by DiAnn Mills
“Would you feel better, Miss Grenville, if I were to accompany you and Mr. Pringle until he leaves you at your parents’ doorstep?” Mr. LaTournay offered. “I promise to be unobtrusive.”
A fleeting smile touched Marianne’s lips, and her lashes fluttered. Georgette could only imagine the exultation her friend must feel at the prospect of being escorted about the city by two prominent bachelors. At the moment, Georgette’s feet hurt too much for her to begrudge Marianne the pleasure.
“I hardly think a chaperone will be necessary.” Smiling, Mr. Pringle spoke between clenched teeth.
“I propose that you discuss the matter while we return to my house,” Georgette suggested brightly. “This breeze is cool, and it begins to grow dark.”
Mr. LaTournay offered her his arm. Behind them, Mr. Pringle and Marianne fell into step, arguing in muted tones. “Do you approve of my offer?” Mr. LaTournay asked quietly.
“With all my heart. I do not trust that man alone with Marianne at night.”
He nodded. “I warned him away from you earlier. If he annoys you again, inform me immediately.”
Georgette looked up at his shadowy face. “Thank you.” Did anything escape his notice? “I enjoyed this day.”
“I am gratified to hear it. I hope our future together will hold many more such days.” He placed his hand over hers as they climbed the steps of her town house.
Again Georgette wished they were alone. He might have kissed her in the garden once more had Mr. Pringle and Marianne not joined their party.
“Business will take me out of the city these coming weeks. Use your time to prepare for our new life together.” He pressed a quick kiss onto Georgette’s hand. “Miss Talbot, if ever it seems I neglect you, know that such is my duty, not my desire.”
Emotion filled her throat and prevented any reply. If only his stilted words rang true!
He descended the steps and joined the others. Georgette watched as Marianne took the arms of both her escorts. Their voices and laughter floated on a summer breeze.
Caramel’s growls awakened Georgette. Lying on her back, half asleep, she wondered what had disturbed the pug. A rattling at her window brought Caramel to his feet with a woof. Was it raining?
Georgette climbed out of bed, pulling on her bedgown as she crossed to the window. The night was clear and bright. A cloaked figure stood in the pool of light beneath a streetlamp.
For an instant Georgette’s blood ran cold. Her teeth began to chatter, and she clutched her gown at her throat. What to do?
Her feet took charge, carrying her swiftly downstairs and into the garden. Like a wraith, he emerged from the shadows. “I—I told you never to return,” she gasped, still clasping both hands beneath her chin.
“I saw you at the parade today, petite grenouille, and my heart bade me try once more. Tell me you care naught for this LaTournay, this Loyalist fool.”
Georgette’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. That ardent voice aroused terrifying passions. “But I do care for him. I love him. Oh, how can you do this to me? It is true then—you are the Frog? They say you are insane with hatred for the English, so how can you care for me?”
“If I am insane, it is for love of you, charmeuse. How can you love that—that stick, that empty shell whose tongue falters unless it speaks of government, profit, and taxation? Faugh!” Turning away, he strode to a raised flower bed, propped one booted foot on its edge, and leaned his forearm on his knee.
“You do not know him as I do,” Georgette replied. His derogatory words about Mr. LaTournay cooled her ardor, arousing her protective instincts. “I want you to go. But first, because you have demonstrated kindness to me in the past, I must take this opportunity to return the favor.”
The hooded head turned toward her. How tall he was, and such breadth of shoulder! She would have noticed so fine a man at the parade had she not been engrossed with Mr. LaTournay.
“Some Loyalists plan to set a trap for you. I know only that it concerns weapons or something stored in White Plains. Please, please, if you truly love me, forsake this conspiracy against the king and return to a quiet life at … wherever you come from.”
When at last he spoke, his deep voice purred. “You do care, ma belle. Someday your amoureux shall be free to love you as you so richly deserve. Do not again risk your safety for my sake, bien-aimée.”
He straightened, and she took a step closer, hands pressed to her cheeks as if to stifle improper behavior. “Will I see you again?”
