She took his arm as they left the library and descended wide stone steps into the parterre garden with its reflecting pools. Down analléestood the orangerie she loved, a glass structure brimming with potted citrus trees and exotic plants. She pointed out a still-blooming oleander in one corner as a breeze pushed against them with a hint of cooler weather to come. Autumn had been unseasonably warm, coaxing the gardens into another blooming. At the heart of the glass structure a small table had been set withsèvreschina, a footman standing by.
“Such extravagance.” Bleu sat down in an upholstered chair, the orangeries’ scent like perfume. “Do you mean to civilize me?”
“I hope not.” She smiled back at him. “I prefer you just as you are.”
“All this makes me wonder what my fellow woods-runners would think.”
“You’re not missing your former life, I hope.”
He chuckled. “There is simply no time for that,mon cher.”
A footman served then bowed out when Brielle thanked him. Together they surveyed the pastries and confections crowding the silver tray between them. Her delight made him want to pretend to enjoy it too, but what he craved was a ripe Rivanna orchard apple.
“Shall we say grace?” She reached for his hand across the table. “Or as Sylvie says—grâce au bon Dieu.”
He leaned in and took her extended fingers when what he wanted was to take her in his arms. She seemed to be changing moment by moment and bore no resemblance to the young woman he’d met months ago. In her painted silk, she didn’t resemble acomte’sgranddaughter but aprincesse. All she lacked was a tiara or a crown. And he had to grudgingly admit she looked as at home here as he felt at sea.
They bowed their heads, and he uttered a simple French prayer learned long ago from his adopted French-Acadian mother. “Bless us, Heavenly Father, and bless this food, those who prepared it, and provide bread to those who have none. Amen.”
“Amen,” she echoed, placing her serviette in her lap. “We must sit down and catch our breath from time to time and give thanks.”
Herwewas worrisome. As if they were more than a lady and her escort. As for catching her breath… “Are you having any qualms?”
“About being here?” She smiled as if to reassure him. “How can one complain about so much bounty and beauty?”
He caught the slight hesitation in her voice. “But…” He held her gaze.
“Sometimes I’m unsettled. A bit overawed.”
“Natural,non?”
“Perhaps. But you don’t appear to feel the same.”
“I am used to being in shifting circumstances, always on the move, never knowing what will happen next. This is simply another one of them. I navigate it and go on.”
“I miss the peace and simplicity of the Rivanna.”
“Perhaps in hindsight it is unreasonably idyllic.” Even as he said it he could think of few flaws. “You weren’t there long enough to discover its faults.”
“Name them.”
“And shatter your illusions?” He chuckled and reached for a confection. “Non.”
She turned her attention to the sweets rather absently. “I miss the chapel and my little cottage… the sound of the settlement bell…. the river’s rush and the view of the mountains from your porch—”
“Careful. You’ll make me homesick.”
“Is the Rivanna home to you, then?” Hope shone in her eyes. “More than Acadie, even?”
He looked at her but had no answer. Acadie’s absence created a longing that defied words and hadn’t abated. He wanted to feel the same way she did about the Rivanna—only without her, if he must return alone. There was no denying its peace and simplicity.
“I hear you’re enjoying riding about the countryside.” Pensive, she stirred cream and sugar into her tea. “My fear is that France will woo you away from me and I’ll rarely see you except for meals.”
“Three times a day is not enough?” he jested. “So you addthé?”
After much pondering, she selected a lemon tart. “I breakfast in my rooms, remember.”
He usually breakfasted with thecomte,rather formal affairs with a host of attentive servants doing everything but placing the serviettes in their laps. But her grandfather was good company, always asking about his exploits and easily entertained with tales of Canada’s white spirit bears and all the ways the Resistance had thwarted the British.
