Page 67 of Echo in the Wind

“’Tis the music of Viotti, an Italian court musician at Versailles. I heard him two years ago when I was there.”

She went to join him. “I had no idea you could play, but I should have known your fondness for the violins at the Handel concert had its roots in a knowledge of the instrument. You play very well.”

“Do you play an instrument, Lady Joanna?”

She lowered her eyes. Compared to his talent, she had none. “The cello, but not well.”

He smiled as he stepped closer. “I should like to hear you play sometime.”

Neither of them acknowledged the tension flowing between them, but it was there in his eyes and she supposed it was in hers. She could not stop looking at his lips. The kiss had taken them from grudging friends to something more. Something neither wanted to discuss.

“Perhaps that can be arranged,” she said. “I need only a cello.” Behind him, she glimpsed again the globe hanging from the ceiling and walked toward it. “This continues to fascinate me.”

Joining her in front of the globe, he twirled it around. “I like to know where I am going. Charts, maps, even this globe, provide certainty as to where one is headed.”

Her gaze fixed on his sensual lips and the black hair peeking out from his white shirt, open at the neck. “I find it difficult to know where life will take me, no matter the plans I make or the maps I consult. See where it has taken me now?”

“That may not be life directing your steps, Mademoiselle, as much as it is you setting your own course.”

“Yes, I suppose,” she reluctantly agreed. It had been her choice to engage in the smuggling that had led her here.

He offered his hand. “I think this conversation is better carried out over a leisurely déjeuner. You will join me, oui? I am certain, by now, Rose has set the table in the breakfast room.”

Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his. It was like coming home.

He escorted Lady Joanna to the small room at the back of the house off the main dining room where the table had been laid with the foods he liked to eat in the morning: fresh eggs, salty sweet Gruyère cheese, some petit pains and a dish of butter. In the center of the table was a bowl of strawberries. And for the lady, chocolat.

Next to his place, Rose had set a small pitcher of sweet cream for his café au lait. The aroma of the rich dark brew drew him. After his sleepless night, he needed the coffee.

He pulled out a chair for her facing the view of the harbor. “I see Rose has thoughtfully included tea and chocolate for you, my lady. Do you mind my dining as I am, without even a waistcoat?”

“Not at all,” she said, taking her seat. “You look as I imagine a pirate might when eating his breakfast.”

He laughed. “A pirate would not wear so much lace, I assure you. Is the food to your liking? Perhaps I should ask for some honey?” He had not forgotten her pink tongue licking the golden nectar from her luscious lips.

“With all this, I do not need honey. Your housekeeper is a wonder.”

They ate in amiable silence for some minutes, Jean enjoying the quiet. He liked that she was not given to constant chatter, as were some females. He peered at her over his coffee. This morning, wearing the simple morning gown, her lovely hair tied back with a ribbon, she appeared a beguiling creature as she bit into a strawberry. But young, he reminded himself.

He should not have kissed her, because now he very much wanted to do it again. Clearing his mind of such thoughts, Jean picked up the Journal de Paris Rose had placed on the table and read a bit of the article by Benjamin Franklin. He sat back and laughed.

“What is it?” Lady Joanna asked, setting down her chocolate.

“If Benjamin Franklin were a sailor, he would have made this discovery long ago.” Seeing he had piqued her interest, he went on. “It seems Franklin’s servant forgot to close his master’s drapes. Awakened at six o’clock by a noise, Franklin was surprised to find his bedchamber filled with sunlight. The statesman had no idea the sun came up so early in June.”

“Hardly a revelation.”

Jean could not resist a smile. “You must remember, this is Franklin the scientist. His discovery got him to thinking how many candles the city of Paris could save if the French would merely arise and retire at an earlier hour.”

Lady Joanna screwed up her face in an enchanting manner and shook her head. “How could he be so smart, such a clever inventor, and yet not have realized that before?”

“Well, the article indicates it is his habit to retire several hours after midnight and then sleep until noon so he never sees the sun rise and, seeing it, his brilliant mind began to consider the possibilities.” Jean looked again to the article, his finger following one of the lines. “Among other things, he proposes that every morning, as soon as the sun rises, all the bells in every church should be rung. And if that is not sufficient, cannons should be fired in every street to wake the sluggards.”

Lady Joanna shook her head and licked the berry juice from her now red lips. “I cannot see that becoming a popular idea.”

“He has one thing correct,” Jean said, trying to focus on the article and not her enticing lips. “He claims the heavy taxes imposed upon the people by the necessities of state provide abundant reasons to be economical.”

“Somehow, I think the poor do not have to try and rise or retire early. Their work requires it.”