Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (17 page)

Soon they were moving swiftly through the water again. How the devil had she done that by herself? He wasn’t going to sit there like an invalid while she did all the work. His pride had taken enough of a beating for one day. “I’ll take it now.”

She frowned a bit, but nodded and handed him the mainsheet.

Even with the accident, in less than half the time it had taken to arrive at the small inlet, they were back at the dock in Charlotte Amalie. His groom sat on a piling waiting for them.

“What is it?”

The older man’s expression showed nothing as he took the picnic basket, bowing to Eugénie. “Jest thought you’d need a hand carrying everything back.”

Once they’d returned to Wivenly House, Will raised Eugénie’s fingers to his lips. “Tomorrow?”

She studied him for a few moments before responding, “Yes, be here no later than eight o’clock. I have somewhere I’d like to take you.”

He waited until she’d entered the house before striding out of the small courtyard.

Once they were on the step street, Griff opened his budget. “Saw a swell lookin’ at you and the miss this morning. He followed ye down to the pier.”

Will waited as his groom paused for effect. “And?”

“I followed him.” Griff’s leathered face split into a smile. “Done found our Vicomte.”

“Well done.” Will slapped the older man on his back. “I always knew I could count on you.”

“I telled ye I’d be better than that Tidwell.”

Will would be old and gray before that war ended. “Yes, you did. Thank you.”

“Weren’t nothin’.” Griff rubbed a hand over his grizzled jaw. “I’ve takin’ a likin’ to this Wivenly family. Wouldn’t do to see them hurt.”

“No. No, that wouldn’t do at all, and I will not allow it.” A feeling of satisfaction that his servant was also devoted to his cousins warmed Will. He hoped Andrew was at the hotel to discuss this latest news. Until then, Eugénie and her family must be kept safe. They’d reached the bottom of the step street. “Go back to Wivenly House and keep watch.”

Griff tipped his hat and peeled off from Will. “I’ll report if anything else happens.”

Will nodded as he continued on to the hotel. He’d put an end to this Vicomte, whether he was Eugénie’s uncle or not.

Tomorrow was Sunday, and he wondered if she would take him to the Moravian mission. She probably thought her teaching the slaves to read would shock him. Eugénie couldn’t know, but after some of his mother’s charitable starts, nothing could astonish him. In the meantime, he needed to have someone watch her uncle, and he was one man short.

“Can you see them?”

Cicely stood on the tip of her toes with a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, trying to peer out the peephole in the gate leading to the step street.

“Would you like me to lift you up?”

“No no. I’m fine.”

She pursed her lips in thought, and he couldn’t resist brushing a quick kiss across her mouth.

“What are they doing?”

Andrew gave his attention to the scene on the step street. “Will and Eugénie were both grinning. She as if she had a joke to play on him, and he as if she could do anything she wished.”

A breath caressed his ear as she sighed with relief. “That’s good. Don’t you think?”

Andrew actually thought that would remain to be seen. “He’s touching the back of his head and wincing.”

A curl bounced against his cheek. “They went sailing. He might have got hit by the boom.”

Ah yes. He remembered sailors scuttling out of the way of the large wooden things on the ship, but that was a demmed silly name for a massive piece of wood. “You wouldn’t happen to know why it’s called a boom, would you?”

A light lit in his betrothed’s eyes. “Papa says it’s because it goes boom as it hits a person on the head.”

Andrew gave a bark of laughter. He’d come to appreciate his future father-in-law’s wry sense of humor. “Very understandable.”

He went back to looking through the hole. “Eugénie has gone inside, and Will’s groom is with him now. Something is wrong.”

“How can you tell?”

“They are both frowning.”

Andrew glanced over his shoulder as Cicely drew her brows together. “Oh dear. I hope it’s not to do with Eugénie.”

“Most likely it is.” He was concerned as well. Cicely was so often with her friend that any potential danger to one was a threat to both of the ladies. “Griff has left, and Will is grinning again.”

“Perhaps he’s thinking about being with Eugénie.”

“That I don’t doubt.” But in what sense? The rogue had better keep his word to Cicely, or Andrew would pummel him. “Shall I catch up with Will and find out what is going on?”

She removed her hand and stepped back. “Yes, it is the only reasonable course of action.” Her gaze focused on Andrew’s lips. “Kiss me before you go.”

“With pleasure, my love.” He pressed light kisses along her lips, then ran his tongue over them, and she opened her mouth.

