“Well, I for one don’t believe in coincidences or chance meetings,” Admiral Shaw said, showing no befuddlement. “When I left the governor’s meetings early today, I never expected you’d be our guest. I couldn’t be happier.”
“Please, come into the dining room as supper is at hand.” Eliza gestured toward a candlelit chamber, where a long table already bore steaming dishes. “’Tis much more informal than Lady Lightfoot’s ball.” She gave a charming wink in Henri’s direction. “Though the seating arrangement is exactly the same.”
CHAPTER
sixteen
Esmée sat down, Henri to her left. Across from them was Eliza, while Quinn and Father occupied the ends of the table. For a few seconds, the lovely flowers at table’s center caught her eye and softened her dismay. Gotten from Eliza’s formal garden in back of the townhouse, the last of summer’s roses showed off their cream and scarlet hues, their scent heady.
Also heady was the man beside her. His hair was tousled by the windy walk here, and the faint facial lines, etched by wind and weather, were kinder by candlelight. His tailor, whoever that might be, needed applause. Henri was dressed for town, his dark broadcloth suit as striking as any she’d seen among Virginia gentlemen. She’d always found a well-dressed man appealing right down to his polished, buckled shoes. But more than that, she was impressed with Henri’s graciousness and humor moments earlier as they’d navigated another hazardous meeting.
All too aware of him, she placed her serviette in her lap, taking a bit from this or that dish without thinking. Oh, if she could only say amusing things like Eliza, not sit here tongue-tied and awkward and wishing they didn’t have so bittersweet a history to overcome.
But if they couldn’t be lovers, might they be friends? She daren’t hope for more. Her heart wasn’t ready for more. Nor, she surmised in the stilted silence between them, was his.
“How fortunate we have French cuisine, Captain Lennox.” Eliza’s smile hadn’t dimmed yet. “Our cook has made a delicious beef ragout that I hope you’ll find delectable.”
Henri smiled. “I’m sure I shall.”
“And what is for dessert?” Quinn asked as a footman began to pour the wine.
“Your favorite apple tart, made with those pippins from the orchard,” Eliza told him. “The rest will be pressed for cider.”
“Take care to have some fruit set aside for winter. They oft improve with age. Much like fine wine”—Quinn looked up from sampling his beef ragout—“or romance.”
Esmée stared at him. Was she being too sensitive, or was his comment meant for her and the captain? Quinn was, in his own way, as shrewd and forthright as Eliza. That he had a recent high regard of Henri there could be no doubt. Something was afoot beyond the usual supper invitation, surely. But what?
“So please inform me, gentlemen, of the happenings behind closed doors at the palace.” Eliza posed the question foremost in Esmée’s mind. “Or is it hushed?”
“Alas, too private and too dense for polite supper conversation, I’m afraid,” Quinn replied, sending a small smile his wife’s way and sparing his father-in-law and Henri an answer. “I’d much rather hear about your day.”
Eliza set down her fork. “I shan’t bore you with all the feminine details so will just say Esmée entertained us by debating deism and a clockwork universe with Lady Griffin.” She smiled, a flash of triumph in her eyes. “Esmée won.”
“Lady Griffin?” Her father’s brow rose. “A rather dangerous sparring partner, is she not?”
Eliza continued, gleeful. “Esmée even invited her to the almshouse.”
Quinn broke out in laughter. “NowthatI would have liked to witness.My own parlor sounds far more riveting than palace chambers, I must say.”
Esmée caught Henri’s wry smile. Would he think her a shrew? Eccentric in her spinsterhood?
“Open and honest conversation is never amiss when handled civilly,” she said quietly, losing what remained of her appetite. “I rather enjoyed meeting the governor’s lovely daughter and Eliza’s other friends.”
“It does you much good to be amongst society, Lady Griffin aside. You are too often at the chocolate shop and almshouse,” her father told her. He looked toward Henri. “Speaking of York, I hope you feel free to darken our door on Main Street when you’re ashore. Or at least come by the coffeehouse.”
“I may come to you injured and in need of a physic, as I’ve recently taken up riding.”
Laughter rippled round the table. His newfound interest in horses intrigued Esmée. A daring endeavor after so long at sea. He fancied the freedom to be had on horseback, no doubt.
“How goes it offshore?” Eliza asked him, ever fascinated by those who lived in the barrier islands. “I hope your crew is well.”
“Glad for a lull, most of them, after two years at sea. Having the Flask and Sword at their beck and call makes it even more agreeable.” Henri took a sip of wine as a footman whisked his empty plate away. “Repairs are being made to theRelentlessas we speak.”
“If you’re not anxious to return,” Quinn offered, “why not accompany us to church in the morning?”
Esmée stared at Quinn. Though a dutiful churchgoer, he often napped during lengthy sermons, as did her sister.
Eliza offered her most charming smile. “If we could sweeten the offer with chocolate, Captain, would you agree?”
