Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(54)

Angelique hadn’t believed the day of the dance would actually arrive. She’d hoped the Americans would come first and put an end to the British presence on the island once and for all—in spite of Pierre’s reservations.

But no one had spotted even the slightest trace of the American forces. After nearly a month of preparing and laying up stores for a siege, both the British and the islanders had started to relax. As the hot days of July came to a close, some of the islanders had even begun to put aside the idea of an attack altogether. The summer would be ending all too soon on Michilimackinac. Why would the Americans attempt to take over the island and then leave themselves so little time to prepare for the long northern winter?

In fact, the mood at the fort that whole day had been festive, as if the British were already celebrating a victory. And Lavinia had been a flutter of excitement, declaring the dance to be the first civilized event of the summer. Even Ebenezer had been invited and had allowed Angelique to leave her duties early so she could ready herself for the dance at the fort with Lavinia.

Angelique lifted her hand to the curls next to her ears. Her head was bare of a cap, and Lavinia had piled Angelique’s hair on top of her head, leaving a few loose curls dangling. “To tease the men,” she’d said.

What would Ebenezer say when she showed up at the government house looking like a loose woman? Would he force her to return to the inn? Or would he bide his time and punish her later, when Lavinia left at the summer’s end, when he no longer had the pressure of trying to keep her from complaining to her father?

Pierre had followed through on his promise to talk with Ebenezer and had warned him that neither he, Lavinia, nor the colonel would tolerate any more cruelty. But what would happen when they were all gone? Who would protect her from Ebenezer’s anger then?

Angelique expelled a pent-up breath.

Why hadn’t she just married Pierre when he’d asked? She had mentally slapped herself a thousand times since the day she’d turned down his proposal. Maybe he’d been right not to worry about the details of the future. If they were married, surely they’d figure out a way to work things out so that both of them would be happy.

But he hadn’t brought up marriage again. Instead he seemed to be going out of his way to treat her like a friend. And she’d done her best to resume their friendly way of relating, especially since he’d obviously put thoughts of marrying her out of his mind. The ease with which he could do that startled her, even hurt just a little.

A soft rap on the door made Angelique jump. She reached for the gloves Lavinia had left for her on the bed and pushed a hand through the tight satin, wrestling the glove upward until it reached her elbow. With the short puffy sleeves of the gown, there was still too much skin on her arms showing. But what could she do about that now?

“Miss McDouall is waiting in the sitting room” came the voice of the girl who had been assisting them with their preparations. “She’d like you to join her so that you can walk over to the dance.”

“Thank you. Please let Miss McDouall know I’ll be right there.” Angelique’s fingers trembled as she worked the other glove over the stickiness of her palm.

She took in several deep breaths of the sugary-sweet perfume in the air and recalled the words Miriam had spoken many times over the past couple of years whenever her circumstances had grown unbearable. “‘He only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defense; I shall not be greatly moved.’”

Angelique wanted to believe God was as solid as a rock, as reliable as the limestone bluffs that hedged the island, and that He was a fortress as safe and secure as Fort George up on the highest hill. But after she’d been forsaken so many times in her life, how could she trust that He wouldn’t leave her eventually too?

With a final tug on each glove, she spun to face the door, opened it before she could change her mind, and stepped into the hallway.

Voices and laughter came from one of the rooms down the long hallway that ran through the center of the officers’ building.

Her heart quavered, but she forced one foot in front of the other until finally she reached the open doorway of the sitting room.

Lavinia, in all her golden glory, was perched on the edge of the settee. She smiled at Lieutenant Steele, who sat on one of the wing chairs next to her. He was dressed in his best uniform, his white pantaloons spotless, the buttons on his red jacket gleaming, the felt of his black hat brushed until it shone.

Another man stood on the other side of the settee with his back to the door. A navy tailcoat stretched taut across his wide shoulders, its long tails falling over gray pantaloons. His dark wavy hair had been combed into submission, although a curl here and there had revolted.

Pierre?

As if she’d spoken his name aloud, he turned. His ebony eyes rounded with first surprise, then wonder.

She smiled at him shyly.

At the sight of her, Lavinia stopped speaking mid-sentence and smiled. “There you are, Miss MacKenzie. I was beginning to think I would have to come after you myself.”

Lieutenant Steele rose but gave her only the briefest of glances before he held out a hand to Lavinia.

“Does she not look wonderful?” Lavinia asked as she accepted the quartermaster’s assistance to her feet.

“No one can compare with you tonight,” Lieutenant Steele replied. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to take my eyes off you to look at anyone else.”