God, Cicely was so soft. She tasted of the finest honey. Her tongue tangled with his, and he drew her closer. Not being able to make her his was killing him. “I hate having to put off the wedding.”

“We can’t very well marry without a rector.” Her arms around his neck tightened. “We could still . . .”

They’d received a letter from the clergyman on Tortola that he’d not be able to make the trip for another two weeks. “As much as I’d like to, you know we cannot.”

He nibbled her jaw. Not only were there no special licenses here, there was a dearth of English vicars as well—none, in fact. The Danes made the process of getting married much easier than the English. Unfortunately, Mrs. Whitecliff wouldn’t hear of a ceremony that was not performed by a Church of England clergyman. “What if something should happen to me?”

“I know. Yet at this rate, it will be months.” A heavy sigh escaped her and she kissed him firmly. “You’d better go.”

Andrew reached around for the latch. She was right. If he didn’t leave now, his resolve might desert him. “I’ll see you before dinner.”

Their fingers touched until the last possible moment. Damn. Did nothing move swiftly on this island?

“Wivenly.”

Will turned as Andrew caught up to him. “What have you been up to today?”

“Having my wedding delayed.”

Will raised a brow.

“Rector can’t come over for two more weeks,” his friend said in an exasperated tone. “How did the sailing go?”

“Other than being hit in the head by the boom, very well.” Better than that, actually. “Eugénie is an amazing sailor. She can handle the boat alone if she has to.”

He wondered what other talents she had. If things went his way, he’d have a lifetime to discover them.

“Did she invite you to accompany her in the morning?”

“She did. My thanks to you and Cicely for telling me about her project.” He glanced up. Dark clouds gathered overhead. If they were lucky, they’d reach the hotel before the rain started. “Andrew, my groom thinks the Vicomte is still interested in Eugénie.”

“And?”

“I must keep Griff with her as protection.”

“I agree.”

Will and Andrew reached the next street and lengthened their strides. “That means I’ll need another man. Unfortunately I don’t know where to find one I can trust.”

“I’d offer Josh”—Andrew’s lips pressed into a straight line—“but I want him to remain with Cicely. He might know someone though, or the butler might.”

The butler! Of course. Why hadn’t Will thought of it before? Bates would want to help, and according to Eugénie, he knew everyone on the island. Will smiled. “You’ve just given me an idea.”

They ran the last few yards to the hotel, reaching the stairs just as the sky opened up. Once on the porch, Will shook himself “At least the rain here is warm.”

Andrew laughed as a footman handed them pieces of linen to dry their hands and faces with. “There is that.”

After he’d changed, Will found a card on the parlor desk inviting him to dine at Wivenly House that evening. Either his aunt knew of her daughter’s reluctance to marry him and was on his side, or she’d forgotten to ask Eugénie if she minded his presence. Whatever the reason, right now he’d take all the help he could get. “Tidwell, order a bath.”

“Already done, my lord.” His valet bowed. “I gathered you would dine out this evening.”

That didn’t answer the question of how he knew when Will would return.

“If you will refresh yourself with a glass of chilled wine, my lord, I shall call you when it’s time to bathe.”

Will also didn’t understand how his valet had the wine waiting as well. Then again, Tidwell had always been one step ahead of Will when it came to this sort of thing. “Thank you.” Will joined Andrew in their parlor. “Sorry about your marriage plans.”

Andrew took a healthy drink of what looked to be a rum shrub. “I’m about ready to go fetch the fellow myself.”

Will found the wine and poured a glass. “Which island is he on?”

“Therein lies the problem.” He tossed off his drink and poured another. “If you can believe it, other than St. George’s in Road Town on Tortola, there are few actual churches in this part of the British West Indies. A grave oversight that ought to be addressed. I cannot believe no one had the forethought to establish one here while we had possession of St. Thomas. The vicar from St. George’s goes to the other islands to perform services and other ceremonies.”

“I suppose you could run him to ground in Tortola?” Will took a sip of wine. “I looked at a map when we were on the ship. It doesn’t appear that the sailing between the islands is that long.”

“That is a thought.” Andrew’s jaw clenched. “All I have to do is convince my future mother-in-law that a wedding breakfast can be held as easily a few days after the event.”

“My lord, your bath is prepared.”

“Thank you, Tidwell.”

Andrew stared at Will. “How does he do that?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea, but I’m glad he does.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Will lifted a brow.

