Etienne’s eyes were wide as he stared at the weapon left carelessly on the floor by William. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “We sail for France very soon.”
Wyatt laughed at something Evangeline had whispered in his ear. He pushed away from the table and pulled her chair out. He gestured to the hallway, and Christy nodded at him.
Suzanne’s head was pounding. If Christy did release her from her contract, where would she go? Johan had obtained his freedom. He wouldn’t have abandoned her.
The doorman appeared at the entrance and slid the pocket doors back.
She caught a glimpse of a couple beyond him.
The woman’s abdomen, round with child, bulged behind the servant’s narrow form, as well as a man’s long leg in cream-colored breeches.
Suzanne’s heart nearly bounded from her chest.
“Monsieur and Madame Guillame Richelieu!” The ebony-skinned servant teetered aside as Christy took Suzanne’s elbow and guided her to the doorway.
“Guy?” She shook so hard and her tears blurred her vision so much that she couldn’t have walked without the colonel’s guidance. “Jeanne!”
Guy crushed her in an embrace before kissing her cheeks. He glared at Etienne. “Please tell me that swine, LeFort, is not my brother-in-law! I was told by the innkeeper that my sister’s husband had received my missives.”
“No. He’s not.” She should have listened to her brother long ago. Turning to Jeanne, Suzanne embraced her friend gently, aware of the prominent swell of her abdomen. The child—Guy’s? Surely not. He never would have compromised her like that. Her brother implied Pierre LeFort was the father. As she held her old playmate, Suzanne felt tension grow in Jeanne’s arms and looked up.
Both Guy’s and Jeanne’s gazes fixed upon Etienne.
Turning, she saw that her old beau’s face had drained of color. His mouth agape, he pushed at his wig. She looked from him to Jeanne.
Something passed between the pair.
Jeanne clutched Suzanne’s hand, her fingers trembling.
“I heard you’d died, Guillame.” Etienne threw back some sherry and then wiped his mouth. “I’m glad this wasn’t true.”
“Moi aussi,” Jeanne asserted, her head rising higher and lips narrowing as she linked her arm through Guillame’s. “How tragique for my baby to not have his father. And for me to have lost my husband.”
Guy patted her hand and gazed down in adoration. “All I’ve lost is my good looks, mon amour.” He kissed Jeanne, bringing a smile to the beautiful lips of Evangeline.
Wyatt looked as though he might plant a kiss on that woman’s cheek at any moment.
Etienne’s voice tightened. “My brother wasn’t so fortunate.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Guy’s voice held true remorse. “I can only hope that he repented of his sins before he died.”
Etienne placed an index finger on his cheek and narrowed his eyes.
Guy seemed to be talking of Etienne as well.
Her stomach clenched. In her soul, Suzanne understood—Etienne was the father of her friend’s baby. Sadness and disgust flowed through her, but were quickly chased by the fresh wave of a pure thought—what a marvel that Guillame could be so good. That he could take on this child as his own. That he would love Jeanne and protect her from the LeForts.
She was filled with love for Guy, and a deep admiration that brought more tears streaming down her face…and an even deeper disgust for Etienne. Thank God, she’d been protected from him, or she could have ended up in Jeanne’s predicament. And what would have happened to her? She’d have never met the one she loved.
“Ja, I heard that.” a loud voice echoed in the hallway beyond the dining room. “We should all repent before we die and it’s too late.” Johan’s laughter softened the harsh tone of his words.
Doves seemed to beat in her chest. “Johan!” His elegant attire shocked her but he opened his arms to her and she went to him.
After a too-brief embrace, he released her and took a step back.
“Vann bought me this wedding suit.” Johan raised one arm, displaying a fine white shirt beneath a blue linen coat. His velvet breeches were spotless, and ornate silver buckles shone on his polished shoes.
She smiled. He’d be her handsome husband even if he wore his farm clothes and was covered in manure. Thankfully, though, he’s not. Stepping into his arms, again, she let him rest his head atop hers, felt his big hands rest on her back, pulling her close. Never letting her go. She drank in the scent of him.
