Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (14 page)

Hervé turned sharply, piercing his brother with a glare. “What?” “His dagger. It is an original. It has his initials and his family’s coat of arms on it.”

That might work.
“Keep watching her. For this she does not need to be completely alone, yet we must choose our moment carefully. Neither her admirer nor Sidonie can be anywhere around.”

A
n hour after the attack on Eugénie, the constable had departed with hers and Will’s statements. Will reclined on a chaise in the main parlor of the lower level of the Whitecliff home with a piece of raw beefsteak over his eye and a glass of rum shrub in his hand. His betrothed sat perched on the edge of a chair next to the chaise, looking particularly fetching in a soft green gown, and ready to fly away at any moment.

Andrew and Cicely, as Will was now allowed to address her, shared the small sofa across from him.

Earlier, Josh had been sent to the hotel for a change of clothing for Will, which arrived with Tidwell. Not that Will really expected his valet to remain put. Over the years, Tidwell had developed a proprietary interest in Will’s wardrobe.

Cicely had sent her lady’s maid to Wivenly House on the same errand, and Eugénie’s garments had arrived with a servant as well.

This was the first time Will had been in a room other than the main ones on the upper floor, and the arrangement fascinated him. “Are all the larger houses built like this?”

“Most of them,” Eugénie replied. “You have the same type of thing in England, do you not?”

“After a fashion,” Will replied. “Though the nursery level is usually above the parents’ chambers and there is no terrace.”

“That’s what it is.” Andrew gave a bark of laughter. “If one wishes to escape the nursery it’s much more difficult. Will is mourning lost possibilities.”

“Indeed.” He grinned. “Yet it would have been so easy to sneak out, it’d hardly be worth the effort. After all, the chance of being caught was half the fun.”

“Cicely,” Eugénie pronounced, ending all discussion of Will’s childhood possibilities, “has so much space because she is a single child. I share with my three sisters and our brother.”

At home, his brothers and sisters were always underfoot, but he had never seen Eugénie’s sisters. Now he knew the reason. There was no need for them to pass through the main floor to do anything, not even filch from the kitchen, as it was outside. Somehow he knew he’d miss the noise and confusion.

Andrew lightly squeezed his betrothed’s hand. “This is where Cicely and I shall live until we travel to England.”

For the first time, Will realized there was a problem concerning where he and Eugénie would reside. He could not see them living on the children’s level of Wivenly House. Of course, it might be time to depart for England before he married her. That thought brought him back to his immediate problem, convincing Eugénie she wanted to wed him.

She lifted the beefsteak, appearing a bit fuzzy as she peered at his eye. “It is no use. I know nothing of black eyes.” She allowed the meat to flop back down. “Andrew, perhaps you’d better have a look.”

“I shall in a while. Tell us what happened.”

Eugénie shrugged in her elegant Gallic way. “I do not know. I stepped onto the step leading to my gate, and suddenly the
cochon
grabbed me. I struggled, I bit him, but he was too large, and he wore gloves.”

She paused for a moment as a shiver ran through her.

Will wished he’d insisted she sit next to him on the chaise. At least then he’d be able to touch her. Though whether it would provide the comfort he’d intend, he didn’t know.

“Then”—she gave herself a small shake—“the scoundrel said he was being paid much gold to take me. The only thing I could think of was slavery.”

Slavery!
Will’s fists clenched as rage and fear for Eugénie coursed through him. He wished he’d been able to kill the villain. If they could safely sail for England, he’d have them all on a ship tomorrow. Unfortunately the hurricane season was well underway. Then he caught the strange way Cicely was looking at Eugénie, and her answering shrug. What the devil was going on? Was there more to the attack?

Maneuvering himself around, he reached over and took her cold hand in his. “You must never be without protection. If there is money involved, the blackguard will try again.”

She was quiet for several moments before saying, “We have only two footmen, one is older and the other still a boy. Yet even Josh could not have stopped that man.”

“I’ll send my groom, Griff.”

She glanced at him in surprise.

In addition to keeping her protected, perhaps this would help encourage her to start feeling differently about him. “He has nothing better to do, and he knows how to fight and handle a pistol.”

“I shall carry my dagger as well.” She gave a firm nod. “Somehow we need to keep this from Maman.”

That answered his question about whether or not she could use a knife. It didn’t surprise him.

Cicely’s brows rose, wrinkling her forehead. “I don’t know that you’ll be able to. The whole street answered your screams.”

“She’s right.” Will squeezed her hand. “Shall we tell her together? I can explain about Griff.”