Andrew grinned. “We’re invited to Wivenly House as well.”

Will left the room. Why was he always the last to know anything? Then again, Eugénie hadn’t known either. At least he wasn’t alone in his ignorance, and he looked forward to seeing her this evening. His body tightened in anticipation.

Simply to spend time with her. Nothing else.

Wasn’t it enough he was skirmishing with Eugénie? Did he have to fight with himself as well? He’d never had to court a woman, never had to keep his hands off one before. She had dealt a blow to his confidence when she’d tried to reject him, but he would come about. Somehow, Eugénie Villaret de Joyeuse would soon be his wife.

Y
ves stood on the deck of the sailing ship
Unconquerable
, growing bored with the captain’s endless litany concerning how they must return to France soon.

“Monsieur,” the man pleaded, “it will soon be too dangerous in these islands.”

He toyed with Nathan Wivenly’s pocket watch. “How long have you been a captain?”

The man drew himself up. “Over ten years. Which is how I know the threat this place holds. Countless ships and crew have been lost during this time of year.”

Yves brought a handkerchief scented with lavender to his lips as he yawned. “Then we shall remain on Martinique until it is safe to sail again.” He lowered his gaze to the captain. “You
are
capable of sailing there, are you not?”

A shadow of fear passed over the man’s face. “Indeed, monsieur.”

“Splendid.” Yves smiled in a way that always made others wary of him. He would make the captain think again about arguing with him. “Be ready to leave on a moment’s notice. I know not when I shall need you.”

The captain bowed.
“Oui, monsieur
.
”

He’d come on board to search through Wivenly’s trunks for an additional object with which to convince his niece Eugénie if it became necessary. But the captain had engaged him in another discussion of the area’s dangers. Little did the man know that Yves, his brother, and niece would all be on their way to France as soon as Eugénie was on the ship. Of course, Hervé would send word to release Wivenly, but Yves had no desire to find out if Sidonie’s husband was as stupid as she when it came to his plans to marry Eugénie to the
comte
. They’d find a priest on St. Martin and leave for France as soon as the ceremony was completed. Long before Nathan Wivenly could stop them.

Eugénie was already dressed for the evening when Cicely knocked on the parlor door. Her friend entered, followed by Josh carrying a tray with champagne and two glasses. Were they celebrating something? Perhaps there was good news about the wedding.

Josh poured two glasses and left.

Eugénie took the flute her friend handed her before Cicely collapsed onto the sofa.

“It’s been put off again.”

“The wedding?”

“What else?”

“Oh no.” Eugénie set the flute down and hugged her friend. “I’m so sorry.”

Cicely sniffed. “There is nothing better than champagne for disappointments, but I didn’t wish to drink alone.” She picked up the glass Josh left on the table. “Besides, I thought one of us may have something to celebrate.”

Eugénie took a sip, then shook her head. “No. Although it is progressing nicely.” Maybe even better than that. He had not lost his temper when the boom hit his head, and he appeared to actually like that she could sail well. “Wivenly acted today as if he was courting me.”

“Did he indeed? Well that
is
good news.” Cicely held up her glass.

“We shall drink to continued good luck on that front.” A moment later, Cicely gave a heavy sigh. “The worst part is Andrew won’t touch me past kissing until we are wed.”

Eugénie, in the middle of swallowing, choked and grabbed for a cloth as the wine spurted from her nose and mouth. “
What!
I cannot believe I heard you correctly. You want him to . . . ?”

Her friend downed her glass and poured another. “Yes.” A pout formed on her lips. “But he won’t.”

Oh dear. When Cicely was determined to have something, she was a force to be reckoned with. Andrew probably hadn’t yet seen that side of her. “Don’t drink too quickly, or you’ll be fuddled before dinner.”

She stared at her champagne. “Perhaps if he had a bit too much to imbibe. No. It wouldn’t work. He’d probably just fall asleep.”

Eugénie tapped her finger on the glass. There must be something she could say to talk Cicely out of doing something she’d regret later. “Are you sure your mother won’t agree to a Lutheran or Methodist pastor performing the service?”

“Mama won’t even entertain the idea.”

“Miss Eugénie.” One of the footmen, Billy, stood at the door to the stairs. “The mistress wants you to come up.”

“We shall be there directly.” She held her hand out to Cicely. “Let us go. We’re bound to come up with some plan.”

