Mac held his hands in front of him and balled them into fists. He had worked as a farmhand and a half dozen jobs on riverboats before he washed ashore in the Crescent City three months earlier. Every bit of that work was honest, even if it didn’t pay as well as sitting behind a bank desk and denying people loans.
He tried to erase such thoughts from his mind. Holdstock’s bank served a purpose, and the man made his money honestly, too. It just wasn’t the way Mac earned his. It wasn’t the way anyone else he’d ever known in his young life had earned their money, either.
If he wanted to carry out his mission tonight, he had to concentrate on that. He had gotten himself cleaned up for a simple reason.
Looking his best was a necessity when he asked Evie to marry him.
“Mrs. Dewey Mackenzie,” he said softly. He liked the sound of that. “My wife. Mrs. Evangeline Mackenzie.”
A quick peek around the corner down Royal Street dampened his spirits a mite. The two guards still stood in front of the door leading into the Holdstock house. Shifting his eyes from the street to the second story revealed a better way to get in without being caught and given a thrashing.
More than likely, Evie’s pa had told those bruisers they could toss him into the river if they caught him snooping around. This time of year, the Mississippi River roiled with undertow and mysterious currents known only to the best of the riverboat pilots. It wasn’t safe to swim anywhere near the port.
“Besides,” he said softly to himself, “I don’t want to muddy up my fancy duds.” He smoothed wrinkles out of his coat, then boldly walked across the street without so much as a glance in the guards’ direction.
He stopped and looked up when he was hidden by the wall. A black iron decoration drooped down from the railing around the second-story veranda just enough for him to grab. He stepped back a couple paces, got a running start, and made a grand leap. His fingers closed on the ornate wrought iron. With a powerful heave, he pulled himself up and got a leg over the railing.
Moving carefully to keep from tearing his trousers or getting his coat dirty, he dropped to the balcony floor and looked down to see if he had drawn any unwanted attention. Mac caught his breath when the guard who must have been a boxer came around the corner, scratched his head, and looked down the street. Moving quickly, Mac leaned back out of sight before the man looked up.
Senses acute with fear, he heard the guard shuffle away, heading back toward the door where his partner waited. Mac sank into a chair and used a handkerchief to wipe sweat from his forehead.
If this had been a couple of months later, he would have been drenched in sweat and for a good reason. Summer in New Orleans wore a man down with stifling heat and oppressive humidity, but now, late April, the sweat came from a different cause.
“Buck up,” he whispered to himself. “Her pa can’t stop you. You’re going to marry the most wonderful girl in all New Orleans, and tonight’s the night you ask for her hand.”
Mac knew he had things backward, but considering how Mr. Holdstock acted, he wanted to be sure Evie loved him as much as he did her. Best to find out if she would marry him, then ask her pa for her hand in marriage. If Evie agreed, then to hell with whatever her pa thought.
He took a deep breath, reflecting on what she would be giving up. She claimed not to like the social whirl of a young debutante, but he had to wonder if some part of her didn’t enjoy the endless attention, the fancy clothing, the rush of a cotillion followed by a soirée and whatever else they called a good old hoedown in New Orleans society.
A quick look over the railing convinced him the guard had returned to his post. Stepping carefully, knowing from prior experience where every creaky board was, he made his way along the balcony to a closed window. The curtains had been pulled. He pressed his hand against the window pane, then peered into Evie’s bedroom. Squinting, he tried to make out if she stood in the shadows. The coal-oil lamp had been extinguished, but if she was expecting him, she wouldn’t advertise her presence.
He tried the door handle. Locked. Using his knife blade, he slipped it between the French doors and lifted slowly. When he felt resistance, he applied a bit more pressure. The latch opened to him, as it had so many times before. Evie liked to playact that he was a burglar come to rob her of her jewels, then ravish her.
The thought of that made him blush because he enjoyed it as much as she did. More than once, he had sneaked into her room and gone through the elaborate ritual of demanding her jewels, then forcing her to disrobe slowly to prove she had not hidden anything on her body. Both of them got too excited to ever carry on with the charade for more than a few minutes. He went to the bed now and pressed down on it with his fingers, remembering the times they had made love here.
Mac swung around and sat, wondering how long he should wait before he went hunting for her.
For all he knew, her ma and pa were out for the night. Their social life mingled with Holdstock’s banking business and caused them to attend parties and meetings throughout the week to maintain their standing in the community. Mac got antsy
