Spring Fires (15 page)

Lisette strove to show no reaction. Was he going to try to trick her into another night in his bed? The mere thought of this threw her senses into conflict. A part of her was shocked and outraged, but another part—the one born the night Nicholai taught her the splendor of lovemaking—was frankly excited by the prospect.

"All right, I accept."

"Fine." One brow was arched slightly, as if he could read her mind. "I want you to tell me,
honestly
,
why you came here tonight. That is all I ask."

A little crease formed across the bridge of her nose.

"The truth," he pressed.

"I heard you!" She glared at him. "All right. I came here because I had been thinking about you. I regretted the unfortunate way our last encounter ended..." Her voice trailed off as she swallowed the more humbling reasons.

"Not half the truth, Lisette,
all
of it"

"You are a vile man! I will say the rest, but I've changed my mind since I felt this way!" She took a deep breath. "I had considered some of the things you said to me—about the appetites I'd neglected, and about your friendly feeling towards me. It seemed that you put out your hand to me more than once, offering me your friendship and help, and it was mean spirited of me to strike it away. I think, now, that it was a reflex—to protect myself from hurt." Lisette no longer looked vexed. She met his gaze and felt a spreading current of relief now that the words were being spoken. "I've realized that I have been a coward, which is not to say I accept all the blame, for you have behaved badly as well. And, I don't plan to leap into your bed now or weep a confession of love. I just wanted to apologize for my childish scenes, and..."

"And you have been lonely?"

"Perhaps... a little." Her chin quivered.

Nicholai put his hand against one side of her face and queried gently, "Did you miss my aggravating visits just a bit?"

After a moment, she nodded, and tears glittered in her thick lashes. "I—I kept remembering the succotash... how you made me laugh in a way I hadn't known for so long. Just talking, about politics and the other everyday things was a treat for me. I used to chat by the hour with Katya, but she's always with Randolph now, or planning her wedding and that's as it should be. I suppose"—her voice quavered as a few of the tears flicked free—"I had forgotten the pleasure of good conversation, instead of just going through the motions with people at the CoffeeHouse... even Papa. But there, I did try; he was so withdrawn toward the end."

Nicholai carefully gathered her into his arms, cradling her close as she wept.

"It's hard to admit this," Lisette whispered brokenly, "but I think the only times I have felt really alive lately have been in your presence. You do stir me up somehow... Nicholai."

He smiled against her soft vanilla-scented hair. Tonight he detected a hint of strawberries. "That is good, Lisette. We all need a bit of stirring up from time to time."

"Promise me that you won't use my confessions to embarrass me. I couldn't bear it if you were constantly laughing at me with your eyes. I—"

"Why do you think I could do something so unkind after you have confided in me? Your suspicions verge on insults."

Lisette drew back to look at him, relieved to see his reluctant smile. "I am sorry."

"Please, no more apologies! Just one, coming from you, will take me all evening to digest."

Suddenly, she moved up, wrapping her arms around his wide shoulders. Their eyes met, inches apart, for an instant, before she kissed Nicholai's mouth. It was a tender, lingering kiss, and their tongues played softly. The gentleness of her kiss merely heightened the sensitivity of his body... he burned and ached, but somehow managed to control the urge to take charge. When she drew back at last, he groaned, "
What
were you doing?"

Lisette disengaged herself from his arms, smudges of color across her cheekbones. "I had a sudden urge to find out if I would be affected differently now that we are no longer antagonists."

"I see. And what have you deduced? Has the fire been quenched?"

She sighed. "No. It's the same."

"Bambine,"
he accused in French. "There will be no more cruel experiments conducted on
me
.
That is like dangling one of your apple pies in front of a starving man to see if he salivates, then snatching it away!"

"What does
bambine
mean?"

"Brat." He drained his wineglass to hide a smile just as another knock came at the front door; Nicholai's mood switched to one of annoyance.

"Oliver, my butler, is out, so I must see who it is. Excuse me."

Lisette gave him a contented smile, and curled up with her wine. "You are excused."

Shaking his head, he went back down the hall to answer the door. This time, standing on the step and cloaked in darkness, was Lion Hampshire.

"Beauvisage, what sort of rudeness is this?" He held up the blunt note Oliver had delivered.

"I'd hoped it would speak for itself."

"Very amusing. May I come in?" He did so, and the two men faced each other in the lamp-lit vestibule. "I see you are home! I might be more understanding if you had been called away—"

"Senator, is my time not my own? Am I at your beck and call?"

"Damn it, this is important!"

"If it's about Marcus Reems, I have nothing to say. I should think you would know better than I what is afoot, since you leaped to the fore with your generous loan to Lisette Hahn. You ought to also be better able than I to learn what Reems intends to do."

"Will you allow me to explain?" cried Lion. "It's not about Marcus. President Washington arrived back from Mount Vernon tonight and there is a cabinet meeting tomorrow to decide what we should do about France and her newly-declared wars."

"Cozy." Nicholai arched a brow. "Hamilton and Jefferson, with Washington in the middle. Interesting."

"That is why I am here. It would seem that you made a definite impression on the president. He has asked that you visit him tonight—
now
—so that he can discuss the situation in France with you."

"I don't have any easy answers."

"None are required. He only wishes to
talk."

Sighing, he capitulated. One could not deny the request of President Washington. "I will fetch my coat." To dissuade Lion from following along, he added, "Please, have a chair. I'll be just a moment."

Back in the study, Nicholai drank in the lemon and cream vision of Lisette and muttered a particularly vulgar French epithet.

"What is it?"

"Shh... I assume you don't want to be discovered by Senator Hampshire. And, it's damned bad luck that I'm forced to go out for a while. Someone important wants to hear my firsthand account of life in France; according to Hampshire, it can't wait."