“I hope so.” Cicely placed her glass down and rose. “I don’t want to wait to marry Andrew.”

“Of course you do not.” Eugénie linked her arm with her friend’s.

“Still, this is no reason to take drastic action.”

They mounted the stairs to the upper level. Wivenly was already with Maman, and a few moments later, there was a knock on the door heralding the Whitecliffs and Andrew. Bates served wine and rum shrubs before announcing dinner. Maman insisted Wivenly sit at the head of the table.

No one had used that chair since Papa had died. Eugénie’s throat tightened even as she realized how proper it was that Wivenly, as the only male of the family, take his place there. Due to the numbers being uneven, and the fact that Cicely wished to sit next to Andrew, Eugénie took the chair to Wivenly’s left.

He reached over, placing his large, warm hand over hers. “You still miss your father terribly, don’t you?”

She nodded, blinking back tears forming in her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Take it one step at a time.” His low voice washed over her like a calming wave. “For the moment, we’ll just get through dinner.”

She glanced down the table as his hand squeezed hers in reassurance. Everyone else, busy discussing the perfidy of the traveling vicar, paid no attention to her and Wivenly. “Thank you.”

He kept hold of her fingers until Bates served the soup. Wivenly really could be very kind, when he wanted to be.

He looked at his soup. “Tell me what this is.”

She took a breath, inhaling the spicy scent of ginger, garlic, and onion mixed with greens. This was one of her favorites. “Callaloo. It’s a specialty of Cook’s. She mixes spices, greens, crab, and I don’t know what else together.”

“If it’s half as good as the pattés”—he grinned—“I’ll love it.”

Wivenly gazed at Eugénie as she dipped her spoon into the soup. Under his regard, her heart sped up. She had to stop reacting to him in this way. Perhaps she was just tired from today. It had been a long time since she’d gone sailing. Once the bowls were removed, she glanced around the table to see if there was anything else that would require describing, but nothing stood out except for the fried plantains. Surely Wivenly would have eaten those by now.

Billy and Bates began serving, and Wivenly asked what she liked and made selections for her as if they were in a strange place and he had to assist her. It was so sweet, but also ridiculous at the same time. No man had ever treated her in this way. To Eugénie’s surprise, she giggled.

“What is this, Miss Villaret de Joyeuse?” His brows came together, yet his eyes danced with mirth. “Will you share your joke? Have I amused you?”

She met his gaze, and his eyes captured hers. In that moment, something shifted, yet she couldn’t say what. “You know you have, and I thank you.”

He flicked a look at the others, still engaged with wedding talk. “I only want you to be happy.”

Her chest contracted almost painfully as she tried to think of a response. Yet what could she say to that? He’d never been
this
nice before. Not even while they’d been sailing.

Fortunately, Mrs. Whitecliff took that moment to glance over at them. “We’ve all neglected the two of you dreadfully. Please forgive us.”

“It is no matter at all.” Why did her voice sound so breathless? “I know how disappointed Cicely and Andrew are.”

Mrs. Whitecliff smiled. “Still, that was no excuse to ignore you and Lord Wivenly.”

Wivenly gave Cicely’s mother a smile she’d never seen before, polite but a bit distant. “I assure you, we understand.”

The older woman’s eyes widened for a brief moment. “Ah, I believe I comprehend you, my lord.”

There appeared to be a hidden meaning behind what she’d said, but Eugénie had no idea what it was. All she knew was that Wivenly could not alienate the mother of her closest friend. “He didn’t mean . . .”

Mrs. Whitecliff patted Eugénie’s arm. “It’s perfectly all right, my dear. There is nothing for you to concern yourself about.”

Then the woman turned back to the other conversation.

“I do not understand what happened between the two of you.”

He shrugged and handed her a piece of the Vienna cake Bates had placed on the table. “Try this.”

Before long, Maman signaled for the ladies to remove to the other room, while the gentlemen stayed to enjoy their port. Still confused over the exchange between Mrs. Whitecliff and Wivenly, Eugénie walked next to the older woman. “Please tell me Lord Wivenly did not offend you.”

Mrs. Whitecliff’s lips tilted up. “Not at all.”

This was too much. Must she ask directly what had occurred? Eugénie placed her hand on Mrs. Whitecliff’s arm. “I do not understand.”

The woman paused. “Part of the problem with keeping you and Cicely here rather than sending you to London for a Season is that you have never learned the more subtle forms of communication.”

