Authors: Marie Lavender
The local orphanage practically threw him out into the streets; however, their negligence gave him a taste of both sides of the social scale.
He found he did not like many of the aspects of maintaining one's position in society and soon developed a
tendre
for the maritime industry.
When he was of age, he had the option of joining the military. Though it would increase his social status, he scorned the idea of becoming his father and worked doubly hard to attain a position as captain. He apprenticed for years under a man he grew to respect regardless of his dislike for French half-bloods. Captain Smith had, despite the struggle he endured, taught him everything he needed to know to survive at sea and within the business of trade.
As soon as he acquired his own ship and a crew, he worked as a tradesman in several ports and returned to France as often as possible. He'd always carried an affinity for the shores, somehow feeling closer to his mother through his dealings in her homeland. He preferred it over England anyway. Since he'd lost his parents, he hadn't had a real home and France, he felt, was as close as he could get.
Now, as he stood at the bridge, looking out over his crew and beyond to the endless fathoms of sea, he could admit he loved France even though there were some things about the culture of which he disapproved. For one, it was incredibly hard to attain any kind of status in French society.
Maneuvering among the upper crust had its advantages and disadvantages. Through no extra effort on his part, he had acquired the respect of the emperor when he had visited France the first few times after leaving England. He'd done some favors for the man, and that small act opened up a world of opportunity with regards to his trade dealings. He had even attended a masque and was invited to the house of an aristocrat a time or two.
He usually found most of the events a bore.
The other thing that bothered him about France was the overall ethnocentric belief in the culture -- that the French had the best culture of all in the world, and it could not be questioned.
He had been around the world, though, and he could not agree. Some kind of eclectic immersion of different cultures would do them good. However, because of this snobbery, he refrained from drawing any attention to his English heritage, not to mention he would rather forget that portion of his life.
When people inquired of his past, he only mentioned his mother's origins in France and nothing more.
Often he wondered, though, if repressing everything about himself in order to function in society was worth it. Probably not.
* * * *
Fara let out a long breath as the carriage stilled its movement and Pierre helped her down. She headed toward the house with its tall, foreboding columns and halted when Rosalie opened the door to greet her. Fara found herself enveloped in the woman's arms.
“Bébé, we were so worried about you!”
She pulled away with a slight smile. “All of you?”
The woman hesitated, and they both knew that one person probably had not been all that worried, at least not on an emotional level. “
Oui
, of course,” Rosalie said. “Come now. Your uncle is expecting you.”
Fara nodded and reluctantly followed the woman inside the house. She led her to the library, where her uncle was attending to business.
He had a pile of papers before him, and he seemed to study them closely.
When she stood before his desk, he looked up at her.
“Please be seated, niece, while I have a look at you. We have much to discuss.”
She obeyed him. His method of discussion would involve a reprimand for her actions during the previous night.
He stood from his chair and rounded the desk to approach her. “You left so soon after dinner last night, Fara.”
“
Oui, oncle
. I received a message from someone.”
“And yet you neglected to tell me of this. You denied me the obligation of escorting you as well.” He frowned. “It is not very ladylike of you to do such a thing, to go to a place alone. Imagine how it must look to others.”
She had to refrain from rolling her eyes. The man was always concerned with how society might view him. “I understand your concern,
oncle
. But, I was to meet someone who could be trusted to play the escort for me.”
“This is not the theatre, niece. It is an obligation to escort a lady; it is not a role.” He sighed. “If this person was kind enough to escort you, you could have come straight home.”
“I had no say in the matter. Besides,
La Capitaine
Hill sent you a message of my whereabouts.”
“
Oui
. But staying with a strange man aboard his ship? It's unacceptable. And how are you acquainted with him?”
“I only met him last night. We had not known one another before.”
“I suppose you remained in his cabin as well?”
She knew it was a sarcastic comment, but she could not lie to him. She swallowed audibly. “
Oui
,
oncle
.”
“
Mon Dieu
, child! Why, the prospects of such a liaison are...are...”
“What?”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “Scandalous!”
“I realize that, but the man deserves
some
gratitude for keeping me. He was the perfect gentleman.” She tried to forget about that abrupt kiss; he certainly hadn't acted indifferent toward her. And he certainly was not the kind of man to apologize for stealing a kiss, however tempting that kiss had been. She shook the thought from her head.
“
Oui
, I'm certain the captain of a trade ship knows about gallantry.”
“Your sarcasm is misplaced,
oncle
. He saved my life last night as well as my reputation.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“
Mon Dieu
! Do you really think I would accept that man's proposal without reason? You must be mad!”
