Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (20 page)

Yves studied Henri. Well-built, the young man appeared to be in his early twenties. His skin was the color of café with cream, and his eyes a startling green. Yves knew of any number of high-born ladies in Paris who would be unable to resist taking him to their beds. Yes, he would do very well. “I have need of someone who can seduce a servant for information.”

Instead of bowing and agreeing immediately, Henri said, “For a price.”

The man was insolent, but Yves needed him. “Naturally. Which currency do you prefer?”

“English pounds.”

Of course he would, especially if this Henri thought of leaving St. Thomas. “I shall pay you thirty.”

Henri’s brows rose. It was a great deal of money. “Half now. Half when I bring you the information.”

Bah!
That was not what Yves had planned. “Very well.” He snapped his fingers and his valet went to a chest, then brought back a small bag. “Here you are.”

Henri nodded. “Whom do you wish me to seduce and what information shall I provide you?”

Yves described the house and location. “I want to know when my niece is usually alone in a place where she can be abducted. She cannot always be with other people. One of the maids should do. I would say my niece’s dresser, but those women tend to be almost frigid. The position is too good to throw away.”

Only then did Henri bow. “You will have your information, monsieur.”

Frowning, Yves watched the servant leave. He was well-spoken for his position, almost too well-spoken for his situation. He glanced at his valet. “Find out more about him for me.”

“Oui, monsieur.”

It wouldn’t do to have a traitor in their midst.

Henri made his way to his quarters. He wasn’t expected on duty again for another hour, and this assignment would require some thought. He knew Wivenly House well. His uncle Bates was the butler there. Mr. Nathan Wivenly had helped Henri’s family buy his freedom. He spat. Though how much that freedom was worth in any of the Danish islands was debatable. The government and Danish population treated freemen with more distain than they treated slaves.

Whatever the Frenchman wanted with Miss Villaret could not be good, and Henri must find a way to interfere with the man’s plot.

He had almost enough saved up to travel to Tortola and set up his own business. The money the Frenchman offered would give Henri the rest of what he needed and then some, but he would not harm any of the Wivenly family in the process. By the time he visited his uncle tomorrow, Henri would have a plan that would best serve both his purposes, as well as protect the lady.

Nathan awoke to the sound of a chair being dragged over to him. He stretched and took inventory; a little sore, but he didn’t seem the worse for wear. Shortly after he’d eaten that morning, he had fallen asleep. The most imperative thing for him to do now was to regain his strength. The aroma of strong coffee floated on the air, and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning, or afternoon as is the case.” Vincent grinned. “After hearing what you’ve been through, I decided to let you sleep.”

Perhaps now was the time to discover what
had
actually occurred. “You probably know more than I.” Nathan propped himself against the pillows, then took the mug Vincent held out to him. “Thank you. What time is it?”

“Almost one.” He waited until Nathan had taken a sip. “Do you really not know how you came to be on the plantation?”

“I had a broken leg and arm, as well as a cracked head. I suspect some of my ribs were fractured as well. I hadn’t given it much thought until recently.”

Vincent’s expression was grim as he nodded. “Pirates attacked your ship. You were the only survivor.”

Nathan had a vague memory of the attack, but nothing afterward. He clenched his jaw so tightly, it hurt. Damn them, killing his captain and crew. “What I do not know is the reason for all of this.”

Vincent leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Your step-daughter.”

“Eugénie?”

“Do you have another?”

Trust his friend to joke at a time like this. “Very funny. Tell me what you know.”

“What I know, I pieced together from everyone’s stories. Her uncle, the Vicomte Villaret de Joyeuse, wants to marry her to an older French
comte
. It appears the family is rather done up, and Eugénie is the only lady in the family of marriageable age to offer in wedlock.”

Nathan sipped the strong black coffee as his friend related how Villaret was responsible for the death of Nathan’s crew and the destruction of his ship. If he found the blackguard, he’d kill him. An English frigate had seen the fight and given chase, then returned to find the crew dead. It was, of course, assumed that Nathan had died as well. And now Eugénie’s uncle was on St. Thomas. There was no way in hell he’d allow the rogue to get his hands on his daughter.

