Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie (15 page)

Thoughts of his wife acted as a dousing with cold water, and he set Lisette away. “Nicely done. That concludes our lesson for today.”

She beamed. “I did it, didn’t I? I can’t thank you enough, Daniel.” Such a small gesture on his part, and yet she was as happy as if he’d bestowed diamonds upon her.

She lifted to her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek before retrieving her slippers. “I must hurry to my chambers before Serafine and Rafe return from their stroll with Monsieur Patch.”

Lisette had insisted they keep her lessons a secret from everyone.

She stopped at the threshold and glanced over her shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”

Daniel nodded, forcing himself to stay put when she breezed from the ballroom rather than giving chase as he wanted. Blinking the room into focus, he was struck by the magnitude of his depravity.

Here he stood in Cecily’s home and more than anything, he longed for Lisette.

“Damnation.” Daniel stalked into the stone corridor and headed toward the south gallery. He wanted to see his wife again, to remind himself of how she once looked.

During his first stay at the governor’s house, Cecily had guided him to the south gallery to admire the portraits. She’d been flirtatious even with her maid present, batting her lashes and pursing her lips. Daniel had been flattered by her attempts to charm him, but he hadn’t responded in kind. Dallying with the governor’s daughter, no matter how fair of face, would have been unwise for business. His grandfather had cultivated a friendship with the governor that benefited Daniel. Remaining in the official’s good graces meant he and his crew would continue to receive a warm welcome in Port Albis.

Cecily, however, hadn’t appreciated Daniel’s aloof manner and had voiced her displeasure at every opportunity. And she had orchestrated
many
opportunities to cross paths with him during his stay.

Daniel arrived at the gallery and paused as he tried to recall the location of Cecily’s portrait. His gaze landed on her youthful face, and he moved closer. In the painting, Cecily sat prettily on a scarlet chair with her hands folded in her lap. Her virginal white gown covered most of her porcelain skin. Her smile was innocent. Now he could see it though, a flare of defiance in her pale blue-gray eyes.

Cecily had arranged a dance with him at a party hosted by her parents the evening following the tour of the gallery. She’d stood closer than was proper, holding his gaze.

“Simon painted my portrait more than once, Captain Hillary.”

“Indeed, Miss Bristow? I would have thought you too impatient to sit still for two portraits.”

“You underestimate me, sir. I fear it will be your undoing. Do you wish to hear of my experience?”

“As you wish.” He was being polite. Daniel found her childish prattle banal.

“Every afternoon after posing in the morning for the portrait in the gallery, I stole away to Simon’s house. It was a pitiful sea shanty. Nothing to recommend it. Simon lived as a pauper, but he was passionate about his art. And his subject.” She plastered her body against Daniel’s as they twirled the ballroom. He drew back to reestablish the appropriate space between them.

“I unfastened my dress,” she whispered, “and allowed him to capture my bare breast on canvas.”

Daniel
hid
his
shock. Her behavior was scandalous and undeniably arousing. “Why would you do such a thing? Have you no sense of the consequences?”

She
tossed
her
head. “Because I could, Captain Hillary. Have you never done anything simply for the joy of doing what you shouldn’t?”

“Not when I was a child.” He held her gaze a long time until she looked away. Red rushed into her cheeks, leaving dark splotches on her neck and chest.

“He made me feel beautiful,” she murmured. “And I am a woman, not a child.”

Daniel shook himself from the past and scrubbed his hand over his jaw. Cecily had needed him, desperately. He hadn’t realized his calling at that moment, but later as they had faced her parents, he’d known his purpose: to save Cecily from herself. But there had been no one to save her from him.

***

Lisette’s buoyant mood carried her into the glittering ballroom with her cousin at her side. Golden light from the chandeliers spilled over the guests gathered for the affair, filling the room with good cheer. Surely among the gentlemen present, there would be one willing to assist her. “Let the search begin,” she whispered to Serafine.

Several soldiers clad in red uniforms with yellow fringe and shining buttons ceased their conversation and looked at Serafine and Lisette as they approached. Their avid attention gave Lisette pause, and a slight shudder passed through her. What if every gentleman she appealed to for assistance requested the same arrangement Daniel had posed in New Orleans?

She forced down her anxieties. Shyness would not serve her family. Lisette tried to hang on to the confidence she’d experienced when looking at her reflection in the mirror moments earlier. Never had she felt more beautiful than she did in her glorious gown of plum with matching slippers.

Her coiffure had been styled to perfection with tiny braids looping around her head like a crown and curls spilling down her back. This was the first evening she and Serafine hadn’t needed to play lady’s maid to each other, thanks to Her Excellency’s generosity. The luxury of an assistant was welcomed and much appreciated.

As she scanned the crowd, her newly acquired scent drifted on the air. She smiled reluctantly. Daniel had presented her with an elegantly wrapped gift at the end of her last dance lesson that morning to congratulate her on her progress. Inside the box lay a delicate bottle of jasmine oil tucked into a crimson velvet pouch. It was silly for her to feel sentimental over his gift, and she should have refused to accept his offering. Yet, his thoughtfulness had touched her and filled her with regret that they would be parting soon. She wanted something by which to remember Daniel.

Serafine pointed with her fan. “I’ve located Amelia and Monsieur Hillary.”

Their friend was a vision in a gown of emerald that disguised her expanding belly better than any of them had expected. As Lisette and Serafine wound through the crowd to reach Amelia and her husband, a prickling sensation rippled along the back of her neck. She looked over her shoulder and came to a sudden stop. Her breathing ceased as she turned toward the source of her disquiet.

Daniel was ambling toward her. His dimple appeared when their gazes met; his blue eyes flared like the spark of touch-paper caught in a tinderbox. How she wanted to touch her finger to the small dip in his cheek.

