Spring Fires (10 page)

For the main course, there was pheasant stuffed with wild rice, mushrooms, and almonds, as well as buttered acorn squash. Meagan pushed her food around and sipped a little wine.

"How was your day?" she asked hesitantly.

Briefly, Lion spoke of the news in the Senate, then looked up in sudden sober recollection. "Meagan, have you heard? Ernst Hahn, who owned the CoffeeHouse, died last night."

Her heart twisted as she listened to his sensitive expression of sympathy for Lisette, and at last she asked: "Have you seen her today?"

"Yes, I spoke to her after I heard the news. Lisette's a brave girl, independent in the way you were when we met, but I worry about her all the same. One can see that she hides her emotions, and I am afraid that she may force herself to work harder than she should."

Meagan nodded, still hearing that phrase, "independent the way you
were."
Tears burned her heart, but she refused to cry anymore. Lion ate hungrily, and went on to mention his encounter with Nicholai Beauvisage, offering a few observations without divulging any of their conversation.

There were baked apples for dessert, with a mixture of nuts, butter, and cinnamon melted over them. It was a favorite dessert and its warmth was soothing to Meagan.

"Lion, couldn't we go to the villa this Friday? I miss it so...."

"I don't know, sweetheart. It will depend."

She decided that was the same as a refusal. It was then, at the worst possible moment, that Wong answered a knock at the front door and returned to the dining room with an envelope for Lion. He quickly scanned the note before looking up.

"I'm sorry—I have to go out for a short while." Already he was folding his napkin.

"Oh,
really
?"

"I shouldn't be away long, two hours at the most."

She stood when he did, following him when he started toward the door. Wong, ever the model servant, waited with a fresh coat, hat, and cape. When Lion turned back to embrace his wife, she held him at arm's length and asked, "Won't you tell me where you are going?"

"I really can't, not yet."

"What kind of appointment it is that you cannot tell me about it? Is it at the CoffeeHouse?"

"Meagan, I don't know what the devil's gotten into you, but whatever it is, I'm fed up with it." His hands fell away from her arms. "I don't even know you lately."

"Oh!" Her eyes sparkled as she let out a laugh that stung his ears. "That's odd, because I feel exactly the same way about you!"

Lion started to answer, but bit back the harsher words. Instead, he went into the entryway, ripped the garments out of Wong's hands, and strode out into the cold, misty night.

* * *

Two hours later, Lion and Nicholai emerged from the latter's house on Spruce Street and paused under a flickering street lamp.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted your supper," Nicholai said. "It looks as though I'll be late to my parents' as it is, but I couldn't think of another time for us to talk."

"I'm grateful to you for contacting me so quickly. As I've told you, this action of Marcus's can be best interpreted by me; after nearly two dozen years, I'm beginning to make a perverse sort of sense out of his approach to life."

"I'm glad to be of any help."

"It would seem that the logical course for you to take would be to keep the lines of communication open between you and Lisette. If she will confide in you—"

He gave a snort of laughter. "At this point, that's doubtful! She isn't particularly fond of me; in fact, I believe she meant her good-bye to me today to be permanent."

"Lisette is very slow to trust people—especially men." Lion smiled.

"So I've noticed." He laughed again, dryly. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't let myself in for more abuse from such a female, but in this case, I'll make an exception. Lisette Hahn will require subtle handling, so you must not expect immediate results."

"Any results at all will be better than none," Lion assured him. The two men shook hands, then parted in the darkness. Nicholai turned north, and Lion south, back to his home on Pine Street and his thorny, perplexing wife.

* * *

Antonia Beauvisage waited and watched for her younger son to arrive, illogically anxious that he might disappear again.

From the mist-shrouded footpath, Nicholai saw his petite mother framed by light from his childhood home. Feeling strangely bittersweet, he realized that until he had gone to France at the age of twenty-three, he had lived his entire life in or near this house. Now it seemed as if he had been catapulted back ten years and tonight was just one more meal with his family. He smiled slightly, recalling that even after he had moved into his own house, he'd taken shameless advantage of Mrs. Reeves, the cook his parents employed, stopping to eat with them almost daily.

"My dear!" Antonia stood on tiptoe to hug and kiss her son, then looked up, her green eyes mirroring his. "You will never know how we've missed you—and
worried
,
since the trouble began in France. I still feel I'm dreaming, it's so difficult to believe you are really
home—"

He held her close. "Maman, it is
your
home, but I am delighted to visit." The smile he gave her was a man's and it startled her. "Where is Father?"

Katya appeared first, pulling Randolph after her, and he felt amazed again that his little sister could be grown and engaged. Jean-Philippe came into the stair hall next, greeting his son with the sort of hug he'd been unable to give last night at the crowded party. After a long minute, Nicholai drew away just enough to meet his father's gaze.

"I must be looking quite ancient to you,
mon fils,"
Jean Philippe murmured with a wry smile.

"Father, you look exactly as I hope I shall after seventy happy years of life. Fit and clear-eyed."

"And
you
have changed considerably. You have definitely lost all the remnants of youth and I sense that your character has ripened as well."

Nicholai smiled, warmed by his father's approval. "We have a great deal to discuss. When you hear more of my life in France, you'll understand what forged the change in me."

"Papa!" scolded Katya. "Are you going to monopolize Nicky here in the stair hall all evening long? Let's go into the parlor."

She took his arm and smiled coquettishly. Clad in a new gown of lilac watered silk, her black curls bound by an ivory silk bandeau, she was well aware of her appeal.

"You've grown into a beauty, little one," he remarked.

Caro sat on the green and ivory brocade settee, watching Katya and her long-lost brother. They were bantering affectionately, and Caro took the opportunity to study him.