“I need to get home as soon as possible. Can you get me a description and the name of the ship?”

“Naturally.” Vincent grinned as he handed Nathan a piece of paper. “I have been busy while you slept. It is already done, my friend.”

“The
Unconquerable
. We’ll see about that.” He glanced back to his friend. “How soon can we depart?”

“I’m outfitting my ship now. We will go aboard before dark.” Vincent took a sip of his coffee. “The only problem is your rather large friend.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise. Mr. Conrad would have made a good circus giant. A giggle from another room reached him. “I assume you have a plan?”

“You could say that.” Vincent glanced at the door. “I have a friend who works in the theater. She is completely trustworthy and, I think, almost finished.”

Nathan seriously doubted if anyone could disguise Conrad enough to get him aboard in broad daylight. Setting his cup down, Nathan made to rise, but Vincent stayed him. “I’ll send my man to you. Once you are dressed and have eaten, join us.”

The next hour was taken up with bathing, shaving, dressing, and eating. Fortunately, Vincent and Nathan were about the same size. Nathan had not known how hungry he was until he dug into the savory stew filled with beef and vegetables and had consumed a loaf of fresh bread. He hadn’t been aware of it, but at the plantation he had been fed with the intent of not allowing him to regain his strength. He made his way to the drawing room. Unlike the houses in St. Thomas, the French replicated their native architecture in Martinique and the rest of the French-held islands.

Miss Marshall had her hands crossed over her stomach, laughing. Conrad sported an old-fashioned gray wig, and his skin color had been lightened to almost white. His lips were pink, and someone had fashioned a frock coat with wide cuffs and a great deal of gold. He was in the process of entertaining the others by walking around stooped over with a cane, spouting the occasional French curse. He resembled an old man who insisted on dressing in the fashion of the previous era.

“Do you think he’ll do?” Vincent asked.

“I think he might.” Nathan grinned. Hiding Conrad had been his most pressing concern. “We should load him on the boat while it is light enough for everyone to see.”

“I agree.” Vincent took Nathan by the arm, leading him to the far end of the room. “The plantation’s overseer is looking for you and the others. Fortunately, the only descriptions they have given out are of Conrad and Miss Marshall.”

This was bad news, but not unexpected. “I knew it wouldn’t take long. Have you been able to arrange all our papers on such short notice?”

“They are being made up. We’ll have them before we depart.” Vincent glanced at the others. “Everyone, including you, will be in disguise. You must take care to speak French. The slaves’ owner”—Vincent’s lips thinned with disapproval—“did his best to ensure none of them could speak my language. It is our good fortune that he did not succeed. Even Miss Marshall speaks very good French. She is an impressive woman.”

Nathan nodded. “She told me their story. I agree with you. Not many women would do as she has done.”

A boy burst into the drawing room and spoke in rapid patois to Vincent. He turned to the rest of their group. “We will soon have visitors.”

Vincent strode to one of the ornate wall panels, pressed a leaf, and a moment later it opened, revealing a comfortable room with chairs and a sofa. “Everyone but Mr. Conrad, please. You must be silent.”

When the group was settled, he closed it again and glanced at Nathan. “Go to your room. The authorities are not searching for a white man, but I do not wish to give them reason to tell the overseer about you.”

Knocking sounded from the door below as Nathan returned to his chamber, praying none of them would be caught.

B
efore leaving Whitecliff House, Eugénie had told Cicely about her visitors. Fortunately Cicely knew a family in Virgin Gorda who would help them. William had insisted on escorting the girl and her baby to the ship, along with the trunks. After dark, mother and child would be moved to the boat that would take them to safety.

Once they were gone, Eugénie finally had time to reflect on everything that was happening. She hadn’t known she could be this blissful and content. It was as if one of the fairy tales her mother used to tell her had come true. If only Papa were alive, her happiness would be complete. What a surprise Maman and the girls would have when they returned.

