Le Chevalier

by Mary Jean Adams

  The floodgate of her emotions had opened, and Mont Trignon sat in silence, letting her pour out her heart and her fears.

  “If Philadelphia falls to the British, I don’t know what I will do, where I will go.”

  “You still have your brother,” Mont Trignon suggested, even though he had his own doubts about the man’s reliability.

  She shook her head. “You don’t know Reid, Marie. My brother’s blood burns with revolutionary passion. He would gladly die for the cause, and I’m afraid he will find a way to do so someday.”

  “But he has not joined the army or the militia. Perhaps he stays behind so he can protect his sister.”

  “That’s a lovely thought, but I know him better. He stays behind so he can stir the blood of other Philadelphians and recruit them to the cause with his writing.

  “I thought Nathanial might be the rock I could count on, but you met him…” Alexandra shrugged.

  Mont Trignon could not resist insulting the man. “More of a pebble I would say.”

  Alexandra laughed, but the sound erupted like a sob. A woman’s tears, as his sisters well knew, were his Achilles’ heel. He steeled himself to comfort her if she let hers flow.

  Alexandra pulled herself taller and regained her composure. “Whatever size stone he is, I feel he may crush me if I let him. He has such high expectations of me, and I don’t think I shall ever be able to meet them.”

  “Perhaps you should have higher expectations for your fiancé.”

  “I used to find his neutrality to the cause soothing,” Alexandra continued.

  Mont Trignon wondered if she ignored his comment, or if it did not register. Did she feel she had no right to have expectations?

  “I confess I do feel an allegiance to the rebels.” Alexandra twisted her hands in her lap. “It would shame him if he knew how much I disagree with his belief that the outcome of this war has little consequence so long as it ends quickly.”

  “But what of Mont Trignon? Surely you can rely on him.”

  “I barely know the chevalier. Please do not be offended, Marie, but he is a Frenchman, and I don’t know how to read his intentions any better than I understand his native tongue.” The fading sun cast shadows across her beautiful face, masking her expression. “I enjoy his company, but I don’t know if I can really trust him.”

  Mont Trignon squeezed her fingers. “You must promise me you will not judge all Frenchman by what you hear from the English, chérie. You must remember we have been at each other’s throats for centuries.”

  She shook her head and rose to her feet. “That’s not it, Marie.” She paced the small room. “I assure you I would feel better trusting in the actions of a Frenchman than the words of an Englishman, but I sense there is more to Mont Trignon’s presence in Philadelphia. Perhaps he has more at stake in the rebellion than he has shared.”

  Alexandra walked to the window and gazed out at her front stoop, lost in thought. “Actually, as I think about it, I realize he has told me little about himself. I’ve taken advantage of his kindness and prattled on about myself.” She twisted her neck to look at him. “Has the marquis said anything to you about why Mont Trignon came to America?”

  He shrugged and rose to take his place beside her, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  “I believe he came because my nephew asked him to accompany him. I know of no more reason than that, and from what I understand about the man’s loyalties, he would require nothing more.”

  “I don’t mean to ask you to be indiscreet, Marie, but if you hear anything more, will you let me know? You need not share the details with me, just let me know whether I can trust him or not.”

  So he was being asked to spy on himself? The afternoon was filled with ironies.

  He placed both hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Chérie, you make much out of nothing. I am certain you can trust Mont Trignon. My nephew is an excellent judge of character, and if he vouches for the man, then I am sure he is to be trusted.

  “You are probably right.” Alexandra took her friend’s arm and walked her to the door.

  “But regardless of Mont Trignon’s intentions toward me, which I still doubt are what your romantic and kind heart imagines them to be, I need a woman as a friend. You have helped me feel so much more at ease this afternoon. You need not do anything other than allow me to share my fears and assure me they are unfounded.”

  “You may unburden yourself upon me whenever you feel the need, chérie. But rest assured, I am prepared to do more for you if the need arises. Know that no matter what happens, I will be there for you.”