“Very well,” Eugénie said in a barely audible tone.

He’d never seen her so still, so stoic. “What are you thinking?”

“That if my mother lost another person”—her voice hitched—“she would not be able to go on.”

This was the time to take her in his arms; instead Will had a slab of beef on his face and their closest friends were present. Not to mention, no dark shadows he could tug her into, though that hadn’t gone very well. “I promise you, she’ll not have to.” He eased himself up on the chaise and brought her hand closer, kissing it. “I’ll keep you safe.”

She turned to him, her eyes wide as if she almost didn’t believe what he’d said. Then the corners of her generous mouth lifted. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t put a name to the surge of emotions coursing through him. It was almost the same as when he’d been given his first ice cream, or when he’d cleared his first fence, but infinitely stronger. Pride mingled with self-satisfaction and something else. It was that
something else
he knew he’d have to examine more closely when he was alone and could think, but right now, this was enough.

The remains of Nathan’s dinner had been cleared not a quarter hour before. It was still light, but barely. Once the sun sank, darkness would fall quickly. None of the lingering sunsets of his youth in England here in the West Indies.

He stared up at the ceiling, waiting. Miss Marshall and Mr. Conrad said they’d return this evening. Though perhaps he’d already been drugged. A light scratching came at one of the windows before the shutter opened. Conrad lifted Miss Marshall through the opening. She sat on the sill before gracefully swinging her legs inside.

“Mr. Wivenly.” She smiled as softly as she had earlier. “Good evening. We don’t have long.”

“I must tell you,” Nathan said, “they plan to treat Conrad’s food so that he’ll sleep.” Nathan related the rest of what he’d overheard.

The smile left her face. “Thank you for warning us. We suspected as much. Fortunately, one of the cooks for the slaves is also from St. Croix. She will make sure his food is not adulterated. At least if they think Joseph is drugged”—her hand flew to her chest and she breathed deeply, calming herself just as any well-born Englishwoman would do—“he will not be chained. I have arranged transport away from here. Not long after the overseer, Williams, departs, we should as well.”

“Am I correct that we are not far from Saint-Pierre?” Nathan asked.

She glanced quickly at Conrad. “You are, sir. How did you know?”

“This is not the first time I’ve been on Martinique.” Nathan grinned. “If we can get to the town, I have a friend who will assist us.”

A scenario played through Nathan’s head. “Will he be missed at breakfast?”

A look of revulsion appeared on Miss Marshall’s face; she opened her mouth to speak when Conrad said, “No. I will not be missed until the evening meal.”

Nathan would hear the rest of their story, but not now. “We should be safely out of their grasp by then.”

Miss Marshall nodded tightly. “We’ll come through this window to fetch you. Good night.”

The couple left as quietly as they’d entered. He wondered about the unlikely pair. They appeared to take the travesty that had occurred to them when Conrad was sold in stride, but how much had they suffered at the hands of greedy, cruel men? All in the name of profit. Well, Nathan was proof that one did not need to make money on the backs of slaves.

His hand went to his breeches, then he remembered: The miniatures of Sidonie and Eugénie were no longer there. He’d have new ones made when he returned. This time of all the children.

Closing his eyes, he tried to force himself to sleep, yet could not. It was not Conrad who would be missed. It was Nathan. Damn. He should have thought of that earlier. How far could they travel before
his
breakfast was served?

Finally, he dozed fitfully, waiting for the soft scratching on the window, but it never came. Once it was light he rose, changing from his clothing to the nightshirt he’d been provided and returned to bed. The fear Conrad had been caught played with Nathan’s mind, but no alarms had been raised. Waiting, not knowing what had happened, that was the worst part. No wonder so many wives chose to go to sea with their husbands. This was far more terrible than battle.

Exhausted, he must have finally slept as the sound of a tray being placed on the table woke him.

“Sorry, sir.” A young woman with café au lait–colored skin glanced at him in fear. “I was tryin’ to be quiet.”

Why did all the servants and slaves here have either English or Dutch accents? Then it came to him. How utterly simple. Because they couldn’t speak French or the native patois, it would be almost impossible for them to escape a French island.

“I was already awake,” he lied.

“Is there anything else ye’d be wanting?”

Nathan rubbed a hand over his bristly chin. “Please have some warm water brought. I’d like to shave.”

The woman glanced away. “Is that all?”

What the devil was she getting at?
Holy Jesus
. Someone sent her to see if he wanted to bed her?

“Yes,” Nathan said in a firm tone, hoping not to have the offer repeated.

