“You are looking most handsome, monsieur!”
Etienne turned to the sweet voice which addressed him. “Then I will say you are the one who is blind!”
She laughed, a sound that filled him with pleasure, it was so joyous and carefree.
He lifted his head to the sunshine. Once again, they sat out in the privacy of the courtyard garden. “If I look at all presentable it is thanks to Tom’s barbering skills and to your brother’s generosity in lending me some of his clothes.”
“I’m so glad you are of similar height and build. You, of course, are much too thin, but that should soon change with the tempting dishes our chef sends up for your convalescence.”
He dared not accustom himself to the variety of tasty dishes the Leighton’s chef devised each day for him after his ration of gruel and thin soups at Les Invalides.
When was it going to end? Why hadn’t he died? The questions repeated themselves in the endless hours of night and whenever he was left alone.
“The young count paid a visit here yesterday.”
He was immediately alert, his fingers clenched over the ends of his chair arms. “Yes? Did...did you receive him?”
“Yes, you were sleeping. It was a short visit, merely a courtesy call, I’m sure. He had heard from a servant that I was attending a sick guest, so he wanted to inquire about both your health and to assure himself that I was well.”
“Yes, of course.” Afraid of giving anything else away, he pondered how to find out anything more. But he needn’t have worried. Katie filled in the details.
“When I didn’t elaborate on you, he joked about a ‘mystery’ guest. But I quickly disabused him of that notion, telling him merely that you were a veteran from Les Invalides who had succumbed to the influenza.”
“He didn’t find it odd that I ended up here in your home?”
“I don’t know. I merely explained that as they feared you were contagious, I offered to bring you to my home, where I knew you would receive superior care.”
“As I did indeed.”
“He asked if you had no family, but I said that I was not aware, since you had not been conscious at the time. I added that at present you were too weak to be moved.”
He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Katie, for not saying anything more.”
“Well, as I hardly know anymore myself, I couldn’t very well tell him. But even if I did, I wouldn’t divulge it to anyone, I hope you understand that,” she said softly.
He was more touched than he could say and it took him a moment to be able to say, “Yes...I think I do.” He wasn’t ready to say more. He hardly understood himself what was happening. Why Marcel’s interest in Katie? Did he know he was here under the same roof? Almost in answer to his question, Katie chuckled.
“The count seemed to think you were an old veteran. I didn’t say anything to contradict him.”
He couldn’t help smiling in return. “Thank you, Katie.”
Somehow Katie always managed to make him smile and forget for intervals that there was a yesterday and tomorrow. “Tell me what your life was like in Maine,” he said to distract himself.
“Oh, busy at times, but very simple, compared to the life Parisians lead.”
“Tell me more. Help me to see it in my mind.”
“Well, let’s see…we live very much by the seasons, farming and being out of doors as much as possible in summer since our winters are so long. Autumn is a time of preparing for winter—harvesting, drying and storing our crops—as well as gathering things that grow wild, like blueberries and cranberries. Winter is generally a time of rest, especially for the women, as the men go into the woods to trap animals and cut lumber once the ground has frozen over. They can be gone for months at a time.”
Etienne could hardly imagine such a wilderness. “What do you women do alone so long?”
“We are quite self-reliant,” she said in a humorous voice. “We spend a lot of time sewing, quilting, knitting, but we often make those occasions fun by transforming them into social times. And there’s always cooking and baking to be done.
“Spring is a time of renewal. The men are home from the logging drives when the ice breaks up in the rivers. We look forward to the ships coming into port, bringing goods from Europe or molasses from the Caribbean. Of course, that also means we must brace ourselves for the arrival of the sailors.”
He frowned at her tone of displeasure. “You say that as if it’s an unpleasant event. Are they like sailors in most ports?”
“I imagine so. They bring rum and drink a good portion themselves along with the returning loggers. We women must stay away from the wharves then. Thankfully, our house is on the outskirts of town, so we are not much affected.” She laughed. “Otherwise, Papa would be hard-pressed to get any work done, with three daughters. Our baby brother, Jamie, was too young until recently to be of much use to act as our escort.”
He tried to picture their household. “You must be very sought after.”
She didn’t say anything, then added, “We have lots of sociables in our home—or did—until recently. Now that Hester is married and has a home of her own, we haven’t as many. She takes Adele, our youngest sister, under her wing many times, so the burden of the entertaining is divided between our two homes now.”
