Chapter Ten

M arie joined the assembly downstairs, this evening wearing a pretty, blue dress the color of sea foam, with shades of blue and white. Her dress was of white muslin with a blue sash about the high empire waist, and she wore a matching blue ribbon in her hair. Her chest felt bare and naked without her locket, and it made her feel heartbroken inside. She had not misplaced it,—someone had taken it, she was sure of that. But why? Jealousy? To case trouble? She had torn apart her room, looked downstairs, even questioned the other servants, but no one seemed to have seen it or know where it was.

As she walked downstairs from the observation gallery and saw the lieutenant talking with Mrs. Martin, Marie felt a warmth in her chest that she had come to recognize as a pleasant feeling. She was joining friends to spend an evening in delightful company. And as her gaze fell on the handsome Lieutenant Gage, her heart lifted.

She liked seeing him in his red regimental uniform—he was so handsome. He had shaved, which she approved of. His brown hair was still long and tied back in a queue, but he had discarded his black eyepatch and the bright-red scar over his eye had begun to fade slightly .

As their eyes met across the room, he had a smile just for her, and her heart pattered in her chest. He was handsome, right down to the elegant slope of his chin and smart patrician nose. He faced her as she crossed the room and bowed deeply. "Miss Cadeaux," he said.

"Lieutenant," she said, smiling. Then paused. He'd pronounced her surname the French way. Did he know?

"You look…" he started, eyeing her dress.

She blushed.

"Our dear lieutenant is at a loss for words, petite . How charming." Mrs. Martin curtsied. "You look beautiful, and I'm sure Lieutenant Gage would agree. Wouldn't you, sir?"

"Um, yes," he uttered, eyeing her feminine form. "Indeed."

Marie grinned.

"May I offer you some refreshment?" Lieutenant Gage asked.

"Yes, thank you."

He walked away without another word, or even asking Mrs. Martin if she would like a drink. Mrs. Martin laughed. "Oh, my dear, he is besotted. He hardly noticed me, and I am not without my charms. If I were a more insecure woman, I would feel jealous."

Marie shook her head. "Mrs. Martin, you are…"

"Ravishing, I know." Mrs. Martin held up her fan and laughed behind it. "But, never mind our poor besotted lieutenant. Look, there is that woman again. The Campbell woman. You see?"

Marie turned. "Oh. Yes."

Miss Campbell was walking around, looking for someone.

"I think she is hoping for a glimpse of the soldier again," Mrs. Martin said.

"I suspect you are right."

Miss Campbell spotted him talking with a young woman, and she went up to him and not-so-subtly inserted herself into their conversation, fluttering her eyelashes and her fan at him. She managed to elbow the young woman, dressed in pink, causing her to spill her glass of red wine down her dress.

"Oh, did you see that?" Mrs. Martin asked. "What a fearsome young woman."

Marie nodded, standing by as they watched. Lieutenant Gage rejoined them, handing over two glasses of red wine. "Ladies, what are you looking at?"

"That young woman talking to Lieutenant Walker," Mrs. Martin said. "She's already made one poor girl spill her drink. It is most diverting."

Lieutenant Gage's face clouded.

"Lieutenant? What is it? You do not like him?" Marie asked.

He spoke quietly, just so she could hear. "No. We met during the war, when we were both stationed in France. He… is a lover of women. But he is not a gentleman, however much he pretends to be."

Marie's eyes widened. "I see. Should I say something to Miss Campbell?"

"No. She would not thank you," he said.

"But… I know her. We are not friends, but if I were about to make a mistake like that, I would want to know," Marie pointed out.

"She is not your friend, Miss Cadeaux," Mrs. Martin said, casting a wary glance at Lieutenant Gage. "Leave it be. Let her make her own mistakes. I knew a woman like her once and tried to warn her against what I knew was certain folly. All I succeeded in doing was to lose a friend."

"But—"

"Please. I warn you, Miss Cadeaux, she will not thank you for your trouble," Mrs. Martin said.

Marie stopped. She did not want to watch this. She felt like she wanted to do something but didn't dare. They were right, most likely. Even if Miss Campbell was not offended immediately by Marie talking to her in society, she would not thank her for pointing out her poor choice of suitor. She spotted Mr. Campbell not far away, gambling .

Marie sipped her wine. "Let us talk of something else."

"Where is your locket?" Lieutenant Gage asked. "You usually wear it."

Marie's warm smile disappeared. "I lost it the other night. I was baking and set it aside, and now I cannot find it again. I've searched everywhere." She bit her lip as she spotted his gaze flitting to her mouth. Would that he might kiss it, and all her troubles away.

He coughed and clasped his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. It's just that the locket has special meaning for me. It holds the only portraits I have of my parents. Without it, I feel like…" She gazed at the floor. "I feel like I've lost a part of them. I worry I will forget what they look like. And I don't want to forget." She blinked away tears.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

She smiled half-heartedly. "It's all right. I'm too easily bothered these days."

