“Over here, William.” Eugénie held a lantern while the ship’s hand lowered the ladder.
By this time, it seemed as if everyone was at the rail, and more lanterns had been lit. With the child in one arm, he swam to the side of the ship. “Here, give me the doll.”
After he had the toy in one hand, he boosted Jeanne up the ladder with the other.
The little girl’s lip trembled. “You’ll take care of Charity, won’t you?”
“Yes,” he assured her with more calm than he felt. Good God, she could have drowned. “Go on now.”
By the time he’d climbed up, Aunt Sidonie was dragging away the two girls.
“Andrew has fresh water on the stern for you to rinse off,” Eugénie said, pressing a towel into his hands. She pressed her lips together, blinking rapidly. “Thank you for saving Jeanne.”
All he wanted to do was take Eugénie in his arms and comfort her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded several times before answering. “Yes, though I shall thrash my sisters.”
Anger was good. “I’ll help you. They won’t be able to sit for a week.”
It was the first time that night he’d been able to see her clearly. Eugénie’s dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders to her waist. Her light-colored muslin nightgown had ruffles around the neck and cuffs. She looked slightly disheveled, and her lips were still swollen from his kisses. With everyone awake, including Marisole, she wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of the night with him. Will raised her hand to his lips. “Until morning, my love.”
She lifted her hand, then dropped it with a frustrated huff. “Oui. Good night, William.”
Jeanne trying to keep herself afloat had scared him to death. All he wanted right now was the one thing he couldn’t have, Eugénie. When they had children, he’d hire nursery maids that woke at the drop of a hat, and he wouldn’t allow dolls or any toys on board any ship they owned. Better yet, he’d have harnesses specially made for their children.
The next morning, Will awoke with the sense something was in bed with him. He reached out, touching a hard, damp object that he suspected was Jeanne’s doll. “Good morning, Charity.”
“She said she feels safer with you.” With serious, deep blue eyes, Jeanne regarded him from the side of his bed.
“I daresay it won’t last long.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “She had a bit of a scare last night.”
Jeanne nodded solemnly. “She thought she was a better swimmer than she was.”
“It’s hard to swim with all those clothes on.” The scent of cooking invaded his senses, and his stomach grumbled, but he couldn’t rise with Jeanne in the cabin. “I think she’ll be fine now.”
“Are you sure?”
Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, Will smiled. “Yes. It was terrifying, but you and Charity will be fine. You must promise me though, never to go out on deck without an adult again.”
Jeanne nodded her head slowly. “Mama already told me not to.”
He reached out, tugging on one of Jeanne’s dark braids. “Run along, and tell Eugénie I’ll be up directly.”
A broad smile dawned on Jeanne’s face. She picked up her doll, holding it tightly against her. “I shall, but I ought to warn you, Eugénie is not in a very good mood this morning. I don’t think she slept well.”
No doubt, yet if all went as it should to-day and they found their pirate priest, she wouldn’t have that problem again. “Yes, well, she was worried about you.”
Jeanne leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I’m glad you and Eugénie are getting married.”
“As am I.” On the other hand, if that vicar wasn’t around . . . Will clenched his fists. He’d chase them all over the islands until he found one or both of them. “Run along now. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Once Jeanne left, closing the door behind her, Will rose. That was when he noticed the ship was already underway. If fate remained with him, he’d be wed to Eugénie in a matter of a few short hours.
Henri sat at a table under a large tamarind tree at Wivenly House with a glass of ginger beer in his hand. His uncle Bates sat across from him, sipping tea. The previous evening Henri had met with the Frenchman and spent the next day and a half gathering information. He learned bits and pieces from conversations the other servants and slaves had overheard. He’d tracked down the landlady for the so-called merchant, Shipley, and haunted one of the taverns catering to sailors until he was able to talk with one of the hands on the Vicomte’s ship. Finally, Henri had enough information to approach his formidable uncle with his plan.
“You didn’t come here only to drink Cook’s ginger beer,” Uncle Bates said. “What is going on?”
Henri had considered how he’d begin this conversation, and had decided to start with the worst news. “I’ve been hired to assist in Miss Villaret’s abduction.”
