A Daughter's Destiny by Jo Ann Ferguson Page A

but she must find her way to her father’s grave.
    She opened the bag and drew out the note she had written to her grandmother. Tilting it, she read:
    Dear Grand-mère ,
    Maman asked me to do one last thing for her. I vowed I would go to France to find Papa’s grave. I shall return as soon as I can. With this letter, I have left enough money so you can rent a room and buy food for about two months. If I am gone longer, Père Jean-Baptiste will help you .
    I love you .
    Do not worry about me. Maman would never ask anything of me that was dangerous .
    Tell Evan thank you for all he has done for us .
    I am
    Your loving granddaughter ,
    Brienne LeClerc
    Brienne bit her lip as she folded the page over the pound notes she had taken from the box. That left her with far less money than she should have for such a journey, but she could not leave her grandmother to starve. Evan might allow Grand-mère to stay here while he lived in this house. After that, Grand-mère must have money to live on.
    Now all she needed to do was wait for everyone in the house to fall asleep. Then she could be on her way, far from London and far from Evan Somerset. Certainly she would forget him once she was in France.
    As she clutched the bag holding the small vase, she vowed that in a soft whisper. She would forget him.
    She must.

Chapter Seven
    In the afternoon sunshine, Dover’s docks were worse than Brienne had expected. They stank of things she did not want to identify. Wrapping her cloak closer to her, for the briny breeze was icy, she shivered. If she succeeded in reaching France, she still had to find her family home, then return somehow to England and the security she had taken for granted. Common sense begged her to find a dray and go back to London. No one would admonish her for breaking her vow to her mother when France was at war with the rest of Europe.
    No one but herself.
    The bales and crates and barrels created a maze along the wooden planks. As she threaded her way through them, she tried to ignore the men watching her. Soon their attention was drawn away by a woman sashaying along the uneven cobbles.
    â€œC’mon ’ere, dearie!” called a man.
    Brienne hurried away. She did not want to witness a business transaction between a dockside whore and her customer, who stroked her more boldly than Evan had ever touched Brienne.
    Begone! She was furious that Evan continued to invade her mind. She wanted him gone so she could concentrate on her task of finding a way to France instead of thinking how he had tried to buy her with his offer of Ł200. Clutching her bag close to her chest, she sighed. She could not allow her longings to persuade her to go home to London and his kisses that teased her to believe his lies.
    She passed a handcart selling sausages. Her mouth watered, and her stomach growled, reminding her that she had not eaten since dinner last night. She stared at the greasy sausages which had such a delightful spicy scent. She could not waste a single farthing if she wanted to go to France, do as she had promised, and come back to England.
    When the man by the cart looked at her, she asked, “Do you know Captain Marksen?” She had heard during the ride from London that Captain Marksen had a reputation as a smuggler who was willing to do anything for the right price.
    â€œMayhap.” He continued to stir onions in a pot. The pungent odor kept him wiping his eyes with the back of a hand covered with thick, black hair.
    â€œI am looking for Captain Marksen.”
    â€œHeard ye. Ain’t deaf.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd what?”
    She understood what she should have before. Opening her bag, she put a coin beside the pot. He glanced at it and away. When she put another coin next to it, he regarded her in silence. Searching for a third coin, she added it to the pile. Easily he made them disappear.
    â€œWhat d’ye need to know?” he asked quietly.
    â€œWhere I can find