Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(39)
“Perhaps if you have an older, more serviceable gown?” Angelique offered.
“This is an old one.” Lavinia sighed and pushed her golden curls off her forehead. “It’s outdated and plain, yet I had hoped to be able to give you the opportunity to wear it.” She stood back, her lips curved down in a pout.
In the hallway outside the room’s closed door, the quick but firm steps of officers passed by as they came and went from the building. Was one of them Pierre? He’d brought her to and from the fort for her visits with Lavinia, and she was always glad for the short time they could be together. But every time they entered the gate past the red-coated soldiers, she expected one of them to swing his bayonet around and point the tip at Pierre’s heart and ask him what he, an American, was doing inside the fort.
But no one ever questioned Pierre. They assumed he was as loyal to the British cause as any regular. She wanted to ask him whose side he was really on. The old Pierre wouldn’t have cared about betraying his country or his family by fighting with the British. But this Pierre? He couldn’t really be working for the British, could he?
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. And Pierre hadn’t wanted her to know anything either.
“I have a splendid idea!” Lavinia clapped her hands. “We shall have a dance. Here at the fort. And you shall have the chance to wear the gown then.”
Angelique started to shake her head. But Lavinia was already too busy planning to notice her objection to the idea. “It will be wonderful. We shall have the fort musicians play and have plenty of delicious refreshments. We shall invite the officers along with some of the important townspeople. Daddy was just saying he needed to make sure he had the support of the islanders. Would this not be the perfect way to form good relations?”
Angelique didn’t have time to think of an answer before Lavinia continued. “The dance will be a time to show everyone just how hard you and I have worked to bring about your improvement.”
“What about the war, Miss McDouall?” Angelique rose and stretched her stiff back. “Do you think your father will allow a dance when we’re in the middle of a war?”
“Of course he will. My daddy never tells me no.” Lavinia gave a soft laugh. “Since Mother died, he’s allowed me to do whatever I want. Besides, the dance will be the perfect function for the Soldiers Relief Committee. A dance would take the soldiers’ minds off the hardships of this savage place. It will cheer them and remind them of home. What could be more necessary than renewed spirits at a time like this?”
Angelique didn’t argue with Lavinia, especially when she indicated they would need at least a month to prepare for the dance. Angelique could only pray that in a month’s time the Americans would arrive and retake the fort, and that she and Jean would be happily married. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about the shiny gown and what Ebenezer would do to her when he saw her in it.
For now, she would be grateful Lavinia hadn’t insisted that she walk out of the officers’ quarters in the gown.
“You smell like you took a bath in a perfume bottle.” Pierre winked at her as they exited the stone building and rounded the green, where a group of regulars was standing in battle formation, marching and drilling.
Angelique could only shake her head in disgust at the scent that lingered in the homespun linen of her clothes. “She insists on coating me in her perfume every day,” Angelique replied. “I think she’s trying to rid me of the stench of the hen house.”
“That’s too bad.” Pierre steered her past the low building that served as the commissary. Empty barrels were stacked against the outside walls, and a peek inside the dark interior revealed the stores were already diminished. “For the life of me, I can’t understand why Lavinia doesn’t like the stench of the hen house. It’s so . . .”
“Homey?” She followed after him, enjoying the easy banter, especially after having to be so serious and polite with Lavinia.
“Oui. Definitely homey, in a stinky kind of way.”
“I can’t understand why she doesn’t enjoy it,” Angelique teased, ignoring the stares of several soldiers, who were apparently off duty and lounging on the long front porch of the soldiers’ barracks, writing letters or mending their socks.
Pierre grinned at her over his shoulder. “Well, ma cherie, even if Lavina managed to drown out your lovely hen smell with her perfume, at least your hair looks pretty.”
Angelique lifted her fingers to her hair, to the delicate curls that dangled near her ears. Lavinia had piled her hair high on top of her head in a fashionable style but had left several curls near her ears. “You don’t think I look ridiculous?”
“You look ravishing.” Even though his words had a hint of playfulness, the look he tossed her was anything but playful. Instead his eyes were dark and sparked with something that heated her belly with pleasure.
“And here I thought you were partial to my wearing my hair down.” She couldn’t resist the comment as they started up the hill toward the fort’s north gate.
“True,” he said, nodding at the sentinel, who swung open the door for them. As they stepped outside the tall palisades of the fort, Pierre led her directly toward the woods that didn’t pass anywhere near town. “I’m partial to your long hair. But if you must wear it up, then this is perfect.”