Love’s Betrayal (37 page)

“I depend upon it. The Talbots will take ship the following day. My wife and I shall start north as soon as possible.”

Pringle blurted an oath and slapped the table. “A shame it is to remove your strategic brain from the city at a time such as this. For a man with so many connections and so much influence to be wary of involvement in political affairs—it is beyond reason. The loyal citizens of New York need someone to follow, someone to help them resist and overthrow these Whig idiots. You could be that man, LaTournay. They trust you and would follow without question.”

“If you believe that, Pringle, you have scant knowledge of human nature.”

The following day, LaTournay walked along the streets of New York, noting its atmosphere of suspense. Conditions had deteriorated during his absence. Furtive glances, hurried transactions, abandoned shops, light traffic for a fine Wednesday morning in August—the city seemed to hold its breath in fear. He had delayed too long, yet the prolonged assignation had been unavoidable.

His pace increased. Would Georgette be angry or pleased to see him? Ten days until their wedding. She undoubtedly suspected him of abandoning her. At times even he had wondered whether he would return. The wisest move would be to ship her back to England and sail after her once this conflict ended.

Mounting the front steps in two bounds, he pounded the knocker. Someone had scribbled a symbol over the door, and another ill-advised person had evidently tried to expunge it. Smeared charcoal looked even worse than the original artwork.

“Oh Mr. LaTournay, I cannot tell you how relieved we are to see you!” Lucille Talbot clutched his sleeve and towed him into the house. “Where have you been? Georgette could tell us only that you were away on business, but what sort of business would take you from town for so long? We are in an uproar. Mr. Talbot found a merchant ship that is due to sail to England before the scheduled wedding date, and he wants to board her now.”

“Why is that?”

“It is no longer safe for us here, and Mr. Talbot swears he will not remain another week. Georgette kept telling us to wait for your advice, but you were not here to advise us, so we thought it best to pack.”

Frederick Talbot joined them in the drawing room. Bags underlined his resentful eyes. “LaTournay. Hmph. We began to think you would leave our daughter at the altar.” He managed to produce a fatherly tone of concern.

“And I wondered if you might be imprisoned. Have you been asked to be an officer in the traitorous army?” Lucille inquired. “I hear they have asked the sons of every important family in town. Winthrop Hardcastle, bless his heart, swore that if he were to take a commission in any army, it would be England's! My friend Myrtle Hardcastle is vastly proud of her son—yet now he has been thrown into prison, and the rest of the family has taken refuge on the
Kingfisher.
”

Talbot jumped in. “Which again brings up the question of Georgette. Mrs. Talbot and I plan to board ship as soon as possible. The
Lily Fair
leaves for England August thirtieth.”

“I told him already,” Lucille inserted.

“It means a precipitate wedding, if you still plan to marry our daughter.”

“Mr. Talbot!” Lucille gasped. “Of course he still wishes to—” Her husband cut her off with a sharp gesture.

LaTournay studied their apprehensive faces. Their inability to return to England on any ship unless he purchased their passage remained unspoken. He disliked rewarding Talbot's manipulations, and yet … “If Miss Talbot is receptive to the plan, I shall not refuse.”

Talbot's brow smoothed, and he beamed. “Come, my boy. Sit down and take some coffee. Lucille, pour for him.”

LaTournay took a seat opposite Talbot and sipped sweetened coffee. Talbot was a well-informed man, affable and clever. However, his selfish disregard for others, particularly his wife and daughter, precluded any attachment on LaTournay's part.

The man fidgeted in his chair. “I favor summoning the parson here and finalizing the issue today. The banks and shipping offices are open many hours yet.”

“Why the haste? Has anyone threatened you?” LaTournay asked. Greatly though he desired to marry Georgette, the suggestion of coercion galled him.

“Nay, but a mob of seamen has thrown stones in the windows of several nearby houses. They attack only those people known to be loyal to the Crown, and nearly everyone knows us.”

“Someone used charcoal to draw a strange black figure above our doorway. It looks like a frog to me, though Frederick claims it is an X,” Lucille added.

“I saw it,” LaTournay said. “Although these mobs intimidate good citizens, I have heard of them harming no one.”

“But—but—the ships!” Lucille sputtered. “At any time the warships could fire upon the city and kill us all. There has been provocation for such an attack many times over. I cannot imagine why Governor Tryon waits!”

“The warships' captains are well aware that many loyal British subjects still reside in the city, and the New York citizenry still supplies water and food to their crews. Despite the tough talk and posturing, it is highly unlikely that shots will be fired in the foreseeable future, Mrs. Talbot. A burned and gutted New York would be of no use to the British. Anyone can see that Manhattan Island could be taken at any time by a sizable landing force, for how could it be defended? The rebels have no way to prevent such an invasion. England can afford to be patient and wait for events in Boston to run their course.”

“I care not what you say; it is a matter of time.” Talbot leaped to his feet. “I'm off to fetch that parson. Lucille, you prepare the girl, and LaTournay, you know your part of the bargain.”

Lucille put voice to LaTournay's thoughts. “Mr. Talbot, you truly intend to marry off Georgette this very day?” The mother sounded bereft.

“I do. No sense in delay.”

LaTournay rose to his feet. “I must first speak with Miss Talbot.”

“Fetch the girl, Lucille. Let us aim for four o'clock. That gives us time to finish packing afterward.” Talbot donned his coat as he spoke.

When the front door closed behind him, Lucille and LaTournay exchanged looks. The woman's cheeks and lips were colorless. “What shall we do?” she whispered.

“Georgette must be informed. Where is she?”

“In the garden, reading, I believe. I should have called her when you first arrived, but Mr. Talbot would not—”

“I shall go to her.” He gave Lucille a pat on the shoulder. She burst into tears as he left the room.

