Le Chevalier

by Mary Jean Adams

  She sank into the chair Reid had vacated. “How could that have happened? We were all so certain Philadelphia was safe. Surely, they would protect the city where the Congress meets?”

  Every fiber of her being wanted to deny the news, yet even she hadn’t been completely confident in the security of the city. Hadn’t she confided as much to Marie?

  “There’s talk of spies, and I well believe it.” Reid folded his arms and pinned Mont Trignon with an accusatory look. “Howe and his men knew too much about where Washington positioned his troops. He knew their armaments, and he knew their orders. His attack was too well-coordinated for it to be mere coincidence.”

  “For once, I’m with you, Reid.” Josh’s nervous gaze darted back and forth between the two men facing off just a few feet away.

  “Me too,” Beau agreed, staring into his empty mug.

  Tavern customers stood elbow to elbow now, and a buzz hung in the air as those who had heard bits and pieces of information filled in the curious who continued to file through the doors.

  As she darted between tables, guilt nipped at Alex over her relief the gossips had something more than her supposed assignation with Mont Trignon to occupy them. Yet, were it within her power, she would sacrifice a bit of her reputation for less ominous events.

  Washington’s loss and Howe’s advance on Philadelphia seemed inevitable, and talk of it bubbled over in every corner of the small tavern. As gossip went, the locals embellished what they heard with conjecture of their own. Alex overheard rumors of General Washington’s death, the complete annihilation of his army, and the anticipated end of the war by morning.

  On the other hand, there were also rumors the general had mounted his horse, led his men in a charge against the British, and escaped unscathed despite the many bullet holes to his coat, hat, and even one to his pants.

  She even overheard one man tell another General Lafayette had been shot and lay in grave condition, General Washington at his side. She glanced at Mont Trignon. From the pastiness of his skin and the thin set of his lips, she guessed he had overheard the man as well.

  The door flew open once again, bringing Angelina in with a fresh rush of cold, wet air. As she stood in the entrance to the tavern, shaking the rain from her cloak and bonnet, her gaze swept the room.

  “Reid, is it true?” she asked, joining them at the table and tugging off her tight kidskin gloves, one finger at a time.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, Angelina? You always seem to know so much more than the rest of us.” He took a swig of ale, glowering at her over the rim.

  Angelina flipped her dripping bonnet and gloves on the table in front of them. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Reid Turner.”

  Reid ignored the droplets she splattered across his cheek. “What does the colonel say in his sleep?”

  Angelina’s long fingers flexed, but before Alex could see what happened next, Mont Trignon led her away to the corner behind the rickety table. Men sat around it, but an intense debate over the strength of Washington’s forces kept them from noticing the couple.

  “Ah, so that is how it is,” he said, his gaze still on Reid and Angelina.

  Alex glanced in their direction. Reid had risen from his seat, his toes just inches from Angelina’s. Angelina stood her ground, and with her height, her eyes were almost level with his. Like a pair of prizefighters, they sized each other up.

  “Them?” She turned away from the familiar scene. “I’m sure you are mistaken.”

  “I do not think so.” Mont Trignon’s hazel eyes sparkled.

  Alex shook her head before he even finished his sentence. “They’ve been at each other’s throats since they were children. Angelina grew up in the wealthiest family in our neighborhood, but she came almost every day to torment me and my brother.”

  It wasn’t possible there could be any affection between them.

  “Is that so?” The chevalier grinned.

  They had started shouting at each other now, and from the looks on their faces, she would say they despised each other.

  “Yes,” Alex assured him. “Thankfully, when Reid and I reached about thirteen, she stopped pestering me and focused all her efforts on my brother. The more she tried, however, the better he became at ignoring her. Of course, the more he ignored her, the more persistent Angelina became.” Alex gave a small laugh as she recalled some of Angelina’s more ingenious tactics. “She could be quite entertaining at times.”

  Mont Trignon smiled, nodded, and then lowered his voice so the curious who had crept closer to the couple could not overhear them without resorting to completely boorish behavior.

  “I am sorry I was unable to protect your reputation.” The delight in his eyes had been replaced by a genuine sadness.

  “The fault is mine.” Alex’s fingertips tingled as she longed to reach out and stroke the strong planes of his cheek.

  While it wasn’t fair society would be a harsher judge of her than of him, it didn’t make it right for him to be the one to apologize. Had she not given in to her foolish impulse, neither of them would be in this mess.

  “Regardless of who is at fault, I am afraid it is best if we keep up appearances.”

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked.

  The crowd crushed against Alex’s back, and Mont Trignon tucked his arm about her waist and drew her closer to him. Now there were but inches between their bodies, and his heat seeped through the fabric of her gown to her skin.

  “When there is talk of spies, everyone, even friends you thought you knew, will become suspicious,” he whispered into her ear. “We were able to convince the captain and his men easily tonight, but if his superiors question his decision, he may be back. He may even start asking questions of those who suggest they know you well.”

  “Oh, dear,” Alex said, her stomach dropping as the gravity of the situation hit her anew.