  Alexandra gave her friend an impulsive hug during which Mont Trignon held his breath and hoped she did not register the muscles in his biceps or his lack of breasts.

  She did neither. His heart still pounding, he stepped out into fading light of a long day and closed her door behind him.

  Chapter Eight

  “What do you think, Alex? Do you think we can trust him?” Josh asked, just before shoving a heaping spoonful of stew into his mouth.

  “Trust who?” Alex asked, stifling a yawn as she set a steaming bowl in front of her brother.

  The drizzle pattering against the glass panes and soft glow from the wall sconces made Alex long to stretch out on one of the empty tables and take a nap.

  “We don’t know nothin’ ‘bout him,” Reid grumbled. He slurped a hot spoonful of vegetables and broth.

  Alex managed a scowl before another yawn hit her. A writer of her brother’s caliber ought to manage better grammar. And a Turner never had such poor table manners. Just because they were in a tavern didn’t mean he could forget himself.

  “Trig, of course,” Beau responded, capturing her attention before she had a chance to scold Reid. “He seems awfully smart, and I’m sure he has connections that may be able to help.”

  Molly arrived with a fresh round of ale, smiling at Josh as she set the first mug in front of him. Alex watched the exchange as her mind mulled over Beau’s words.

  “Help with what?” Alex asked, as Molly, eyes sparkling, headed back to the kitchen. “You boys had better not be planning something. The British are practically at our doorstep. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I don’t trust him yet,” Reid said, ignoring his sister’s concerns. “There’s something about him. He’s just too friendly-like if you know what I mean. He’s hiding something.”

  “You always think everybody’s hiding something,” Josh said.

  Reid grunted and stuffed another spoonful into his mouth.

  Josh spoke the truth. Reid never trusted anyone. Under normal circumstances, she didn’t share his suspicious nature. However, in this case, she had to agree with him. After speaking with Marie the day before, Alex had spent the good part of another sleepless night trying to sort it all out.

  Staring at rough-grained floorboards stained dark from years of wear, she could almost hear her father’s voice. When something doesn’t seem right, that usually means it isn’t. Look for what you are missing, Alexandra.

  She could think of no reason why a man of Mont Trignon’s stature and bearing would befriend Reid and the Bandys. And despite Marie’s kind assertions, Alex knew there was even less reason for a man of his appearance and wealth to be interested in a woman like her. He had to be in Philadelphia for a reason—one he hadn’t shared.

  “I’d have to say I agree with Reid,” Alex said.

  The Bandys stopped arguing with Reid and looked at her with wide eyes.

  “Did you actually say you agreed with your brother?” asked Josh, his mouth open.

  “That’s got to be a first,” Beau added, nodding in agreement.

  Reid stared at her as well, compelling Alex to further her reasoning.

  She shrugged and settled herself in the chair Mont Trignon normally occupied. She half-hoped sitting in his spot, seeing the tavern from his vantage point might bring her a sense of understanding. She surveyed the taproom, trying to put h
erself in his thoughts.

  A few men sat about the wooden tables, most wolfing bowls of stew before heading back to work. The tavern door opened, admitting one of the local farmers, then banged shut behind him as a gust of wind took it. He shook the rain from his wide-brimmed hat and seated himself at the bar. Alex considered getting up to serve him, but just then Molly popped out of the kitchen with a streak of flour across her face.

  Alex smiled. If Molly kept practicing with the biscuits, she’d learn to make them yet.

  Molly drew the newcomer a mug of ale and returned a few moments later with a steaming bowl of stew. After checking with the remaining lunchtime stragglers to ensure they had full stomachs and full mugs, she scurried back through the double doors again.

  Alex sighed. What were Mont Trignon’s thoughts when he sat here? The early afternoon scene in her tavern might be the same as any one of a hundred other taverns in any town in America. Why had he chosen hers as his home away from home?

  Apprehension gripped her. It had to have something to do with Reid.

