Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next two days passed slowly. Being cooped up in her room, Millie did little but gaze at the walls and wait for someone to bring her food.

Mary stayed long enough to fret over Chandler's almost fatal mistake. "I can't believe he was set on sending orchids to you. Didn't he know they would make you worse?"

"Apparently not."

Millie listened to her servant rant, all the while enjoying having company. After Mary left there was more boredom. The doctor checked her regularly and her sisters and father visited when they had free time. She fretted over Stephen, however. Why had he not returned? He'd already sneaked into her room twice since arriving at Bayou Sara. What was keeping him away now? Had he left and returned home? Would he do so without saying good-bye?

Determination made Millie sit straighter. Today she would ask her father about him. If he questioned her curiosity she would make something up. Then again, she might just tell him the truth.

"Millie, my little dove, can I come in?" Her father knocked and called.

She jerked her door open and he raised his brow. "I'm sorry, Father. I'm just so bored."

"I need for you to come downstairs."

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

"Yes. There is someone who wants to speak with you."

Millie lifted her skirts and practically ran past her father. The rash along her arms was almost healed and there were no other outbreaks on her body.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Father, where should I go?"

"Slow down, child, before you break your neck."

"I can't! I'm so glad to be free of my room."

Henri laughed and she smiled.

"Go to my den, my dove."

She scrunched her face at the nickname and hastened downstairs. The room was dimly lit and she waited for her eyes to adjust. Behind her father's desk sat a familiar figure. Candlelight reflected off his face, highlighting blue eyes.

Millie swallowed.

"Miss Beaumont, please be seated."

Confused by his professional tone, Millie followed Stephen's instruction. Her father stood behind her, placing his hands along the top of her chair.

"I've been reviewing your father's expenses."

Millie shifted uncomfortably. What did that have to do with her?

"I've noticed some irregularities."

"Irregularities? I don't understand."

"It seems purchases were made but no items were delivered."

"I still don't understand."

"The receipts were signed by you."

"What?"

Stephen leaned forward and clasped his hands. "Your father isn't upset. We just need to know what happened to the items you signed for."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked over her shoulder at her father and then back at Stephen.

"You signed for food supplies, extra items for the stables, such as hay, saddles, horseshoes, and a multitude of other odds and ends."

"I did no such thing." Millie's temper flared.

Stephen leaned back in his chair and tapped a quill on a writing blotter. "I told you, Henri."

"That you did, and I never doubted for a minute."

Millie almost shouted, "What is going on? You can't bring me down here and accuse me of stealing from my own family and not tell me why. I demand to know."

Her father stepped in front of her and knelt. "Stephen and I know you would never do such a thing, but we needed for you to be aware that something strange is going on."

Millie looked at Stephen and his mouth widened into a grin. She asked, "Why are you smiling? Someone is stealing from my family? What are you going to do about it?"

Stephen knitted his brows together. "I'm doing all I can. We're searching for the missing supplies. I've talked to the servants who should have received the items and they've confirmed they received nothing. We've sent out letters to the suppliers, but it will take time to hear back."

"Is that it?"

"Yes. Now we wait."

Millie's father said, "Stephen is right. Now we wait. However, I have good news. The doctor has released you and Jacques is waiting for you in the parlor.

Pure torment followed Millie as she left Stephen and her father's presence and walked toward the parlor. Not only did she have to wait to see who had stolen from her family, she had to suffer the company of Jacques from France. She wasn't sure if the man had a last name. If so, he'd rudely neglected to share it.

All morning and into the early afternoon Jacques talked of the virtues of his native land and the downfalls of America. Millie bit back a retort. If it's so wonderful why did you leave? Apparently, Jacques didn't notice her disgruntled attitude and continued his attempts to charm her with his accent and descriptions of his homeland.

"France is beautiful this time of year. Not like here in America where everything is dying."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. All year one can see beauty in the countryside or the towns. You should visit me and my family there."

"I don't think that will be possible."

"But why not? You would look beautiful in a Parisian gown. If you ever travel to Washington D.C. you will see women in such gowns. They crowd the streets in their finery just as they do in Paris."

Standing alongside Jacques, Millie glanced away and rolled her eyes. He reached for her elbow and led her along the narrow pathway. When they reached a bench she sat down.

"Our time will soon be up, are you sure you do not wish to continue farther, Mademoiselle."

She feigned exhaustion. "I'm sure Monsieur Jacques."

He responded in rapid French. Millie's brief introduction to the language was no match for a man speaking his native tongue. Finished, he looked at her and said, "Oui?"

Millie knew the word meant yes, but she wasn't about to agree to something she couldn't understand. "Perhaps we should return to the house. The wind has shifted and I'm growing cold."

Instead of offering his coat as Stephen had, he started toward the house. When she didn't immediately follow, he turned to face her. "Are you coming?"

Puffing air through clenched teeth, she lagged behind. He didn't wait for her to catch up. Instead, she was forced to follow like a puppy tagging after its mother. He held the door open when they reached the large entrance and glared at her when she entered.

Once inside he closed the door softly and said, "We've had an interesting evening. I do hope we can meet again. I believe Michael awaits you next."

Jacque left and Millie slumped against the nearest wall.

"That bad, huh?"

Stephen's voice startled her and she jumped. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Let me guess, he talked about Paris and then himself, and then Paris again."

"How did you know?" She leaned closer and whispered, "Did you follow us?"

Stephen laughed. "Not this time, dearest. I just figured it was something he would do."

"Since you seem to have an understanding of how my suitors will act, what do you think about Michael?"

"I haven't quite figured him out. He's older and a widower. I understand he loved his wife, so he might talk about her, but then again, he might not. Sometimes the reminder of something painful is best avoided."

"Great. Another wonderful conversation to look forward to."

Stephen spoke against her ear, his breath warm and teasing. "Don't worry. Tomorrow afternoon is our time."

Shivers raced along Millie's spine.

"Millicent, I'm waiting for you." Michael stood in the doorway of the parlor, his expression grim.

Millie sighed and called, "I'm coming."