who hadn’t once batted an eye when her stomach roiled from being on the river held his hand out to help her onto dry land. As she stepped onto the dock and looked up from her feet--she hadn’t thought tumbling into the Mississippi River at this point would be desirable--her eyes met those of a very tall man, dark hair covering a bit of his collar. He was quite thin and his dark eyes studied her as she straightened her skirts.
“Josephine Depardieu?” the man said as he approached her, shaking hands with the captain on the way over.
She did her best not to stare, but her stomach clenched as his eyes pierced hers. He was smiling at her, no doubt, but the smile that should have warmed her--she had hoped would warm her--didn’t, leaving her cold instead. She felt heat in her cheeks as he held out his hand to her, and it took her a moment to realize that she was supposed to put hers in his. When she did, he pulled it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Yes, I’m Josephine,” she said, pulling her eyes away with a small curtsy that she’d remembered her father had taught her. “It’s nice to meet you, Pierre.”
His smile faltered a bit. He frowned and cleared his throat. “I am not Pierre, Mademoiselle. I am his cousin, Jerome, sent to pick you up and bring you to The Willows.”
Chapter Five
H er cheeks flushed , and she was flooded with relief that this was not her husband. Her future husband, actually. She knew she had no right to be selective, but there was something about Jerome that made her uncomfortable.
“And I am Bernadette,” said a short, large woman who approached carrying a basket. “I am the cook at The Willows.” She extended her hand, her smile comforting.
“Cook and housekeeper,” Jerome added, glancing down at her.
Bernadette waved her hand at him. “Cook and housekeeper, if you prefer, but I prefer to stay in the kitchen. And I’ve picked up some tarts for Pierre. He loves these and I haven’t time to make them. I would have if I wasn’t so busy dusting.” She threw a sidelong glance at Jerome, who shook his head.
“I will collect your luggage, Miss Depardieu. What shall I look for?”
Josephine looked toward the back of the boat and cringed at the sight of her battered bag. “It’s that one, right there,” she said, pointing to it. “The green one.”
“And the others?” he asked as he turned toward the stack of luggage that appeared on the dock.
She clutched her reticule and looked down at her shoes. She glanced up at Bernadette, meeting her eyes.
“She’s had her other things shipped overland, Jerome. No need to look now. Let’s head over to the buggy. It’s a bit of a ride to the plantation so we’d best get started soon. Oui ?”
Her heart warmed at the compassion of Bernadette and hoped that maybe she could learn a thing or two from this woman.
“ Oui ,” Josephine said as she sighed in relief that at least she knew how to say ‘yes’ in French. She’d read her dictionary over and over on the way to Louisiana, but this was her first opportunity to actually speak it in a very long time--at
Her stomach fluttered as the boat approached the dock. She pressed her nose to the glass as boatmen scurried around, grabbing ropes and tying knots as the boat came to a halt. Pulling her handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed at her face and noticed the dirt on the white linen. When Michelle’s future husband had invited her to stay the night in Corinth, she’d been anxious to get along further to meet her fate. Now, though, she had a passing thought that she should have, that maybe she’d have been a little more presentable with a shorter stint on a boat rather than a longer one on a train.
She smiled as the kind captain of the boat who hadn’t once batted an eye when her stomach roiled from being on the river held his hand out to help her onto dry land. As she stepped onto the dock and looked up from her feet--she hadn’t thought tumbling into the Mississippi River at this point would be desirable--her eyes met those of a very tall man, dark hair covering a bit of his collar. He was quite thin and his dark eyes studied her as she straightened her skirts.
“Josephine Depardieu?” the man said as he approached her, shaking hands with the captain on the way over.
She did her best not to stare, but her stomach clenched as his eyes pierced hers. He was smiling at her, no doubt, but the smile that should have warmed her--she had hoped would warm her--didn’t, leaving her cold instead. She felt heat in her cheeks as he held out his hand to her, and it took her a moment to realize that she was supposed to put hers in his. When she did, he pulled it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Yes, I’m Josephine,” she said, pulling her eyes away with a small curtsy that she’d remembered her father had taught her. “It’s nice to meet you, Pierre.”
His smile faltered a bit. He frowned and cleared his throat. “I am not Pierre, Mademoiselle. I am his cousin, Jerome, sent to pick you up and bring you to The Willows.”
Chapter Five
H er cheeks flushed , and she was flooded with relief that this was not her husband. Her future husband, actually. She knew she had no right to be selective, but there was something about Jerome that made her uncomfortable.
“And I am Bernadette,” said a short, large woman who approached carrying a basket. “I am the cook at The Willows.” She extended her hand, her smile comforting.
“Cook and housekeeper,” Jerome added, glancing down at her.
Bernadette waved her hand at him. “Cook and housekeeper, if you prefer, but I prefer to stay in the kitchen. And I’ve picked up some tarts for Pierre. He loves these and I haven’t time to make them. I would have if I wasn’t so busy dusting.” She threw a sidelong glance at Jerome, who shook his head.
“I will collect your luggage, Miss Depardieu. What shall I look for?”
Josephine looked toward the back of the boat and cringed at the sight of her battered bag. “It’s that one, right there,” she said, pointing to it. “The green one.”
“And the others?” he asked as he turned toward the stack of luggage that appeared on the dock.
She clutched her reticule and looked down at her shoes. She glanced up at Bernadette, meeting her eyes.
“She’s had her other things shipped overland, Jerome. No need to look now. Let’s head over to the buggy. It’s a bit of a ride to the plantation so we’d best get started soon. Oui ?”
Her heart warmed at the compassion of Bernadette and hoped that maybe she could learn a thing or two from this woman.
“ Oui ,” Josephine said as she sighed in relief that at least she knew how to say ‘yes’ in French. She’d read her dictionary over and over on the way to Louisiana, but this was her first opportunity to actually speak it in a very long time--at
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