Silver Storm (The Raveneau Novels #1) (33 page)

* * *

"I vow, Papa, I have never felt such
frustration in my life!"

Bernard Souchet put down the teapot and
rushed to pat Eugenie's shoulder. "Shh,
ma chere.
You must
keep your voice down—someone will hear! All this fretting will do
you no good. You must stay calm."

"Papa, I cannot help it. I have been here two
weeks and have tried every trick I know to drive the slut away, but
she only smiles. She sits in the bedchamber that should be
mine,
and I cannot pry Louisa away from her. How do you
think that makes me look? My own child is a traitor! I have done
everything except
announce
that Andre is Louisa's father,
but she only smiles more as my hints grow more obvious."

Souchet pressed the teacup into her gesturing
hands. "She is worried. I know it,
ma petite.
It is only a
matter of wearing her down. Every time she looks at Louisa, she
must think that even our disreputable privateersman could not
resist such a daughter. I'm sure the wench will leave before Andre
returns—her pride won't let her stay to face his rejection."

"I hope you are right, Papa," said Eugenie.
"You had such confidence in this outrageous plan when I left six
years ago. I hope for your sake that I have not wasted my time. I
could have married a real duke if I hadn't been burdened with
Louisa!"

"Cherie!
You must trust me, and you
must have confidence in yourself. I have sensed a change in
Raveneau; his heart is weakening."

"For this red-haired bitch!" Eugenie spat,
slamming down her cup and saucer.

"Shh! Do you doubt your ability to persuade
her to leave? We must find a way. There is plenty of time—two or
three months, at least. And then Raveneau will return, find you and
Louisa in her place, and the game will be over. You shall be
mistress of this palace and we will be together, always."

Eugenie tapped a lacquered nail against her
teeth. "Papa, do you suppose there might be a rejected beau who
would come here and woo her back? Or perhaps an anxious parent who
could be persuaded to come after her?"

Souchet's angular face lit up.
"Ma
chere,
you may have the answer. Do you think you could get her
to confide in you?"

Wrinkling her nose, Eugenie sighed. "I would
rather get the information by holding a knife to that German maid's
throat, but that would no doubt be imprudent." She smiled archly at
her father's expression. "A jest, Papa."

She kissed Souchet's cheek with cool lips and
left the library. It was late afternoon, almost dusk. A cold wind
swept the island, left over from the morning's rain, and Eugenie
knew that Devon would be upstairs.

As she lifted her hand to knock, she saw that
Devon's bedroom door was ajar; soft voices came from within.
Eugenie gently pushed the door until she could see the bed on which
Devon and Louisa reclined. Candles had been lit on either side,
bathing the woman and child in a golden luster. Devon lay on the
near side, her head turned toward Louisa, her arm cradling the
little girl's head.

Eugenie could not make out their whispered
conversation. It seemed as if Devon were telling Louisa a story.
Burnished-rose curls spread across the pillows; Eugenie could see
the soft flush in Devon's cheeks and somehow understood what
Raveneau saw in the girl. It was a quality she herself could never
imitate. There was only one solution: he could not be allowed to
compare them.

As she started to move back into the hallway
to knock, her eyes slid over Devon's plum velvet gown. Her heart
seemed to freeze. The line of the girl's abdomen could only mean
one thing. How had she hidden it so long? Perhaps she was only
gaining weight? Eugenie stepped back and put her head against the
cool wall, trying to think. No, Devon had to be pregnant. She
couldn't have become fat in her belly while staying so slender
everywhere else. Damn! She was pregnant with Raveneau's bastard!
Could he know? No. If he knew, why would she take such pains to
conceal her condition? All those new high-waisted gowns!

Flooded with resolve, Eugenie gritted her
teeth and knocked at the door. "Excuse me—"

"Mama!" Louisa cried. "Come in!" When Eugenie
peeked in, the little girl exclaimed, "Devon has been telling me
about America! She lived in a town where all the privateers stayed.
When she was a little girl like me, she used to watch them unload
things like diamonds and gold—"

"Now, Louisa, I said wonderful cargoes, but
as for diamonds..." Devon smiled uneasily as she sat up.