“You have forbidden it.”
“I am to marry Mr. LaTournay.”
“If I am fated to worship from afar, then God’s will be done. I shall never covet another man’s wife. Adieu, Georgette.”
A moment later she saw a dark shape atop the garden wall. Something landed at her feet. She bent to pick it up—a fragrant rose. When she looked up, he was gone.
Chapter 8
It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the LORD.
LAMENTATIONS 3:26
After checking the identity of the visitor through a parlor window, Georgette hurried to answer a knock at the front door. “Marianne, dearest! It has been so long, nearly all summer since I saw you last.” She pulled the smiling girl into the entryway and overwhelmed her with hugs. “I had feared never to see you again! I was told that your father returned to Long Island, to your family estate, while you and your mother took refuge upon a ship.”
“We did, Gigi, but we plan to stay aboard only until this present crisis ends. Mama wanted to go with Papa, but he says it is not yet safe. Loyalists on Long Island are even more persecuted than we are here in the city. Today Mama and I came ashore to purchase fresh food. I begged leave to visit you, and here I am.”
“Come sit down, and I shall ask Biddy to prepare coffee since we have no more tea. I baked cinnamon cakes this morning.” Georgette led the way.
“You baked them? How charming!” Marianne seemed impressed.
“Biddy has been teaching me to cook and sew. I wish to be an excellent wife.”
Caramel frisked about their skirts as they entered the drawing room. Georgette knew Marianne disliked animals, and it amused her to see the other girl attempt to ignore the pug’s overtures of friendship.
“Caramel, come. Sit.” The dog rolled to his back, but that was close enough.
“You have lost weight, Gigi. Are you well?”
“I am well enough. It is the strain. You know.” Georgette gave her a significant look, and Marianne nodded. She did not need to know that Georgette’s greatest strain was caused not by the threat of war but by Mr. LaTournay’s extended absence. In the past month she had seen him only twice, and those visits were brief and prosaic. Her father frequently expressed the irate conviction that LaTournay’s passion for Georgette had cooled, as if it were her fault.
“Tell me, how is your family? Do you see Mr. Pringle often?” In the drawing room, Georgette rang for Biddy.
“Mr. Pringle comes on a boat to visit me.” Marianne’s voice was too bright, and color filled her cheeks. “Papa has invited him to stay at our estate.” She spread her yellow skirts on the settee. “Your wedding day rapidly approaches. Are you ready?”
“We are. It breaks my mother’s heart to forgo the large reception she envisioned, but in these uncertain times, a quiet ceremony seems best.”
“I am sorry for that, though I believe you are wise. May I see your gown?”
“You may. I would have liked to wear my mother’s gown, but it is far away across the sea. We had this one made. It is simple brocade and satin with touches of Brussels lace at the … never mind. You will see it after we drink our coffee.”
Biddy arrived, pushing a laden teacart. The aroma of coffee preceded her. “Why, thank you, Biddy. You anticipated our need. That will be all,” Georgette said, and the elderly maid withdrew.
“Of our servants, only Biddy remains. My parents expect to sail back to England immediately after the wedding.�
�� Georgette poured the coffee and served her friend. “But I am content to travel north and leave all this talk of war behind. You will be pleased to hear that Mr. LaTournay is studying his Bible. Is that not marvelous?”
“Has he prayed to receive Christ’s salvation?”
“He is a Christian. Although I do not know him well as yet, I am certain we are admirably suited. What about you, dearest? You do not seem happy.”
Marianne twisted the folds of her skirt.
“What has happened? Is it Mr. Pringle? I heard unhappiness in your voice when you spoke of him earlier. Tell me,” Georgette urged.
“I believe …” Marianne bit her lower lip and blinked hard. “I believe you were correct in your assessment of Mr. Pringle when you warned me of his insincerity. I blush to confess my wicked suspicions, but at the time I thought perhaps you were jealous that I had secured his affection. After all, he is most handsome, and at one time you thought Mr. LaTournay ugly.”
