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for such things, nor the funds. But in her new capacity as director for Maison de Jardin, it would be her job to mix and mingle with New Orleans’s best and brightest. Though their legacy from Trinity’s deceased husband should fund them for a long time to come, it never hurt to have support from others who could afford to help.

      Thus, Madison found herself about to be presented to New Orleans high society.

      A generation ago, it would have been Madison’s rightful place. Her parents both came from established families that had helped found this incredible city. The last of their respective lines, the love merger should have cemented them as a power couple.

      But Madison only knew this from a few stories she’d heard from her mother growing up. Her mother had been very secretive about their marriage and choice to live a more isolated life despite their prominent home in New Orleans’s Garden District. Something had happened around the time of their marriage, but Madison had never been able to figure out quite what the scandal had been.

      Which was why she’d been reading her mother’s journals each night after finding them in one of the closed-off rooms on the upper floor of their house. Maybe there she could find some clue to how her parents had met and married. After all, stories like that might replace the sad memories she currently fought off during her sleepless nights.

      Trinity took her hand and led her through the halls of Maison de Jardin to the master suite up on the second floor. It was currently empty, having been Trinity’s room before she moved out when she married Michael Hyatt a mere two months ago. Michael’s tragic death and Trinity’s current battle over his estate left her life a little unsettled. Since Madison lived nearby for the time being, she hadn’t claimed the space as hers, wanting Trinity to still feel like she had a home here if she needed it.

      Laid across the pale blue bedspread was a beautiful lavender dress. Madison gasped, letting her fingers train over the soft flow of material.

      “It’s an unusual color for a redhead,” Trinity said. “I think it’s gonna be a fabulous choice.”

      Madison hoped so.

      This was how she would be presented to society. Her stomach churned, though her nerves were a welcome distraction from her earlier grief. First impressions were a big deal. While her family name had been well known in NOLA in the past, history had slowly erased it from the current consciousness. The South still prided itself on its history, and the history of its families, but money stood for a lot more. It was the way of the world. Madison knew that and knew she couldn’t change it. With her father’s illness, her family had drained its coffers until all they had was social security and what little she could eke out from various odd jobs. Her father’s health meant she couldn’t go to work full-time.

      She had to remember, this was her job now. Making a good impression would allow her to be helpful to the charity—now and in the future. But that didn’t ease her nerves.

      Should she back out now? Give in to the fear and tell Trinity she would need someone who could better handle this part of the job?

      “Let’s try it on!” Trinity exclaimed, her excitement puncturing Madison’s growing fears.

      When she stepped back into the bedroom suite after changing, Madison didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. The bodice was fitted, with only one strap made out of fabric flowers that went over her left shoulder. Multiple layers of chiffon allowed the skirt to swing around her legs to right above her knees.

      “A killer set of strappy heels and you’re all set.”

      Madison chuckled. “Let’s just hope I don’t break a leg in them.”

      “You’ll be fine. It just takes practice.”

      Madison brushed her hands down over the gown, learning the shape with her shaking fingers. She didn’t even look like herself. It was hard to take it all in.

      “We can do your hair like this,” Trinity said as she lifted Madison’s mass of thick auburn tresses to the top of her head. “With some drop earrings and curls.”

      “I feel kind of like Cinderella,” Madison said with an unsteady laugh.

      “Well, maybe you will meet a Prince Charming at the ball. It’s really just a good ol’ New Orleans party, but you know good and well there will be dancing. Won’t that be fun?”

      The very concept was foreign to a practical girl like Madison, but the transformation hinted at in the mirror egged her on. After all, she’d never been someone who backed away from what needed to be done. Ever. “I could use a little fun.”

      Trinity gave her an exaggerated wide-eyed look in the mirror.

      “Okay,” Madison conceded, “I need quite a bit of fun.”

      “As long as it’s safe.”

      And requires nothing that makes me think too hard. In fact, a Prince Charming might be a little too complicated for her right now. Her life had always been and continued to be full of responsibilities and organization and obligations… She needed some space from all of that.

      Madison smiled at herself in the mirror.

      And who knew? Maybe she could find a Prince for Now to have some fun with. A girl could dream, right?

       Two

      What the hell was he doing here?

      Blake should have been perfectly at home at the party being held at the home of one of Louisiana’s most famous power couples. It was the type of event where people with money gathered to discuss local gossip and politics, and generally impress others with their money and intelligence…or lack thereof. Blake frequented many such parties all across Europe. The only change was the language and food. The people were mostly the same.

      While he usually anticipated getting lucky at such parties, he’d never gone to one for the express purpose of initiating a one-night stand.

      Yes, casual sex was a part of his lifestyle, but the women he spent time with were always on the same page. He made sure of that up front. The fact that the only plan he could come up with—in terms of feasibility and expediency—was to get into the Landry home by way of a one-night stand brought on a completely foreign feeling of shame.

      But for Abigail, he’d do what he had to.

      Hell, even reporting Armand for neglect wasn’t an option. His father had more than one city official in his pocket. Besides, could he risk the possibility that Abigail might be forced into foster care before he could get everything worked out? At least at home there was a sympathetic housekeeper to keep an eye on her. Sherry couldn’t be with her all the time, but she was always nearby and looking out for Abigail. At least, that’s what Blake had gathered from their phone conversations. Given the odds of her ending up some place worse than his father’s house, Blake knew his best bet was to get the diamond as soon as absolutely possible.

      So, as uncomfortable as the idea made him, his only choice seemed to be seducing Madison Landry to fulfill his father’s demands…unless he wanted to resort to breaking and entering.

      It hadn’t taken him long to spot the woman he sought in the crowd, though she appeared much younger than he’d anticipated.

      Even in the photographs in the file, she hadn’t looked quite as old as her twenty-six years. Maybe it was her pale complexion or the dusting of freckles across her nose that she hadn’t bothered to hide for tonight’s occasion. But somehow he’d expected the hard life that had been briefly chronicled in the file to show on her face.

      She’d also spent most of her time here barely speaking and rarely venturing from the table she was standing near. He’d been anticipating someone eager to display herself on the marriage market, rather than the quiet woman he saw before him. After all, she was young, single and had too hard of a life to be a party girl. She wasn’t dancing,

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