Clad in his own expertly tailored clothes, Nicholai looked even more devastating than he had last night at Belle Maison. He wore toasty brown leather knee boots, fawn breeches and waistcoat, and a coffee-colored coat. Caro took in the sharp contrast between his snowy shirt and cravat and the deep tan of his chiseled face. He seemed so much older... there were tiny lines around his mouth....

"Caro!" He greeted her with a smile, but she could see the glint of irony in his eyes as he came forward to hug her.

"Hello, my dear." She kissed his cheek.

"You're looking very beautiful." His gaze touched the gold velvet of her skirt and the creamy lace that spilled from her sleeve. Caro's loose curls were set off by a bandeau of leaf green silk. "The years have improved on perfection."

She gave him a warm smile. "I'm pleased that you think so. To be honest, I was just thinking the same thing about you!"

He cringed with amusement and joined her on the settee. "I know, I know—I've
changed
! Everyone is so astounded to find me an adult that I have been trying to remember if I was in short pants and riding a hobbyhorse before I left for France!"

"No, that was definitely not the case. You were quite grown up... I should know." Caro put a hand out to touch the lean line of his jaw, remembering the long-ago night he had started to declare his love for her. If Alec hadn't come into the garden, he probably would have kissed her. She could still see a shadow of that fun-loving rogue in Nicholai's face. A decade ago Caro had felt an aching remorse for causing him heartbreak. Now it was evident that he had survived many, much worse tests.... Alec had told her a bit of the horror he'd endured in France, but now she was seeing its effects.

Nicholai held her hand against his cheek before pressing warm lips to her palm. "You look thoughtful. I suppose you're regretting choosing Sacha rather than me!"

She laughed and pulled her hand from his grasp. "You are as outrageous as ever!"

"Yes, but you know I would be the first to challenge any anyone who tried to damage your marriage." He paused to accept a glass of wine from his mother. "Speaking of Sacha—I think your presence has made me forget him! Where is he—and this trio of offspring I've been hearing about?"

"They went to the kitchen just before you arrived. Mrs. Reeves was anxious to see how Kristin has grown, and I think Etienne and Talya were planning to help her cook."

"Typical Beauvisage strategy! They're looking for treats."

Caro watched him, wondering about the women in his life and whether he had known love and contentment with any of them. Alec had been a heartless rake until he fell in love with her, but by the time he was Nicholai's age he was married and Etienne was born.

Voices—Alec's and the children's—came to her from down the hallway, shaking her out of her contemplation. Caro started to speak, but no words came out when she met Nicholai's keen gaze.

"That is the second time you have done that, Caro, and now I truly wonder what you can be thinking about. Will you tell me?"

She heard her children giggling as they neared the parlor. "I was thinking about the past and how I broke your heart. You were so surprised by the pain... remember how long it took you to recover your balance and begin to enjoy life again? I see you today and realize how much you've changed. You are a survivor now...."

"And?"

She sensed Alec's presence, watching them from the doorway. "I can see that, although you've hardened, you have the perceptivity to people's thoughts and actions which a true survivor needs."

"If I hadn't cultivated a new set of instincts, I could not have stayed alive in France."

"I know." Unexpectedly, her eyes stung with sentimental tears. "But... Nicholai, I worry that your openness has been crushed; I keep wondering whether any person on earth could ever hurt you again."

Chapter 10

March 26, 1793

Nicholai enjoyed the evening with his family immensely.
He began to see the connection between Caro's poignant words and the love and trust he felt for the few people in this house. Perhaps she was right... it seemed that only with his family could he lower his guard and open his heart

The hours passed quickly. Before supper, the children had become acquainted with their uncle. Talya sat on his lap while Etienne unreeled endless facts about his school, horse, friends, and his father's ships. Finally, the boy allowed Antonia to interrupt with the news that supper was ready. Kristin sat at the table in high chair, between Nicholai and her doting grandmother. Alec had told the truth: the baby was blessed with raven hair and black-lashed turquoise eyes exactly like his.

While they ate a sumptuous meal, the family gave Nicholai detailed news regarding his sisters, Danielle and Natalya, both of whom were living away from Philadelphia. It was almost as difficult for him to imagine Natalya a wife and mother as it was to realize that Katya was now a young woman. Learning that his younger sister was happy and that her husband lived up to the fantasies of her youth pleased Nicholai.

"It would seem that I am the only one of your children who isn't safely embraced by true love, Maman."

Antonia did not see the humor. "That does seem to be the case," she replied, eyeing him speculatively.

"Oh, no—don't you start drawing up a master plan to marry me off! I can already see into your mind; you are perusing your list of available maidens in search of the first one to invite to supper on an evening when I will be attending." He scolded her affectionately and the rest of the family laughed at this accurate prediction of Antonia's behavior.

"Speaking of maidens," Nicholai continued lightly, "how is Mary Armstrong?"

Caro watched him, trying to decide if his tone masked a deeper feeling. Mary had once been his sweetheart, mending the tear Caro had made in his heart. Until the day Nicholai announced he wanted to begin a new life in France, they had all hoped he would make Mary his wife.

"She's no longer a maiden, I fear," Jean-Philippe was saying. "She married Timothy Barcroft at least two years ago. He is a professor at the Philadelphia Academy."

"Good. I hope that life is treating her well; she deserves happiness."

Antonia and Caro exchanged perplexed glances, remembering how Mary had waited years for Nicholai to return from France, until she was twenty-five. Although she did seem content with life, they both suspected that she had only accepted Timothy's proposal when it seemed she was slipping into spinsterhood.