“Twenty-one.”
“Bon.That is exactly the age in England. I turned twenty-one in August of this year. Therefore, I have no guardian in either of those countries, but I do have a husband.”
Her uncle vibrated with rage. “Impossible!You are lying. I have the letter we received from your father telling us of your birth.”
“That missive,” Maman said, grinning with relief, “was written when Eugénie was a year old and we knew she would survive. Many babies do not.”
Hervé suddenly seemed to get smaller. “You are telling me she is truly twenty-one?”
Maman nodded.
He glanced back to Eugénie. “Then why did you agree to go with Yves?”
Thinking about her other uncle caused anger to rush up inside her. “He threatened to torture and kill Papa.”
Papa pointed to William. “Your brother also attempted to kill Lord Wivenly.”
Hervé collapsed into the chair near the door. “I knew I should not have trusted Yves. This is horrible. We will be paupers for years trying to build the estate back up again.”
She’d had enough of their self-pity. “It is better than having nothing. If you had put the money and effort into your estates that you spent trying to make me marry an oldcomte, you’d be further along.”
“Monsieur le Vicomte,” the captain of the galley said from the door, “I insist we depart. I will not risk my ship again.”
“Oui, oui. We shall leave now,” Hervé responded in a tired voice. “The sooner I get home, the better.” He rose, bowing to them. “Au revoir, Sidonie, Eugénie. Before I go I would like to know one thing. Who is this man you have married?”
William stood again, sketching a short bow. “Viscount Wivenly, heir to the Earl of Watford.”
Hervé smiled wryly. “At least you still made a good match.” And he sauntered out of the room.
“Well!” Cicely exclaimed. “I cannot believe he expected to just walk in here and take Eugénie away. And after finding out what a blackguard his brother was, he didn’t even apologize.”
Maman played with her cup, turning it around. “Before the revolution, they were an old and powerful family. Their presumptuousness knows no bounds. I am just happy Eugénie is of age.”
“Except in the Danish West Indies,” Will muttered, sitting once more.
Eugénie kissed his cheek. “Now that we are married, you do not have to worry about that.”
A few minutes later, Monsieur Beaufort appeared with a very pretty lady and the largest man Eugénie had ever seen.
“Bonjour, mes amis.”He grinned. “I see my countryman is not happy.” He swept a courtly bow. “Eugénie, you are as beautiful as ever. If this very large gentleman will move”—he glanced at William, who scowled—“I shall kiss your hand.”
“Pay no attention to him, my love.” Eugénie flicked her fingers at the man. “This is Monsieur Beaufort. I have known him all my life, and he is a dreadful flirt.Bonjour, Vincent. Meet my husband, William, Viscount Wivenly.”
Vincent held out his hand to William. “I am pleased to meet you. Well done, keeping Eugénie in the family.”
As the men shook, William said, “A pleasure meeting you as well. Thank you for rescuing my uncle.”
Papa leaned back in his chair. “What can we do for you, Vincent?”
“I merely came to inform you we will set sail shortly. Miss Marshall wishes to marry as soon as possible, and the others want to get settled into their new home on Tortola.”
Eugénie caught Cicely’s eyes, and laughed. “I advise you to go to St. Michael’s near Great Carot Bay and have the vicar there perform the service. Mr. Stewart, the rector of St. George’s in Road Town, is hard to find.”
“Thank you. We shall do just that,” the lady said in a soft voice.
Papa stood. “I’ll walk out with you, Vincent.”
William took Eugénie’s hand and rose. “I’d like to be alone with my wife for a while, if you don’t mind.”