When they finally arrived home late in the afternoon, all the children looked as if they’d been through a mud puddle. Eugénie bussed her mother’s cheek. “My goodness, what have you been up to?”

“We were invited to Mrs. Spivey’s house.” Maman removed her bonnet and grimaced at the children. “She has a fishpond and a Great Dane dog.”

Nothing more needed to be said. Eugénie struggled not to laugh. “I understand. It appears that they had a wonderful time.”

“Indeed.”

The governess shooed the children downstairs, and was about to follow them when Eugénie stayed her. “Miss Penny, please remain. Maman”—Eugénie took a breath—“I have news for you. Lord Wivenly and I have decided to sail to Tortola tomorrow to find the vicar and marry. I would like you and the children to accompany us. The packing is complete, and the trunks sent to Mr. Whitecliff’s ship.” Eugénie gave her mother a moment to take in what she’d said. “Cicely and Mr. Grayson are coming with us and will wed as well.”

Eugénie waited as her mother stared at her as if in a trance. She resisted the urge to wave her fingers in front of Maman’s face. “Are you going to say something?”

“Well—” Maman shook her head as if trying to clear it. “When you make a decision, you do not do it in half measures.” She hugged Eugénie. “I knew you had reservations, my love. Though I am pleased you have finally made your choice.”

She returned her mother’s embrace. “I did, but I have none now. This has turned out very well. He is truly the man I love.”

“I must wish you happy,” Penny said, “and I’m sure you will be. If it is all the same to you, I’ll not tell the children until they are awoken in the morning.”

Remembering Mr. Whitecliff’s orders, Eugénie said, “We will leave before dawn.”

“They will be ready.” Penny smiled. “It’s been ages since we’ve all been sailing.”

Penny left Eugénie with her mother. It was time to give her the rest of the news. “We are dining next door. Mrs. Whitecliff was out when the decisions were made. I’m counting on you to help convince her that Cicely and Andrew should marry as well.”

Maman looked happy for the first time since Papa died. “You can depend on me. Now, I must bathe and change.” She turned, then stopped. “Eugénie, my darling, I am so very delighted for you. Wivenly will make you a good husband.”

“I know he will.” Eugénie hugged her mother. “I shall see you in an hour.”

When she arrived at her rooms, Marisole had the bathing tub ready. “Thank you. This is exactly what I need right now.”

“Yes, miss. Until we return, there is no saying that you’ll be able to bathe.”

Once dressed for dinner, Eugénie rummaged through her dresser. “Where is the fan his lordship gave me?”

“Here it is, miss.”

A light tapping on the door made her look up. William smiled, and she made her decision. “Marisole, you may take the rest of the evening off. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“If you’re sure, miss?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” The look in his deep blue eyes, love and desire mixed together, made her want to remain here and be with him now. She’d begun to think she’d never have these feelings of wanting to belong so completely to a man. “Go now, I’ll be fine.”

Marisole slipped past Wivenly, but not before giving him a warning look. His head jerked back in surprise, and his gaze followed Marisole as she left. “What did I do to her?”

Heat crept up Eugénie’s neck and into her cheeks. Telling her maid not to attend her to-night was much easier than telling William she wanted him to stay. Perhaps she would not have to say anything. She flipped open her fan and applied it vigorously. “She has strange humors at times. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

There must have been something in her voice, because he turned and stared at her. “I’m glad to see you carrying the fan I gave you. Though it doesn’t seem to be working very well.”

If anything, her face grew hotter. “It’s just very warm.” She moved toward the door. “We should leave. We don’t want to be late.”

His large hand caught her around the waist, pulling her to him. “Eugénie”—his voice was a low, seductive purr—“what are you keeping from me?”

Suddenly she felt very young and inexperienced. Perhaps she should wait until their wedding night. He dipped his head, pressing light kisses over her jaw and down her neck. Shivers of sensation rushed through her, and she sighed.

“You like that, do you?”

Eugénie’s words were as languid as she felt. “Umm, it’s nice.”