She backed out of the bedchamber, nodding as she went. “I’ll tell the housekeeper.”

Nathan removed the lids from the dishes. At least to-day’s meal was more substantial. Meat, eggs, and bread. They weren’t trying to starve him. He’d eaten half of it when a young man carrying a large pitcher of water arrived. After filling the washbasin, he reached out eagerly to take the tray, then stopped.

Didn’t their master even feed them enough? Though God knew, growing boys needed a lot of food. “Go ahead. I’ve had enough. You may eat it here if you wish.”

“It’s all right.” The lad shook his head. “I’ll do the rest on the way back to the kitchen.” He gathered up the plates. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not takin’ Sukey when you could have.”

“I would never—” Nathan closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re welcome.”

Despair, rage, and sadness warred for supremacy. He hated slavery in all its forms and fashions. He’d once known a man who’d been a slave himself in Egypt, had been freed, and now owned slaves on St. Thomas. Nathan didn’t understand it at all and didn’t want to.

He was drying his face when a bit of white on the floor caught his eye. A many-times-folded piece of paper. He listened for any sounds outside in the corridor before stepping quietly over to the note, picking it up, then opening it.

After dinner.

Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. Soon he’d be free.

E
ugénie caught her breath as Wivenly’s warm lips brushed across her knuckles. His touch was different this time, soothing, not ravenous as if he had to possess her. Since the attack, her stomach had been a tight ball. It loosened now. She took a sip of the chilled white wine Cicely had handed her. Would she ever feel safe going out alone again? “I wonder if they will find the thug.”

“If he is still on the island”—Cicely’s hand made a tight fist—“they will find him. Our police are very good.”

Andrew wrapped his fingers around Cicely’s. “Anyone that large and Portuguese will be hard to miss.”

Eugénie raised her brow. She had recognized his accent, but had not realized anyone else had.

Cicely opened her hand, twining it with Andrew’s. “I heard him speak.”

They always seemed to take comfort in each other that way, much as Eugénie’s parents had done. If only she had not got herself into a mess where she must marry a man who did not love her, and for whom she had little regard. Though to-day, Wivenly had come to her rescue and brought her flowers, and now he held her hand. An awareness pricked the side of her neck, and she glanced at Wivenly. He was staring at her with his good eye.

“You’ve had quite a scare.” His blue gaze was warm with concern. “How are you?”

Terrified. For herself, and her family, that the Portuguese might try again and this time would either succeed or harm someone who was trying to defend her. “I am fine.”

Wivenly raised a skeptical brow.

“I worry about how my mother will take the news.” She could not trust him with her fear, or her heart. “Since my
beau-papa
’s death, she has not been strong.”

“As I told you, we will inform her together. She’ll have no need to worry about you or anyone else.”

Mayhap having a male Wivenly around would help, yet, other than his eyes, he did not look at all like her papa, and he certainly did not act like Papa. “It is my fervent wish that it be so.”

“Andrew”—Wivenly removed the beef from his face—“take a look at my eye, will you? We need to go see my aunt before some well-meaning neighbor says something.”

Rising, Andrew took the few steps to Wivenly and studied his face. “It will be black and blue for a few days. Can you see out of it?”

“It hurts.” Will gently prodded the area around his eye. “But my vision is fine.”

His valet appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, took the meat, and vanished just as quickly. A cooling breeze wafted through the doors. Will made ready to stand when she did, but Eugénie was frozen in the chair.

Her stomach tightened again. How could she add to her mother’s worries? It seemed so selfish. “We should plan what to say.” Even to Eugénie that sounded weak. “There must be a way to put the incident in a better light.”

“Better light?”
Wivenly uttered as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. “We tell your mother exactly what occurred.” He softened his tone. “Bad news doesn’t get better with time.”

Her spine bowed as she shrunk back into the chair. “I think—”

“Eugénie!”

Mon Dieu!
They’d waited too long. “Here, Maman.”

She appeared at the door followed by the Whitecliffs. “What is this I’ve been told about a man trying to take you, and why did I have to hear it from our neighbors?”

Wivenly unfolded his long frame in one fluid motion. “We were just about to come to you.”

Eugénie took a gulp of her wine and waited.

Her mother stepped forward then covered her mouth with her hand as a gasp escaped. “Will, your eye.”

“It will be fine.”

Cicely poured wine for her parents and Eugénie’s mother.

Wivenly signaled to Eugénie to join him on the chaise, and Andrew brought over two chairs. Once they were settled, she explained how the events unfolded.