The memory of her lies burned Georgette’s cheeks. “What has Mr. Pringle done?”
“I sometimes hear him abuse the Lord’s name, and his habit of flirting with every woman he meets has not abated with time. I tried to overlook these things, thinking the Lord would change him, but time has brought no alteration. He becomes irritable if I mention them to him, and he reminds me how faithfully he attends church … though he sleeps through every service. He also …” Her voice trailed away, and her eyes studied the floor.
Georgette patted her hand. “No need to tell me more, dear, if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“But I must speak of it. I think my heart is breaking, Gigi. I did not realize how deeply I cared for him until I saw how little he truly cares for me. Mr. Pringle dotes upon me when we are together, yet I fear he forgets me as soon as we are apart. And … he prevailed upon me to … Oh Gigi, I am so ashamed! I must marry him now, for I allowed him to kiss my lips. There. I have told you. After all my lectures to you about propriety, I have given my first kiss to a man who cares nothing for me! You must think me a woeful hypocrite.”
Georgette’s heart melted. “I am sure God will forgive you a momentary lapse of restraint. You will find a man worthy of your love, and Mr. Pringle will then be but a sorry memory. He is worthy of neither your love nor your regret. And your humility only makes me love you more. I am not so spotless that I should look upon you with disdain!”
No one else would ever know how often Georgette lay awake in bed at night remembering the heartbeat of her secret lover against her palms and his proclamations of undying devotion. Her pulse throbbed at any mention of revolutionary activities; always she wondered if the Frog might be involved, and she prayed daily for his safety.
Marianne shook her head. “No, I shall never find a man I could love more than Mr. Pringle. Plans are under way for our marriage, Gigi. I hope I shall have your blessing. You, of all people, know what it is to love a man despite his lack of moral principle.”
“Dearest Marianne!” Wishing she had listened more and spoken less, Georgette embraced her friend.
Studying Pringle’s face across from the coffeehouse table, LaTournay decided his companion had lost flesh. His cheekbones protruded, and a day’s growth of beard shadowed his chin. His blue eyes still flashed when he spoke of recent atrocities committed against His Royal Majesty’s sovereign property. “If the Provincial Congress truly intended to replace the Asia’s burned boat, it would have been done by now.”
LaTournay sipped his coffee and swirled the dregs in his cup. “The carpenters building the second replacement boat say they were threatened.”
“Precious little has been done to identify the culprits responsible for destroying both the boat and its first replacement.” Pringle seemed to pulse with restrained energy. His leg jiggled beneath the table, vibrating the seat of every patron sharing his bench. “You cannot convince me that Sears and the other delegates do not know.”
“If they do know, they are not telling.”
Pringle’s fingers drummed on the tabletop. “I want to know what they are thinking. What are they planning?”
“What makes you believe they are planning anything?”
“The very air holds tension. I have heard rumors—but then, it is not my place to speak. You will tell me if you hear anything suspicious? So far, every news item I have passed on to my superiors is old news by the time I give it.”
“It cannot be profitable employment. Why have you not returned to Boston now that it is safely occupied?”
“Safely? I think not. Those raiders never sleep—burning warehouses, stealing weapons caches, taking shots at the army’s guards. They must have ears everywhere.”
“His Majesty’s troops are invaders on foreign soil. Every tavern keeper, every serving maid, every errand boy is potentially their enemy.”
Pringle sniffed. “This is civil war, not an invasion, but otherwise your observations are correct.”
“You avoided my question. Why not return to Boston?”
“This life is more exciting.” A hard light shone in his eyes. “We have information that may soon lead us to the Frog.”
“I seem to recall hearing that exact claim more than once before.”
Pringle swore. “He must have ears on every street corner.”
“What has the amphibious fellow done to incite such antipathy?” LaTournay inquired. “Refuse to croak?”
Pringle apparently missed the jibe. “He cheats. Deceives. Pretends to be something he is not. I am determined to see that slippery wretch dangle from the end of a rope before I am through. I can think of no lower form of life than a spy.”
