Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (24 page)

She lifted her hand, then dropped it with a frustrated huff. “
Oui
. Good night, William.”

Jeanne trying to keep herself afloat had scared him to death. All he wanted right now was the one thing he couldn’t have, Eugénie. When they had children, he’d hire nursery maids that woke at the drop of a hat, and he wouldn’t allow dolls or any toys on board any ship they owned. Better yet, he’d have harnesses specially made for their children.

The next morning, Will awoke with the sense something was in bed with him. He reached out, touching a hard, damp object that he suspected was Jeanne’s doll. “Good morning, Charity.”

“She said she feels safer with you.” With serious, deep blue eyes, Jeanne regarded him from the side of his bed.

“I daresay it won’t last long.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “She had a bit of a scare last night.”

Jeanne nodded solemnly. “She thought she was a better swimmer than she was.”

“It’s hard to swim with all those clothes on.” The scent of cooking invaded his senses, and his stomach grumbled, but he couldn’t rise with Jeanne in the cabin. “I think she’ll be fine now.”

“Are you sure?”

Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, Will smiled. “Yes. It was terrifying, but you and Charity will be fine. You must promise me though, never to go out on deck without an adult again.”

Jeanne nodded her head slowly. “Mama already told me not to.”

He reached out, tugging on one of Jeanne’s dark braids. “Run along, and tell Eugénie I’ll be up directly.”

A broad smile dawned on Jeanne’s face. She picked up her doll, holding it tightly against her. “I shall, but I ought to warn you, Eugénie is not in a very good mood this morning. I don’t think she slept well.”

No doubt, yet if all went as it should to-day and they found their pirate priest, she wouldn’t have that problem again. “Yes, well, she was worried about you.”

Jeanne leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I’m glad you and Eugénie are getting married.”

“As am I.” On the other hand, if that vicar wasn’t around . . . Will clenched his fists. He’d chase them all over the islands until he found one or both of them. “Run along now. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Once Jeanne left, closing the door behind her, Will rose. That was when he noticed the ship was already underway. If fate remained with him, he’d be wed to Eugénie in a matter of a few short hours.

Henri sat at a table under a large tamarind tree at Wivenly House with a glass of ginger beer in his hand. His uncle Bates sat across from him, sipping tea. The previous evening Henri had met with the Frenchman and spent the next day and a half gathering information. He learned bits and pieces from conversations the other servants and slaves had overheard. He’d tracked down the landlady for the so-called merchant, Shipley, and haunted one of the taverns catering to sailors until he was able to talk with one of the hands on the Vicomte’s ship. Finally, Henri had enough information to approach his formidable uncle with his plan.

“You didn’t come here only to drink Cook’s ginger beer,” Uncle Bates said. “What is going on?”

Henri had considered how he’d begin this conversation, and had decided to start with the worst news. “I’ve been hired to assist in Miss Villaret’s abduction.”

His uncle’s fingers tightening on the handle of the delicate teacup was the only sign that he was in any way distressed. “Indeed?”

“Yes.” Henri kept his eyes on his uncle. “And Mr. Wivenly is being held captive on one of the French islands, probably Martinique.”

Uncle Bates held Henri’s gaze. “I shall assume, as you are sharing this information with me, you are not in league with the Vicomte Villaret de Joyeuse.”

Henri tried not to show his surprise, but couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Uncle Bates said, smiling slightly, “until you added the pieces to the puzzle that were missing. We had a suspicion it was Miss Eugénie’s French family, but not enough to confirm it.”

Henri took a drink, then told his uncle about the plan to marry Miss Villaret to a French
comte
. “Where is the family now?”

Uncle Bates took another sip of tea. “They’ve gone with the Whitecliff family to Tortola for a few days.”

That would buy him some time, but why Tortola? Monsieur Yves had mentioned a gentleman . . . Henri grinned. “She’s getting married.”