“Lower your voice, niece. I am the law in this house and you
will
bend to me.”
She looked down at the floor. “I am sorry. Forgive me,
oncle
. I only mean to say I have better scruples than that, and you are not aware of the circumstances.”
He shook his head as if disappointed. “What happened last night then?”
“I received a note to meet
Monsieur
Le Croíx at the docks. When I showed up, he was not there. Perhaps you would like to call upon him to find out why he set me up.”
“Set you up for what?”
“To be ravished or worse…even murdered. Two men appeared and they were quite rough. My fiancé, the man you seemed to approve of, supposedly hired them. Or so they said.” She looked up to see his eyes widen with something like fear. “Nothing happened, for
Capitaine
Hill showed up to rescue me.”
“I see. These men accosted you. Obviously you needed protecting and I owe him for that. Why did he not escort you home then?”
“It was impossible. I was unconscious, for one of the men had hit me. When I woke, I was on the ship. The captain had known nothing about me and yet he chose to take me in.”
“To tend to his own pleasures, I am sure...”
She gasped, infuriated. “I assure you he has better morals. He is more of a gentleman than you think. I was dressed like a lady, so it is not as if I tempted him.”
He shook his head sadly. “You are naïve, child…”
“I was left untouched except for this obvious wound from the attack.” She gestured to her jaw.
His eyes narrowed, as if suddenly studying it, and she wondered how he hadn't noticed it before.
“So his intentions were honorable...?”
“
Oui
.”
“It makes sense that you defend your hero, but I advise you not to lose sight of reality, niece.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do not confuse your gratitude with something else. I shall look into
Monsieur
Le Croix’s part in this charade. If he's guilty, I have other suitors lined up for you. I haven't given up yet. This
Capitaine
Hill is just a man...a stranger who rescued you by the mere coincidence of his presence during a random attack. That is all he will ever be to you. A stranger.”
“Why? Because he is not my suitor?”
“He is a captain, my child, and nothing more. He is only invited to socials because he has done a favor for the emperor a time or two. His family is not alive; no one knows of his financial status. He could never make you happy when his trade continually calls him away. You would only be miserable the rest of your life. Also, I will not forget that you refrained from informing me of your plans last night. Do you understand?”
She lowered her head. It was evident that during the time she'd been absent her uncle had gathered as much information as he could about Grant Hill.
“
Oui
,
oncle
.” As he left the library, her heart sank.
The man did not understand her. Why couldn't he recognize that with everyone he selected she would be miserable because marriage would only be for convenience, for the purpose of a social construct and never love? She would only be content if she herself chose the man she was to spend the rest of her life with, and knowing her place, that never would happen.
Far from content, Fara stood up. She propped herself against her uncle's desk, unaware that she straightened his ledgers as her thoughts raced.
She hated to admit it, but she would not at all mind choosing a man like Grant Hill to marry. Even if the prospects seemed futile, the man was dangerous, yet appealing.
Though she'd only been with him a single night, he was the first man who'd left her feeling something. Not that she'd ever spent the night alone with a man before. She had spent evenings dancing with available gentlemen, however, and never had one of them affected her as
Capitaine
Hill had. Part of her could only attribute that to inexperience. But she knew that, were circumstances different at all, she would not mind getting to know the man as he learned of her in return.
Chapter Four
“
Mademoiselle
?”
“
Oui
?”
“There is a guest here to see you. It is
Mademoiselle
Perét.”
“
Merci
.” Fara had been discussing the week's menu with the cook when Rosalie informed her of her friend's presence. She rushed into the hall to meet her. “
Mon Dieu
…Helene?”
“
M’amie
!” They hugged.
Pulling away from her friend, she observed any possible changes. No, Helene Perét was the same girl she'd known for years, her erstwhile companion at Cluny Abbey.
The woman was slightly taller than average, with light green eyes, and a nearly black fall of hair. She was thinner than Fara, but certainly with the same iron will she knew her friend took pride in.
It was Helene's season for she had been released from the nuns for a mere two months. She would be in the market for a husband as well, or at least her parents would push her to marry after a time.
Fara turned to the servant behind her. “Francine, we will be having chocolate in the parlor.”
“
Oui, Mademoiselle
.” The woman left to see to her duties.
Fara led her friend to the parlor and they both sat down. Sitting across from her childhood friend, she knew something must be wrong. Helene would only pay a visit unannounced if there was a serious matter at hand or if she was truly curious about something. The latter was the more likely of the two. Helene's only fault was her incessant need to dabble in others' affairs.