“I understood you were doing investigative work for that colonel.”
Pringle blinked. “Yes, but there is vast difference between a man working on behalf of the king and a traitor passing information that reveals His Majesty’s army’s plans to the enemy.”
“I see.”
After a short pause, Pringle added, “Besides, I cannot leave while Miss Grenville is aboard ship in the harbor. Her parents are planning our wedding.”
“And you? Will you marry her?”
Pringle rubbed one hand down his face. “I cannot say. It should have been easy to discard the freckled creature as soon as Pringle Shipping rose from the ashes, and yet …” His sober expression darkened into a scowl. “There is the Grenville estate on Long Island to consider. Fine property. Slightly too rural for convenience, but its income is considerable. I am an unreformed character, mind you. No religion for me. If Miss Grenville loves me as she claims, she will take me as I am. I neither make nor demand assurances of undying fidelity.”
“Marriage requires more than you are willing to give, Pringle. For Miss Grenville’s sake, you should disappear and never look upon her again.”
“Tell me not that you have confessed your entire past to Miss Frogface, for I shall believe none of it,” Pringle mocked, visibly stung by the suggestion. “I am more honest than you, for I make no promises that I do not intend to keep.” He grimaced. “Frogface. Frogs are my plague, it seems. First that slimy spy eludes my detection, and now this large-mouthed lady steals away my friend. Two of a kind they are, both destroying my happiness. I would introduce them if I could and thereby rescue you from a tragic fate. You still want me to stand up for you while you don your ball and chain next week?”
“I depend upon it. The Talbots will take ship the following day. My wife and I shall start north as soon as possible.”
Pringle blurted an oath and slapped the table. “A shame it is to remove your strategic brain from the city at a time such as this. For a man with so many connections and so much influence to be wary of involvement in political affairs—it is beyond reason. The loyal citizens of New York need someone to follow, someone to help them resist and overthrow these Whig idiots. You could be that man, LaTournay. They trust you and would follow without question.”
“If you believe that, Pringle, you have scant knowledge of human nature.”
/> The following day, LaTournay walked along the streets of New York, noting its atmosphere of suspense. Conditions had deteriorated during his absence. Furtive glances, hurried transactions, abandoned shops, light traffic for a fine Wednesday morning in August—the city seemed to hold its breath in fear. He had delayed too long, yet the prolonged assignation had been unavoidable.
His pace increased. Would Georgette be angry or pleased to see him? Ten days until their wedding. She undoubtedly suspected him of abandoning her. At times even he had wondered whether he would return. The wisest move would be to ship her back to England and sail after her once this conflict ended.
Mounting the front steps in two bounds, he pounded the knocker. Someone had scribbled a symbol over the door, and another ill-advised person had evidently tried to expunge it. Smeared charcoal looked even worse than the original artwork.
“Oh Mr. LaTournay, I cannot tell you how relieved we are to see you!” Lucille Talbot clutched his sleeve and towed him into the house. “Where have you been? Georgette could tell us only that you were away on business, but what sort of business would take you from town for so long? We are in an uproar. Mr. Talbot found a merchant ship that is due to sail to England before the scheduled wedding date, and he wants to board her now.”
“Why is that?”
“It is no longer safe for us here, and Mr. Talbot swears he will not remain another week. Georgette kept telling us to wait for your advice, but you were not here to advise us, so we thought it best to pack.”
Frederick Talbot joined them in the drawing room. Bags underlined his resentful eyes. “LaTournay. Hmph. We began to think you would leave our daughter at the altar.” He managed to produce a fatherly tone of concern.
“And I wondered if you might be imprisoned. Have you been asked to be an officer in the traitorous army?” Lucille inquired. “I hear they have asked the sons of every important family in town. Winthrop Hardcastle, bless his heart, swore that if he were to take a commission in any army, it would be England’s! My friend Myrtle Hardcastle is vastly proud of her son—yet now he has been thrown into prison, and the rest of the family has taken refuge on the Kingfisher.”