His black tailcoat embraced his broad shoulders and skimmed his tapered waist, while his ivory trousers clung to his muscular legs. My, he was a dashing man when dressed properly.

“Mademoiselle. Madame,” Daniel greeted. “How lovely you look this evening.” He swept a long leg in front of him and bowed low, triggering a mesmerizing shifting of muscles in his thigh. He was as covered as she’d ever seen him, but his attire left nothing to the imagination. Not that she needed to imagine anything.

Sweet
Mary.
Lisette snapped her fan open and waved it briskly to create a breeze. “Good evening, Captain. Goodness, it’s stifling in the ballroom, is it not?”

Serafine raised her brows. “I’m comfortable.”

Daniel’s grin widened as he offered his arm. “Perhaps madame would like to take refreshment. Please, allow me to act as your escort.”

Lisette hesitated, not at all certain contact with him would ease her discomfort. It certainly wouldn’t further her goal of locating assistance from another gentleman. Still, she looped her arm with his.

Serafine looked between Lisette and Amelia, worried creases appearing on her forehead. “I promised to shield Mrs. Hillary from curious stares. Perhaps you would retrieve a glass for me, too?”

“My pleasure, Mademoiselle Vistoire.”

Daniel guided Lisette along the outer edges of the gathering toward the refreshment room off the great hall. When they joined the crush milling about the smaller room, he drew her closer to his side. “I can see the table ahead.”

Many a polite gentleman smiled as they waited in line, easing much of her concern that she would be unable to find someone willing to help her.

Daniel’s forearm began to twitch with each gesture of friendliness. “Once we return to the ballroom, I wish to sign your dance card before the other gentlemen approach you.”

“I would be honored to grant your request.” She patted his arm. If not for Daniel, she would be hiding in a corner this evening. Perhaps he would claim a waltz. “I never thanked you for instructing me. I believe I can follow well enough now, but looking at this crowd, I’m no longer worried about a misstep. The gentlemen seem benevolent. I’m sure they will overlook my mistakes.”

“Indeed,” he mumbled.

The sea of bodies parted as Daniel delivered her to the refreshment table. He ladled yellow punch into two cut glasses then handed one to her. “It’s pineapple.”

Lisette sniffed the concoction before tasting it. She closed her eyes, swept up in the ecstasy of the sweet drink. “It’s delicious.”

“I prefer brandy myself.”

She smiled and returned the greeting of a passing gentleman who looked kindly upon her.

Capturing her free arm, Daniel hurried her toward the ballroom. “No time to dally. Mademoiselle Vistoire is likely parched by now.”

“Slow down.” Lisette planted her feet, but her protest was for naught. He possessed the strength of five men. Holding her glass away from her so as not to soil her gown, she trotted beside him.

Daniel released her when they reached Serafine, Amelia, and Monsieur Hillary. The three huddled together wearing distressed looks while two matronly women gushed over the joys of childbirth.

“Fascinating accounting. Your descriptions are so vivid.” Monsieur Hillary hooked a finger between his neck and cravat and yanked. “If you will excuse us, ladies, I promised to escort my wife to the refreshment room.”

Amelia sent a grateful look toward her husband. Her complexion was paler than usual. “Yes, thank you, sir.”

Monsieur Hillary backed up a step and bumped into Daniel. The glass of pineapple punch in Daniel’s hand sloshed down Monsieur Hillary’s pants leg.

“Dear heavens, Mr. Hillary,” one of the ladies cried.

The elderly women whipped out handkerchiefs—one from her reticule and the other from between her bosom—and blotted Jake Hillary’s breeches in a flurry of activity and chorus of “
oh
my
.”

“Please.” He attempted to deflect their hands while the women struck with the precision of copperhead snakes. “Do not trouble yourselves on my account.”

A peacock feather jutting from the taller woman’s hat jabbed poor Monsieur Hillary in the eye. He knocked it aside, bending the feather to hang at an awkward angle.

“I really don’t require any assistance.”

“There, there, sir. We will set you to rights in no time.”

The ladies were enthusiastic in their ministrations, wiping places clearly not doused with punch. With exasperated eyes, Monsieur Hillary sought out his brother, who hadn’t stopped laughing. “Daniel, a little assistance, please?”

Daniel handed Lisette the empty glass and stepped forward to pull Monsieur Hillary from the melee. “Thank you, ladies. How kind you are. My brother is set to rights now.”

“Oh, yes,” the plumper one agreed. Clutching her handkerchief to her chest, she appeared the picture of a child disappointed to have her fun interrupted. “Happy to have been of service, sir.”

“Yes, thank you,” Monsieur Hillary grumbled.

The ladies smiled once more then moved on to speak with another guest.

“Good
Lord
, this isn’t London,” Monsieur Hillary said.

Amelia came to his side. “Are you all right?”

“I feel I must bathe again.”

She patted his hand. “My poor darling, go upstairs and do what you must. Mademoiselle Vistoire and I will find our way to the refreshment room.”

Monsieur Hillary left the ballroom to change while Amelia and Serafine sought out refreshment.

“Your brother was practically mauled,” Lisette whispered. “How humiliating.”

“He has survived worse.” Daniel held out his hand. “Your dance card, madame.”

“Certainly, monsieur.” Lisette’s smile soon began to fade as Daniel scribbled his name to a second dance. And then a third and a fourth. “What are you doing?”

“I made it clear at Madame Morel’s that I have no desire for you to dance with other gentlemen.”

“Return my card.” She tried to snatch it from him, but he turned his back. “Give it to me at once, monsieur.”

Daniel finally passed the card back. He had claimed every dance.

“What about
my
wishes? Are your desires more important?”