“Suzie, we have an appointment tonight at St. Joseph’s. Are you ready?”
Etienne rose. “For what? Who is this man, Suzanne?”
Etienne and Guy stared at one another for a long moment before Etienne broke eye contact.
Carriage wheels sounded from the drive near the house.
Christy pulled the curtain aside. “Looks as if your coach awaits you.”
Suzanne squeezed Johan’s hand and got up on tiptoes to kiss the cleft in his chin. He moved his mouth down to cover hers and pulled away too quickly to suit her.
“We have a wedding at St. Joseph’s tonight for those who care to attend.” Johan kissed her forehead. “May I escort you?”
“Oui,” she laughed.
He reached out and touched her hair, pulling something from it.
Mortified, she pulled away.
“Just a little lint.” His eyes danced in mischief. “No insect this time!”
Guy stifled a grin. “Jeanne, shall we join them?”
“Of course.”
“I’m coming, too,” Christy called out.
Scott’s and Evangeline’s seats stood empty.
“I’ll keep your guest company, if you wish,” McCready offered, getting up to pour himself another glass of sherry. “We’ll call your boy downstairs to play a game of cards with us after I’m done guarding him.” He pulled open his jacket, revealing a brace of pistols.
Johan squeezed Suzanne’s hand. “Christy will bring Sarah,” he whispered in her ear.
Guy pivoted in Etienne’s direction and made a mock display of slapping his palm to his forehead. “Oh, I forgot. Rochambeau wanted me to advise you that if you don’t return to Versailles to manage your family’s affairs, your mother is coming to retrieve you. She fears you’ve too much time on your hands and have run amuck of the local gentry there. Something about a lynching party, I believe, if you return to the West Indies. The islanders say the lady you brought here didn’t voluntarily accompany you. Can you imagine that, Etienne? Whatever could people be thinking, telling tales like that about a gentleman such as yourself?”
33
The carriage lurched and Suzanne tumbled against Johan in the seat.
Wyatt drove at a breakneck speed as though someone chased them.
Mon Dieu, let me live to make it to the church.
Johan clutched her close to him. As his warm lips caressed her forehead, a thrill pulsed through her.
They rounded the corner and Wyatt’s coach rocked over the cobblestones in a steady rhythm as its progress slowed.
Her husband kissed her again. “You don’t have to do this. Our marriage is already recorded at St. Joseph’s. The man on the ship wasn’t a surveyor…”
Lost in the sensation of Johan’s snug embrace, Suzanne wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. “No?”
He released her and she yearned to feel that closeness again. His gaze trailed from her upswept hair to her satin pumps.
Her heartbeat quickened as his hand settled on her shoulder. “Nor was he a Quaker.”
“He was a priest?” So her dream had been true.
“Father Francois is a Jesuit priest, ja.”
Relief and gratitude flowed through her. A wave of mounting excitement washed away those calming emotions. She considered kissing him. “We’re already married.”
“Ja.” He pushed aside a curl, his rough finger grazing her forehead. “That wouldn’t have stopped Etienne from taking you with him, though.”
He pulled her closer. “I’ve got you now.”
Suzanne relaxed into his warmth, but his chest tensed beneath her cheek. When she tried to lean back, he held her close. “What’s wrong, Johan?”
“You’re sure you want me, ja?” His fingers worked into the base of her hair.
“Johan, this ceremony is a vow renewal. We’re already wed.”
“I’ve felt so guilty. I thought you agreed to marry me on the ship only because you were dying. You were leaving me. I wanted you to have family there—I wanted to be that family for you.”
“Oui, I understand. But you and Sarah are my family now.” Her breath caught in her throat and tears welled up in her eyes. “And I chose you then as my husband. I choose you now. Forever.” A sharp turn of the carriage almost bounced her onto Johan’s lap.
His strong arms drew her the rest of the way up. He kissed her until she couldn’t breathe and then leaned his head against hers. “I choose you, too, forever. Ja, I like the sound of that.”
So did she. And the feel of his kiss.