He was curious about her use of words. “Is it a burden?”
She said nothing.
“Have I said something wrong?”
“Not at all. It’s just that Adele loves parties, and young men seem to swarm to her, as Papa says, as smelts up the river in spring.”
“I’m sure you have your fair share swarming towards you,” he said, trying to make his tone light, but imagining it all grimly.
Her immediate laughter disconcerted him. “Oh, no! Adele is the beauty of the family—as well as the coquette, as you would say in France. She thrives on male attention, and I don’t begrudge it to her. Hester also received her fair share before she met Gerrit. She is so lovely, if you could only see her, you would agree, and her beauty is enhanced by her beautiful spirit, which you have seen, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” he agreed at once. “She is a very gracious lady, indeed, and I feel privileged to have been a recipient of her goodness. But I’m sure with two such beautiful sisters, your own beauty must inspire a number of young swains. And I know firsthand that your looks are also enhanced by your beautiful spirit.”
“Thank you, kind sir. I am happy indeed if my spirit is pleasing. I am not envious at all of my sisters’ outer beauty. I know my worth in my parents’ eyes. So, I can say with all honesty that my looks pale beside my sisters’.”
“I can hardly believe it!”
“It’s not that I’m ugly, but I am no beauty. I am just plain Katie. I used to joke with my sisters Adele and Hester that they only left the older widowers to me.” Her voice sobered. “Until this past spring, that is...”
He was attentive at once to the change in her tone. “What happened this spring?”
She sighed, as if ready to move on to another topic. “It was nothing, really—”
“It cannot be nothing when it has changed your tone so.”
“It really is nothing.”
“Come, Katie—” He realized he had called her Katie. It was getting harder and harder to maintain the proper distance from her. “I thought we were friends, that you could tell me anything.”
“Yes...I know that,” she said slowly. To his surprise, she placed her hand over his. He braced himself to stay motionless but finally could not resist turning his hand palm upward so he was holding hers. He was further surprised when she didn’t move away.
“Then tell me,” he said gently, endeavoring to focus solely on her words and not on the soft, warm feel of her hand in his. “No matter how small you think it is.”
After a few seconds, she said, “Very well. But it’s really not important.”
He waited a moment more, which he didn’t mind, content to sit holding hands with her forever.
“There was...this...farmer,” she began in little above a whisper, her words halting. Etienne tightened his hold on her hand.
“He began...began paying me more attention. That in itself was not so unusual, because as I said,” she said with a nervous laugh, “I always seemed to attract the widowed men with young children who clearly needed a mother.”
His thumb began to rub the top of her hand. “I am sure that was not the only reason.”
“Yes, well, with this man, it appeared the same. He had four children, all still at home. He’d not been widowed above half a year. I didn’t encourage his suit at all. I...I didn’t find him...attractive in the least. I mean, you must think me a vain, shallow woman indeed, but truthfully, I was not looking for a handsome man. I wouldn’t even have cared if he were a bit older than myself, as this farmer was, but there was something about this man’s demeanor—”
Etienne felt the faint shudder pass through her.
“He was too insistent, and I could sense that he wasn’t really seeing me, just a mother for his children. I would love to have taken care of his children—” she hastened to add.
“I know you would,” he soothed, squeezing her hand.
“Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I discouraged him from the beginning, but he was so persistent. It was as if he decided I would do and no other. I had repeatedly turned down his offer of marriage, but still he insisted.” She was silent again, and Etienne waited, sure she was coming to what troubled her.
“One evening...” Her voice became even lower, so he had to lean forward, straining to hear her.
“What did he do?” His body tensed for whatever unpleasant revelation was to follow.
“He—oh—I don’t like to even remember it!”
“What did the scoundrel do?” he demanded between clenched teeth, wishing the man were right there so he could run him through for the distress he had caused his Katie.
“He...he tried to...to force himself—”
His chest tightened with rage. It was worse than he’d imagined!
“Thank goodness Jamie came upon us at that moment.” She laughed nervously again. “You will wonder what I was doing alone with the man. But he was so difficult to elude. I had just stepped into the pantry to replenish the cider when I turned in the semi-dark and there he was.” This time she shuddered deeply, clutching his hand more tightly.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, wishing he could take her in his arms. “It’s over. You said your brother came?”