"How interesting." Eugenie's eyes shifted to
Devon, striving for a friendly look. "Where in America did you grow
up?"

"In New London—Connecticut."

"Oh, yes. I have heard Andre speak of the
place often." When she saw her rival's eyes narrow defensively,
Eugenie decided not to mention his name again. "I hope the two of
you don't mind this interruption."

"No, no," Devon assured her.

"Sit down, Mama!"

Eugenie smiled, perching at the foot of the
bed. "I am getting lonely. I long for someone to talk to, another
woman who would understand my feelings. If you don't mind?"

Devon searched her face, wanting to trust
her. She hated the constant tension of the past two weeks. Could
the other woman be weary of feuding as well? Perhaps she was
willing to accept Devon's presence, to live and let live... "No, I
don't mind," Devon said. "We are all isolated here. It would be
wonderful if we could talk."

"Ah! I agree. It is time that we behave like
adults. Perhaps if we got to know each other better..."

Devon's skin prickled with suspicion, but
when the conversation continued innocently for another quarter hour
with no mention of Raveneau, she began to relax. Eugenie had always
longed to visit America, she said. She asked questions about
Connecticut, and slowly, insidiously, the questions led up through
Devon's early years to her first love. A childhood sweetheart! How
sweet and romantic! Bursting with interest, Eugenie drew Devon out.
But Devon grew hesitant when the narrative crept close to her time
with Raveneau, and Eugenie made a hasty retreat.

"No, no! Don't say anything that makes you
uncomfortable. I suppose it must have ended sadly—young love so
often does. I had a similar experience myself, but believe me, it's
better that you found out you weren't suited when you did rather
than rushing into a hasty marriage."

"Yes, that's very true," Devon agreed.

"But the poor boy's heart must have been
broken. What do you suppose became of him? Has he found a nice girl
to comfort him?"

"I couldn't say," Devon replied carefully. "I
imagine he must have gone home, unless he stayed with the army,
which I doubt. His parents own a drug shop, and frankly, I think he
belonged there all along."

"I'm sure you are right. So all's well that
ends well!" Eugenie leaned forward to pat Devon's hand
solicitously. "My gracious! Look, it is nearly dark. I think,
Louisa, that you and I should hurry to our chambers and freshen up
before supper."

Louisa kissed Devon's cheek, then scrambled
off the bed to take her mother's outstretched hand.

"Bon soir,"
Eugenie crooned. "I am so
glad we had this little chat."

"Yes. I am glad, too." Devon watched them
leave the room, then stared at the closed door. Uneasily, she
whispered, "I hope I won't regret it later!"

* * *

That evening Eugenie and Souchet retreated to
a corner of the grand salon after supper, brandies in hand, sitting
close together on a priceless tapestry chaise. In rapid French, she
repeated all that Devon had told her about Morgan.

"She walked into our trap as innocently as a
rabbit!" Eugenie said, gleefully derisive. "She even told me that
her sweetheart's parents own a drug shop in New London. How many
can there be?"

Souchet chuckled. "Who should we send?"

"I have been considering this, and I think it
should be someone who works here. Someone who has a great deal to
lose should he betray us—preferably a man you know to be
trustworthy and loyal."

"Hermann Kass," Souchet replied. "He is quiet
and obedient. His wife is the Lindsay girl's maid, but Hermann
steers clear of her meddling ways. If I gave him a sealed letter
and ordered him to deliver it unopened, he would do so without a
question or a moment of curiosity."

"Your trust is fine, Papa, but I think you
should make him understand that his family will suffer should he
betray us."

"Yes. His wife and children are his
life."

"Lovely." Eugenie beamed. "Now, if our good
fortune continues, dear, reliable Hermann will find Morgan without
any problems and the wronged lover will fly to Devon's
rescue—before Andre returns!"

"Salut!"
Souchet whispered with
enthusiasm, and father and daughter touched glasses to toast their
scheme.

***~~~***

April, 1782

Worried, Elsa watched her napping mistress.
The winter had not been a happy one. For some reason, Souchet had
joined forces with Eugenie in an effort to make Devon's life
miserable. They both were either frosty or sarcastic, their
rudeness increasing as Devon's condition became more and more
evident.

