She averted her eyes as she waited for her heart to slow, then drew a deep, shuddering breath as sanity returned. The room settled into focus, and she recalled the concern she had been about to voice just before his kiss robbed her of her ability to think.
She set one small hand on his chest and fixed her eyes on the slight cleft in his square chin. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised? What surprises you, ma bichette?” His chest rumbled under her hand.
Alex hardened her heart for what she had to say. She could not, would not, allow this man’s mere presence to topple her good sense. He may not have an actual harem, but she had no doubt he would make room for one more in his bevy of women if she let him have his way. She stood on the edge of a precipice, and if she weren’t careful, he would send her spiraling to her ruin.
Even though she might be his only paramour in America, if the goddess whose portrait graced his wall couldn’t claim his fidelity, how could she?
“You said a chevalier was like a knight, and you lived by a code of chivalry.” She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. “I didn’t think this was allowed.”
Mont Trignon backed away from her, and she shivered, cold despite her cloak. A heavy silence filled his bedroom.
Shadows lifted as fingers of pink light reached through the slit in the draperies and a sparrow warbled nearby. A door slammed from somewhere in the lower floors of the mansion.
“Wait for me in my study,” Mont Trignon said, his voice like tempered steel. “I will get dressed and take you home.”
Alex glanced at the shafts of early morning light painting the floorboards of his room with streaks of gold. Street vendors and shopkeepers would soon be making their way to their establishments.
“I can’t very well go home now.” Panic constricted her throat. “My reputation would be ruined.”
Mont Trignon laughed. “Through no fault of mine.”
Alex’s chest tightened. Would he really leave her to defend herself against the slanders that were likely to be all over town by midday?
“You may sleep here,” he added, as though she had voiced the question aloud.
“In here?” Alex asked, hating to sound ungrateful but hoping he might clarify the sleeping arrangements.
“I will let you have my bed for the next few hours. God knows you look like you could use the sleep.”
She stiffened at his comments on her appearance, but at least his words implied he would sleep elsewhere.
Alex untied her cloak and made circles with her shoulders once they were free from the weight. Mont Trignon took it from her and draped it over the same chair that held his towel a short time ago.
“Mrs. Montgomery goes visiting after luncheon. As soon as she leaves the house, I will sneak you out the back and bribe the servants to stay silent. At any rate, you will have your hood up, so they will not see your face.”
“It sounds like you have done this before,” Alex said, with a light laugh.
He turned on her. “You are the one whose honor I am trying to save. Do not amuse yourself by besmirching mine.”
“Sorry,” Alex said. It had been a vulgar thing to say even if it were true. “If I am here, where will you be?”
“I have work to do in my study.”
She wanted to ask what kind of work he did there. Maybe he would write to one of his lovers. Perhaps he would tell Christiana about the foolish American woman who crept into his bedroom in the middle of the night. Would he laugh as he told his love about Alex’s reaction to his kiss? Would he relate how he had torn down her puritanical sensibilities and left her breathless only to pull away?
“Here, climb in,” he said, lifting the edge of the light summer bedding.
Alex did as he asked even though she was certain she would not be able to fall asleep. The chevalier tucked the covers about her chin, and Alex snuggled deeper to hide her shame.
The soft shooshing of wooden drawers opening and closing as he collected his things comforted her, and she snuggled into the mattress, reveling in its downy softness. She had never in her life slept in such a luxurious bed. She rolled over on her side and pulled the bedsheet up around her nose, losing herself in the lingering scent of him.
As she drifted off to sleep, Alex dreamt her friend Marie Noielles leaned over her, kissed her forehead, then murmured, “Fais de beaux rêves, chérie.”
In a final moment of semi-consciousness, she vowed she would try to remember the words and ask Marie what they meant the next time they met.
Chapter Eleven
Alex stared at the dust motes dancing in the faded yellow rays of mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the high tavern windows. Business would pick up again soon as laborers and merchants made their way home, but the thin crowd at this time of day afforded her few opportunities to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied. She spent her last few minutes of idle time before the evening rush much as she spent most of her idle time recently, wishing she could turn back the clock.
It had been two full weeks since she had seen Mont Trignon—two weeks since he had woken her at eleven thirty, helped her on with her cloak, and secreted her out the back gate of the Montgomery mansion.
He had accompanied her the entire distance to her home, keeping up a constant stream of banal chatter that left little room for a serious discussion of her transgressions, not that they would have had much opportunity for private conversation anyway. By mid-day, the streets of Philadelphia were a bustling hive of activity with all manner of people.
A few hailed him as they passed on one side of the street or the other. Evidently, Mont Trignon’s natural gregariousness and ability to make friends had extended well beyond Alex’s small social circle. Philadelphians at every level of society regarded him as a friend.
Those who had not yet made his acquaintance smiled politely and nodded their heads as they passed. They paid little notice to the small, dark-haired woman beside him dressed in an austere black gown and wearing a cloak far too heavy for the season. Alex had the feeling, were such a thing possible, Mont Trignon purposefully called attention to himself. Although, for all she studied him out of the corner of her eye, she could not divine how he did it.