He opened the garden door and stepped outside. The tableau he viewed brought a smile to his face and ease to his heart. Yes, without doubt, he wished to take Georgette Talbot as his wife.

She lay on her belly in the grass, engrossed in a book, her chin propped on one hand. A golden braid trailed along her shoulder and looped over a sleeping Caramel. Once again she had evidently dispensed with hoops, stays, bonnet, and shoes.

“Miss Talbot.” He spoke softly, but she gave a little shriek and rolled to her back, staring up at him over the edge of the book clutched between her hands. Too late she tucked her feet beneath her skirts. Caramel sat up, blinking. The dog yawned, spotted LaTournay, and trotted over to greet him.

“Mr. LaTournay!” She closed the book, laid it on the grass, and sat up. “We—we were not expecting you today.”

“Nevertheless, you have me today.” He approached to offer assistance. She regarded his hands before placing hers within them. He hauled her up and gripped her elbows when she would have stepped away. “I must speak with you upon an urgent matter.”

Her brown eyes studied his face, and she nodded.

“Your father wishes us to marry today instead of waiting until September second. I am willing, but I would not rush you. You do understand that your parents intend to return to England immediately?”

Her attempt to draw breath resulted in several quick sobbing gasps. “Marry to–today?” He watched her eyelids flicker as she stared at the wall behind him. Abruptly, she covered her mouth with one hand and turned away. Her braid hung down her back like a thick rope, its sway reminding him of a horse's tail.

“Miss Talbot, you doubtless know that your father's conditions for our marriage included the purchase of their passage home.” He attempted to clear his throat, but the lump remained, splintering his voice. “I want you to know that, if you prefer not to marry me now or ever, I am willing to purchase passage for you as well as for your parents. I desire your safety and happiness above all else.”

Her reply, spoken between her fingers, scarcely reached his ears. “I am ready to make my new life with you, Mr. LaTournay.”

The volatile mixture of joy and guilt felt like an explosion in his heart. “You do not understand what this new life might entail.”

She folded her arms tightly, and he saw the outline of her shoulder blades through the fabric of her gown. Her voice sounded almost sharp. “Yet I do know that I want to share your future, whatever trials it may hold. God will be with us, blessing our love and commitment.”

His chest heaved like a bellows, and his knees turned to jelly. “Love. Do you love me, Miss Talbot? You cannot even call me by my given name.”

She spun around, followed by her swinging braid. Her eyes sparked. “When I commit my love and life to you, it will be for always, Jean-Maurice LaTournay.”

His voice rasped. “So be it. I shall marry you, Georgette, and leave God accountable for the outcome.”

For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh.

E
PHESIANS
5:31

I
do.” Georgette spoke her vows and felt Mr. LaTournay's grip on her hand tighten. She cast a glance at his face. He swallowed hard, and his dark eyes glistened. Not once did his attention stray from the Reverend Mowbray's sermon. His tanned face made his beard and hair seem lighter—or perhaps they were sun-bleached. Whatever he had been doing these past many weeks, he had spent much time out-of-doors.

Georgette wanted to be angry with him for his secrecy. She wanted to be cold and unattainable and make him pay for his desertion. She wanted to dream of her mysterious lover and hope he would rescue her at the last moment. During the last days of Mr. LaTournay's absence, she had imagined spurning him upon his return. In her mind he groveled at her feet and begged her forgiveness, promising never to look upon another woman if Georgette would take him back.

How could a man be wicked yet appear honorable? Georgette had only to catch sight of him and her vengeful plans faded into oblivion.

At Georgette's left side, her mother sobbed into a handkerchief. Biddy stood nearby, gaunt and dignified in gray bombazine. Georgette could not see her father on the far side of Mr. LaTournay, though she heard him clear his throat. The Reverend Mowbray's gentle voice belied his long, wrinkled face.

Georgette's head ached. Sweat dampened her wedding gown. Did Mr. LaTournay even notice her gown? She had hoped his eyes would brighten when she entered the drawing room. To her profound disappointment, he hardly glanced her way.

If only Marianne stood by her side. Marianne understood the heartbreak of loving an undeserving man.

At the minister's cue, Mr. LaTournay slipped a ruby ring upon her finger. His hands shook. The froth of neck cloth above his waistcoat also trembled. Georgette dared not look higher. He was shaking! The imperturbable Mr. LaTournay quaked like a nervous lapdog.

The minister pronounced them husband and wife. For better or for worse, Georgette was officially Mistress Jean-Maurice Antoine LaTournay. Her husband faced her while the Reverend Mowbray prayed. Mr. LaTournay's thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and she heard him draw a shuddering breath.

Wishing to reassure him, she laid her cheek on his knuckles, then pressed their entwined hands to her heart. With all her being, she wanted to care for him and bring him happiness. As soon as the prayer ended, he would read her devotion in her eyes.

But when the minister closed his benediction, Georgette's father gripped Mr. LaTournay's arm and pulled him aside. Both men signed and sealed documents. Georgette watched as her new husband placed a wrapped parcel in her father's outstretched palm. Her father's eyes held an avaricious gleam.

Her mother tugged at her arm. “Do not embarrass your father, Georgette. His pride is injured enough without you watching this transaction. He would have preferred offering a dowry for you to accepting a bride price.”

Although Georgette suspected the reverse, she obediently looked away. The warmth began to drain from her heart.

“Now that that is over, we'll have Georgette's trunk loaded into the carriage.” Her father clapped his son-in-law on the shoulder and winked at Georgette. “Unless you plan to stay here tonight. You two might assist with our travel preparations since you'll have nothing better to do.”