she still had a right to live in her uncle's house. Or would she be thrown out if the will stated otherwise? She did not know, and she doubted that anyone believed she should know. She wondered if she had a life here after all.
* * * *
That night, she mulled over it. What if her uncle had not paid up on the house? She would have to leave, and where would she go then? Her uncle had been the epitome of responsibility; however, it had been known to happen to good people before.
She had known people in the past who had to leave their residences because the primary member of their family had not paid all of the expenses, and in his unfortunate passing, had left his family in need. What if that happened to her, and worst of all, to the servants? Where would they go? Hadn't her uncle provided for them too?
That night, she cried wholeheartedly for the first time…for many reasons. Her uncle's absence, her difficult situation, and the uncertainty of life.
Rosalie must have heard something in her own quarters on the lower level of the house because she appeared not long after, comforting her. “There, there, bébé . Twill' be all right.”
She cried softly into her nursemaid's lap. “They will take the house, I know it!”
“Shh. Certainly not before you are wed…”
“ Oui ? And who am I to wed?”
“Who else? Your fiancé, Mademoiselle . I'm certain Monsieur Bordeaux will still wed you.”
No. Nicholas Bordeaux could have nothing to do with her after her uncle's death. Surely she could have a choice about her future now.
“ Mademoiselle , you have a guest…”
She struggled to sit up. “What do you mean, Rosalie?” Her tear-numbed eyes adjusted, and she saw him in the doorway. It seemed he would not take no for an answer.
“Shall I inquire to Pierre why he was not escorted to the library, why we were not informed of his presence? At this hour? Really it is not proper, mistress.”
“No, leave us,” she ordered her nursemaid. The woman left the room, frowning. Fara pulled her dressing sacque closer to her bosom and drew a hand across her eyes to stem the flow of tears. She took a deep breath, aware that her heart was hammering itself to death.
“I am sorry to have caught you at a time like this. I know your uncle's death has been hard for you.”
Recovering from her emotional turmoil, she took a deep breath. “ Oui .” She frowned. “ Capitaine Hill, it is unlike you to enter a lady's boudoir uninvited.”
“But can you really know, chère , what I am capable of?”
“Perhaps not. Yet there are rumors of your bedside manner…”
“Perhaps they are only rumors then,” he said softly as he sat on a nearby chaise.
“ Oui .” Fara shook her head. “Why are you here, Grant?”
“That does not matter. What will you do now without an escort, Mademoiselle ?”
Oui , her uncle was dead and she had no one to look after her. But, why should he care about that? “Are you to fill the position, Monsieur ?” she countered with a grin.
“Perhaps with your permission. Is it so funny?”
“Only that you feel you must concern yourself with my affairs.”
“Have I not done so since that first night in the harbor?”
“ Oui ,” she replied. “But you are still in my boudoir--”
“Would you have me leave then--”
“Without permission…” she finished.
“Ah,” he exclaimed softly. “Then, Mademoiselle , may I enter your boudoir?”
She considered it, but with a smile playing on her lips, she answered, “No, Monsieur . You may not.”
He stood quickly and approached her, lifting a hand to gently touch her cheek. “You are a tease, Mademoiselle . You like playing with men, I think.” She frowned as he turned to leave. “ Adieu , Fara. I shall see you on Tuesday.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced back. “Tuesday. The reading of the will.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I have my ways.” He made his exit, whistling a sailor's tune through the dark hallways outside
* * * *
That night, she mulled over it. What if her uncle had not paid up on the house? She would have to leave, and where would she go then? Her uncle had been the epitome of responsibility; however, it had been known to happen to good people before.
She had known people in the past who had to leave their residences because the primary member of their family had not paid all of the expenses, and in his unfortunate passing, had left his family in need. What if that happened to her, and worst of all, to the servants? Where would they go? Hadn't her uncle provided for them too?
That night, she cried wholeheartedly for the first time…for many reasons. Her uncle's absence, her difficult situation, and the uncertainty of life.
Rosalie must have heard something in her own quarters on the lower level of the house because she appeared not long after, comforting her. “There, there, bébé . Twill' be all right.”
She cried softly into her nursemaid's lap. “They will take the house, I know it!”
“Shh. Certainly not before you are wed…”
“ Oui ? And who am I to wed?”
“Who else? Your fiancé, Mademoiselle . I'm certain Monsieur Bordeaux will still wed you.”
No. Nicholas Bordeaux could have nothing to do with her after her uncle's death. Surely she could have a choice about her future now.
“ Mademoiselle , you have a guest…”
She struggled to sit up. “What do you mean, Rosalie?” Her tear-numbed eyes adjusted, and she saw him in the doorway. It seemed he would not take no for an answer.
“Shall I inquire to Pierre why he was not escorted to the library, why we were not informed of his presence? At this hour? Really it is not proper, mistress.”
“No, leave us,” she ordered her nursemaid. The woman left the room, frowning. Fara pulled her dressing sacque closer to her bosom and drew a hand across her eyes to stem the flow of tears. She took a deep breath, aware that her heart was hammering itself to death.
“I am sorry to have caught you at a time like this. I know your uncle's death has been hard for you.”
Recovering from her emotional turmoil, she took a deep breath. “ Oui .” She frowned. “ Capitaine Hill, it is unlike you to enter a lady's boudoir uninvited.”
“But can you really know, chère , what I am capable of?”
“Perhaps not. Yet there are rumors of your bedside manner…”
“Perhaps they are only rumors then,” he said softly as he sat on a nearby chaise.
“ Oui .” Fara shook her head. “Why are you here, Grant?”
“That does not matter. What will you do now without an escort, Mademoiselle ?”
Oui , her uncle was dead and she had no one to look after her. But, why should he care about that? “Are you to fill the position, Monsieur ?” she countered with a grin.
“Perhaps with your permission. Is it so funny?”
“Only that you feel you must concern yourself with my affairs.”
“Have I not done so since that first night in the harbor?”
“ Oui ,” she replied. “But you are still in my boudoir--”
“Would you have me leave then--”
“Without permission…” she finished.
“Ah,” he exclaimed softly. “Then, Mademoiselle , may I enter your boudoir?”
She considered it, but with a smile playing on her lips, she answered, “No, Monsieur . You may not.”
He stood quickly and approached her, lifting a hand to gently touch her cheek. “You are a tease, Mademoiselle . You like playing with men, I think.” She frowned as he turned to leave. “ Adieu , Fara. I shall see you on Tuesday.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced back. “Tuesday. The reading of the will.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I have my ways.” He made his exit, whistling a sailor's tune through the dark hallways outside
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