At the end of the story, Maman’s frown deepened. “You said he was being paid a great deal for you?”

“Yes. I immediately thought of slavers.”

“Then why not take Cicely as well?” Mr. Whitecliff asked.

A low growl emanated from Andrew, and Cicely grinned.

“That,” Wivenly said thoughtfully, “is a very good question.” He glanced at Eugénie. “Perhaps it was not slavers. Who would want to abduct you?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “No one.”

At least not anyone she would tell him about.

“Your uncle.”

All their gazes swiveled toward her mother.

“What reason,” Wivenly asked, drawing his brows together, “would either my father or any of the uncles have to kidnap Eugénie?”

Maman took a sip of wine, then fiddled with the glass. “Not your family.” She turned to Eugénie. “Your father’s brother, Vicomte Villaret de Joyeuse.”

“The Vicomte?”
Andrew and Wivenly said at the same time.

The hairs on the back of Eugénie’s neck prickled. She hadn’t heard from her father’s family in years. “What is it?”

“Dam . . . drat.” Wivenly’s hand tightened on hers. “He was the man behind the scheme to convince you the company was failing.”

“Do you know a Mr. Shipley?” Andrew asked.

“Not precisely.” Eugénie glanced from Wivenly to Andrew. “He came to my home after you left that first day.” Warmth infused her cheeks. “He offered to marry me and buy the company.” Had Wivenly known about that? What else was he hiding from her? “Why did you not tell me about Shipley and this Vicomte?”

“We”—Wivenly motioned toward Andrew—“thought it was over. Shipley left in a hurry as did the manager, Howden. We’d heard the sobriquet ‘The Vicomte,’ but were never able to find him.” Wivenly scrubbed his face with his hand. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

It appeared there was a great deal of misplaced desire not to fret others going on. She swung her gaze back to her mother. “Maman, why do you think my uncle has something to do with this?”

That might explain to-day’s attack and the strange men who’d chased her a couple of months ago.

“He . . .” Maman wrung her hands. “He wrote to me after your Papa left for England with a proposal for you to marry a French
comte
. The match would repair the war’s depredations of the Villaret de Joyeuse family fortune. I responded, telling him your step-father would not countenance the match.”

Without mentioning the proposal to me?
“Maman, for what reason?”

“The
comte
is getting on in years and desperate for a son. The ceremony was to be by proxy.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I could not allow you to wed in that manner. Eugénie, you deserve to be loved.”

Yes, she did deserve to be loved, and if that was what her mother wanted for her . . . For the first time since she’d agreed to Wivenly’s proposal, she knew she could not go through with any marriage unless she loved him and her regard was returned in full.

Eugénie’s mood had shifted, but for the life of him, Will couldn’t figure out what it meant. All he knew was it was more important than ever that she agree to marry him, and he didn’t have long. “We are still missing information. Such as, if Shipley was employed by your uncle, how did his marrying you further the cause to wed you to the
comte
?”

“Mr. Shipley,” Aunt Sidonie continued, “appeared to believe I was Eugénie’s sole guardian. Perhaps your uncle thought to use Shipley as the proxy for the
comte.
”

“Or,” Eugénie said, “my uncle might have come forward with the offer again.” She paused for a moment. “You must admit, even an elderly
comte
is better than a Shipley.”

Will bit down hard on his inner cheek; a slight tang of blood soured his mouth. He drained his glass of rum shrub, and waited for someone to respond to her.

“Well, my dear,” Mr. Whitecliff said, “you’ll not need to worry about that with Lord Wivenly here.”

The tension in his aunt’s face eased, but not enough to satisfy him. “As I said earlier, I’ll send Griff to keep watch when I cannot be with Eugénie.”

“Thank you.” Aunt Sidonie slid a glance to her daughter. “I will feel safer.”

Eugénie remained silent, and he got the feeling he was somehow in competition with the unknown
comte
. “Allow me to escort you home.”

The rest of their coterie walked with them to the front door of Wivenly House. At least his betrothed remembered to bring the flowers he’d brought her.

Will bowed to Eugénie. “You are handling this extraordinarily well. Please, do not hesitate to send a message if you need me. I shall see you in the morning.” He raised her hand to his lips, placing a kiss on her palm. Her breath hitched as he closed her fingers around it. “Adieu.”

She regarded him steadily, the spark of challenge back in her eyes. “Until then, my lord.”

No woman had ever tested him the way Eugénie did. He was certain she desired him every bit as much as he craved her, yet she fought him every step of the way, and held herself back from committing to him. He’d have to discover what she needed him to give her before she’d allow herself to capitulate. Well, he had wanted to have to chase the woman he would marry. What was it his mother always said?
Be careful what you wish for
.