Elsa wished Hermann were here so that she
could discuss the problem with him, but he had been away for two
months and had refused to tell her what business separated them or
where he was going.

Devon stirred and sat up, revealing the
half-moon of her velvet-draped belly. She displayed it proudly now,
walking through the house with her back straight and a peaceful
smile on her face—until either Eugenie or Souchet would appear.
Somehow their behavior seemed to attack her baby as well as
herself, and this bothered her the most.

Elsa saw the way Devon's nose pinched below
her delicate brows and sighed.
"Liebling,
I implore you. For
the baby's sake, you must be tranquil."

"I know you are right. I do try to keep my
mind on the baby, but it is difficult not to worry about the other
circumstances of my life. The day will come when I must leave this
island—"

"Save your worry for that day."

"Andre will return in a few weeks. Oh, how
ill I feel whenever I think of it. I will be huge and ugly, and
there will be beautiful Eugenie and another child for him to deal
with—one who is already heartbreakingly lovable. I cannot imagine
how he will react. I dread it."

"You must not think—"

"I know Eugenie has laid her plans as
carefully as the siege at Yorktown. I have no strategy!"

"Of course you don't! Have you considered the
idea that Captain Raveneau may not care to be the object of her
schemes? He is an intelligent man, after all."

"I hope you are right, Elsa, but she can be
quite convincing." Devon thought back with agitation to the
heart-to-heart talk she had had with Eugenie at the end of January.
That had been her last overture of friendship, and now Devon could
only wonder what the woman had been up to.

"I know that you are feeling helpless. But
worrying won't help. You must be tranquil, for your baby," Elsa
soothed.

"I am tired of being 'tranquil' and allowing
Eugenie and Souchet to walk all over me."

"Fraulein, I wish that you wouldn't get
angry—"

"Well, Elsa, I
am
angry and I rather
enjoy it. I feel like my old self! I am done cowering in my room,
hiding from unpleasantness."

With that, Devon stood up, squared her
shoulders, and started for the door.

"What are you going to do?" fretted Elsa.

"I crave a chat with Souchet," she smiled.
"Don't worry. Why don't you go and see to your children and meet me
back here later."

Purposefully, she strode down the hall,
descended the staircase, and opened the library door without
knocking. Bernard Souchet was a virtual fixture in this huge,
book-filled room and today was no exception. He stood beside the
heavy, carved mahogany desk, apparently searching for a paper, and
the look of surprise on his face almost made Devon laugh.

"Good afternoon, M'sieur Souchet," she said.
"I have come to choose a few books, but I do not mind if you
remain."

He blinked, but recovered rapidly. "What did
you have in mind, mademoiselle? I will be pleased to advise
you."

She bristled at his condescending tone. "I
assure you, I am perfectly capable of reading titles. Now, if you
will excuse me... "

Souchet fumed as he watched her examine the
bookshelves. He couldn't just stand here like some sort of lackey!
He edged his way across the room to where she stood and hovered
like a suspicious shopkeeper. Devon glanced up once, slanting the
coolest look she could muster in his direction. When Souchet saw
the volume of Shakespeare's
Sonnets
she had chosen, he
pounced like a desperate cat.

"Mademoiselle, if you please." He tried to
remove the book from her hands. "I cannot allow you to take this
particular volume. Mademoiselle Richoux has requested that I save
it for her. She will be along at any moment to fetch it."

"That is a shame. M'sieur Souchet, do let
go!" She forcibly yanked the book from him and left him standing
empty-handed, his eyes burning with indignation. "In case you have
forgotten, Captain Raveneau gave you clear instructions to treat me
courteously, as you would a family member, and further told you
that I was to have complete access to this house! I do not intend
to be bullied for another moment by you or by anyone else!" Holding
fast to Shakespeare's
Sonnets,
she strode to the door and
turned to add, "You may tell Eugenie that she is welcome to this
book just as soon as
I
am finished."

Once in the hallway, Devon felt dizzy with
anger and triumph, but she took several deep breaths and started up
the stairs. Eugenie materialized at the top, her mouth open at a
sharp angle, ready to speak, but Devon glanced at her coldly and
brushed past.