“I’m in the stables and pastureland, herding horses and cattle.” Bleu took a drink of cider. “Soon I’ll help sow the winter wheat.”
“The livestock have increased considerably since you were last here though it will never equal the Galants’ vast herd of horned cattle in Acadie,” Sabine lamented. “I’m glad to see you still have Windigo—and a beautiful white roan.”
“The roan is Miss Farrow’s,” Bleu replied, meeting Brielle’s eyes.
Herroan?
Brielle stared at Bleu, his sudden generosity failing to make much of an impression. She was too caught up in the maelstrom of emotion at their table. Though everyone behaved properly and nothing amiss had been said, the feeling between her, Miss Broussard, and Bleu pulsed like a rapidly beating heart.
Had she interrupted atête-à-tête?
That had not been her intent. Titus had simply asked her to join him for the midday meal and so she’d come, hoping to see Bleu as well. Lately he seemed more distant, working and spending time away from Orchard Rest, making her wonder if he needed time away from her, too. Now that he had brought her here, did he feel matters finished between them? They’d never discussed what would happen in future once they reached the Rivanna settlement.
“What is your roan called, Miss Farrow?”
Sabine Broussard’s question rattled her. Did the handsome horse that carried her here have a name? She and Bleu had never discussed that either. Brielle gave him a questioning glance and finally said—
“Pearl.” It was all she could think of at the moment. Her mother had loved pearls. She’d given Brielle a string of them for her twelfth birthday, but they’d been lost or stolen during the many moves she’d made since.
Sabine regarded her intently. “You must enjoy riding then.”
“I’ve not had much time lately…”
“Bleu is an excellent horseman.”
Brielle nodded. “One of the finest. The equal of my father, a saddler.”
Bleu looked at her again, the warmth of his gaze adding to that pulsing feeling. She took another bite of the delicious fish, listening as Titus talked to the boy on the other side of him. But Sabine, who Brielle decided had a fervent passion for Bleu, was not done with the conversation.
“Will you stay here in the settlement long, Miss Farrow?”
Sabine’s question seemed barbed—or was she only imagining it?
“I haven’t thought much beyond this moment,” Brielle said truthfully. “My coming here was a surprise—a very pleasant one—and for now I’m grateful to be a working guest.”
“You are more than a guest,” Bleu told her kindly, eyes on his plate as he finished his meal. “Already Sylvie considers you one of the family. The children, too. I’m sure Will shall feel the same once he returns.”
Sabine’s brows raised in question. “IsMonsieurBlackburn away surveying?”
“He’s expected home any time,” Bleu told her.
“Perhaps you could discuss my proposal with him since you are in doubt.”
Proposal?
Brielle finished her meal in silence as Eulalie approached, asking Sabine a question about the stillroom. Was that her domain?
In a few minutes the kitchen house emptied as men and women returned to work. Bleu excused himself and Sabine followed while Brielle lingered at table with Titus who was talkingexcitedly about making weirs the Acadian way and how many fish had been caught of late.
“I’m proud of you for being so useful,” Brielle told him, her heart as full as her stomach. “Your happiness here lends to my own.”
17
Sabine followed Bleu to the stables where he was no more inclined to talk than he’d been at table. But the Broussards had always been notoriously stubborn and Sabine was no exception.
As he reached for a pitchfork and began tossing hay into feeders, she said, “Miss Farrow raises a hundred queries.”
“I know little about her myself,” Bleu admitted, struck by the truth of it.