“She and Miss Cicely both. When Miss Eugénie returns, she will be the Viscountess Wivenly.”

“Ha! That will put a spoke in the Frenchman’s wheel.”

“It will indeed.” Uncle Bates rose. “I must attend to my duties. I shall assign a look-out for the ship, and as soon as they dock, I’ll send a message warning them to keep a watch over Miss Eugénie.”

When Henri returned to his house, a message from Monsieur Yves waited for him. Entering the parlor, he bowed.

“What have you discovered?”

“The Wivenly family has gone on a short pleasure cruise with their neighbors. They should return in a day or so. I’ll have someone keep watch at the docks.”

The man’s countenance darkened, then his lips twisted in a smile. “This could work. We shall be ready for her when she returns, and remove her immediately to my ship.”

Henri bowed, careful not to allow his satisfaction to show. That is exactly what he thought the Frenchman would do. All he had to do was stop Miss Villaret from being taken.

As the
Song Bird
rounded the west end of Tortola, Andrew found Cicely sunk on a bench built into a small cabin near the bow of the ship. Her parasol sat abandoned next to her on the deck and a wide-brimmed hat graced her head. He sat beside her, sliding his arm around her shoulders and drawing her against him. “What is it? I thought you’d be happy.”

She snuggled in, but a tear leaked from the corner of her eye. “If we find the vicar, I’ll be happy. I’m just so afraid he will be gone as well.”

“If he is, we’ll chase one or the other of them down.” He lifted the bonnet, placing a kiss on her cheek, then put it back down. “Believe me when I tell you, once Viscount Wivenly has the bit between his teeth, nothing will stop him, and he desperately wants to marry Eugénie.”

Cicely pushed the floppy straw brim back and tilted her head. “Why call him by his title?”

Andrew grinned. “Because, my love, when he gets like this, he ceases to be Will, and will use all his rank and status to get what he wants.”

“As he did yesterday morning?”

“Exactly. We won’t return to St. Thomas until we are all wed.” Andrew eyed her hat with dissatisfaction. If the sun weren’t so bright, and the wind so high, he’d remove it. “Are there any other dragons I can slay for you, milady?”

Cicely shook her head. “Only one, but you won’t.”

“Let’s see what happens to-day, shall we?” He had no doubt she’d seen Eugénie’s state of dishabille last night and put two and two together very quickly. He wanted to be with Cicely every bit as much as Will wanted to be with his betrothed. In fact, Andrew was about at the end of his rope. He’d heard there was a Methodist minister on Tortola, and if need be, he’d move heaven and earth to convince Mrs. Whitecliff to allow that man to perform the ceremony.

W
ill held Eugénie in his arms as they stood at the starboard rail.

“That”—she pointed to a piece of land sticking out into the sea—“is Gun Point. We’re almost through Thatch Cut. It won’t be long now.”

Will pulled her back against his chest. “How long is ‘not long’?”

“About an hour to an hour and a half.”

“Too long.” He dropped a kiss on her head. Her hat was stuffed under a thick line to keep it from blowing away. He grinned. The last thing her mother had said was to remember her bonnet. No wonder Eugénie was always tanned. How would she feel about moving to cold, damp England, where bonnets were mandatory? For him England was home, but for her . . . Will wished he knew how Eugénie would like it.

His friend’s wife, Emma Marsh, had got used to England fairly easily, perhaps Eugénie would as well. She knew they would live there, yet he had the feeling she didn’t truly understand what it all meant. “Do you mind if we go inside for a while? I’m hungry.”

She turned to face him and smiled softly. “I think you want to ensure Jeanne is all right.”

“And Charity.” Will had told Eugénie what he’d woken up to this morning.

She laughed. “Of course. The doll would be
désolée
.”

Taking her arm, he was about to lead her toward the salon when he remembered her hat. He rescued it from the rope. “We can’t forget this.”