“Yes, thank heaven!” She drew in a deep breath as of relief. “Although he is only sixteen, he is quite tall and can be imposing when he wants to be! He asked the man to leave our house and to never darken our doors again!” She laughed weakly.
“I would have called the blackguard out!”
She giggled. “You mean a duel?”
“Of course!” Frowning at her reaction, he sat up straighter, his eyebrows drawn together in outrage. “Pistols or swords at dawn.”
Her laughter deepened. “Well, then I’m glad you weren’t there. Otherwise those poor children would be fatherless as well as motherless.”
He sat back, mollified at her confidence in his abilities. “Oh, I had forgotten about them. In that case, I would have been merciful and merely wounded him to teach him a lesson.”
“Well, I’m glad you were not there,” she repeated.
“What happened to the scoundrel?”
She returned to her story, her voice once again becoming serious. “Jamie told Papa the next day and Papa spoke to the man.”
“Something tells me that was not the end of the tale.”
She paused. “No. If it had been, I would not have said anything about it now. Although it was unpleasant, it was not an unheard-of-situation, and the man never did harm me. He had merely stepped over the boundary of propriety. And in his defense, he did want to marry me.”
Before he could retort about the man’s despicable behavior she continued. “What upset me most came afterward...after Papa talked to him. We thought it the end of the matter. But it seems since then, he has spread rumors about me...” Once again, he could sense her withdrawal in the way she lowered her voice and stuttered the words. “That I...was the...the one who...led him on and then...then spurned him when a younger man caught my eye.”
Etienne’s hold on her hand tightened once again. “The blackguard! He should be drawn and quartered.”
“It really doesn’t matter. I just found his behavior so hateful. I mean, people—those closest to me—don’t believe a word of it. And yet, it has left me tainted in a way. It’s a very small community. Sometimes I feel almost shunned by the eligible bachelors of Bangor.”
“Oh, ma pauvre petite,” he whispered, taking her hand in both of his and feeling frustrated in his inability to comfort her the way he wished to. “If I had been there—or was half the man I used to be—you would not lack the proper attention you deserve. Then those ignorant young fools would see what a jewel they had in their midst and would come flocking.” He wanted to add, but it would be too late, for I would steal you away and take you back to Paris for myself. Instead he ended, “And you could have the pick of the finest young bachelors of your land.”
She gave a watery laugh and sniffed, and he realized she had been crying. All he could do was hold her hand when he wanted to do so much more!
“You always know how to make me feel better,” she said.
“As you do me,” he said with feeling.
“I am glad.”
In the next moments of contented silence, he realized with a mere tug of her hand, he could bring her onto his lap. The idea made him dizzy.
But a second later, she sat back, gently removing her hand. “I think that’s one of the reasons Mama and Papa urged me so strongly to come on this trip with Gerrit and Hester. Not only for a change of scene for me but also to allow things to die down in Bangor. They’re hoping people will forget this ugly incident, especially now that the man is marrying.”
“What!” he said in outrage. “He’s found someone?”
She giggled and he felt gratified that he had made her laugh. “Yes, a widow with two children of her own. She is much more suited for the position!”
“And so he gets his happiness after ruining your chances? It says a lot for your noble spirit that you can laugh, but he remains a dastardly blackguard in my books!”
There was a smile in her voice. “Maybe she will prove more than he bargained for—and rule him with an iron rod!”
“Or henpeck him to death.”
When their laughter subsided, she continued. “You said that he achieved his happiness at my expense. That implies that I cannot be happy if I remain a spinster.”
He frowned. “My dear Katie, I cannot believe at twenty, you are already resigning yourself to spinsterhood. In my case, I have accepted bachelorhood, but at least I have known what—” He cleared his throat and changed course. “A person can be content in the single state, it is true, but only if they have known love. A widow or widower, for example, might decide they are better off alone. But for you, Katie, you are just entering into womanhood, you’ll want to be a mother some day to your own children.”
He groped outwards until he found her hand lying in her lap. “I know you’ll have dozens of young Parisian gentlemen vying for your hand, if you don’t already. They will show those Bangor men what they have lost.”
“You are very kind, sir, and I thank you for your praise.” She sighed. “But I am content to remain single if the good Lord wills it.”
He scoffed. “I am sure He wills no such thing!”
“You said...that you had known...love,” she began hesitantly. “Were...were you ever married?”
He sat back, surprised that she had caught on to his unfinished words. “No. But I was engaged once.”