Once they reached the steps of her home, he bid her a cheerful adieu and strode back in the direction from which they had come. She had not seen him since.
Alex swiped lazy circles around the top of her clean bar as she recalled his retreating form, his head held high, the tails of his blue coat flapping behind him.
Her hand stilled, and she stared unseeing at the shiny lacquered wood as she picked through the details of the morning. Looking back, she wondered if he hadn’t been a little bit angry still. By morning, his charming façade had returned, and he escorted her home as though nothing were amiss, but he had not seen her to her door—just the bottom step. His bow as he said goodbye did not allow her to read the expression in his eyes. Then, before she could even say her goodbyes in return, he had pivoted on his heel and strode away.
She could not blame him if he still held onto a thread of anger. In the bright light of day, her midnight escapade appeared indefensible. Only when she had properly apologized to him would she be able to forgive herself.
She tucked the rag in her apron and settled back against the counter, waiting for the afternoon crowd to filter in. If he forgave her, she intended to follow his advice and ask him to tell her more about himself. She longed to put this humiliating episode behind her and, at the very least, renew her ties with the man she knew she could count as a friend, even if she still understood little about him.
But the chevalier had kept himself away from the tavern and from her for two weeks now. Whether it was by happenstance or design, she did not know.
To complicate matters even further, he wasn’t the only one who had disappeared.
Marie had also been curiously absent after having promised to be there when Alex needed her. She chastised herself for neglecting to fin
d out where Marie lived.
When quizzed, Angelina had said she had only seen Marie two times-at the ball and at Mrs. Montgomery’s tea. She had laughed her wicked little laugh and suggested Alex might want to be careful befriending someone until she knew them better.
She should have known better than to ask Angelina for information, but she didn’t really know any of the other women at the tea. She doubted they traveled in Marie’s circles anyway. Judging from her friend’s bored expression while the women gossiped about eligible bachelors, Marie had as little use for featherheads as Alex did.
Perhaps Mrs. Montgomery knew where Marie lived, but she couldn’t very well turn to her. She would be unlikely to get an audience with the woman.
Besides, if she recalled correctly, Marie had been invited through Mont Trignon. Mrs. Montgomery probably knew no more about Marie’s living arrangements than Alex did. No, a visit to the Montgomery Mansion would prove both fruitless and awkward.
One of the tavern’s regular customers entered, tugged off his leather hat, and settled himself at the end of the bar.
“Looks like we might have a storm rolling in.” He scratched the graying stubble on his chin. “Clouds are pretty dark on the horizon.”
“‘Tis that time of year, I suppose,” Alex responded, drawing a mug of ale and setting it before him.
While he drank, she leaned back against the counter, crossed her arms over her stomach and continued her musings in silence.
Thunder rolled in the distance, and the first drops of rain tapped like bony fingers against the windows.
Alex glanced over at the empty table she had come to think of as belonging to Reid, Josh, Beau, and Mont Trignon, wondering if they were together. She hoped they had enough sense not to be caught in the coming storm.
She had asked Josh and Beau if they had seen Mont Trignon. After withstanding a bit of good-humored needling, they assured her they had spoken to him within the last day or so; although they did not know his whereabouts.
Needing to be certain nothing was amiss, she had paid a rare visit to her brother in the small two-room suite he kept in the upper floor of the building housing his presses. He had confirmed all was well, but his answers were absent of emotion and devoid of any detail.
Reid’s studied air of complacency set off warning bells in Alex’s brain. Never without some intense emotion, she couldn’t help but feel he hid something from her. Reid had become angry when she pressed him, forcing her retreat.
A clap of thunder rolled overhead, close enough to rattle the bottles of liquor lining the shelves against the back wall. Through a high window, Alex watched a gust of wind whip the upper branches of an old oak tree. The storm would be on them in minutes.
The rain beat harder against the windows and increased in fury until the glass started to bow. Most of the panes had been there for more than a hundred years, Alex reminded herself. They had withstood many storms, perhaps some worse than this.
The side door to the tavern swung open and whacked against the wall as the driving rain ushered Reid Turner inside. The wild look in his eye and the pallor of his face matched the tempest beating through the open door.
“What is it? Has something happened?” She rushed from behind the bar and clasped his cold hands in hers. “Has something happened to Mont Trignon?”
Reid gave her a quizzical look as, just at that moment, the tall figure of the man strode in behind him.
“I am well, chérie, but it warms my heart you were concerned for me.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He shut the door behind him, muting the sounds of nature’s fury and casting the tavern into an unnatural silence.
“It is just I have not seen you for many weeks now. I thought perhaps you had returned to France.” She pushed constricted words past a dry throat, trying to sound as though she were making polite conversation with a mere acquaintance.
“Never mind that right now,” Reid grumbled. “We have bigger things to worry about.”
He opened his mouth to speak but stopped short when the front door of the tavern opened, admitting a trio of Continental soldiers dressed in blue uniforms and cocked hats. Alex stepped forward, intending to welcome them.
