Page 73 of Souvenir of Love
“All the more reason to finish up our work in Rouen, find Amaury de Joley, and carry him safely back to England.”
“Elizabeth Harcrest as well,” James added, without thinking.
“I see that all my talk of business has done little to distract your thoughts from the lady. Understandable.” The concern in Marcus’s eyes was at odds with the lightness of his tone. “Do you think you shall have trouble returning her to Moreham Hall?”
James ran his hand through his hair, resisting the urge to retort, No more trouble than I already have.
Twenty-Seven
Shortly after they arrived in Rouen, James told Elizabeth they were going on a picnic. “A picnic?” she said, her voice rising in question. “Have you lost your mind? Haven’t we got work to do? Aren’t we supposed to be paying a call on the merchant Brisant?”
“Briyard. And Marcus is handling the appointment. Don’t forget a good straw hat; the sun is rather fierce today.” He gestured to the pile of hatboxes in the corner of the sunny little room they were sharing. “The one with the flowers and ribbons is quite fetching.”
“You know I would never dream of venturing out without a hat. What is all this about?” Her eyes narrowed. “What are you up to, James Dinsmore?”
“A man tries to take his wife for a luncheon alfresco on a lovely day in a lovely city…” He swept an arm toward the window where, just beyond the pointed rooftops, the river could be seen, flowing blue and serene. “And he is greeted with rank suspicion. I vow, I am wounded.”
“You’re no more wounded than I am your wife. Tell me, James…”
“When we get there. Now be quick about it, before the Brie melts.”
“If you are planning a seduction,”Elizabeth said a short time later, when they’d arranged themselves in a field outside the city, “I should tell you it will come to naught.”
A smile as glancing as the breeze played across his lips and was gone. “Alas, a brief taste of married life, and already she has grown bored with my charms. It is what I have always feared. It is why I have never been married…before this.”
“You have never married, James Dinsmore, because you find it far too amusing to remain a bachelor. Though I doubt even the most amorous lady would have you on this blanket.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “It reeks of horse sweat and hay. If you haven’t another in the carriage, let us put it away and sit on the grass.”
“Ah, so you’re not averse to my charms. I am so encouraged I would almost grant your wish and roll up the blanket, but I cannot.”
“Why ever not?”
“It’s the red and white weave,” he said. “Red for the blood of the martyrs, white for the lost Bourbon.”
“It’s a code, a signal?”
He nodded.
“Are we waiting for a signal back, then? From the fugitive?”
“We’re waiting for the fugitive.”
“We just wait? We don’t do anything? It doesn’t seem very dramatic.”
“If our luck holds, itwon’tbe dramatic.” He poured her a glass of pale golden wine and handed it to her. Then he poured one for himself and lifted his glass. “To a smooth, uneventful, and entirely boring rescue.”
She didn’t raise her glass, only sipped at the wine.
“I would have thought you’d had more than enough excitement this year,” he said, all trace of flirtation gone from his voice.
Color washed her cheeks. “I have had enough…and despite what you and Rafe may think, Ihavelearned from my mistakes. It’s just that…that this…a picnic…seems so…easy.”
“Easy?” He took another sip of wine. “You were hoping for a trial by fire? Something that would burn away your sins?”
She pressed her lips together. “I expect that seems ridiculous.”
He shook his head, sunlight playing across the gold of his hair. “You are so young, Elizabeth, so unfailingly optimistic. Despite everything, you still seem to think you can just move forward, start fresh.” His fingers played with the stem of his glass. “You may change where you are, but you can’t change who you are. The past follows after you like that pile of hatboxes.”
She didn’t feel like arguing, so instead changed the subject. “If I hadn’t come on this trip, you’d have looked rather foolish on a picnic alone.”
