Chapter Twenty-Four
“I don’t like him.”
Adriana sighed as she took Etienne’s arm and drew him away from the riverbank. “Etienne, at least wait until we’re out of earshot before you insult the man.”
“He can’t hear us.” Etienne hazarded a glance over his shoulder to where Roarke remained standing at the banks of the river. “My father hasn’t stopped chattering with that captain since you introduced them. They’ll be drunk in the tavern by dinner.”
“And I thought your father didn’t drink.”
“Not in mother’s presence.” His dark gaze returned to her, unsettled and full of questions. “Who is he?”
“He’s an English merchant captain who speaks flawless French and is willing to ship Huguenot rice at ten percent profit and without further questions.”
“Why?”
She raised her brows. “For profit?”
“He could ask for better terms and we’d give them without argument.”
“He’s new to Charles Town. I suspect he doesn’t know any better.”
“But he knows you.”
She prayed that Etienne would blame the brightness of the sun for the sudden flush that rose to her cheeks.
“Etienne,” she said, in her sternest voice, “I’ve managed to find someone willing to take the Gaillard’s rice to other ports. It’s why I came to Charles Town in the first place—”
“That’s a lie.”
His words lingered on the air. She let go of his arm and put some space between them, walking in a tense silence as they neared the fortifications.
“What I mean,” he said, his voice controlled in a way she’d never heard it, “is that you’ve always wanted to come here. You love the sea, and the rush of people. I don’t blame you. I understand the attraction, the…excitement.”
She thought about the kiss he’d laid upon her, a kiss that suggested a sexual education she was sure he hadn’t received in the wilds of the Santee.
“And what else am I to think,” he added, “when I return and find you walking about in a new dress, trailing some rough-looking sea captain behind you?”
“You are to think that I’m doing exactly what I came here for.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
Roarke hadn’t like the way Etienne looked at her, either. There had been a terrible, brittle silence after she’d made the introductions. If the two men had had antlers, she suspected they would have locked them, then and there.
“Etienne,” she sighed, “I don’t even know what to say to a comment like that.”
“Tell me he’s not your lover.”
She startled. She’d become inured to the gossip that she knew was tossed about that she was connected to one man or another—Nicholas Trott, or even Governor Blake—but she’d never expected such gossip to come from Etienne’s mouth.
“I think,” she stuttered, “that I should be insulted.”
“Then he’s not your lover?”
Not now.
Not yet.
“He’s not my lover.” She pushed the last thought away. “What exactly do you think I’m doing here in Charles Town?”
“Avoiding me.” He pulled her aside, out of the way of a horse and rider racing dangerously fast through the street. “Foolishly searching for someone more exciting. Someone who feels less like a brother to you.”
Ah.
Madame Gaillard had been right all along. She felt a stab of guilt. Etienne had expectations, and now that Adriana was established here in Charles Town with many male acquaintances, her good friend felt his chances growing slim.
“Come to the governor’s dinner with me tomorrow night.” She took his arm and pressed her head against his shoulder. “You’ll see that all the men of Charles Town are free with their looks. The good captain I just introduced you to is no different than any other.”
“You are not easing my mind.”
“You’re not thinking like the good friend that I know you are.”
“It’s difficult to think like a friend when you’re wearing a dress like that.”
“My pretty dress has a purpose, Etienne.” She resisted the urge to sigh again, because that made her breasts swell up from the hem of her bodice. A useful tool, but not in this particular situation. “It’s like a mask I wear, to put myself in a position to smooth this misguided animosity the powerful men of Charles Town have against the French.”
“I don’t want you to be around powerful men.” He reached for her hand and grasped it tight. “I want you to be around me. Tonight.”
She knew what he was asking as he glanced hopefully at the door to her house, and it wasn’t for a bed in a separate room. “Etienne, you stay at the tavern, not here.”
“We are not children anymore. My mother’s eye isn’t upon us.”
“Your father—”
“Won’t say a word. He knows how I feel.”
His gaze fell to her bosom again. A shadow of disappointment darkened her heart. She didn’t want to believe that Etienne couldn’t see past her cleavage any better than the men of Charles Town. This man had seen her in breeches. They’d hunted in the woods around the Santee together, stepping as quietly as natives through the underbrush, the silence between them the easy companionship of friends.
“So you come here and accuse me of taking a lover,” she said, releasing him and stepping away, “and then would take me as a lover yourself?”
He sensed her displeasure, for his shoulders drooped and a rueful look crossed his face. “I shouldn’t have said all that, Adriana.” He shrugged. “I just miss you.”
He smiled a bashful smile.
And she looked at him and looked at him and looked at him until she once again saw in his face the shy and sweet boy she knew.
***
That evening, Adriana stepped out of the house and gasped as the wind whipped her skirts against her legs. Her hair strained against its pins. “The storm’s so close!” She glanced beyond Etienne at the turbulent sky. “I didn’t realize—”
“Shall we send word that we won’t be coming?” A speculative gleam came into his eye as he approached. “We could share a private dinner.”
“We’re going,” she said, frowning at him. “The Blake’s house isn’t far from here. It won’t make a difference whether we’re in the governor’s house or this one during the storm.”
“Well, it’s not hurricane season yet.” Etienne held out his elbow for her grip. “The storm will wear itself out in a few hours.”
