“To hell with you,Ives. The woman loves you. From what I understand, she’s been courted by every man south of the Hebrides and she’s turned them all down. She even broke off one very good marriage contract last Christmas.”
Was it good?
“I see you are curious about that. Ask her the reason. You will find it instructive.”
He shot up. “How doyouknow this?”
“Gossip.”Monsieurconsidered his nails. “Ah. But you wouldn’t know it because you are a servant and not privy to such realms.”
Monsieur’struth sounded more like a taunt. A means to spur him to action and thought. Yes, this was their old form of communication when one was discouraged or not thinking constructively. Still, his insult ground him to a small fine point of anger. “No, I would not know such rumors. Not as the vicar’s youngest hellion son.”
“You do have the right of it, my man.” He pulled himself up into a challenginghauteur, then pointed toward the house. “Adieu.It’s time I rejoin the party…with my peers.”
Simms burst out laughing and cursed him.
“That’s the spirit.” Riverdale spun to go.
“Wait! Now you cannot leave before you tell me the rest. Why did she break it off?” She’d never tell anyone that she loved a lesser creature like him. Would she? No. Such a tale would ruin her.
“Ah, no,mon amie. I will not make this easy for you. You have a lot to learn about the war. Which is over, by the way.”
“What?Thewar? Jesus, Riverdale. Whatareyou talking about?”
“Oh,Ives. Did you not fight to rid the world of tyrants?”
That confounded him. “Tyrants? What have they to do with Eliza and me?”
“Have you grown soft in the head,Ives?”
“No!”
“Tyrants who will not permit a man or a woman to rise to their potential. Who will not see the value of every man or woman. That’s what you ranted against. Have you forgotten?”
Never.He’d often contemplated sailing off to America. The colonies. Those United States where class did not matter as much as dedication and ambition.
“Get out of here. This—” Riverdale waved a hand. “This is not worthy of you.”
Affronted, he had to fight back, even if what Monsieur implied was true. “It’s honest work.”
“You once wanted to teach,Ives. That’s honest, too. If you won’t join me in France, do what you worked so hard to ensure. Teach young people how to think.Think!”
Yes, he still wanted to teach. He had enough money for ship’s passage, a few months’ lodging and the purchase of an acre of good land. And yes, he wanted Eliza by his side. She might love him, but would she consider leaving all this behind? Her friends? Her status? Her home? “You are a pain in the ass,Monsieur.”
His pal grinned like the hale and hearty man he’d been when first the two of them met years ago in Reims. Then he saluted him. “Touché.”
Chapter 6
As the guests assembled in the music room after dinner, Eliza bristled with expectation. She’d volunteered to sing. And that—she had practically vibrated in giggles during the meal—would assure her of Octo’s attention.
Eliza took her chair near the front.
Their hostess, the Countess of Marsden, rose to her feet and announced that her niece Delphine would grace them with her talents at the piano. Eliza had sought out Del earlier and arranged to present her solo of a country ditty she particularly enjoyed rendering. Most young ladies did not dare sing at such parties, fearing lack of training and ridicule. But so unusual was Eliza’s offer that Del readily accepted. Furthermore, Eliza asked if she would please not tell anyone that she would sing—especially not the Countess nor Eliza’s good friend, Del’s sister Marjorie.
“It’s to be a surprise,” she’d told Del with a straight face.
Del did not know Eliza as well as her older sister Marjorie—and so she had readily agreed.
Eliza was tickled! Smiling to herself as Del took to the piano, Eliza was calm as a feather on a summer breeze.
