Before she could answer, Andre seemed to realize she wasn’t alone. He jerked upright and took a step back, his face sobering as he eyed Evan.
Back when Evan had first arrived and they knew so little about him, she’d warned Charlotte and Andre to stay far away from him. With the awfulness of their mother’s death at the hands of strangers hanging over them all, she had no doubt that both her siblings would heed her direction—at least when it came to a strange Englishman.
Even now, Andre looked like he might turn and dart away. She should ease his angst some. “Andre, this is Evan MacManus, the man I’ve been guarding in the storage room. Evan, my little brother, Andre.” She offered a hint of a smile to show her brother he needn’t fear.
Andre’s round eyes stayed glued on Evan, his expression a mixture of awe and worry. As much as she wanted to protect her brother, she didn’t want him to live in fear. Perhaps they’d placed too much importance on the danger of allowingstrangers into Laurent. Of allowing new ideas and new ways of viewing the world into Laurent.
She’d have to ponder that thought later. For now, Evan was reaching a hand in greeting to her brother.
Andre glanced at her for permission to grasp Evan’s in return, and she nodded.
The two shook, one hand large and masculine, and the other the gangly fingers of a half-grown lad. The joining of two worlds. The moment felt momentous, and Andre seemed to grow taller with the act.
When he pulled his hand back, he straightened and notched his chin up. “Are you coming to the feast, too, Monsieur MacManus?”
Evan raised his brows, and they both turned to her for an answer. She sent her gaze toward her father, who stood at the fringes of the trading group. It would be better if he gave permission than if she took it upon herself to bring Evan, even under guard. Maybe this would be her chance to speak to him of her growing trust.
She turned back to Andre and gave a small smile. “Perhaps. We’ll see.”
17
“I think we can trust him, Papa.” Brielle stood with her father in the corner of the courtyard.
She didn’t like having a private discussion in the open where others could watch their expressions, but speaking inside presented too much risk that their voices would echo off the stone walls. And besides, the women were back in their homes preparing food for the feast, and most of the men were talking with the visitors, speaking of events from the summer and expectations for the coming winter months.
Leonard had taken Evan back to the storage room, so this was her chance to plead his case with her father.
“What has he told you? How did he know of our village?” Papa wore his Chief of Laurent expression, the one that pondered every aspect before making a decision. He knew whatever command he gave would impact the hundred or so people in his care.
“He says he’d never heard of Laurent before he stumbled upon our wall. I believe that might be true, although I can’t be certain. He was born in Scotland but moved to the new states of America after his parents and brother died.” She’dtold her father before about the changes Evan told of in the East. “He was in the American army for a while, which must be why he had that paper with their insignia marked on it. But after his wife died, he became an explorer. I think he blames himself and regrets not being there for her death and needed to do something different. He went west for a short time, then turned northwest and eventually arrived at our gate.”
The lines across her father’s forehead bunched as he took in her words, and he clasped his hands in front of him, his thumbs moving back and forth over themselves in the way they always did when he was deep in thought. “For which company does he explore? Who sent him out?”
She shook her head. “None. He merely loaded his saddle packs and set out on his own. He seems very interested in new animals and plants and landmarks that aren’t found in his land. I truly think he can be trusted.”
Her father pondered for several moments longer, pursing his lips as he continued flipping his thumbs back and forth, one over the other. “It seems irresponsible to leave family and friends and country during a time of war, just to set out on a lark. Surely he’s come for a reason, maybe to report back to someone what he finds.”
She raised her brows. “A lark you call it? He’s traveled for three months, eating only what he can find or kill. Sleeping out in the cold.” Yet her father’s insight didn’t sit well in her chest. Was Evan truly as selfish as Father made him sound? If Laurent were being attacked by enemies, she would stay and fight to the death. Nothing would induce her to abandon her friends and family when they needed her most.
But Evan’s family had all died. First his parents and brother in Scotland, then his wife from a fever she likelycaught caring for injured soldiers. Perhaps he felt he had nothing left to fight for in America.
She met her father’s gaze. “I believe he was deep in his grief for his wife when he left their army. I can well imagine he sought to escape into God’s creation and the desire to see new lands.” Papa could understand that grief, having lived through it himself.
And indeed, her father’s gaze softened. “Perhaps you’re right. I trust your judgment, but the council will want to hear several opinions before making a decision. They’d like to vote in three days. I’ll come and speak with him myself on the morrow.”
She nodded. He would see for himself. Evan’s honesty would shine through, she had no doubt.
“In the meantime,” Brielle continued, “I would like to bring him under guard to the feast. That way everyone can attend. None of the guards will be forced to stay with him in the storage room. He’s not attempted escape even once. Quite the opposite, as you well know.”
Papa raised his brows. “Gerald doesn’t speak well of Evan. I don’t put much stock in what he says, for Gerald seems to have let bitterness poison his thoughts. But you should be aware of his animosity.”
She nodded. The council had decided Gerald’s punishment should be extra work duty. The people would be watching him. Laurent protected their own. They didn’t usually have one of their own turn on another, though.
Lifting her gaze to her father again, she returned his focus to their previous discussion. “So, what of Evan and the feast? It would be good for the people to see him more often. Maybe then they’ll feel more comfortable around him.”
He studied her a moment longer, and she did her best not to cower under his stare. Papa could see through any mask she tried to construct. She schooled her expression to make sure no hint of soft emotion tugged at her mouth or eagerness showed in her eyes.
“Before you bring him to the assembly room, bind his hands securely and make sure he has nothing on his person that can be used as a weapon.”