“Oh.” He heard her shift. “What was she like?”
His lips twisted. “Pretty and frivolous, as most young Parisian ladies of marriageable age are. I had come home on leave after the Battle of Wagram, where our forces took Vienna, to recover from a wound.”
“You were wounded before?” she asked in immediate concern.
“Yes, in my side. It was serious enough to be sent home. My family had a house here in Paris. I spent the time, as most young soldiers, in having a good time.
“It was at some soirée that I first met Marie-Estelle. I was smitten, thinking myself madly in love. I pursued her relentlessly—probably the way your farmer went after you, except that I didn’t corner her alone in some dark room.” His brow furrowed thinking again of that dastardly incident. “But I flocked to her side at every party, every ball. She had a whole retinue around her. But I held my own, with my—” he almost said his “title”—“with my rank. I had a certain amount of self-confidence in those days.”
“Very well-merited, I’m sure.”
He couldn’t help smiling at her utter confidence in him. “Thank you, Katie.
“To shorten a tedious tale, I proposed to her and she, after keeping me waiting some weeks, finally accepted. No doubt she was pressured into accepting by her parents, seeing I was a good match—in those days.”
“Wh...what happened?”
He shrugged and made a motion toward himself. “I was leading the life of a soldier. I was away campaigning for the next five years until the fall of Paris in ’14. I received fewer and fewer letters from her...until one day receiving one in which she requested permission to withdraw from our betrothal.”
“How awful for you.”
“I had not been the model suitor. One cannot leave a pretty young lady by herself for months...years at a time and not expect such a thing to happen. After my initial anger and disappointment, I held no lasting bitterness toward her. By the time of my return to Paris, she had married a young lieutenant.”
“Oh, dear. How sad.”
He smiled, seeking to reassure her, even though he knew he would not appear in the best of light either. “It would have been sad if I’d truly been in love with her, or she with me. But—” He forced himself to continue although it meant disappointing Katie’s opinion of him, no doubt. “A soldier faces many temptations, so, believe me, ma chère, Katie, I did not deserve Marie-Estelle’s abiding fidelity.”
When Katie didn’t say anything, he became worried that he had truly lost her respect. He pressed his lips together, thinking what he could say to redeem himself in some way. But he needn’t have worried.
She sighed. “I suppose if it had been true love, as you say, both of you would have remained faithful to each other, no matter how long you had to be apart.”
“Yes,” he said fervently.
* * *
Katie sat at her dressing table, allowing Marie-Thérèse to pull at her curls as she worked on her coiffure before dinner.
During their time in Paris, they had adapted to the European mode of dressing formally for dinner. For the sake of the new business office he was opening in Paris, Gerrit needed to frequently entertain dinner guests.
Katie ignored the occasional twinge of pain at a particularly hard tug of the hairbrush and let her thoughts wander, thinking back to her conversation with Etienne that afternoon.
Each day, they were getting to know each other better. She blushed now, remembering how easily confiding her deep, dark secret about the widower Ebenezer Henley had come to her. And Etienne had been so outraged, it had made her feel ever so much better about the whole shameful incident. No matter how much her family had comforted her, she had still felt somehow to blame. It had taken Etienne, his praise and outrage, to make her feel truly vindicated.
Would she have told Etienne so much if he had not been blind? Something about his lack of sight made it easier to tell him things she would be too shy or reserved to tell another man.
She put a hand to her head at a particularly sharp tug of the hairbrush. “Ouch!”
Marie-Thérèse made no comment, her mouth stuffed with hairpins.
Katie retreated into her thoughts once again.
Her maid’s name reminded her of Etienne’s fiancée. Marie-Estelle. The name sounded so lovely, so French. Katie pictured a beautiful, dark-haired young lady, with a flawless complexion, perfect figure fashionably attired in a gorgeous Parisian gown. A dimple in each cheek and the ability to make small talk with the young gentlemen flocking to her side. The fact that she had chosen Etienne among all of them attested to her good taste, for Katie was sure Etienne had been the handsomest of them all.
But she had clearly not been worthy of him to take the betrothal so lightly. If it had been Katie—
She attempted to stop the train of her thoughts by occupying her hands with the pots and porcelain containers on her dressing table.
She remembered Etienne’s words about his own conduct. He had made it seem as if he, too, had not taken his betrothal seriously. Was he capable of loving someone truly? Deeply?
