Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (26 page)

Henri sat at the table in the servants’ parlor where he worked drinking a glass of water, when the boy he’d enlisted to assist him ran into the room. “The ship you want comes now.”

He slipped the child a silver coin and whispered, “Go to my uncle and tell him.”

The lad dashed off as quickly as he’d entered. Henri stood. It was time to tell Monsieur Villaret and the Vicomte, but by the time the Frenchmen were ready to leave for the harbor, Miss—or he should say, Viscountess—Wivenly would be home, and once her uncle discovered she was already married, it would be the end of their scheme. Henri would have the rest of the funds to open his business in Tortola. He made his way to the parlor the two men used, entered, and bowed. “Milord, monsieur, your niece is back in port.” When he looked up, he saw he’d addressed an empty room. Henri grabbed the arm of a maid passing by. “Where are they?”

Her eyes went wide. “I—I don’t know. Perhaps the docks. That captain was here earlier.”

He dropped his hand. “Thank you.”

Damn, damn, damn.
All he could do now was hope Villaret didn’t know which ship his niece was on and that his uncle Bates’s message would get there in time. He strode toward the door. He would probably not receive the rest of the payment, but there might still be a chance for him to intervene.

E
ugénie fiddled with her parasol as she stood next to the gangway, ready to leave the yacht. “Drat. Marisole, can you get this open?”

“I shall try.” The maid took the parasol. “Where is milord?”

“Speaking with Mr. Grayson about the hotel arrangements. They must be changed if he and Cicely are staying there as well.” Eugénie started down the wooden boards. “I’ll go home and order something light for nuncheon while you pack what I’ll need for the next few days. The rest can be brought over later.”

“There is something wrong with this catch.”

In moments she was on the pier, headed toward the main dock area. It would be so nice to have William all to herself.

“Eugénie,
arrêtez
!”

Who would speak to her in French and use her given name?” She stopped and turned. A man of medium height stood facing her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The man looked familiar, but she’d never met him before. Could it be her uncle? She raised her chin and used a tone guaranteed to stop any more familiarities. “I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, monsieur.”

“Ah, excellent. You have not lost your French.” The man smiled, showing too many teeth and not all of them in good condition. “But you do not know me.” He bowed. “I am your uncle Yves Villaret de Joyeuse. Your father’s younger brother.”

She resisted the urge to run back to the
Song Bird
. Though if she tried, her uncle could catch her easily enough. Perhaps if she kept him talking long enough, someone from the ship would be here soon. She slid a glance to his right. Behind her uncle and off to his side, Marisole had finally got the parasol opened. “I do not understand why you waylay me here. What do you want?”

The smile remained on his face but did not touch his eyes. “I see you plan to be stubborn. We wish what we have always desired, a good alliance for you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she was already married, but some feeling that he might prove a danger to William stopped her. “Go on.”

He glanced at the
Song Bird
, but didn’t appear to notice Eugénie’s maid. “We have arranged a match with a French
comte
. He is older and wants only an heir. After you have given him one, you may do as you wish.”

“I am not interested in your match.”

She turned to go, but his hand shot out, stopping her. “If you want to see your step-father, Nathan Wivenly, alive, you will come with me.”

Marisole had moved so that she was directly behind Uncle Yves with the parasol raised, ready to strike him. It wouldn’t do much, but it might give Eugénie and her maid an opportunity to get away.

“My father died months ago.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew they were not true. “Show me proof, or be on your way.”

Yves reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a watch.
Papa’s.
Before her uncle opened it, Eugénie knew she would see the miniatures of her and Maman that Papa had had painted. Her heart pounded so quickly it created a roar in her ears. She struggled to keep her voice even. “Where do you have him?”

“In a safe place.” Yves clicked the watch closed. “Once you are wed, he will be freed.”

“
Non
. You must think I am exceptionally
stupide
.” Eugénie curled her lips in a sneer. “I will have proof he is alive and safe before I marry your
comte
.”

“You are a true Villaret de Joyeuse. My brother will be pleased.” His grip on her arm tightened. “Come, we depart now.”

Eugénie dug her heels into the dirt. “I cannot just leave. My mother will worry, and I need to collect a few items.”