“No,” she said, taking it from him and plopping it on her head. “Maman would not be happy.”

Despite her attempt to appear light-hearted, Eugénie was worried about something. Was it only the wedding? She leaned against him as if she needed his support. “Is everything all right?”

She flashed him a quick smile. “As long as we find this pirate priest, I shall be fine.”

“We’ll find him.” If only he were as sure of that as he sounded.

The instant they entered the parlor, Jeanne, with Charity in her arms, attached herself to him. “Charity says she is much better.”

After he sat, Will picked Jeanne up, putting her on his lap. “I’m glad to hear it. I take it you’ve impressed upon her she should be more careful in the future.”

Jeanne nodded. “Yes.”

Eugénie blinked as tears misted her eyes. She was so glad he loved children and related to them so well. She could see him with their brood, giving advice, meting out fair punishments as needed. Despite their shaky beginning, she was lucky to have found William.

An hour later, word came from the captain that they were approaching Great Carot Bay. By the time she, William, Cicely, Andrew, and Josh were ready, the dory was waiting for them.

“We can’t stay anchored out here all day,” the captain said.

Eugénie took in the exposed bay. “We’ll be as quick as we can be.”

She tried not to think of what she would do if Mr. Petherick wasn’t there. It was only nine o’clock. Surely they would catch him before he left his house. Her little group walked around the village, searching for anything resembling a church and found nothing.

Beneath her hand, William’s arm tightened, and he blew out a frustrated breath. “Where the devil is the place?”

“We shall find it.” She’d have to ask someone. This wandering around was getting them nowhere, and irritating them all.

A woman walking toward them stopped. “Good morning. I am Mrs. Leonard. May I help you find something?”

“Good morning, ma’am. Yes, thank you,” William answered. “We’re searching for Mr. Petherick at St. Michael’s church.”

She pulled a notebook and pencil from her skirt pocket, then pointed north, talking as she wrote on the paper. “Stay on this road and it will go up that hill. Right at the top you’ll see St. Michael’s and the rectory. It’s not far. I haven’t seen Mr. Petherick yet this morning, so I assume he’ll be either at home or at the church.”

Mrs. Leonard handed the directions she’d drawn to Eugénie. She could have hugged the woman. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Leonard. We would never have found it on our own.”

Cicely and Andrew turned and began walking north.

William and Eugénie followed. When they arrived at the end of the village the path rose.

“Another hill,” he muttered.

Poor William. Eugénie looked at what appeared to be a series of zigzags created by goats. “This is what Mrs. Leonard drew.”

Andrew slapped William on the back. “If you want to get married, Wivenly, you’ll climb it.” He took Cicely’s hand. “Come, my love.”

“A moment, my dear.” She glanced at William. “You really do hate walking up hills, don’t you?” Without waiting for his answer, she said, “Perhaps we can convince him to marry us on board the ship. Then you won’t have to walk up the hill twice. Josh, go back to the
Song Bird
and tell Mama, Papa, and the Wivenlys that if we haven’t returned to the yacht in an hour, to join us at St. Michael’s.”

“My love,” Andrew said, “don’t you have a gown you wanted to wear for the service?”

“I’ll wear it for the party Mama’s planning. Right now, I just want to be your wife. She smiled. “Besides, he might agree to come to the
Song Bird
.”

The four of them trudged up the path and, just as Mrs. Leonard’s drawing depicted, at the top of the hill there stood the squat stone church that was St. Michael’s. Despite the hot morning, when they entered the church was cool. Pews lined each side of the aisle. Tall, glassless windows with their shutters pushed open gave views over Cane Garden Bay. There was no sign of the vicar.

“He’s not here,” Cicely said in a shaky voice.

Eugénie squeezed her friend’s hand. This vicar couldn’t be gone as well. “Perhaps he’s at the rectory.”

“We’re not giving up yet,” William added.

