Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (15 page)

She reached the front room to find Wivenly munching on a biscuit. “Good morning.” She curtseyed. “I didn’t expect you so early.”

He glanced up and swallowed. As he rose, his lips tilted up at the ends in a slow smile.

In two steps, he was in front of her and had possessed her hands. “You look charmingly.”

“Thank you.” A blush rose in her cheeks. Wivenly was behaving differently. His whole bearing toward her had changed, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Oh Lord. She should have donned her gloves before greeting him. The touch of his bare fingers on hers caused Eugénie to lean forward slightly. His scent wrapped around her. This was not good. Hopefully, he’d leave soon. “Would you like more tea?”

“I’d like to take you for a walk.” He grinned. “If you don’t mind. I’ve been told there is a stretch of beach past the fort that makes for a nice stroll.”

“Thank you.” She returned his smile. “I’d like that.” The area was one of her favorite places to go. The water was so clear, unlike near the docks. Wivenly would have had to at least ask someone . . .
Cicely
. She should have known. That was the reason she had decided to help Eugénie this morning. She would discuss her friend’s behavior when she and Wivenly returned.

Eugénie and Wivenly left the house and made their way in the direction of the harbor. “What made you think of it?”

He glanced down at her in surprise. “Think of what?”

“The beach.”

“I . . . I’m used to walking.” He paused for a moment as if trying to think of a reason she’d accept. “I discovered this was a popular path.”

Eugénie had to stop herself from laughing. She’d never seen him so unsure of himself before. “In England, where would you walk?”

Will let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d got over that hurdle easily enough. He hadn’t wanted Eugénie to think her friend was conspiring against her by giving him information about what his betrothed liked to do. “If we were in London, I’d take you for a stroll in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. You could view the Serpentine and throw bread crumbs to the ducks.” Something he’d avoided for years, but would do for her. “Or, better yet, ride in my curricle.”

“I remember being in a carriage,” she said in a wistful tone. “When I was small, before we moved here.”

“I’ll teach you how to drive a pair.”

“Are you a good, what do you call it?” She paused. “Whip?”

He let out a bark of laughter. “I’m considered a very good whip.” It wouldn’t do any good to tell her he belonged to the Four Horse Club; she wouldn’t know what it was. “And a good instructor. I taught my two oldest sisters.”

“
Bon
. In the event I am in England, I am glad you have experience.”

Apparently he hadn’t cleared the hurdle yet.

They’d reached the bottom of the steps and turned east, skirting around the back of Fort Christian. The air was already warmer, heavier. Will’s shirt stuck to his damp skin, and he didn’t need a mirror to know his shirt points had wilted.

Around them, the wind rustled through the tall palm trees, creating a sound almost like a light rain. They reached the other side of the fortress, and Will gave thanks for the breeze coming off the water.

She sighed. “There is no need for a carriage here. The only horses are at the plantations on the north side of the island. Everyone else uses donkeys to cart supplies or whatever.”

“Much to my groom’s disgust,” Will responded wryly. “We discovered that after we arrived.”

Eugénie’s wide hat hid her face, and he couldn’t discern from her light conversational tone what her feelings were. Yet now was not the time to press the issue. “Do you know how to ride?”

She nodded. “Yes. Papa”—her voice tightened when she mentioned his uncle—“borrowed a horse and taught me and the other children. He said it was a skill we must have.”

They’d reached a path running along a narrow strip of beach. Pale turquoise water lapped the shore. Farther out, the color deepened. “Is this it?”

“It is.” She raised her face to his. “We used to bring the children here so they could chase the waves.”

Suddenly it was important to know everything about her. “Did you run on the sand as well?”

Eugénie smiled, but her eyes held a trace of sadness. “When I was young. Now it is not
comme il faut
.”

He wanted to see her happy, skipping back from the sea, riding a horse and, by God, once she was his wife, she’d do whatever she damn well pleased.

“We could bring the children here, and I’d promise to turn my back and keep your sisters busy while you ran in the water.”

She glanced up at him in surprise. “You would play with them?”

“Of course I would.” He smiled. “I enjoy children.”