~*~
Reflections of flickering candlelight from the nave’s many votives danced in Suzanne’s wide eyes.
Guillame and Jeanne came into sight, and Johan resisted the temptation to kiss his Suzie’s parted lips. There would be kisses soon to last a lifetime.
“Johan and Suzanne, did you read of our news?” Guillame grinned.
Johan groaned. “So sorry, I failed to deliver your letters to Suzanne.”
She poked him with her sharp elbow.
Her brother arched an eyebrow. “While Jeanne and I were in Montreal, we ran into your uncle from Aachen.”
“Literally!” Jeanne giggled. “I bumped into him on the street, when I wasn’t looking and I hurt my ankle.”
“The poor man took us to the nearby convent where’d he’d been staying.” Guillame smiled at his wife. “And Father Vincent introduced us to his old friend—a lady he said he’d accompanied to the New World decades earlier and whom he’d never ceased praying for after she disappeared in the back country.”
“But your Tante Isabelle is found now.” Jeanne’s girlish voice bubbled over with enthusiasm. “And Johan’s uncle can stop worrying about her. So he’s staying on in Montreal and will make a journey here later to see you.”
“She’s alive?” Suzanne’s eyes widened, but then crinkled shut before she opened them again.
“Ja. Good news.”
“Oui. Then she’d be next in line to inherit.”
Guillame leaned in. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“Why not? How could Louis object?”
“Our aunt is Mother Superior of the very convent where we sought aid for Jeanne.”
“She’s a nun?”
“Oui. With no plans to return home.”
“Nor I.” Johan’s bride gazed up at him, her eyes full of love.
His new brother pointed to the sanctuary’s entrance. “I need to get Jeanne seated.”
Christy hadn’t yet arrived.
Johan’s neck cloth seemed to tighten, and he ran a finger underneath it. Sweat dripped from his hairline.
Clucking her tongue, Suzanne released his fingers from his cravat. “Leave it alone, Husband. You’re ruining it.”
Husband—the very word sent tremors through him. In the shadows at the back of the church, he pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed the hollow at the base of her throat. Her pulse beat strong against his lips. He inhaled deeply of her sweet perfume. Forever she’d be his frau.
Releasing her, he pulled away to appraise her in the dim candlelight. Her amber eyes were filled with a longing that caused thoughts of the evening ahead to run through his mind. He bent to smooth the wrinkles he’d put in her dress. “There, now I make your dress match my clothing. Both are rumpled.”
Her heavy sigh could have blown powder from his hair, had he worn any. She looked almost as aggravated at him as she used to look back home.
Ja, she is herself again.
Fresh air blew in as the door opened, causing the unshielded candles to flicker. The large pillar lamp beneath the hurricane glass never wavered.
“Here we are!” Colonel Christy accompanied Sarah toward them, the scent of cinnamon mingling with the incense of the church.
The child threw her arms around Suzanne.
His new family was here. One day, maybe soon, Papa, Mama, Nicholas and Greta might be, too.
~*~
Evangeline gently touched Suzanne’s sleeve. The island woman’s countenance had transformed to one younger and sweeter than evidenced earlier in the evening. “Wyatt and I wish you bon chance. We depart for Virginia as soon as…” She glanced to where Scott stood, beaming back at her. Crimson flooded Evangeline’s cheeks. “As soon as the vows are said, we are off. I’m so grateful that God has spared you from a life with that wretched man.”
Wyatt joined them, his handsome features awash with love. He took Evangeline’s hand and then turned to Suzanne. “They’re ready for you, Madame Rousch.”
“Oui, we’re coming.”
This ceremony would help Johan realize she wanted him. Always.
Colonel Christy stepped through the entryway and strode to the front of rectangular room.
Evangeline and an animated Wyatt conversed with the English pastor of St. Joseph’s, off to the side.
Father Francois waited there, also.
Incense and lemon oil imparted their mellow scents as Johan steered her forward. The witnesses were from the earthly realm, unlike in her dream wedding. Suzanne wondered if she glowed with the radiance she saw on Johan’s face. My husband. The recollection of Maman, Grand-mère, and the many other relatives, those who now resided in heaven, ran through her mind.