That explanation didn’t clarify anything. An apprehension crept into Eugénie, making her stomach uneasy. If she did not know these other ways of talking, and she married Wivenly, how would she go on in England? Everyone would think her provincial at the very least, or perhaps even stupid.

Mrs. Whitecliff was still speaking of the advantages of acquiring “Town bronze,” while Eugénie grappled with her new fear of not being sophisticated enough for Wivenly. If Andrew was in shipping, he probably did not travel in the same circles, therefore it would not be a problem for Cicely. Even if he did, she was the epitome of how an English lady should appear. Yet Eugénie had the darker hair and complexion of southern France and looked French or Spanish. And there was her accent. Because Papa had always called her his little French girl, she had studiously avoided learning to speak and act like an Englishwoman. How would Wivenly’s family take to her? The British in Jamaica did not like the French. That was the reason Papa had chosen to remove to St. Thomas and its more cosmopolitan atmosphere.

Even if Wivenly thought he loved her, how long could it last when she was so ignorant of the world?

“Eugénie?” Her name was a soft caress on Wivenly’s tongue. “What is bothering you?”

“Oh, my lord, I didn’t see you enter.” Mrs. Whitecliff fluttered her fan. “I was just explaining to Eugénie that you did not give offense when you indicated to me you were enjoying your tête-à-tête with her. Very appropriate in our little gathering, but not, of course, among strangers.”

Wivenly bowed slightly. “As you say, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Don’t think of it.” Mrs. Whitecliff smiled. “Now, I must go ensure my family is not planning to have a Lutheran or Methodist minister perform the wedding ceremony.”

She glided away, making a direct line for her husband, Cicely, and Andrew.

Wivenly took Eugénie’s arm, strolling with her to the other side of the large room. “What was there in that to upset you?”

She lifted her gaze to his, and his eyes searched hers. It was only fair that she tell him of her fears, even if he did think her unsophisticated.

Will waited for Eugénie to speak, but the fringe of her shawl seemed to suddenly be in need of attention. He couldn’t imagine what the other woman had said to Eugénie to have her so hesitant. One of the things he loved about her was that he always knew where he stood. He may not always like it, but he was never in doubt.

He placed one finger under her chin, raising it. “Whatever it is, I want to know.”

She sighed. “I asked Mrs. Whitecliff what your exchange with her meant, which led to a discussion of how Cicely and I are not as polished as ladies who have had a Season. Then I began to think that, if we marry, I might be an embarrassment to you. Or your family may not like me because I’m French.”

He caught her hands as they waved around. “I came here to escape the young ladies of the
ton
. Some might think their conversation interesting, but to me it was banal.” He raised one hand then the other to his lips. A slow blush rose in her cheeks. “Very few of them care about the sufferings of those around them. We’ve only touched on certain subjects, but you have a passion I find refreshing.”

Her eyes widened. “I do?”

“Yes, and if there is anything you need to know and I’m not around, either my mother or my friends’ wives will be happy to help you.”

“And the fact that I am French?”

Will couldn’t help but chuckle. “My family will think you exotic.”

“That is good.” Her countenance brightened. “Then the only thing we have to decide is if we suit.”

He glanced around the large room and cursed the lack of parlors and other chambers. If they were in England, he’d walk with her in the garden, or spirit her off into a morning room, and show her how well they suited. As it was, their friends and family left them alone, but they were still in complete view of everyone.

Mr. Whitecliff and Andrew bowed to Aunt Sidonie. It appeared the evening was at an end. “I shall see you in the morning.”

“Do not forget to be here at eight o’clock.”

Wivenly was still holding her hands. He turned them, placing kisses in her palms. “I could never forget.”

He walked out with the others, and after bidding the Whitecliffs a good evening, strolled to the hotel with Andrew. “That was quite a discussion you had with Mr. Whitecliff. Did you resolve anything?”

“No. Though I have learned my betrothed is not one to give up. I think we may have talked her father around, for all the good it does us. Whitecliff is not stupid enough to go directly against his lady.”

Will heaved a sigh. “At least you know you’ll wed. Eugénie is still unsure.”

“You’ve never had to work for a woman’s affections before.” Andrew’s voice was laced with humor. “It’s good for you to have your will thwarted. Eugénie won’t allow you to run roughshod over her.”

“I’m starting to know what Marcus, Beaumont, and Rutherford went through in courting their wives.”