He led them out through a side door to a small wooden house not far from the church. The scent of cooking spices made Eugénie’s mouth water, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since early this morning, and then not much.

An older white woman with a pleasant expression, dressed simply in a faded blue gown and pinafore, answered the door. “May I help you?”

William bowed. “I am Viscount Wivenly. My betrothed, Miss Villaret, and our friends, Miss Whitecliff and Mr. Grayson, are looking for Reverend Petherick.” Will’s glance included Eugénie and their friends. “We’d like to discuss our marriage ceremonies with him.”

The woman nodded. “I am Mrs. Petherick. Please come in, my lord. My husband has gone along the ridge, but he should be down any time now.” She smiled. “You’ve come at a good time. He never misses his breakfast. Please have some tea while you are waiting for him.”

Eugénie and Cicely breathed sighs of relief.

“Thank you.” Will ushered Eugénie through the door, and Mrs. Petherick led them to a parlor off the main hall.

Once they were settled, a servant entered with tea, cool water, and cakes.

“You are not the only couples to have visited us lately.” Mrs. Petherick’s lips formed a
moue
. “Not that we mind, but I do wish I knew what Mr. Stewart was doing.”

A quarter hour later, after they finished the tea and Mrs. Petherick told them about the church, the sound of boots could be heard coming from the back. Her face lit as she announced, “Here is Mr. Petherick now.”

A handsome, tall, raw-boned man with a ruddy complexion and steel-gray hair pulled back in a queue entered the room. He glanced at his wife with a heat almost unseemly in a man of the church. “Mrs. Petherick, I hear we have visitors.”

They all stood.
My goodness.
With his dark breeches, turned-over boots, and frock coat, he looked like a pirate from the previous century.

“My dear”—his wife took his arm and smiled up at him—“these nice young people would like to marry.”

After she made the introductions, his gaze focused on Will. “Any relation to Nathan Wivenly?”

“Yes, sir.” Will’s hand rested on Eugénie’s waist. “He was my great-uncle. Miss Villaret is his step-daughter.”

The man rubbed his chin. “I was sorry to hear of his death.” He turned to her. “Are you one-and-twenty?”

It was a good thing she didn’t have to lie. She wouldn’t have been at all surprised if the man could immediately discern a falsehood. “Yes, sir. My mother and Miss Whitecliff’s parents are here as well.”

“Very well. When would you like to have the ceremonies?”

“Immediately,” Cicely and Eugénie said at the same time. Cicely continued. “Would you consider coming to the ship for the service?”

“If you would, please,” Eugénie added. “All my younger sisters are with us.”

The vicar rubbed his chin as he studied them. “I don’t see why not. I’ll meet you there in two hours.”

Will held out his hand, and Mr. Petherick shook it, adding, “Bring a donation. We are a poor parish.”

Mrs. Petherick smiled. “If you’ve finished your tea, I’ll send our maid of all work to show you out.”

A few minutes later, their little party was on the path, walking down the hill.

“Well,” Cicely said, “he’s certainly the strangest vicar I’ve ever seen.”

“I agree, my love,” Andrew responded. “But he can be as strange as he likes as long as he marries us.”

Eugénie stopped, causing the rest of them to do so as well. “I thought we had to marry before noon?”

Cicely shrugged. “I suppose if one is a pirate priest, one may do as one wishes.”

“That was my understanding as well, Eugénie. What time is it?” Andrew asked.

Will pulled out his watch. “It’s going on eleven, but it is no matter. The Marriage Act doesn’t apply here.”

Andrew furrowed his brow. “Are you positive? I would not want to have an irregular marriage.”

“Yes. I am quite sure.” Will grinned. “Luckily for us, the Act is not in effect outside of England proper.”

Eugénie tightened her grip on Will’s arm and laughed as happiness burbled up inside her. “In less than two hours we will be husband and wife.”

