Serena decided it was time to reclaim her independence.
“Good day, messieurs.” With that little warning, she spun about, yanked open the door, and stepped outside. Hearing Malcolm call out behind her, she slammed it shut and went running up the street.
***
AS SHE’D FEARED, HERgrandparents prepared her for a quick departure to their vineyard and winery in the Loire Valley. There, she would wait until they’d arranged safe passage across the Channel to England.
“You will have to leave earlier than planned,” her grand-père said. “A pity. You were situated so well at the palace with Bonaparte none the wiser.”
Serena couldn’t blame Malcolm. She’d caused this calamity herself.
“Don’t look so sad,” her grand-mère said. “You gave helpful information regarding both the maps and the numbers of troops the emperor’s officers discussed feeding. And you were leaving soon anyway. We must put your safety above all else,” Adèle added, echoing what Malcolm had said. “It’s time for you to go home.”
Home. Returning to England at last was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but it felt bittersweet. Naturally, she wanted to see her parents and her brothers again, but her grandparents had been wonderful to her. And then there was Malcolm. They’d been growing toward something special until...
She stopped herself. That was all in her head. He’d said he wasn’t going to pledge his troth, and she wasn’t going to become someone’s mistress, or worse. She wasn’t sure what was worse, but there was probably something. Moreover, now he couldn’t see her, neither in his regular garb nor in his disguise as a baker.
“When am I leaving?” she asked.
“Before dawn,” her grand-père said.
“Are you coming with me? It might not be safe for you here anymore.” Serena’s greatest fear was that she’d endangered her grandparents with her carelessness.
Henri sent his wife a sharp look, but it was Adèle who answered. “We must stay here, dear one. We are in the middle of things.”
“I know you are,” Serena said, “but if the soldiers come for you—”
“They won’t,” Pépère said. “Even if they do, we are not their enemy. We’ll be fine.”
How could he be so sure?Even a fox was sometimes captured and killed during a hunt.
“Michel will go with you,” Mémère added.
“What about the emperor’s fondness for our wine?” Serena slapped her fist into her palm with frustration. Everything was changing so fast. “Napoleon will be suspicious. He may send Imperial Guards to the Halle aux Vins.”
“If a request comes from the palace for our win, Jacques will deliver it,” her grand-père said. “If guards come to the market place, they will find themselves unwelcome.”
“Even if Jacques goes to the palace, he cannot get close enough to the emperor to learn anything,” Serena fumed.
“We will manage,” her grand-père insisted. “The Seventh Coalition will manage, too, even without our help.”
It was the first time Henri Renault had mentioned forces larger than solely the French people themselves deciding their fate.
Serena sighed. It was out of her hands. Maybe for the best. Perhaps it was her place simply to watch the events unfold and not to have a hand in shaping them. She couldn’t even say goodbye to Suzanne and Felicity. She would never see them again.
***
IT WAS JUST AFTER NOON, and Serena was in one of her favorite places, the Renault Vineyard. The same sunlight that ripened the grapes throughout the Loire Valley came streaming in the front windows of the small white-stone manor. With no formal entrance hall, instead, the solid oak front door opened directly onto the sitting room. Watching the play of light across the cheerful buttery-yellow floor tiles, she felt anything but cheery.
Michel had gone outside to see why the horses were fussing. The housekeeper, Madame Lucie, was nearby hanging laundry, and Serena had to sit on her hands to keep from pacing. Unable to settle down during the past few days of her latest banishment, she could neither read nor knit, and she’d spoiled a batch of jam and burnt madame’s cakes while trying to help in the kitchen. She had no patience or concentration lately, only a disturbing sense of despair at leaving ... Malcolm.
The thought of never seeing her Englishman again weighed heavily upon her, squeezing her heart painfully when she let her mind ponder her fate. This was what her mother would have felt had Serena’s father not offered for Hélène after compromising her, the pain of unrequited love.
Luckily, her father had been equally smitten.
And Serena knew what she felt was true love.Why else would she have saved Malcolm more than once and taken his side over that of her friends’?And then there was her behavior in his garret, allowing him to take outrageous liberties. All because she was falling for him and hoping he would feel the same.
Ridiculous as it was, she had wanted him to fall in love with Serena Renault, the Parisian girl, not with Miss Elmstead, a baron’s daughter. Finding out she was not so far beneath him socially, he might suddenly have decided she would be a suitable future viscountess, after all. It would have been far too convenient for him, and a matter of head over heart.