Francine entered to serve up the hot drink from the chocolate pot and offer pastries. She took her exit quietly. Fara sipped the drink as she'd long ago been taught, her small finger pointing to the sky; it was now second nature to her.
“Tell me,
m'amie
. What is troubling you?”
A full pout rose to the girl's lips and she did not blink in surprise. “We've been friends awhile as you know…”
“
Mon Dieu
, Helene! It cannot be that bad!” She sat forward, put off by the woman's hesitance.
“Perhaps not. But, there is a rumor concerning your reputation. It is something to heed.”
Fara frowned. “Perhaps I will as long as you tell me what it is being said.”
“Perhaps the truth? Perhaps not. I know you,
m'amie
. You can be a trifle curious about things as well, but I know there are some things you won't do.”
“Such as?”
“Be seen in public with a man below your station who is not a servant?”
Fara should have known it would be news by morning. “Ah. Might it involve a young captain?”
Helene's eyes widened. “It is true? I wouldn't have guessed…”
Fara rolled her eyes. “Is it about being seen with him or perhaps something more? It doesn't matter though. Nothing happened.”
“Who are you trying to convince? I was only curious and certain you would not allow yourself to be seen with such an individual--”
She stood, feeling a bit miffed by her friend's comment. “Don't be a snob, Helene. Neither of us have ever been so strict in our ways.”
“Ah, but you would not unless there was an honest reason. Perhaps this man saved you from something…or someone?”
Fara stood up and stepped away toward the large window, swallowing hard against what she knew to be the truth, against what she had felt with him. “I do not know Jean Le
Croíx’s whereabouts, Helene…” She looked over her shoulder to see the lady frowning. No matter how close she felt to Helene, she could not tell her the details. Pride kept her from admitting her fiancé had set her up.
“That one has betrayed you, I fear.”
“
Oui
,” she agreed.
“Twill' get better. Your uncle will be on the lookout for another suitor?”
“I believe so.”
She nodded and rose to pat her friend's shoulder. “Get some rest, Fara. It will help. You look confused, and I'll bet I can guess the source of it. It's enough that we're meant to breed and play the socialites for men. Must they toy with our emotions as well?”
They laughed together and hugged again. When Helene turned away, Fara whispered, “
Merci, m'amie
,” and the lady smiled over her shoulder, winking at her in return before taking her leave.
But, even she knew Helene would not understand her reaction to being with Grant Hill. The girl was hardly experienced with gentlemen, and her friend had assumed that
Monsieur
Le Croíx’s deception was the only cause for Fara's perplexity. She began to wonder if anyone would ever truly understand her.
* * * *
That evening at dinner her uncle seemed to be concentrating on the veal set before them. His silence unnerved her. She wondered, while chewing on the meat, if he was still cross with her about spending a few moments with Grant Hill on his ship.
He cleared his throat after taking a sip of wine. “I have decided to invite this
Monsieur
Hill to dinner. Perhaps tomorrow.”
“What?” In attempt to hide the shock and the utter fear in her voice, she asked, “Why?”
“I want to meet this man who seems to have won your approval. I've asked that he join us for an evening repast. If he is a gentleman, as you so claim, then he will do well to honor my request.”
“I see. And what do you have to gain from this proposition,
oncle
?”
“I wish to satisfy my curiosity about the man's intentions.”
“And if he dares to gaze at me overlong, what will you do?”
He tossed his head in a nonchalant manner. “I will do nothing, save consider him unfitting of a gentleman's stature.”
She gritted her teeth.
Mon Dieu
…all she'd ever wanted was an expression of concern, something to prove he really cared or wanted to protect her. And now he proposed to make sport out of playing the host at dinner. Did he have no feelings at all?
The dinner did not matter one bit really; it was obvious her uncle would never see Grant as anything other than a captain of a ship. He had already made up his mind about the man and the evening would be more or less a demonstration to her of Grant's lack of worthiness as a suitor. No matter what, her uncle would make sure there was a satisfactory outcome, at least on his side.
“If it is your wish,
oncle
,” she said softly, silently daring him to see the despair in her eyes so she might glimpse some kind of human response within him. But given the years of absence when she was away at Cluny Abbey as well as his offishness in the past year, it was not likely to happen. Her uncle was an autocratic man, and he would not move to the most influential plea. She shook her head. She must yield to his wishes.
* * * *
While preparing for dinner with the help of her nursemaid, Fara heard commotion outside. She went to the window, easing back the curtain. From her vantage point, she could see a dark figure step out of a hackney right before the house. When the moonlight shone on the man's features, a thrill shot down her body as if she'd been touched. It was
Capitaine
Hill. He had arrived. She drew back from the window before he saw her. There was no sense in being improper in front of a guest.
