Le Tréport was very quiet. Would they even be able to find passage here? And where in England would they make port? They hadn’t any English money with them, and what French currency they had wasn’t likely to stretch beyond a place for the evening and passage in the morning, if that. Were they to make port in a very small harbor in England, Aldric was unlikely to be recognized, which was their only hope of obtaining what they needed on credit once they reached his homeland.
People passed them as they walked down the street. She couldn’t make out any details of their expressions. Were they angry? Suspicious? Were any of them connected to the threats they were fleeing? Was the man who’d nearly run off with Adèle here? Had he followed them somehow?
She couldn’t see well enough to protect herself, and Aldric’s attention seemed elsewhere. She hid the fear enveloping her.
“Céleste.” Aldric’s voice was soft and nearby, but also not in front of her any longer. “This is an inn. We’re going inside here.”
Heavens, she’d almost walked right past it and him. Her worry grew more acute in this unfamiliar place she couldn’t see.
The interior of the inn was worse. Candles were placed throughout the room, but not close enough to truly light the space. All it did was create blazes of glaring light.
“Do you have any vacancies?” Aldric asked someone. His working-class accent was flawless now. So much had happened in such a short span of days.
“Might have.” The innkeeper, perhaps?
Céleste held still, uncertain if she was being watched or if there was anyone else in the room.
“Are you wanting two rooms?” the man asked.
Two rooms.It was the first time someone had assumed they weren’t, in fact, a family traveling together.
“We just need the one,” Aldric said.
When the innkeeper spoke again, his voice came from startlingly close to her. “Is that true, mademoiselle?” he asked quietly.
Mademoiselle.He didn’t believe the ruse they were enacting. He could likely see there was tension between them and was offering her an escape.
They couldn’t risk their disguises falling apart now, not when they were so close to being safe in England.
She could make out Aldric’s silhouette enough to cross to him. She looked up at him with a gaze she knew was pleading and hoped also allowed the innkeeper to see that she legitimately cared about this man.
In a quiet voice, she said, “I don’t know what I did to upset you, but please don’t be angry. I hate when we’re at odds with each other.”
“I’m not upset with you,” he said.
“Everyone here can see that you are.”
Aldric turned a little, blocking the nearest candle enough for her eyes to be shielded from the glare. She could see him a little. For the length of a breath, his expression told her he now understood their situation and that he needed to do something to restore the impression they were attempting to make. He reached out the arm that wasn’t currently holding Adèle and brushed his hand along Céleste’s cheek. It was such a soft and tender gesture, the sort that would have melted her only yesterday. But, in that moment, it simply broke her heart.
“I am not upset with you,mon ange. I’m tired, and I’ve allowed that to make me cross.”
She closed her eyes, letting herself pretend that if she opened them again, she’d see in his eyes the tenderness that had been there so recently. She would let herself imagine it one last time before she forced herself to be wise again.
“That looks to me like an invitation a husband oughtn’t ignore.” The innkeeper’s tone was much friendlier than it had been.
Her eyes were still closed, but she heard the floor squeak a little. The air around her grew warm once more as Aldric closed the gap between them. His hand slipped from her face to her shoulder, down her back and wrapped around her waist. He pulled her close to him.
Céleste kept very still, not wanting to miss a single feeling or to give him reason to let her go. Aldric meant to convince the innkeeper that he loved her. Fool that she was, she wanted to believe it too for that one moment.
He kissed her softly and gently. And oh so briefly.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him and beg him not to let go yet. This moment would never happen again, and she grieved it already. But he pulled back quickly and requested they be shown to their room so their little girl could rest. She didn’t hear any regret in his voice.
Céleste moved carefully alongside him to a room. A fire was lit, and she placed herself with her back to it, giving her eyes a respite. She set down the bag, basket, and violin. She adjusted the blanket she was using as a cloak, as it had been jostled loose. Somehow, Aldric could manage to keep Adèle in his arms, kiss Céleste, procure a room and a bit of food to be brought up, and, based on what she could see, not muss his clothing at all.
The General was hailed by the Gents as a master strategist. Céleste was discovering being part of that strategy, simply a person with whom he played a part in order to achieve an end, was soul-crushing and heartbreaking. It made a person feel invisible but not in a way that felt safe.
Aldric set Adèle on the bed.