Once Will, Eugénie, Andrew, and Cicely returned and told their parents the news, pandemonium ensued. Even for his eldest sister’s wedding, Will hadn’t seen such a fuss. Eugénie was whisked away from him. He was shooed out of his cabin by Tidwell, who informed Will that his kit must be repacked and taken to Eugénie’s stateroom, but to return in an hour to change for his wedding. As Will walked down the passageway to the salon, wisps of thin muslin caught his eye. Someone shrieked, and a hand placed on the small of his back propelled him on his way.

Andrew and Mr. Whitecliff, who handed Will a rum shrub, appeared to be suffering from the same fate. Will took a long drink. “What the devil is going on?”

“Deuce if I know.” Andrew took a pull of his rum. “There is apparently ‘a great deal to do and not sufficient time,’ or that’s what Mrs. Whitecliff said.”

“Don’t go to the stern,” Whitecliff warned. “A bathing tub has been set up.”

Will’s eyes widened in horror at the thought of a naked Eugénie being seen by anyone. There weren’t any other ships, but the boat was positioned so that someone from the beach could see her. “You’ll never tell me my betrothed is bathing for everyone in the harbor to see? I’ll put a stop to that!”

“No, no.” Andrew gave a bark of laughter. “A screen is being set up. The ladies will use the door from Whitecliff ’s cabin to access the stern.”

“Well, thank God for that!” It struck Will forcibly that unlike some, he’d never become sanguine about another man seeing his wife naked. In fact, there were a few places in London he’d no longer be patronizing, and hostesses whose entertainments to which he’d not accept invitations. In fact, he’d make damn sure all of his friends put out the word that Eugénie was out-of-bounds. There were too many blasted rakes and rogues in Town for his liking. Perhaps he’d keep her at home in the country for a while. London might be too dangerous for a woman as innocent as she.

“My lord”—Whitecliff’s voice broke into Will’s thoughts—“is there something wrong with your shrub? Is the juice sour?”

“No, of course not.” Will glanced up to see the man staring at him in concern. “Why do you ask?”

“Because,” Andrew said patiently, “you’ve been scowling at it for the last several minutes.”

Will took a swig. “Are you going to attend the Season with Cicely?”

“Of course I am. She’d never forgive me if she wasn’t able to experience a London Season.” His friend’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Worried about something?”

“No.” He tossed off the glass and poured a brandy. “Why should I be?”

“Not concerned that Eugénie will succumb to one of the many rakes hanging around Polite Society?”

Andrew didn’t need to say “like you”; it was written on his expression. “Damn it, she’s so innocent.” Will raked his fingers through his hair. “She’s got no idea of the kind of men who prey on women.”

“I suppose,” Andrew’s lips curled into a smile, “you’ll have to keep her close to your side. Very unfashionable, I know . . .”

A low roar emerged from Will. “What the devil do I care for fashion? No man had better even consider approaching her.”

Andrew lifted his glass in a toast. “My, how the mighty have fallen.”

This must be how Beaumont felt with his wife. Suddenly it all seemed comical, and Will grinned, returning his friend’s salute. “Indeed they have.”

Not long afterward, he and Andrew were called to wash and change. When they were appropriately dressed, they reconvened in the salon, which Will noticed was empty of women. “Where are our ladies?”

Just then Cicely emerged, and behind her Eugénie. She took his breath away. The deep coral of her bodice was cut modestly, but the swell of her breasts rose just enough to tempt him. A strand of pearls circled her slender neck, and his tongue itched to trace where the necklace lay. Her skirts were layers of an extremely thin silk, giving her the appearance of floating toward him. Before long she’d be his forever, and even though the responsibility of caring for her as she deserved weighed heavily on him, it couldn’t be soon enough. He held his hand out to her as she approached. “Eugénie, my love, you enchant me.”

She touched her fingers to his and smiled shyly. “No one has ever said anything half so nice to me.”

“That is because you turned your nose up at all your other suitors,” her mother commented dryly.