  She took a mental inventory of those who might support her. Reid had made it clear that he believed the worst about her. He wouldn’t help her damaged reputation, but his anger would add credence to Mont Trignon’s version of events.

  Her loyal customers meant well but loved to gossip and were just as likely to embellish her notoriety as vouch for her character.

  Of course, Marie could be a powerful ally. Even though they had been friends for such a short while, she knew she could count on her. Her hopes sunk as she remembered she had not seen Marie in weeks.

  “If we continue, and perhaps even further our relationship in public, we should be able to keep suspicions off you.”

  Alex’s mind swam. Further their relationship in public? What did that mean? Did he propose they pretend to have a relationship? How did one go about it?

  Before she could put her questions into words, Mont Trignon clasped her cold hands and held them between his own.

  “But know this. No matter what, I will not let anything happen to you.” His hazel eyes burned with passion as they held hers. “There is a chance I will be away for a few days, but I will have people looking out for you. They will let me know if you come to any trouble, and I will not be far. I can return quickly, and if need be, we will get married.”

  The room swam, and Alex thought to protest, except she didn’t trust the contents of her stomach to remain where they were. Her love for the man aside, she hadn’t meant to force him into marriage.

  She sucked in a breath as the weight of her thoughts hit her. Love? Did she really love this man she hardly knew?

  Oh heavens, she did. She had been trying for years to get her heart to love Nathanial, and here she had fallen in love with a stranger.

  But could he have fallen in love with her? She had heard all about the aristocratic marriages in Europe. One of the women in town had served an English lord before his wife managed to get her sent to the Americas, supposedly for theft.

  In Europe, or so the maid had confided, men bedded just about any woman they could—except their wives. Women and men entered into mar
riage as a business arrangement or out of simple necessity.

  If need be, we will get married.

  His proposal clearly fell into the latter category. No doubt he would follow other traditions as well, considering she already knew the names of five women pining for his return to France.

  No, he did not return her love.

  Tears clouded her vision. She had no right to expect a marriage proposal anyway. The fault for her damaged reputation rested on her shoulders alone. As for her safety, there had to be other ways to protect her should the soldiers return.

  At the moment, however, she couldn’t think of one. She couldn’t flee Philadelphia if they took her into custody. And if they did, it would only be because they didn’t believe his claim she had come to see him. He would be forced to do something to prove that claim, such as marrying her.

  It appeared she might have no choice if worse came to worst. Alex pulled one hand from between his to swipe at her eyes.

  “What is wrong, chérie?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

  Alex closed her eyes and placed the heels of her hands against them. Her cool palms soothed the burning ache behind her eyelids.

  After a moment, she pulled her hands away and regarded the chevalier. “I was just thinking of how much my curiosity has cost.”

  “It could have cost you a great deal more,” he replied.

  ****

  Watching Alexandra race from table to table, serving ale to men thirsty for drink and gossip, Mont Trignon struggled to make sense of all that had happened.

  He remembered her shimmering eyes when he suggested they marry. Had she been about to cry? If so, they had not been the tears of joy he had hoped for. Of course, the events of the night had forced his hand a little earlier than planned.

  The smile she wore now did not quite reach her eyes, but she did not appear upset. Perhaps her earlier tears were from the pall of smoke hanging in the tavern.

  Worry for her wrenched at his gut. He would have to leave her soon.

  He knew his network of sources would be able to keep an eye on Alexandra while he was away. He would hear of any wagging tongues casting suspicion in her direction, and he would be back before suspicions could turn to accusations and accusations to formal charges.

  Beau asked him a question, and Mont Trignon grunted in response. He could feel the boys’ questioning gazes on his face, but he didn’t have the patience tonight to engage in speculation or coddle them with the reassurances they sought.

  Since Alexandra had returned to work and Mont Trignon to his chair at the corner table, Reid had all but ignored him. An occasional surly glance over the rim of his mug showed the ire still simmering within, but he kept it to himself. Reid was no fool. He had to realize his sister’s only hope lay in his protection. Whether he had ruined her or not did not factor into the equation.

  Ruined her. He washed down the words with a gulp of ale that had grown flat and sour in the stifling heat of the tavern crammed corner to corner with sweaty men.

  The accusation made him consider, if only for a moment, of calling Reid Turner out. Of course, he could not harm his intended’s brother. In truth, he had thought about bedding his sister a great deal. He just did not appreciate being damned for something he had yet to do.

  He drained his mug, scowled, and then raised a finger, signaling Molly to fetch him another.

  Even if he had thought of burying himself in Alexandra’s soft flesh, he should be given some credit for walking away from her the night he found her skulking about his bedroom. His body ached with the memory.

  He caught a glimpse of Molly arguing with Alexandra behind the counter. Molly shoved something into Alexandra’s hands and then disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her boss behind, mouth agape.

  He had stretched the truth a bit when he gave her his reassurances. In truth, he did not know how far he would need to travel, but he would ride through hell, day and night, if she needed him. He hated needing to be apart from her at all.

  The separation of the last two weeks had been painful enough. He had tried to distance himself from her intoxicating presence in order to assess his situation with a clear head. But, in the end, there was no hope for his muddied thinking.