He certainly wouldn’t take his charm and desirability for granted again. He bowed once more before making his way back toward the hotel. There must be a way to court her here that didn’t involve kissing her senseless. That obviously hadn’t worked the first time, and nothing had changed.

“Will.”

He stopped until Andrew reached him. “Coming back to the hotel with me?”

“No. Cicely has decided to help you with Eugénie.”

This was a change, and Will wasn’t sure he trusted it. “Why?”

His friend shrugged. “Mind you, I’m not sure I understand it myself, but she apparently saw something in you this afternoon, and thinks you’d be good for Eugénie.”

At this point, any aid was better than nothing. “Very well. I accept.”

“Good.” Andrew opened a door in the wall. “Cicely is waiting.”

A half hour later he was armed with a short list of activities Eugénie enjoyed that he could partake in as well. Including her teaching, which took place at the Moravian church on Sundays. Still, unless he wanted to end up reading poetry to her, he’d have to work quickly. There were woefully few things to do on this island.

Cicely narrowed her eyes. “You must promise me something.”

Suddenly he felt like a small child getting caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Anything.”

“You may not—” She paused for a moment as warmth rose in her cheeks. “You will not attempt to seduce Eugénie. If it turns out she does not want you, then she must be free to carry on with her life.”

“My love—” Andrew began.

Cicely held up her hand. “I will have his word.”

“I will not do anything she doesn’t want me to.” There, that didn’t tie his hands as much. Though not marrying Eugénie was not an option Will would freely consider.

“That’s the problem.” Cicely frowned. “She has no resistance to you.”

“Will.” Andrew’s tone expressed a wealth of warning.

Keeping his hands totally off his betrothed was not what Will had in mind. “You have my word.”

She smiled with relief. “Thank you. Believe it or not, I think this will gain you her regard faster than anything else.”

It damn well better. He hoped Cicely was right.

The next morning Will knocked on the door of Wivenly House, with a new fan he’d purchased for her wrapped in paper and tied with a ribbon.

Bates opened the door and bowed. “This way, my lord.” He led him to a small couch located to the side of the large main room. “I shall inform Miss Eugénie you have arrived.”

A maid brought Will a pot of tea and cakes. This was much better treatment than he’d expected, but he’d yet to discover how Eugénie would respond to him.

“The green muslin walking gown.” Cicely nodded emphatically.

Eugénie sighed. Her friend had come over shortly after breakfast and begun taking gowns out of her wardrobe. “Does it really matter what I wear?”

They were only going shopping.

“Of course it does.” Cicely placed her hands on her hips. “It will put you in a better temper.”

“There is nothing wrong with my mood.”

She grabbed Eugénie’s shoulders and turned her so that she faced the mirror. “Indeed?”

The woman gazing back at Eugénie looked tired and worn. “Oh my. I suppose I do look a bit blue-deviled.”

“Yes, you do.”

Eugénie pulled a face. “You needn’t agree with me so quickly.

“Marisole, can you do something different with my hair?”

“Of course, miss.” Marisole glanced quickly at Cicely. “And I think the green is a good choice.”

Something was going on, and Eugénie was being kept in the dark. “What are the two of you up to?”

Cicely opened her cornflower-blue eyes wide. “Why, nothing at all. We only want you to look your best. That way you will feel more the thing.”

Eugénie didn’t believe Cicely for a moment, but donned the gown, then sat still while her hair was dressed in a top-knot. Her maid teased out strands of Eugénie’s hair so that spirals framed her face. The lady that stared back at her no longer seemed so careworn.

The clock struck eight. She had at least two hours before Wivenly would disturb himself to arrive. Enough time to see to some household tasks and shop with her friend.

A light scratching sounded on the open door.

“Miss?” Bates bowed. “Lord Wivenly is waiting for you.”

Already?
“I’ll be up in a few minutes.” She would wager her pin money that her maid and Cicely knew he’d arrive early to-day. Marisole clasped a necklace of local pearls around Eugénie’s neck and handed her the matching earrings. Once she fastened the wire in her ears, she stood. “Thank you both.”

“Have a good time.” Cicely hugged her, wiggled her fingers at Eugénie before leaving. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Her friend was down the stairs before she had time to consider Cicely’s words. Were they to meet later? No one told her anything. She mounted the first step. Marisole followed armed with a broad-brimmed bonnet, parasol, and gloves.