She approached the horses. Joachim held the mounts firmly, for the whistling of the wind and the scattering of leaves frightened the beasts. Etienne held out his laced hands for her foot. She hefted herself up and settled in the worn leather saddle. The mare pranced beneath her as she pulled the reins from Joachim’s grip.
Then Etienne struggled with his own mount. He was a rice farmer, more at ease with a dugout canoe and an oar than with a lively gelding. He also looked decidedly uncomfortable in his borrowed clothes, but his lips were set in what she had come to know as determination. He would take advantage of his situation tonight, because Adriana knew how much he wanted to be the man escorting her to dinner.
She needed Etienne, too. With her friend’s strong arm under her hand, she was less likely to make a fool of herself with Roarke, who was sure to be one of the invited guests.
A little while later, she and Etienne dismounted outside the governor’s house. Through the windows of the lower rooms, the golden glow of candlelight spilled over the lush, front gardens. A servant in broadcloth livery took the reins of the horses while another led them into the foyer, beyond which the guests of the dinner party mingled.
The governor greeted them in the foyer. “Madame Joubert! I am so pleased you braved the storm to come.” He scrutinized Etienne’s tanned face and his ill-fitting suit. “And who is this strapping young man?”
“Etienne Gaillard,” Etienne said, thrusting out his hand and speaking passable English. “A pleasure to meet you, Governor Blake.”
“Gaillard,” the governor mused, tilting his head toward Adriana. “Of the family from the Santee?”
“Why, governor,” Adriana said. “I’m flattered that you remember so much about my family.”
“I make it a point to know everything I can about the good people under my jurisdiction. Especially the pretty ones.” He winked at her before turning his attention to Etienne. “Welcome, young sir. I look forward to quizzing you about how you came to know this lovely young Frenchwoman that all of Charles Town adores.”
They followed the governor into the parlor. She saw the usual crowd of proprietor’s deputies and judges, Carolina landed gentry and their wives. There was one man she had never seen before, dressed in a brilliant scarlet coat with medals glittering on his breast. He sipped a glass of brandy with one arm bent behind him, as if he were standing at military attention.
Roarke, she noticed, was not among the guests.
“You were right,” Etienne said, as the governor made his excuses and then stepped out to greet another arrival.
“Right about what?”
“The governor looks at you in the same way that captain did.”
She raised a brow. “I did warn you.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“You’re not going to make a fuss now, are you? You are the man I chose to escort me, after all.”
“Yes, and that gives me some ideas.” Etienne took a glass from a tray a servant was circulating through the room. “The governor wants to hear stories. Should I tell him that you’re a fine huntress?”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I could tell him,” Etienne continued, speaking in low French, “that I’ve seen you wade into a rice field to retrieve a turkey you’d shot straight through the eye.”
“You should remember how good my aim is before you anger me.”
“You were happy then, Adriana.”
She raised her brows, wondering what he was babbling on about, because never once in these past years had she felt anything as fierce as happiness.
“But since you’ve moved to Charles Town,” he added, “I haven’t heard you laugh once.”
“Oh, Etienne.” Her heart gave a little squeeze. She ran a hand over Etienne’s sleeve, feeling blessed with friendship and guilty about it at the same time. “I’m sure you’ll have me laughing before the night’s end.”
Then she fanned herself with her free hand as she nodded to the many guests. Compared to the fresh, rain-washed air outside the house, the parlor seemed close and stifling. She took a cushioned seat by a window in the hope of a breeze. The patter of rain on the wooden sides of the house increased. The wind shook the locked shutters until they banged against the thick, greenish glass of the windows. The light from the myrtle-berry candles flickered in the drafts. The women gasped in unison as a particularly vigorous wind battered the side of the house.
“Well, Madame Joubert, you’re looking more flushed and beautiful than ever. Storms suit you.”
She glanced up to find Nicholas Trott’s rheumy gaze on her. The strong scent of rum floated on his breath.
Etienne stiffened, but she placed her hand on his arm. “Nicholas, may I introduce to you a friend from the Santee, Etienne Gaillard. Etienne, this is Nicholas Trott, the attorney general of the colony.”
The men bowed like they were testing the weight of their antlers. They exchanged stiff pleasantries, but she hardly heard them, for just at that moment she glimpsed Roarke as he stepped into the foyer.
Her heart did a little skitter-step. She suspected she may have gasped, too, because suddenly Nicholas turned to follow her gaze.
She slapped a hand on his arm to forestall him—and the gossip that would follow. “Nicholas,” she said, letting his name roll over her tongue, “Etienne and I were just wondering about the new guest.”
She gestured with a tilt of her head to the military man in the middle of a small crowd, all while watching Roarke chat with the governor in the foyer.
“That buck?” Nicholas frowned. “He’s the naval captain of the brigantine that came into the harbor late this afternoon.”
“Ah, a naval captain.” Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Roarke handed his hat to a servant.
“He’s the guest of honor tonight,” Nicholas continued, “for he brings us the news of the end of the war.”
Etienne’s eyes lit up. “Is it true?”
Nicholas shrugged. “He brought all the necessary papers.”
“Perhaps now,” Etienne said, “Englishmen will not hate us French so much. Will you introduce me to this man?”
Adriana knew that she should rescue Etienne from his own foolish candor, but Roarke had turned toward the parlor doors and saw her.
Their gazes locked.
“Oh, young man,” Nicholas laughed, “I would not be so foolish as to introduce a Frenchman to Captain Samuel Leighton.”