  Considering Josh’s and Beau’s eager faces and Reid’s dubious one, she said, “I think it’s just as Reid said. None of us really know him.”

  “It seems like you’ve gotten to know him fairly well,” Josh said, waggling his eyebrows at her. A grin stretched from ear to ear until his gaze landed on the hard look in Reid’s eyes.

  “Well, at any rate, he came here with the Marquis de Lafayette,” Beau said, glossing over his brother’s inadvertent tweaking of their leader’s short temper. “I hear Washington puts great stock in the Frenchman. It can’t hurt to have friends with connections like that,”

  “Hmmm,” Reid murmured. “Where is the bounder anyway?”

  “Last I saw, he was in the kitchen with Molly,” Josh said, returning his attention to his stew.

  “He’s here?” Alex asked. She hadn’t seen him come in. How on earth had he snuck past her?

  And what were he and Molly up to in her kitchen? Alex twisted her bar rag around her fist and gritted her teeth. If he tried to corrupt the best help she ever had…

  “I will put an end to that!” She stuffed her rag into the waistband of her apron.

  “An end to what?” Mont Trignon asked from behind her.

  Alex whirled around to see him licking something from the tips of his long, elegant fingers. Molly stood next to him holding a tray of unusual crescent-shaped rolls, making Alex’s mouth water with their yeasty aroma. A layer of white powder that clung to skin and clothing covered them both. Alex fought to suppress the image of the chevalier rolling around in the flour with her barmaid.

  “What have the two of you been doing in my kitchen?” She placed her fists on her hips.

  “Would you like to try one?” Molly asked, looking at Josh Bandy.

  Never needing an invitation to eat offered twice, Josh selected one of the fragrant rolls, tasted it, and then took several more bites.

  “These are delicious,” he said, between mouthfuls.

  “They’re called croissants,” Mont Trignon explained as Reid, Josh, and Beau cleaned Molly’s platter. “They are common in France.”

  Alex grabbed Mont Trignon by the elbow and dragged him to an unoccupied corner of the tavern behind a rickety table still empty despite the late afternoon crowd filtering in.

  “I’m sure you meant well, but flour is expensive,” she whispered, smiling at patrons who happened to glance their way.

  “Not half as expensive as the butter we used,” Mont Trignon said with a grin, not bothering to lower his voice.

  “Butter too?” Alex moaned and put a hand to her forehead. She never used butter in the tavern’s biscuits. It was too expensive, and she had a business to run.

  “Do not worry,” he said, chucking her under the chin with his index finger. “I purchased the flour and the butter myself this morning.”

  “I can’t have you doing that,” Alex protested. “My customers will start asking for them. Before you know it, I’ll be serving stew and cra…croy…” she paused trying to recall his pronunciation of the delightful-smelling bread, “…rolls made with butter. It will eat into my margin!”

  “I did it for love,” Mont Trignon said.

  “You did it for what?” Alex squeaked and then regretted it as a couple of men cast speculative grins their way.

  He couldn’t possibly be in love with Molly. If he tried to take advantage of her…

  Mont Trignon covered her shoulders with his hands and turned her around. Molly had returned to the table on the other side of the tavern. Staring at her with a besotted look on his round face, Josh said something that made Molly look at the floor, an attractive blush on her cheeks.

  Mont Trignon leaned down. “I saw the way she looked at him, but he was never going to notice her unless I gave her a little help,” he whispered in Alex’s ear.

  “No wonder she was willing to work all the time,” Alex whispered.

  “Now we just have to do something about the way she dresses.”

  Alex whirled around and poked him in the chest. “Don’t you dare. I’ll never get anything done around here if you dress her so my customers can’t keep their hands off her.”

  “Ah, what is this? Are you afraid of a little competition?” Mont Trignon grinned.

  Alex said nothing. He had come closer to the truth than he knew. In the end, it wasn’t Molly she had imagined rolling in the flour with him.