"No, no, we cannot have you so unhappy," said Mrs. Martin. "Lieutenant, dance with her so that I might see you two fly about the room. It will put a smile on Miss Cadeaux's face, and you two look so charming on the dance floor. Go, please." She took Marie's wineglass and set it on a nearby empty games table.

Lieutenant Gage extended a hand to Marie. "Would you care to dance?"

She nodded. "All right."

He led her to the dance floor, but he could tell she was not of a light mood that evening. A solemnity and gravity weighed upon her thoughts. The dance itself was a slow-moving, stately tune. They danced with good form, for the most part, with her once again trying to watch the others and study their movements, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Miss Cadeaux, I meant to say. I never meant to offend you with my irrational dislike of French people. I realized recently that you are of that nation, and I… I was a fool. I hope you do not think less of me."

Her eyes widened, and she gave him a sunny smile. "Not at all, Lieutenant. But why such dislike in the first place?"

"A close friend of mine fell in love with a French girl who abandoned him for another man, a rake. He fought a duel over her honor and died. Since then, I have not trusted the French, especially the women. We are at war, but…" He ran a hand through his hair. "There is no excuse for it. It was an illogical, irrational dislike for which I have no excuse."

"I bear you no ill will, lieutenant. I am glad you told me." She danced, and surprisingly enough, got a few steps correct. But then she became distracted.

"A farthing for your thoughts," he said.

She looked up at him, blinking. "Oh, I'm sorry. My mind was elsewhere."

"Still thinking about the locket, or your friend?"

"Ha. Miss Campbell was never a friend. But I do so want to warn her."

He shook his head, slowly taking her hand and raising it in the air, as they twirled in a slow circle. "She needs to find out for herself. The man is a rake. If she does not hear of his poor reputation from someone else, she will not want to hear about it from you."

Her shoulders dipped unhappily. "I know."

"You feel loyalty to her?"

"Yes and no. We are of a similar age. Had we been of a similar station and social sphere, we might have been friends, or at least nodding acquaintances. I would not want anything bad to happen to her." It was true. For all Miss Campbell's distance and civility, she was not a bad person. She did not deserve to be toyed with by a rake.

As if reading her thoughts, Lieutenant Gage said, "She might enjoy the attention, even if it is from someone less deserving."

Her smile fell. "Forgive me. I do not much feel like dancing. "

"Then let us go somewhere else, where you can be at peace with your thoughts."

He held out his hand. She took it, and he led her from the dance floor, across the room, and outside into the garden. The courtyard was lit with small torches that outlined a stony pebbled path. There was a humble growing tree, bushes, flowers, and a genteel-looking pond, with a stone bench.

Marie sat down on the bench and let out a breath.

"Miss Cadeaux, what is wrong?" he asked. "You are not still concerned about Miss Campbell."

"No. It is not that."

"Then what? Tell me," he said.

She looked at him. "How can you want me? I do not understand. I am naught but a servant. You are a soldier, you are handsome, you should be talking with ladies of your own station, not spending your time with me."

"You think you are unworthy?" he asked.

She did not answer and instead rested her hands on her knees, looking at the ground. The air was chilly, and he sat next to her. She felt drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

She breathed in as he took her hands in his. "I stopped caring about that five minutes after meeting you. I was a fool to think a person's nationality mattered. It is a part of you, but there is so much more. I do not care where you are from. Only that you are here, now. With me."

"Truly?" she asked.

He slowly faced her, and gently, barely touching, tipped her chin upward. Her eyes drifted up to meet his, and he caught a glimpse of her pale chest, almost ghostly in the moonlight, that excited him.

"You want to know why I wish to court you?" he asked.

She nodded, the movement fractionally small.

"Because you have a good heart. You show kindness to a soldier who cannot bear the loud drums, when most women find the sight of me unbearable." He leaned in close. "But mostly…"

"Yes?" she asked, her gaze darting to his lips.

"Because you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. And I have wanted to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you."

Her heart rose in her chest. Her eyes closed of their own accord as he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

The touch of his lips were gentle and light, barely tracing hers. She might have been kissed by a butterfly, or flirted with a feather. His touch was soft and warm, and she leaned into the kiss, her heart beating wildly.

She had never been kissed before. She did not how to do it properly and it was all happening so fast. One second he was gracing her lips with the barest touch, the next, she found herself pressed against him, her hands firmly touching his chest.

Their bodies were molded together, closer than propriety, closer than Marie might embrace a pillow at night. Their lips were locked, pressing firmly against each other, teasing and tasting one another. His hands had magically found their way around her waist, with his right hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him.

"Marie! Get away from him!" Uncle Baptiste's voice rang out.