They’d reached a small point jutting into the bay. There were no convenient benches around, but he found a large rock and spread his handkerchief over it for her to sit for a moment. The wind had picked up, blowing the dark chestnut tendrils around Eugénie’s face as she stared out at the ships. Her light muslin gown molded to her body, giving him a view of all he wanted to touch. Damn, she was beautiful. At the Whitecliffs’ party, she’d shone like a jewel, but to-day, dressed in green with small violet flowers embroidered on her gown, she reminded him of spring. Would Eugénie even like England? Emma Marsh, his friend Harry’s wife, was from Jamaica and had adjusted well, but she’d come for her first Season knowing she’d probably remain.

Had Eugénie ever thought of moving away from the Caribbean, and how would he convince her if she didn’t want to leave?

E
ugénie glanced at Wivenly. It had startled but pleased her that he liked children. That was definitely a point in his favor. Perhaps this getting to know him was a good idea.

She lifted her nose to the breeze. The wind was gaining strength and the scent of rain filled the air. No clouds, but she couldn’t see to the east from here. She hopped down off the rock. “We’d better start back.”

Wivenly held his arm out to her as he had on their way down from the house. She placed her fingers on it, and he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. Unlike before, when he overpowered her senses and made her want what she shouldn’t have until after marriage, being with him was comfortable. Her heart still beat faster when she was with Wivenly, but it didn’t thud painfully, making it hard to draw a breath, as it had before. Perhaps she was becoming immune to him and soon he wouldn’t bother her at all. Did that mean she would not love him? Maman and Papa always seemed affected by each other.

She stole a look at his lean profile. Though his linen drooped a bit, which was not surprising in this weather, he was still beautifully dressed. What would it be like to stroll or ride with him in London?

Under his hat, his neatly coifed brown hair was streaked with gold, and his lips—it wouldn’t do to think about them and how they caused fire to course through her body. Oh dear, perhaps she was not impervious to him after all.

She sighed softly, and he glanced down. “Are you tired?”

“No, not at all.” Eugénie didn’t dare say how attractive she found him. God only knew what Wivenly would do with that knowledge. “It’s such a lovely day. I’ll be sad to see it ruined by rain, even though we always welcome it for our plants and cisterns.”

“Rain?” He looked up, studying the sky. “I don’t see any clouds.”

“No, you won’t until they are directly over us. It’s in the air. We need it, yet I wish we had more time.” Eugénie shut her mouth. If she didn’t stop talking, she was bound to say something she shouldn’t. Such as that she wanted to spend more time with him.

They were almost at the bottom gate to her house when a black cloud moved over them. “Quickly, come this way.” She turned the key in the lock. “We shall have to take a chance of interrupting my sisters’ lessons.”

Wivenly held the gate, then closed and latched it behind her. He was on her heels as she made the porch leading to the children’s level. The sky opened up as she touched the fine muslin hanging in the doorway.

He whipped his hat off. “You were right. It is as if someone ripped a hole in the cloud and all the water is pouring out. There were not even any warning drops.”

What an apt description. Eugénie grinned. “Is it not like this in England?”

“No. The rain usually gives a man a fighting chance to get under cover.”

Two of her sisters sat at a long table, the third was curled up with a book in a large leather chair that had seen better days. All their eyes were turned toward Eugénie and Wivenly.

She untied her bonnet and removed it as she addressed the governess, Miss Penny. “I’m sorry to disturb you. We would not have reached the top floor without a good soaking.”

The girls’ blue gazes stared up at Wivenly.

“Allow me to present—”

“Oh, we know who he is.” Valérie, aged ten, waved her hand to include the other two sisters and their governess, Miss Penny. “Who could not?”

Eugénie set her lips in a firm line. “Nevertheless, ladies must wait to be introduced. This is Lord Wivenly. My lord, my sisters, Miss Valérie Wivenly, Miss Adelaide Wivenly, and Miss Jeanne Wivenly.”

He smiled and bowed as if he’d been in a ballroom. “It is my pleasure to finally meet you.”

“How do you know us?” Jeanne asked, as if he had witch’s powers.

Adelaide rolled her eyes. “Eugénie probably told him.” Then apparently couldn’t resist adding, “Goose.”

“I am not a goose,” Jeanne retorted.

“Adelaide,” Valérie said. “You are not to tease.”

“You certainly are not.” Miss Penny gave Adelaide a reproving look. “That will be quite enough.”

She slumped back, pouting. “Well, she did.”

“As a matter of fact,” Will said, sliding Eugénie a mischievous glance, “your sister has said very little about you, but as if by magic, I will tell you your ages.”

Jeanne’s mouth dropped open until Penny gently tapped the child’s chin, and the girl closed it.

Adelaide sat up, and Valérie raised a brow.

