The Price of Deception by Vicki Hopkins Page A

about his waist.
    Suzette stretched and yawned. “Yes, of course. In a
moment.” She flashed him a pleading glance for a few more minutes
of rest.
    Philippe smiled and retreated to the bath chamber,
and Suzette watched as her husband left the room. She wanted to
feel love for him. Being an honorable Christian man, he acted
mercifully in the way he accepted little Robert as his own.
    Regrettably, though, whenever she beheld her son, she
saw Robert in his face and eyes. At times, his memory proved
unbearable. To compensate, she had settled upon his likeness as a
warm reminder of the man who saved her from a life of degradation,
a path less painful than to remember a lost love.
    Interrupted by a knock on the door, Suzette’s
chambermaid entered and offered to help her with her morning bath.
Time had arrived to put away her worries for the day, or at least
she would try.
    * * * *
    Philippe entered his office to settle in for a day of
work. He sat at his desk and studied the business ledgers. Each
time he calculated the totals, the results were the same. The quill
in his hand shook from nervous jitters realizing bankruptcy loomed
around the corner. Nothing could be done about the grave
situation.
    He laid down the pen, lowered his head to the
desktop, and rested it upon the palms of his hands. The weight of
responsibility crushed his shoulders. For the first time in years,
he wrestled with fear. He hadn’t succumbed to such emotion since
his naval days and the war. A battle loomed on the horizon for
survival, and if he lost, the casualties would be
heartbreaking.
    Philippe didn’t wish to jeopardize Suzette’s
security. He had learned early in their marriage that she often
needed reassurance of their financial wellbeing. Those weaknesses
never existed beforehand. She had been such an innocent, unspoiled
woman, who trusted him implicitly during their youth.
    His mind drifted back to the days when both were
untouched by the cruelties of the world. Life had altered them
equally in character. He had grown into a hardened and determined
male from years of war on the high seas. Being a Lieutenant in the
French Navy and commanding men below his rank had molded him to a
man of control and absolutes. His circumstances, surroundings, and
the people in his life had to conform to his wishes and desires, or
anxiety and anger crept into his heart.
    Suzette had been flung from innocence into maturity
through her experiences on the street after the death of her
father. Her struggle to survive and her illicit affair had
unquestionably altered her personality, as well. She had been
destitute and used, which resulted in her need to cling to him for
security.
    “Damn,” he muttered aloud, as he rose from his chair.
He walked over to the window and looked out into the active
business district streaming by his office—hansom cabs, growler
carriages, individual horse riders, and citizens going about their
day. Humanity passed by without a care in the world. He, on the
other hand, existed as an unknown behind a window. No one cared
whether he succeeded or failed, except perhaps one, who would soon
be lost.
    Jacques Duval, his business partner, lay at the brink
of death. Bedridden and gravely ill, Philippe daily waited for word
of his demise. Together they were a formidable team of two
enthusiastic businessmen. The past five years they built a sound
shipping company, until recently, when everything began to unravel
like a ball of yarn. The business hung by one frayed thread, which
would soon break; and when it did, he would tumble into financial
ruin.
    When Philippe had purchased his half interest in the
company years ago, it stood stable and thriving. Then their luck
turned sour, and a run of unfortunate happenstances took over
instead. It seemed the sea gods were hell-bent on their
destruction.
    The original shipping fleet consisted of three fine
vessels, captained by good men and faithful crews transporting
goods from exotic countries to