“Only nice?”

She tilted her head to give him better access. “
Very
nice.”

“I can see that after we’re wed, I’ll have to work hard to merit superlatives from you.”

“Afterward?”

His tongue moved down over her neck. “You did say you wished to wait.”

Oh Lord. She was blushing again. This was so unfair. Couldn’t he see she wanted him to stay with her? “Yes. No. I mean—” He’d moved to her chin. A smile hovered around his lips. “Drat you. You are going to make me say it.”

His lips touched the corner of her mouth. “Say what?”

That was enough. He was making a game of her. She hauled one arm back and punched him on the shoulder, and all the brute did was laugh. She hid her face against his coat. “You could make this easier.”

Wivenly’s chest rumbled a bit as if he held back a chuckle. “Are you inviting me to spend the night? Is that the reason your maid gave me such a look? You told her not to wait up for you?”

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against the smooth fabric of his jacket. “Yes, that was it exactly.”

“I’d be honored, my love, but we really must work on overcoming your hesitation in saying what you want.” Will sent a prayer of thanks to the Deity.

That brought her head back up. Eugénie’s luscious lips formed a perfect O. “You mean you want me to . . .”

“Trust me. It will make our love making that much better.”

For the third time, her face turned a lovely shade of rose. It was a pity they had dinner plans. He kissed each finger one by one. When Will got to the fourth finger of her right hand, he remembered why he’d come to her rooms. “Give me a moment.” He pulled out the ring from a waistcoat pocket. “As I didn’t know I’d be getting married, I neglected to bring a family ring. He slipped the one he’d bought over the finger of her right hand. “I hope you like it. I thought, because you like to wear knit gloves, a ring with no protruding stones would be better.”

“It’s beautiful.” She held her hand, fluttering her fingers a bit. Gold, opals, and diamonds formed an alternating pattern. “And I’ll be able to wear it while sailing.” Eugénie raised her gaze to his. “I love it. Thank you.”

A bell rang from somewhere above. “What is that?”

“The signal bell. It’s more efficient than having servants running up and down the stairs. Each of us is assigned a number of chimes.” She donned her gloves and tucked her hand in his. “Shall we, my lord?”

“What is yours?”

She tilted her head and grinned. “One, of course.”

“From oldest to youngest?”

“Yes, my brother wanted to be number one as he is the boy”—her voice became wistful—“but Papa said no.”

“You miss him a great deal.”

“I do. I hope he is looking after all of us from above.”

A chill raced down Will’s back and he said in an undervoice, “Not too closely, I hope.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I’m sure he is.” He led her up the stairs on the side of the house, marveling once again how the walls surrounding the house and gardens hid a small world from prying eyes. They had nothing like this at home. “My love, I’d like to take your mother and sisters back to England with us. Yet before I mention it to Aunt Sidonie, I want your opinion.”

“I think it is the best idea.” She paused for a moment. “Where will they live?”

“With us, if you wish, or with your grandmother Wivenly. If neither of those choices pleases your mother, then I’m sure my father has a suitable property.”

“I do not think it is possible for all of them to reside with Grandmamma.” Eugénie’s lips formed a
moue
. “She lives in a cottage. Which I do not understand, considering how well off Grandpapa was.”

The only time he’d seen his mother do anything as vulgar as roll her eyes was when his great-great-aunt Wivenly referred to her house as a cottage. “Only if you can call a manor house with above thirty main rooms a cottage.”

Eugénie’s startled gaze met his. “Truly? That many rooms?”

“Indeed.” He couldn’t keep the dryness from his tone. “It is actually a house of grand proportions built to resemble a cottage. Much in the same way as Marie Antoinette’s Hameau de la Reine. Your grandmother once visited Versailles and was so impressed by the idea of Hameau de la Reine, she had it replicated, though on a larger scale.”

“Would she want Maman and the children?”

Will shrugged and shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you. I know my mother and father would love to have them visit until all the details can be resolved.”