Uncle Yves’s face flushed with anger. “You will accompany me now, or I will personally see that Wivenly dies a painful death.”

Behind Yves, Marisole glanced at the yacht and gave a short nod. Eugénie’s maid would make sure her family, especially her husband, would know where to look for her.

“Very well.” She made her tone as cold as the English winters William had told her about. “But if he is not well, I shall never wed your
comte
.”

“I expect nothing less.”

She went with him, being half pulled to a pier two wharves down from the Whitecliffs’, where a row-boat was tied up and an older man waited.

“I have her,” Yves barked. “We must go immediately.”

After she was in the boat, a sailor climbed in, cast off the line, then took the oars.

“My dear niece,” the older man said. “I am your uncle Hervé. I am pleased you have joined us.”

She bit her lip, reminding herself that neither man would hurt her, not if they wanted to marry her off and produce a child. Eugénie raised her chin. “I may be here, but it is not of my choosing.”

He reached over and patted her right hand. “You say that now, yet we are ensuring you shall have a wonderful life. One in which you will want for nothing. Your future husband has the ear of the king.”

She fisted her left hand, feeling William’s ring. What would her uncles do when they discovered she was already married? With any luck, her husband would have rescued her by then. The most important thing was to find Papa and free him. William would understand why she had to go with her uncle. He had to. He loved his family as much as she did.

Eugénie’s maid crashed into Will as he strolled out of the salon. He steadied her arm, stopping her from bouncing back.
“Milord, milord, they have taken milady!”

His heart dropped to his feet, and he struggled to breathe. How? Why had this happened now? He raked his fingers through his hair. He never should have agreed to allow her to go back with only her maid to protect her. “Tell me what happened.”

Tears coursed down Marisole’s cheeks, and she shook like a blancmange. Andrew pressed his glass into her hand and she drank.

Will glanced at the docks, but couldn’t see his wife at all. He wanted to wring it out of Marisole, but that would only upset her more. “Go slowly and tell us everything.”

She started in rapid French then turned to English. “I hear it all. Mr. Wivenly is alive.”

“You mean they have her already?” A young, light-skinned man cursed.

“We’ll have none of that around the ladies.” Henriksen followed the young man up the gangway.

“Henri, what are you doing here?” Aunt Sidonie asked.

Jeanne jumped around. “Didn’t you hear, Mama? Marisole said Papa is still alive.”

The color drained from Aunt Sidonie’s face. “Is it true? Nathan is alive?”

Suddenly everyone was there and talking at once. Will bellowed, “Quiet! Whoever has my uncle also has Eugénie, and I need to get her back.” The noise stopped and everyone stared at him. “You, Henri, who are you and what do you know?”

Henri succinctly told them about the plan to marry Eugénie to a Frenchman.

Sidonie held her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles turned white. “My first husband always told me never to trust his family, but I should have taken better care.”

None of that mattered now. “Which ship are they taking her to?”

“There is a galley,” Henri responded, “anchored not far from the mouth of the harbor.”

“I know the one.” Henriksen took out a spy-glass and put it to his eye. “I see her.”

“My daughter?” Sidonie’s voice was tense with fear.

“No, the ship. Wait a moment. Got Miss Eugénie. She’s in a dory heading toward the galley.” He snapped the glass shut. “My ship,
Swift Wind,
is ready to go, my lord. I came over here to bid everyone farewell.”

Will sent up a prayer of thanks. Getting the
Song Bird
ready for another voyage would have taken time he didn’t have. “How soon can we set sail?”

“Half an hour. Don’t worry. We’ll catch up to her in good time. I’ve got one of the fastest ships around.” Henriksen dashed back down the gangway.

Will glanced over his shoulder at Josh. “Tell Tidwell to pack a few of my things. Marisole, do the same for your mistress. You have a quarter hour.”

“Wait a moment.” Aunt Sidonie put her hand on Will’s arm. “I’m going as well.”

“Mama,” Adelaide said, “we all want to go.”

Everyone stared once more at him. “Mr. Whitecliff, can you and your wife help Miss Penny take the children back to Wivenly House?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Will, that’s not fair!” Valérie cried.

“I want to see Papa!” Jeanne began to cry.