She stared at herself in the mirror, her gray eyes looking troubled.
Marie-Thérèse stood away from her, a smile softening her often disapproving features. “Voilà, mademoiselle,” she said at last. “What do you think of my work?”
It was never, “how pretty you look,” but always Marie-Thérèse’s hard work where credit was due.
Katie fingered one of the curls that the maid had arranged artfully around her temples. “Very nice, merci.”
Marie-Thérèse pursed her lips, as if dissatisfied with the compliment.
Katie stood and smoothed out the white gown with the rows of blue satin roses sewed all along the low neckline and cap sleeves. She adjusted the ribbon at the waist. French waistlines were so much higher than those she’d been accustomed to in America.
But the gown was lovely, and Katie thought she probably had never looked so good, nor would again once she returned to Maine. What would Etienne think of her if he could see?
The thought came unbidden to her mind, and try as she might, it was hard to dispel. It was not the first time it had come.
She picked up her thin shawl and turned to leave the room as the maid rearranged the things Katie had moved on the dresser.
“Thank you, Marie-Thérèse. Please don’t wait up for me,” she told her in French as she always did. Unused to having servants wait on her, Katie hated the thought of their staying up until the wee hours to put their employers to bed.
She quickened her pace, looking forward to the coming dinner. It was to be Etienne’s first dinner downstairs with them at the table. Until now, he’d taken all his meals up in his bedroom. Tom would sit near him tonight to help acquaint him with everything. Katie was always amazed at how quickly Etienne oriented himself and rarely fumbled twice for an object once he had located it.
She stopped in the doorway of the dining room and drew in her breath. Tom had just wheeled Etienne to his place. He looked stunning in the black evening jacket and brilliant white cravat Gerrit had loaned him.
For an instant she pictured him as he must have been, at home in Parisian salons, sought-after by the hostesses and marriageable young debutantes.
“There you are, Katie,” her brother-in-law said with a smile as he advanced from his place at the head of the long table and drew her chair for her.
Katie thanked him and sat down across from Etienne and Tom.
Tom beamed at her. “My, don’t you look grand. Seems every evening you have on some new gown that’s ’andsomer than the one before it.”
Katie blushed, looking down at the napkin she was unfolding. “It just proves how you men can’t tell one gown from another.” She glanced under her lashes at Etienne, wondering how the words affected him. He was looking toward her, his face attentive as if he were listening to the conversation. She didn’t like him to get the wrong impression of her. Already his kind words this afternoon showed her that he thought she was much prettier than she actually was.
Hester was already seated near her. She preferred sitting closer to the rest of them than at the far end of the table, when no other guests were present. “You are quite right about that. I can have worn a new gown three times before Gerrit remarks on it.”
“Oh-ho! That’s a low blow!” he said with a chuckle, seating himself. “I shall have to pay you many more compliments, my dear, I can see that.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that your compliments were lacking. You do so quite sufficiently, thank you. I just know that you don’t notice whether it’s a new gown or brooch or shawl, it is just the overall effect you admire.”
The men all chuckled. “You have me, there, dear!”
They bowed their heads and Gerrit led them in grace. Then as the meal proceeded, Tom quietly instructed Etienne to the placement of things before him as the others took up their forks and knives.
“We’re so glad to have you among us this evening, Santerre,” Gerrit said. “You are looking very good this evening.”
“Oh, yes,” Hester echoed, “you’re not even the shadow of the man we carried in a fortnight ago.”
Etienne finished chewing the mouthful he had taken and wiped his mouth before replying. “Thank you. It is thanks to all of you that I can sit here at all tonight.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then Gerrit asked, “Did you ever live in Paris before?”
Etienne patted the napkin over his mouth again. “Ye...es, a little. When I was...campaigning, I would come to Paris when on leave.”
“I see. It must have been an entertaining city for a young soldier.”
“Yes.” He offered no details.
“I was here during the first peace when we thought we’d defeated Napoleon for good.” Gerrit turned to the others. “There was quite a battle fought to the north of the city before the French surrendered.”
Etienne said nothing although Katie could tell he was alert. He had stopped eating and was focusing his attention in the direction of Gerrit’s voice.
“We had a rough few days before Boney evacuated the city with his loyal troops. The allies marched in forthwith, to enjoy the spoils of this renown city.” Gerrit shook his head. “It was an amazing sight to see Cossacks camped out on the Champs Elysées just across the river from us.”