  He loved his little bichette, his little doe, and there was nothing to be done for it.

  Alexandra brought a fresh round to the table and set it before the men. Over her bent head, he caught Molly’s self-satisfied smirk as she reemerged from the kitchen. Molly had done her best to return the favor, sending Alexandra with the ale instead of bringing it herself. Mont Trignon gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  As much as he appreciated Molly’s encouragement, he did not need it. As Alexandra slept in his bed a fortnight ago, he had gone to his study and written to his favorite sister, Christiana, letting her know he had found the woman he hoped would consent to be his wife.

  He knew his family would be delighted, especially once they had a chance to meet her. In Alexandra, he glimpsed a little bit of each of them.

  She was every bit as strong of character as Marguerite, his eldest sister. Alexandra also had the kindness that came so naturally to Isabelle and a sweet smile, reminding him of dear Melanie.

  He suspected she would love Christiana most of all, as they were so closely matched in temperament. Her total lack of artifice was so like his little sister. Both of them would delight in telling him exactly what was on their mind. With them, he would always know where he stood.

  His parents, a love match despite their marriage having been arranged long before they met, would be delighted even though Alexandra lacked name or fortune. They would be as enthralled by her character and her sweetness as he had been. The romance they held in their hearts would allow them to acknowledge the love he held in his own.

  He ran his finger around the rim of his mug, as he recalled their earlier reunion. His heart had soared when he overheard her express concern for him to her brother. But after that one sweet moment, nothing had gone as he had intended.

  When the captain and his men entered the tavern, he knew his greatest fear had come to fruition before they called out her name. His seemingly hasty plan of action, that of suggesting they get married, was a course he had been contemplating for days.

  He had planned to take his time courting Alexandra once he had completed his mission, but the captain had forced his hand. All the same, he would have preferred to marry her before he left, but time did not permit it.

  As the news of the battle spread, the clusters of men increased until there was nowhere to sit and little more room to stand. Alexandra stayed busy drawing mugs of ale and calling for Molly to bring out more of the heaping bowls of stew.

  The taproom pulsated with energy, all except for the corner table where Reid continued to glare at Mont Trignon over the top of his mug. Beau stared into his ale as though it held the answers, while Josh flirted with Molly, tugging at her apron strings every chance he could get.

  Mont Trignon sighed in exasperation. He had had all the idle banter and inaction he could take. He needed information, and he had enough experience to know what passed for news in the tavern amounted to little more than gossip and conjecture.

  He stood. “Reid, can you ride?”

  “Of course I can ride,” Reid muttered. “Least I could if I had a horse.”

  “How about you two?” Mont Trignon looked from Josh to Beau.

  Beau looked up from his ale, his eyebrows arched. “Been riding since we was born.”

  “‘Course all we got now is a mule, and I s’pose you’re lookin’ for something faster,” Josh added, missing the disappointed look Molly gave him when he failed to tug at her apron as she passed.

  “Come then, gentleman. I know where we can get four sturdy horses, and we need to make haste.” He rose from his seat, and the others followed him.

  “Where are we going?” Reid asked, his interest piqued, despite the anger still smoldering in his eyes.

  “In search
of information,” Mont Trignon responded. “I will meet you outside in a moment.”

  “We’ll be waiting!” Josh and Beau said, shoving each other out of the way in their rush to get to the door first.

  “It’s about time we did something,” Reid muttered, following his friends.

  Mont Trignon strode to the corner of the bar just as Alex came around to meet him.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked, her eyes wide, with faint traces of purple beneath.

  He placed his hand on her cheek and caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. He wished he could take the time to calm her fears, yet anything he did or said now would be a farce. He could not reassure her until he knew more himself.

  “Remember our plan,” he whispered into her ear.

  He drew her into his arms and kissed her. He had intended it to be a small kiss, just long enough to show the gossiping Philadelphians this woman belonged to him. From the amused chuckles about them, he knew his public display had been duly noticed.

  Yet as her body molded to his, he only wanted more. He sucked at her lower lip savoring the sweetness of her mouth. As her tongue tickled his lip, he pulled her up against his hardness, heedless of their audience, as he branded his senses with the feel of her against him.

  A groan escaped his lips as he tore himself away. He needed to remove himself before desire overwhelmed his commonsense, and he swept her into his arms and headed off with her into the night.

  “Remember my promise,” he added, placing a last impulsive kiss on her lips before turning to leave.

  Chapter Twelve

  The boys had not lied. All rode well on the four fast horses Mont Trignon managed to procure at considerable expense and despite the late hour.

  The best of the riders, Reid insisted on setting the pace once he knew their intended destination. Mont Trignon did not attempt to hold him back. He much preferred the hot-tempered man assuage his anger on the back of a swift horse than with his fists.

  At the very least, he hoped his future brother-in-law would forget his challenge. Once given, no Frenchman would retreat, but he supposed the Americans played by different rules. Of course, he would never kill Reid, but even a scratch on Alexandra’s twin might put a wrinkle in his plans.