Johan bent down and whispered, “I’m not sleepwalking, am I?”
She laughed. “No. And this is no dream, is it?”
“No.” His large hand enfolded hers.
She watched as Guy protectively placed an arm around Jeanne’s shoulders. Her brother was alive and with her. Inhaling, suddenly doubting this decision to renew what had already transpired, she squeezed her husband’s hand. “Johan, this is real. I know it was before, too. But I thought you might…”
Sea-blue eyes answered for him. Ja.
~*~
God was answering all Johan’s prayers. After the many months of waiting, of being sure that He no longer cared to hear from him. When he’d given up hope, God had blessed him abundantly, humbling Johan to his core. His freedom from the indenture contract. Work as Vann’s manager. Acquiring the skills he needed to join Vann in the Shenandoah Valley later—his fondest dream. His parents safely joining them and making it possible for Sarah to be cared for by her family. And now…
Suzanne was giving herself to him. Freely. Under no compulsion or fear. Anticipation coursed through him. In front of all these loved ones, she said that she chose him. A peasant who loved her. And she loved him. That was the best gift she could give him. And he’d give her his gift, too. Those gifts, they came from God. He’d never forget that again.
~*~
The priest stared into her husband’s eyes. “Johan, do you still wish to…”
“Ja.” His gruff voice echoed in the sanctuary.
Johan released her hands and left her at the altar. Where was he going?
Father Francois whispered, “It’s all right, Madame Rousch. Wait.” He smiled and gestured to the narrow balcony where Johan now stood.
Her husband’s beautiful tenor voice resonated through to her very soul. He’d been the heavenly being singing to her during the ship ceremony. Tears of joy flowed down her cheeks.
The rest of the mass was a blur.
Wyatt and Evangeline waved good-bye.
Johan brought her a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. “We’ll be at the inn.”
The same inn
where she’d awoken to the strange young man in her bed. Only he hadn’t been a stranger. He’d been her own dear Johan. Her husband. She thrilled at the thought of his title. But this night would be different. And even though the thought excited her, a thread of fear wove through her.
Christy joined them, regret tugging at his features.
He must miss his wife.
“Danke, Colonel Christy, for keeping Sarah for us tonight. My wife and I now have our first child, a daughter, little Sarah.”
Suzanne’s cheeks grew warm. Tonight they might even make another child together.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put it like that.” Johan ducked his head. He must have realized what she was thinking.
Guy kissed her cheeks and then Jeanne. “My friend, my sister now, don’t be afraid. You’ve married a good man. This is right.”
“Oui.”
~*~
Someone had laid out the light blue nightgown she’d worn when last she stayed here. In this same room. But tonight the chamber grew more confined somehow. Suzanne hadn’t commenced disrobing.
Across the room, Johan’s fingers ceased their struggle to unfasten his fancy clothes. “I need help, Suzie. I can’t get these buttons—they’re too small and slippery.”
She exhaled, staring at the nightgown laid out on the bed as though it would rise up and clothe her later. The wood floor creaked as she crossed it and stood in front of Johan. Why should her knees shake? Her husband had never given her any reason to fear him. Raising trembling fingers to the bottom of the vest and avoiding his eyes, she began to slip the tiny silver buttons through the tight openings. “This is an unusual waistcoat.” There were no frogs or toggles to easily unfasten.
“Ja, they don’t usually have buttons on them.” There was a waver in his voice, and he let out his breath as though he’d been holding it.
His flesh warmed the material beneath her hands as she released each petite closure, one at a time, until she was near the top.
Johan’s hand wrapped around hers. “Stop.”
“What’s wrong?” She was suddenly lost in his passion-glazed eyes and leaned in against his firm chest.
Johan lowered his mouth to cover hers.
She grasped the front of his vest as he embraced her, but she wasn’t close enough. Her heart hammered like the tools Johan struck against the anvil at Vann’s shop. When he released her, she swayed and he caught her elbow.
Saving The Marquise's Granddaughter Page 26