“Listen to me.” Will squatted down. “We don’t know exactly where your papa is. If we have to rescue him, it may be dangerous. Having the three of you with us would only distract everyone from putting all our efforts into rescuing your papa and Eugénie. Sometimes the best way to help is by doing what you’re told.” He placed his arms around the children, pulling them into his embrace. “Promise me you’ll remain here and listen to Mr. and Mrs. Whitecliff.”

Though the girls slowly nodded, they appeared none too pleased.

Jeanne asked, “You’ll save Papa and Eugénie like you saved Charity?”

“Yes,” Will vowed to them and to himself. “You can count on it.”

Mr. Whitecliff herded the children back inside the salon.

“Will,” Andrew said, “if you’d like, Cicely and I will stay at Wivenly House and watch the children.”

“Thank you for offering, but I have something else I’d like you to do. Believe me, I hate to ask you this”—Will glanced at Cicely, hoping she’d understand—“but will you come with me? I can use someone handy with a weapon.”

Cicely’s chin firmed. “If Andrew is going then so am I. I can help as well.”

Will should have expected that. He didn’t have time to argue with her and, to be fair, it wasn’t right to separate them. “Very well. Get whatever you’re taking.” He started to leave the yacht, then stopped. “Which ship belongs to Henriksen?”

“I’ll take you there, my lord,” Henri said. “I blame myself for not keeping a better eye on the scoundrels.”

“Take the dory, my lord,” the Whitecliffs’ captain said. “The
Swift Wind
is already at anchor.”

“I’ll send Henri back with the boat to pick up the others.”

Less than an hour later, his ever-growing party was ensconced on board the sleekest schooner Will had ever seen, and they were heading out of the harbor. The quarters were not what he’d got used to on Whitecliff’s yacht, but it was well-appointed and had room enough for everyone. There being no on-deck salon, they all stood at the rail until Henriksen called Will up to the helm.

“I didn’t want to mention it in front of the ladies, but I’ve got guns if we need them.” Henriksen glanced out over the horizon. “You do know we have a storm coming in?”

“I’ve heard. How bad will it be?”

“I won’t know that until morning. If God’s with us, we’ll have Eugénie by then. What are you going to do about getting Nathan Wivenly back?”

Will rubbed a hand over his face. “If my wife has found out where they’re holding my uncle, we’ll rescue him. If not, then I have no problem beating the information out of the blackguards.”

Henriksen nodded. “My thoughts exactly. We’ll get along well, my lord.” He smiled. “You’re a fortunate man to have married Eugénie.”

“I am.” More than fortunate. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. “And I have no intention of losing her.”

Will’s hand formed a fist, one he’d like to shove into a Villaret face. After which Will would find out what the hell Eugénie was thinking to go off on her own like this. He thought she trusted him to take care of her and her family. Apparently, that wasn’t true.

Eugénie kept an eye on the seas. It was clear neither of her uncles had any knowledge of the Caribbean waters or sailing. Yves had argued with the captain when he’d plotted the route over to St. John. In what could only be an attempt to humor her idiot uncle, the captain had changed course, but gradually turned them east again before heading to St. Martin. From there they would sail down the islands to Martinique.

It had not been difficult at all to convince Uncle Hervé to tell her where Papa was. Hervé honestly thought they were doing the proper thing by ensuring Eugénie and the Villaret family’s financial well-being. Yves, on the other hand, was dangerous. She’d have to make sure she was not near him when William rescued her. She would not put it past her uncle to use her to threaten her husband or kill him.

Last evening, she had pled a headache and excused herself from dining with the captain and her uncles, asking that a tray be brought to her. Perhaps if she continued to pretend she was ill, they would leave her alone. Eugénie ran a hand down her skirt. The dagger she had donned yesterday morning might come in handy after all.

She called for breakfast to be brought to her along with water for washing. As the cabin boy laid out the food, she asked if either of her uncles were awake.

“No, mademoiselle. They were up very late last night.” He tapped his head. “By the number of bottles of brandy, I do not expect to see them until much later.”

This was exactly the news she had wanted. Perhaps they had even contracted mal de mer, and would not be able to take part in the fight, if there was one.