She had taken no more than two steps in their direction when the man with the yellow cockade spoke up. “Can any of you tell us where we can find Alexandra Turner?” His commanding voice rang through the tavern, silencing all conversation as heads turned in his direction.
“I’m Alex Turner.” Her voice sounded too loud and cheerful in the eerie silence surrounding them.
Time slowed for Alex, and her senses heightened as the captain of the soldiers regarded her with assessing eyes. A log in the hearth sputtered and popped. A wedge burned away and fell through the grating. The tavern grew warmer, and a bead of sweat trailed between her shoulder blades, tickling her back.
“Miss Turner, I am here to place you under arrest,” he said, removing his hat, an oddly courteous gesture given the circumstances.
“What do you want with her?” Reid asked, placing himself between the man and his sister.
She wondered the same thing, but the last thing she needed was for Reid to start a riot in her tavern. It would be best to keep tensions to a minimum. She moved out from behind her brother.
“May I ask what I have done?” she asked, in a polite tone she hoped would silence her brother until she could clear up the misunderstanding.
“You were seen breaking into the home of Colonel Stanley Montgomery a fortnight ago. Do you deny this?”
“Well I…” Alex’s mouth grew as dry as if she had chewed on a wad of cotton.
Mont Trignon had warned her she could be charged with treason if she were caught sneaking into the Montgomery mansion. At the time, she had been almost certain she hadn’t been seen. When a week passed without incident, she grew even more so. After two weeks, she had discounted the possibility and forgotten it altogether.
Reid’s stare bored into her. No doubt, he expected her to deny the charges, but what could she say? She didn’t intend to break into the colonel’s home, but she had snuck into a home he owned. The distinction would require further explanation, further embarrassing explanation.
She glanced around at the faces she had known since childhood, the silence broken only by the storm beating against the windows and the popping of logs settling in the hearth.
“She came to see me.” Mont Trignon stepped up beside her and put his arm around her waist in a possessive gesture.
Alex looked up at him, but he didn’t spare her a glance. The hard set of his jaw suggested this was not the time to dispute the propriety of his action.
“And you are?” the man in charge asked.
“Le Chevalier de Mont Trignon, recently arrived from France with the Marquis de Lafayette, general in the Continental army.”
Alex chilled at the sound of Mont Trignon’s voice. He sounded every bit the French aristocrat, as disdainful and haughty as one might expect. Of course, the soldiers did not know him as she did.
“But we had reports of her sneaking in through a window.” He fidgeted with the brim of his hat as though reluctant to pursue the questioning of the tall stranger with the superior bearing who had come to Alex’s aid.
“Yes, in France where I am from, it is generally considered bad form to ask for entrance at the front door at three in the morning.” Mont Trignon looked down his nose at the smaller man. “I left the window unlocked, so she could enter without disturbing Mrs. Montgomery or her servants.”
“I see, and what was the purpose of this meeting in the middle of the night?”
Mont Trignon raised an aristocratic eyebrow. “I am French, Monsieur. Mademoiselle Turner is a beautiful woman. What do you think the purpose of the meeting was?”
The crowd in the tavern sucked in a collective breath, and Alex swallowed the lump in her throat.
“I s…see.”
Alex thought she might have detected a further reddening
of the man’s already flushed cheeks.
“Why, you French swine!”
Thankfully, Beau had enough presence of mind to grasp Reid by the elbow before he could reach Mont Trignon. His brother soon had Reid by his other elbow, but it took great effort for the two strong men to restrain him.
“You have ruined my sister!”
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” the soldier mumbled, casting a sidelong glance at Reid’s face and the vein pulsing down the middle of his forehead. “I am sure we have made a mistake.”
He wasted no time in leading his men out the door and back into the rainy, windy night.
“What is it they do in your country? Pistols at dawn? I’d even be willing to run you through with a sword if I owned one.” Reid growled over the hum of the tavern, as the locals chewed on this latest piece of gossip.
Alex tried to take a step forward to mollify her brother, but the chevalier held her firmly about the waist.
“There is no need for bloodshed, Monsieur,” the chevalier said, his tone even. “I have not ‘ruined your sister’, as you say.”
Reid yanked his arms out of Josh’s and Beau’s sturdy grasp.
“Did she not sneak into your quarters in the middle of the night?” He glared at Alex. Obviously, he believed her capable of it and just as to blame as Mont Trignon for her disgrace.
“She did, Monsieur, but her reason for being there is between Alexandra and me. For the time being, it will remain that way. Furthermore, I believe we have more important things to speak of.”
“That’s right, Reid,” Josh agreed. “General Howe is at our doorstep, and if something doesn’t change, Philadelphia will fall into British hands.”
“What?” Alex asked, concern about the grave news overshadowing her own troubles.
“There was a battle at Brandywine,” Josh said. “The news coming in is that Washington’s forces were decimated. Even now, we don’t know how many he has left and if his men still guard the city.”
Alex’s mind whirled as Josh’s news rippled from table to table.
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