“You,” he said, pointing at Valérie, “are ten.” In an undertone he added, “Going on twenty.”

Eugénie resisted the urge to grin.

He turned to Adelaide. “You are eight.” The two older girls were round eyed in surprise. “And you,” he said, grinning at Jeanne, “are six.”

Jeanne jumped up from the table, running around it to hug him. “You are very smart. Do you know Miss Penny’s age?”

Wivenly picked Eugénie’s youngest sister up, as if holding a child came naturally to him. He was really very good with them. He would make a wonderful father.

“I cannot tell you,” he said to Jeanne. “It is impolite to discuss a lady’s age once she is out.”

“We’ll never be out.” Valérie groaned. “We are never even allowed upstairs except for dinner when it is only the family.”

“Do you”—Adelaide glanced quickly at Miss Penny—“keep children locked away from all the adults?”

He glanced out at the garden for a moment, then looked back at the girls. “We keep them in the attic until they are able to be around Polite Society or until they out-grow the beds.”

Eugénie wanted to giggle, but the children would be offended. Wivenly had told her about the schoolroom at his home and how his brothers and sisters made use of the large cherry tree next to one of the windows. “There, you see, it is not so bad here.”

Her sisters nodded their heads solemnly.

“If you are all very good,” he went on, “you’ll be allowed to travel to England for your come outs.”

Eugénie turned her back to the children and lowered her voice. “Are you mad? Who would sponsor them?”

“It will be eight years before Valérie is ready.” His lips curved into an enigmatic smile that told her nothing. “I’m sure something can be arranged.”

Once the rain stopped, Will escorted Eugénie to the main floor. Her sisters reminded him of his own. Valérie, in particular, promised to be a handful. They, like all young Wivenlys, needed outside distraction, and since their father was no longer around to provide it, the duty fell to Will. He grinned to himself. If he’d known all the work to be done here and that he would trick himself into marriage, would he have even made the trip? He glanced down at Eugénie’s smiling face and hoped the answer would have been yes.

The fan was still wrapped and lying where he’d left it earlier. She picked it up. “What is this?”

“I brought it for you.” He’d almost brought back the one he’d sent last week, but thought better of it. He’d return that fan to her later. She untied the ribbon, drawing it neatly out from the gold paper. He held his breath. “Do you like it?”

With a flick of her wrist, she opened it. It had spokes of pierced ivory, with delicately painted medallions on gold-tinted chicken skin. “It’s lovely.” Her smile broadened. “Even nicer than the one you gave me last week.” A light blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Will inclined his head. He was tempted for a moment to add a bit of flattery, but changed his mind. “You’re welcome.”

With the look of joy still on her face, she placed it back in the paper. “I shall bring it the next time we have an evening entertainment.”

“I’d be honored.” He bowed and a low rumbling sound came from his stomach.

Eugénie placed the tips of her fingers over her lips and giggled.

“Perhaps I’d better remove myself to the hotel and partake of luncheon.”

“Or,” she said, lowering her lashes, “you could join my mother and me here.”

This was progress indeed. Will hadn’t expected that she’d voluntarily spend more time with him. Perhaps she was softening toward him. A clatter of china and silver from the dining room on the other side of the large drawing room caught his attention. He’d certainly eat sooner if he stayed, and he’d be able to spend more time with Eugénie. “I’d be delighted. Thank you.”

Waving her hand, she caught a servant’s attention. “Add another place, please. His lordship shall join us.”

A few minutes later, Bates brought a tray with what Will now thought of as the obligatory drink, chilled white wine. “Miss Eugénie, the mistress said she’ll be here shortly.”

He poured two glasses and left.

Will took a drink as Eugénie sank gracefully into a chair before taking her goblet.

After smoothing her skirts, she glanced up. “Do you sail, my lord?”

Her volunteering an activity gave him hope she actually enjoyed being with him. “Yes, I learned on the voyage here.” A slight exaggeration, but she’d never find out. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a ship.”

“I do.” She took a sip of wine. “Well, not a ship, but a sailing boat. It is more than large enough for two.”

That hadn’t worked. He sent up a prayer that he’d remembered enough not to make a fool of himself. “I’d be delighted to accompany you.”

The mention of a boat brought him back to his duties to the whole family. He’d need to discover all their assets. It wouldn’t do not to have plans for everything when it came time to leave.

Aunt Sidonie entered the room. “You plan on sailing tomorrow?”