“There you are, my dears.” Aunt Sidonie didn’t turn a hair at seeing them together. “I am ready to do my part to convince Sally she must allow her daughter and Mr. Grayson to wed.”

This was the most pleased he’d ever seen his aunt, and the first time he’d actually understood how devastated she’d been by his great-uncle’s death. Will resolved to do everything he could to ensure she and the children were taken care of.

When they arrived at Whitecliff House, the battle lines had been drawn and the first engagement fought. As Mrs. Whitecliff was dabbing her eyes, it was obvious she had chosen tears as her weapon.

Aunt Sidonie flew to her side. “Oh, my dear. What has upset you so?” As she embraced her friend she motioned for the rest of them to go elsewhere. “There, there. We shall discuss the matter.”

Almost silently, they repaired to Cicely’s floor, followed by the butler and Josh, carrying a goodly amount of wine, rum, and brandy, as well as cheese and bread.

Will glanced at Andrew. “How long has that been going on?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Upwards of a half hour.”

Eugénie drew her friend aside. “You should not have begun the conversation until Maman was here.”

“There was no help for it.” Cicely’s chin firmed. “She saw the trunks being carried away.” She slid an exasperated look to her father, who tossed back a glass of rum. “We might have been able to get away with telling her we were only accompanying you, until Papa said there was no reason Andrew and I couldn’t marry as well.”

Whitecliff stared into his empty glass, then filled it again. “Perhaps I should have led up to it, but how was I to know she would take it so badly?”

Pursing her lips, Cicely cast a look at the ceiling. One could almost see her biting back a retort.

Will handed his betrothed a rum shrub—she was going to need it—and leaned against the window.

“What,” Eugénie asked, “is her main concern?”

“She wants a large wedding breakfast.” Andrew’s lips formed a thin line. “Mr. Whitecliff tried to explain that if we were already wed she could arrange one with more certainty than if we have to wait on the vicar.”

Cicely took up the story. “But Mama had already worked herself into strong hysterics over the thought that I wouldn’t have a proper ceremony.”

Eugénie took a large swallow of the rum drink. “Leave it to Maman, she will smooth it over.”

A half hour later, the butler returned. “Dinner is served.”

Whitecliff, Andrew, and Will all raised their brows.

“The mistress has decided a wedding in Tortola will be the best course.”

Will let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d dearly love to know how his aunt had talked Mrs. Whitecliff around so quickly. They piled out of the room and up the stairs. Aunt Sidonie sat with Cicely’s mother, drinking champagne. If it wasn’t for the children, he’d suggest she marry a gentleman in the Foreign Office. Clearly her diplomatic skills were being wasted here. Moreover, this was the first time he’d seen Sidonie not fretting over something. It made him wonder how different she had been before his uncle died.

Will leaned down and whispered, “I doubted you.”

“Did you?” Eugénie took her bottom lip between her teeth but couldn’t hide the smile shining in her eyes. “You should never do that, my lord.”

“Obviously.” He wondered how much of her mother’s talent Eugénie had inherited.

Dinner conversation was dominated, once again, by marriage plans. Yet this time, he and Eugénie were involved as well. As it was not proper for his aunt to hold a large wedding breakfast, he and Eugénie would join with Andrew and Cicely. That did not mean, however, Aunt Sidonie would be left out of the preparations.

Will, Eugénie, and her mother left shortly after dinner was finished. All through the meal, he’d tried to keep his thoughts off what would happen afterward when he had his betrothed to himself. Would she be shy or bold? Would she melt into him as she had earlier or demand a more active role? That he had no idea what to expect made him want her more than he had any other woman. What he did not wish to do was cause her the pain that was sure to come with her first mating. Suddenly all his anticipation of tonight changed to trepidation. It was entirely up to him to see she enjoyed herself.

He bid his aunt good night and was about to escort his betrothed to her apartment, when Aunt Sidonie smiled. “Will, I wish you a good night. We shall see you in the morning.” She took her daughter’s hand. “Eugénie, stay with me. I have some things I’d like to discuss with you. I’ve had Marisole bring your night clothes to my room.”