Hester turned to their guest. “I’m sorry, Monsieur Santerre, these memories are doubtless not pleasant for you.”
“It’s history now.” Etienne felt around for his glass and lifted it. “To the victors belong the spoils.”
Gerrit took a sip in acknowledgment but then said, “Although we occupied the city for some months, Wellington kept his troops in good order. He did not allow his men to take advantage of the citizens.”
“Yes, that is true,” Etienne acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. “Your only fault was in escorting that pompous fool Louis back to Paris.”
Gerrit chuckled. “Well, we soldiers had no control of that. The politicians were in charge there, including your own Talleyrand.”
Etienne’s lips turned downward. “A man who maneuvers to whichever side he finds advantageous if there ever was one. From the court of Louis the Sixteenth, to foreign minister in the Directoire, to Grand Chamberlain in the Empire, and now full circle back to the court of the Bourbons, the man is as slippery as a snake.”
Gerrit nodded. “That is so.” He set down his glass. “You don’t hail from Paris yourself?”
Etienne’s smile died. “No.” He cleared his throat, fingering the handles of his knife and fork. “I grew up to the south of Paris, a little beyond Tours.”
“I see.”
After a few more leading questions that elicited only vague responses, Gerrit turned the conversation to more general matters. “Attempting to open an office in Paris is a study in bureaucracy, to borrow a word from your language, Santerre. If I thought adapting to the way of life in the Maine Territory was a challenge for an Englishman, dealing with a myriad of petty French officials really strains my patience.”
Etienne chuckled. “I cannot dispute what you are saying. The revolution only traded one form of official for another but the genre is the same, a breed born to make life difficult for anyone trying to obtain permission to do anything.”
They all laughed. “That is why we find ourselves having to entertain here so often, or to accept the invitations we receive, even though neither my wife nor her sister are so inclined to do. But I find more real business is transacted over a meal than in a person’s office. Already our return home has been postponed for several weeks due to all the delays.”
Katie stopped chewing. She rarely thought of their return anymore, and Gerrit’s mention of it filled her with a sudden wave of dismay. She glanced at Etienne and saw him looking serious. Did he ever think of her departure?
Etienne chewed his Dover sole slowly, no longer tasting the savory fish in a creamy sauce. He heard Hawkes toss out names of people they had met and whose invitations they were receiving, so many who had once formed Etienne’s world.
He felt like a foreigner looking in on another society.
“By the by, Hester, did you see that invitation from Count St. Honoré?”
Etienne’s fingers tightened on the handles of his fork and knife, the piece of fish he’d just swallowed sticking in his throat.
“It was quite elegant.” Her voice directed itself away from him. “Katie, we are invited to a dinner at l’Hôtel d’Arblay. I am sure this invitation was not due to Gerrit’s business needs but more to your charm, my dear!”
Etienne managed to swallow down his fish.
“I’m sure you exaggerate,” Katie murmured.
Etienne started at Madame Hawkes’ voice addressing him. “Monsieur Santerre, the Count St. Honoré made our acquaintance recently, when we attended a weekend at another titled gentleman’s estate in Fontainebleau. He seemed to be taken with our Katie and has now extended an invitation. He has called a number of times, I believe—when you weren’t receiving, Katie.”
Her voice directed itself to the other side of the table.
“Yes,” Katie replied. “I did see him a few days ago. He mentioned something about inviting us to dine.”
That swine! His name kept hounding Etienne. What was he doing insinuating himself into this household? And Madame Hawkes had said he was “taken” with Katie. What did it mean? Would he steal her away from him, too? Was it not enough that he had everything else that had been Etienne’s?
Etienne sat back, his body rigid with anger.
“Monsieur Santerre, is something wrong?”
Dear Katie, always so sensitive to his moods. He tried to relax his features. “No, it is nothing.”
“Here, take a drink of this. You look paler than usual.” Tom put a glass into his hand.
“Thank you,” Etienne mumbled, bringing the goblet to his lips. His agitation subsided with the sip of wine, but not his anger or his disquiet.
But what could he do? Helpless and immobile? What if that scoundrel were toying with Katie’s affections? What if his attentions led to something worse than what had happened to her at the hands of that widower in Maine?
Katie was far from home, from her father and her brother.
And, he, Etienne, could do nothing.
His hands clenched in frustrated fury and fear.