As she was finishing her preparations, there were voices in the house. They definitely belonged to the male variety. It could only be her uncle speaking to Grant in the jovial way he addressed his guests. He was all too predictable, always kind yet reserved, never going out of his way to let someone know how he felt about a certain matter. He was the same with her, expecting propriety and nothing less. When he made less than savory comments, they were subtle yet pointed in such a way the undertones were hardly lost on the receiver, but nothing could be said in response because of her uncle's approach.
Dinner that night passed in a painfully quiet way. Never once did anyone offer to speak about current events or the goings-on in the town. They all stared at their food, helpless to contribute. Not that Fara blamed them or herself for that matter.
It was a disconcerting meal. The tension in the room was so great that when a utensil grazed a glass or plate, the staccato beat echoed far and wide. Michel
de
Bellamont did not hesitate to bore his gaze into Grant from time to time as if he was a dueling target.
After the dishes had been cleared away, they retreated to the lounge, where she e
ntertained herself at the pianoforte. Both Grant and her uncle sipped burgundy by the fireplace, staring blankly into the flames.
“Might I chance to question you about the night I met your niece?”
Fara, unsettled, hit a faulty key on the piano, dropping her hand with an anxious feeling. No one seemed to notice the off-key stroke. Her uncle would not like that a person of mediocre reputation dared to question his motives.
He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped. “I believe we all know the circumstances of the situation...”
Grant nodded, briefly assessing the man's expression. “
Oui
, and what, may I ask, did you do with the gentleman your niece was to meet at the docks,
Monsieur
?”
“I was unable to locate
Monsieur
Le Croíx for I hear a family member died, and it seems he took a carriage immediately to Nantes.”
“How convenient. Does the situation seem curious,
Monsieur
? His timing is rather impeccable to have escaped the wrath of
Mademoiselle
Bellamont's dear uncle.”
The man smiled as if pleased by Grant's choice of words or the prospect of
Monsieur
Le Croíx fearing him. “
Oui
,” he agreed.
Grant studied him for moments and went on. “There are other avenues of locating such a man,
Monsieur
, if that is your wish. I might be able to--”
Her uncle's jaw tightened instinctively. “I assure you,
La Capitaine
, I am able to handle my own affairs...”
“Of course,
Monsieur
. I meant nothing by it.”
His body relaxed as he acknowledged Grant. “Now, down to business...what is it you really want from my niece?”
Grant glanced at Fara, who now stood by the piano observing them, and his gaze returned to the old man. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Oh,
Capitaine
Hill, do not play simpleminded with me. My niece claims you rescued her and brought her aboard
La Voyageur
to your very own cabin.”
He nodded. “That is the truth,
Monsieur
.”
“You realize the implications of such an act.”
“I do. But, nothing happened.”
“Then you understand the need for discretion.”
“Of course.”
“And what are your intentions regarding her?”
Grant sighed. “I am afraid,
Monsieur
, that you will have to be blunt for I don't understand what you're implying...”
“
Mon Dieu
! All I want to know is if you are a gentleman who rescued my niece in a time of need, or just a captain long at sea who waits for me to leave town so that he may have his way with her.”
“
Oncle
!” Her eyes widened. She felt mortified at her uncle's perversity.
“Silence, Fara,” he said sternly and she looked away.
Grant swallowed hard, clearly insulted by her uncle's lewd implication. He was a ship's captain. It was an honorable profession. Why must her uncle liken it to that of pond scum? It wasn't as if Grant held no respect within their social circles. Though, she shouldn't delude herself. The respect he held obviously wasn't enough to stifle the rumors concerning her encounter with him.
Grant's stare was hard, unmoving. “Like a gentleman, I will defend my honor for that night. I was there only to protect your niece from impending danger and nothing else. I did right by her; I did not make any advances upon her maidenly state. She will testify to that. I'm sure even her nursemaid could tell you the same if you perchance do not believe what I have to say. I'll not lie to you though,
Monsieur
. Your niece is a very beautiful woman, but hardly experienced. She is a lady and will be treated as such.”
Her uncle nodded. “That is good to hear,
La Capitaine
. I trust still no unnecessary advances will be made whilst I am living?”
Grant's lashes swept downward to reveal nothing. “You have my word,
Monsieur
. It will be as you wish. Now if there are no objections, I will take my leave.” He set his wine glass down, and like the perfect gentleman, he bowed to his host and briefly glanced at Fara. “
Monsieur
…
Mademoiselle
.” Then he left the room.