Page 59 of A Castaway in Cornwall
“And I must rejoin my men before my brother has me arrested or shoots me himself.”
“I would not shoot you.”
“Ah. How generous.” Alan turned to their father. “Alors.Dernier adieu, mon père. I shall not trouble you again.”
“Don’t say that,” his father urged, pressing the sacks of produce into his arms. “You are always welcome, Alan. This is your home.”
“Not anymore.”
His brother stalked out. When the door slammed behind him, his father turned on Alex. “Did you have to provoke him? Now I may never see him again!”
“He has brought this on himself.”
“How easy for you to sit in judgment of him. Are you so sure you are right? That the emperor is just and has our country’s best interest at heart? Or are you blinded by ambition and lust for power as well?”
Alex gasped for breath, shocked and hurt as though his father had struck him. “Are you not the one who encouraged me to enlist?”
“If I could have seen into the future—seen my homeland in tatters, my sons at each other’s throats...” He shook his head. “I would have kept silent.”
As the memory of that horrible night faded, Alexander sighed. He believed his brother’s devotion to theRoyalisteswas misguided but selfless. François, however, was loyal only to himself, to whichever group or side could benefit him the most.
Alexander had told Laura he would be on his best behavior. He would also have to be on his guard.
Long live the rose.
—FRENCHFOLKSONG
Chapter 11
Uncle Matthew loaned Alex evening clothes, and Laura brought out a beaver hat from her collection, brushing it until it looked like new.
She had planned to wear her best dress, a simple white gown with a bit of embroidery on the bodice, but Mrs. Bray protested.
“Come, we can’t have you looking like a neglected orphan. Borrow one of Eseld’s gowns. Or one of mine.”
Eseld’s frocks would likely be too short and Mrs. Bray’s too large. Laura said, “That’s all right. I don’t mind. The event is for charity, after all.”
Eseld tipped her head to one side. “Actually, if you wore Mamm’s petticoat with the ruffles at the bottom under my green silk, and added a white ribbon at your waist and white gloves, you would look charming.”
Laura agreed to at least try on the ensemble.
Eseld was right. The girl might be silly in some ways, but she had a good eye for fashion. She even arranged Laura’s hair for her and added a string of paste pearls and a small green silk flower.
“Perfect. You really are lovely, Laura.”
The sincere compliment gave her more pleasure than any of Treeve’s flattery ever had. “Thank you, Eseld.”
The gentlemen were waiting downstairs. Mr. Lucas looked up as she descended into the hall. The slow softening of his features, shining eyes, and parting of his lips seemed to echo Eseld’s praise.
Uncle Matthew glanced at the man. Alexander said nothing, so he filled the gap, saying, “You look beautiful, my girl.”
“Thank you. Eseld deserves the credit.”
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I think you own the lion’s share.”
When they arrived at the Roskillys’ fine house, a footman helped the ladies alight, while a groom took charge of their horses and carriage. In the entry hall, one of the churchwardens sat at a table accepting subscription fees and any additional donations. Uncle Matthew paid their dues, and Laura donated two guineas from recent sales of her collection. Then they followed the crowd into the drawing room. The event was well attended by local gentry and merchants as well as a magistrate, constable, and a few officers of the North Devon Militia who were stationed in Cornwall to assist revenue officers in the suppression of smuggling.
Laura looked across the room and spied François LaRoche. Beside her Alexander stiffened, clearly also seeing the man over the heads of the assembled guests.