Will poured his aunt a glass of wine. “Yes, I look forward to it.”

A worried look appeared on her face. “You must first check with Porter, Eugénie.”

Who or what was Porter?

“Yes, Maman.” Eugénie caught her lower lip between her teeth as if to stop herself from saying more.

Raising his brows, Will asked, “Porter?”

A quick smile appeared for a moment on Eugénie’s lovely face. “He is our gardener now, but if anyone can foretell the weather, he can. My mother is always concerned about storms this time of year.”

“For good reason.” The wine sloshed in Aunt Sidonie’s hands. “Sailing can be dangerous at any season, but more so now.”

“We will not leave the harbor.” Eugénie leaned across the short distance to the sofa her mother sat on and gave the older woman a hug. “Will that put your mind more at ease?”

“Thank you, my dear.” Aunt Sidonie’s tone was even, yet when she took a large drink her hands shook nervously.

He didn’t know what she was more frightened of: the water, weather, or the boat. After all, her husband had died at sea. Then again, perhaps she feared another attack on her daughter. Eugénie caught Will’s eye and gave an imperceptible shake of her head. Was it something else altogether?

Nathan forced himself to relax and at least doze for a bit while he waited to hear from Miss Marshall and Conrad. He’d learned early on in his life to sleep and eat when he could. He awoke to the sound of a shutter opening. Through the upper windows, the sky was deep blue, but not yet fully dark.

“We need to go now,” Miss Marshall said in a hushed voice. “While the housekeeper is eating.”

He swung his legs over the bed and stood. “I’m ready.”

“Come this way and Joseph will help you out.”

This was silly. Surely the drop couldn’t be that bad. Yet he was given no chance to try himself. Conrad lifted him as carefully as if Nathan were a baby, hefting him over the sill, then setting him on the ground. He tried to infuse more gratitude into his words than he felt for being treated like an invalid. “Thank you.”

“We didn’t want you to hurt your leg again,” Conrad said before leading the way around the back of the house.

Though the large man and Miss Marshall were not walking quickly, Nathan struggled to keep up the pace. Perhaps he wasn’t as fit as he’d thought. “I won’t be sad to see the last of this place.”

Conrad’s teeth shone white in the dark. “Neither will I.”

A quarter hour later, by Nathan’s reckoning, his lungs and the one leg screamed for relief. He’d never been this feeble before, and he wondered for the first time how close to death he’d actually been.

“Mr. Wivenly.” Conrad’s hand touched Nathan’s arm. “Are you all right? Would you like me to carry you?”

“No.” His heart pushed into his throat as he tried to draw a deep breath, but he’d not be treated like an infant. “I’ll be fine. How much farther until we reach the conveyance?”

“Just around the curve. That was as close as we thought safe to leave the cart.”

The drive down which they walked was so dark he couldn’t see the direction of the road. “I’ll make it. Let’s go.”

Conrad kept his massive hand on Nathan’s arm, which was probably just as well. By the time they reached an old cart harnessed to a mule, he couldn’t have gone another step. Dark figures emerged from one side of the road.
Damn!
Caught before they’d even left the property. Yet, neither Miss Marshal nor Conrad seemed concerned, and no one made a move to stop them.
What the devil?

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before.” Miss Marshall’s quiet voice broke the silence. “I could not in good conscience leave behind those who helped us. The retribution would have been unthinkable.”

Nathan knew the type of punishment meted out to slaves who’d helped others escape. He didn’t have the strength to do more than incline his head before Conrad lifted him onto the wagon’s seat. Miss Marshall slid in next to him on the bench, took the reins, and started the mule. The rest—Nathan counted three men and two women— walked alongside the cart with Conrad. At this pace, it would take them most of the night to get to Saint-Pierre.

He hoped his friend, Vincent Beaufort, had retired early this evening, for he’d be wakened before dawn tomorrow.

At what Yves thought was an early enough hour that no fashionable person would be abroad, he tied his cravat in a neat but unremarkable fashion. After donning a dark blue jacket, tasteful waistcoat, pantaloons, boots, and high-crowned hat, he set out for King’s Quarter, where Wivenly House was situated.

Yves climbed slowly up the Ninety-Nine Steps, as if taking in the sights. Each house seemed to have its corresponding gate built into the wall. That was what his Portuguese tool had failed to take into account. One scream in this area would bring out the rest of the inhabitants. Which was exactly what had occurred.