Lisette watched as he swiftly retied his muslin cravat, buttoned his waistcoat, and pulled on a dark blue coat. When Nicholai turned from the mirror to find her looking so disappointed, his heart lurched just a bit.

"My dear, do not frown. You needn't return to the CoffeeHouse! Why don't you take a nap while I am gone; I can see that you are exhausted. Curl up, close your eyes, and when you wake up I will be here. This shouldn't take more than an hour, two at the most, and the evening is young."

She looked doubtful. "If I stay, that doesn't mean I intend to share your bed again."

"Have I been less than a gentleman tonight?"

"Well, no... but how long can you go on?" Lisette smiled playfully.

"Gad, what conceit!" He chuckled. "We will talk. That's all. And, if you should be seized by an attack of physical craving—"

"You will do your best to oblige."

They laughed together softly. "I must go now, before Lion comes in search of me. I hope you will stay, Lisette."

"Perhaps. Thank you for your wine—and sympathetic ear."

"And lips." He bent to press a chaste kiss to her brow before exiting to join Lion Hampshire. Minutes later they were on horseback, riding north up Third Street. They were so preoccupied that neither glanced to the left while passing the Bingham's' Mansion House, lit up behind its ornate gates and the curtain of trees that lined its circular drive.

However, wrapped in darkness on the other side of the gates, a figure on horseback watched Lion and Nicholai ride by. He had left the Binghams' gathering to escape the cloying attentions of Ophelia, but now his mood lightened. No one could have been more intrigued by the sight of Hampshire and Beauvisage, deep in conversation, than Marcus Reems.

Chapter 14

April 18, 1793

Lisette couldn't decide whether to behave rationally and return to the CoffeeHouse or to be frivolous and wait for Nicholai. When several minutes of internal debate failed to provide an answer, she decided to give her weary mind a rest. After all, there was no rush....

The sound of a voice caused her to open her eyes, focusing first on the fire. It had been burning brightly the last time she had looked... but now there were only orange embers against the blackness. Nearby oil lamps provided flickering light—just enough to illuminate Lisette's golden drowsy beauty.

"I
said,
where is Nicholai Beauvisage? Wake up, wench!"

Lisette blinked. A few feet away, shrouded in shadow, stood a tall, slender woman with black hair and ivory skin.

"Who—who are you?" Lisette struggled to sit up.

"My name is Amelia Purdy. You needn't bother to introduce yourself; I have no time to socialize with servants. I was looking for Mr. Beauvisage and saw the light from this room. Do you not agree that your master would prefer you to be awake to open the door for visitors, rather than slumbering in his study as if you own the place?"

During this speech, Lisette became fully alert. Indignantly, she stood to face Amelia Purdy and gave her an icy glare. "I shall introduce myself all the same,
Mrs.
Purdy. My name is Lisette Hahn. I do not labor in Mr. Beauvisage's kitchen—I spend more than enough time in the keeping room of Hahn's CoffeeHouse." Seeing the outraged confusion in the other woman's face, she explained, "I am the proprietress. And what do
you
do, Mrs. Purdy?"

* * *

The Washingtons' home in Philadelphia belonged to Robert Morris, who was said to be America's richest man. Located on High Street, west of Society Hill, the three-story mansion was tastefully elegant and filled with beautiful works of art.

Prominently displayed in the main parlor were two gifts Washington had received from his dear friend the Marquis de Lafayette: the key to the Bastille and a drawing of the fortress's destruction. During his first visit, Nicholai had learned that the president had also hung an engraving of Louis XVI so that he would not appear prejudiced, but it was removed when word came of Louis's encounter with the guillotine.

Tonight, Tobias Lear, Washington's secretary, led the two men up to a private study on the second floor. The sixty-year-old president was seated in a plush velvet easy chair, clad in a long burgundy dressing gown. His pale hands were clasped over his belly and his thinning-gray-haired head tilted to one side to allow an occasional snore or moan to escape. Nicholai could see ashy smudges under Washington's sleeping eyes.

"We can return tomorrow," he whispered to Hampshire.

"No! Tomorrow is the cabinet meeting. Since nearly all of the Congress is away during this recess, I have been involved in the recent discussions held by the cabinet. I mentioned you several times and it seems that either Jefferson or Hamilton must have passed my comments on to the president. Nicholai, he
needs
to hear every intelligent opinion available if he is to make the right decision."

"Absolutely!" President Washington suddenly agreed. Wearily, he hoisted his tall body into a sitting position and smiled. Though his false teeth, fashioned of hippopotamus ivory, were wine-and tea-stained, Nicholai felt the full impact of the president's compelling goodness.

"We weren't aware you had awakened, Mr. President," Lion apologized, bowing slightly. "I regret this disturbance, but I understood you were anxious to speak to Mr. Beauvisage."

"Indeed I am!" Washington gripped Nicholai's hand. "I trust you are well, sir, and enjoying the high life of Philadelphia? Has Mrs. Bingham yet maneuvered you into proposing marriage to her English cousin? Before I left town, my good friend Eliza Powel assured me that that was Anne's intent!"

Nicholai chuckled, acknowledging the twinkle in the president's eyes. "No, but that's not for lack of effort on Mrs. Bingham's part, Mr. President."

After a few more minutes of pleasantries and the pouring of Madeira wine, Washington settled down to discuss the current dilemma involving France and her neighbors. First, he asked Nicholai for a detailed account of his own experiences connected with the Revolution. All was revealed save the true situation involving Gabrielle and their romance; he merely said that someone close to him had not shared his luck in surviving the September Massacres. The president listened closely, then spoke of his own pain. Lafayette, whom he loved as a son, had been forced to flee to Austria where he had been imprisoned by aristocrats.