  ****

  Alex stacked the last of the scrubbed pewter mugs on the shelf and tried not to look at her reflection in the burnished surfaces. The imperfect image showed the bags under her eyes and a hint of the shadowing she had seen in her own mirror that morning. Each time she stacked another mug on the shelf, she received a vivid reminder of how little sleep she had been getting.

  From across the tavern, she scowled at the man behind her restless nights.

  Most of her patrons had departed hours ago, and she would have gone home herself except for the men at the corner table. Mont Trignon, Reid, Josh, and Beau sat with their heads bent together around the soft glow of an oil lamp, hatching some grand scheme.

  Molly came to stand beside her.

  “Miss Alex, I hope you don’t mind my sayin’, but you look plumb wore out.” A smile lit her face despite the late hour. “Why don’t you go on home? I can close up after the boys.”

  Alex yawned. Her jaw ached from trying to suppress her body’s reaction to lack of sleep, so she let it overtake her. Only at the last second did she think to cover her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “What would I do without you, Molly?” she said, when she could speak again. “I’m afraid I abuse your capacity for work something awful.”

  “Nonsense, Miss Alex.” Molly looked down and twisted her apron strings. “I appreciate your willingness to give me a chance when I was down on my luck.”

  Before Alex could give her usual order that Molly ask one of the boys to walk her home, Josh called out from the other side of the tavern. “Don’t you worry ‘bout Molly, Alex. I’ll walk her home.”

  Molly’s cheeks flamed as Alex turned to her. “Don’t let that boy take advantage of you, Molly,” she cautioned.

  “I won’t, Miss Alex,” Molly assured her.

  With a weary sigh, Alex untied her apron and hung it on a peg, giving her tavern one last perusal to be sure she had extinguished the last of the wall sconces, leaving only the one oil-lamp burning.

  The afternoon rain had been followed by heat, oppressive even for mid August, and the brick sidewalks steamed as the few remaining puddles evaporated. She draped her cloak over her arm, unable to bring herself to put it on despite the protection it afforded her from curious eyes.

  Would he follow her?

  The last time she left the tavern in the middle of the night, Mont Trignon had come after her. Granted, he hadn’t reached her until she set foot on the bottom stair leading to her front door, but it had been a sweet gesture. She had been moved by his concern, p
erhaps more than she liked to admit. She had allowed him to kiss her.

  Would he follow her again? Did she want him to?

  She lingered a moment outside the tavern door, but it didn’t open. Torn between disappointment and relief, she took a fortifying breath and started off.

  The night offered no cooling breezes, and by the time Alex reached her home, perspiration pasted her dress to her back. She let herself in as usual, but instead of lighting the candle and heading upstairs to her bedroom, she remained on the ground floor where the air would be less stifling.

  In her parlor, she took a seat on a wingback chair that had belonged to her grandmother. Through threadbare curtains, she stared out at the night.

  As usual, the mysterious chevalier dominated her thoughts.

  She chuckled as she remembered his boyish demeanor when he and Molly, both covered in flour, presented the tray of rolls. How could he have noticed Molly’s regard for Josh, when she hadn’t? She knew Molly better than anyone did.

  Then to devise a plan to help Molly attract Josh’s eye… Alex would have told her to give up any hopes she had for Josh Bandy since she would never be able to penetrate his thick skull. Of course, Mont Trignon devised a strategy that couldn’t fail-feed the man. She held her hand to her mouth and laughed. Ingenious!

  Alex crossed her arms over her chest. The Bandys adored Mont Trignon almost as much as Molly did, following him around like a couple of overgrown puppies. Even Reid, who never had a natural affinity for anyone, tolerated having him around.

  No, Reid did more than tolerate him. Despite his earlier assertions that they did not know him well, he treated Mont Trignon like a trusted confidant.

  Alex reached down to unlace her shoes then nudged them off with her toes. Tucking her legs under her skirts, she sat sideways in the big chair. She liked him too.

  A tingling in her belly reminded her she held more than a warm regard for the man. He captivated her.