Page 48 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
Gilles nodded slowly.
“She was to wait here while I met with Delacroix, but she insists on visiting thenavetteshop near the docks. A terrible time to be in that quarter.” Daubin shook his head. “But she is adamant, and I cannot convince her otherwise. Not even the threat of telling her mother would dissuade her.”
Gilles nearly protested that Marie-Caroline was no child to be making silly threats to, but he held his tongue.
“Not that doing so would help me,” Monsieur Daubin said. “Then we would both have to deal with the hysterics.”
“And you would like me to accompany her?” Gilles’s heart lifted for the first time in days.
“Please. Then at least I can say I’ve done my best when her mother goes to pieces. The streets are more crowded today after that effigy business.”
Gilles nodded. He hadn’t participated, but everyone in the city had heard about the stuffed likeness of Lafayette hanging from the Hôtel de Ville.
“Thank you, Étienne.”
Gilles wasted no time gathering his things and heading for the coach waiting just outside the shop. Like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a storm at sea, Gilles snatched the spark of light that flashed into his heart and grasped it tightly.
He needed this.
Gilles held out the paper wrapping, and Marie-Caroline selected one of the skinny, boat-shaped biscuits from the offering. They sat on an old, low wall looking out into the harbor. A forest of masts stretched before them. The dockworkers had cleared from most of the area, and Gilles had found a rare quiet corner.
Marie-Caroline nibbled the end off her biscuit. “We used to buy treats from La Petite Navette when I was younger. I haven’t had one in years.” Her gloves sat in her lap so as to keep them unspoiled. Her long, tapered fingers held the biscuit like a musician holding a flute.
“Your father could not fathom why you wanted anavettetoday, of all days.” Gilles laughed. “I don’t think he knows what to do with you.”
“He does not have to do anything with me,” Marie-Caroline said. “I should be married by now and mistress of my own home.” She tilted her head so that the brim of her straw hat partially hid her face.
Gilles leaned forward to see past the brim. “But you are not.”
“I am not.” Her voice, usually so steady, wavered with a tone of ... regret? Wistfulness? Perhaps she had left someone behind in Paris. His chest tensed. Was that why she did not want to come home to Marseille?
He laid his hand on the rough stone between them. “Did you—”
“Will you not have one?” She nodded to the treats in his other hand. “You bought them, after all.” Her eyes stayed on the gloves in her lap.
So she did not want to speak of suitors. Gilles pretended to study the sand-colorednavettesin their wrapping. “I do not enjoy them as you do.”
“And yet you agreed to escort me to the shop.”
He shrugged. “My employer asked me to.”
Her mouth pursed. A crumb clung to her upper lip, and Gilles resisted the urge to brush it away. With how serious Marie-Caroline always took everything, the little unnoticed crumb made him want to chuckle. Not that it was very noticeable unless one was examining her lips.
“I also wanted to see you,” he said quickly. “It’s been a long time since we spoke.”
Her lips curled upward. An itch tingled the tips of his fingers. They wouldn’t mind stroking those full lips. In fact, they would enjoy it a little too much. His own lips might follow them. “It has only been a week, Gilles.”
He tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. Idiot. He had sworn never to kiss her.Friends. They were simply friends. “I was also curious why you wantednavettesthis evening.”
She took another bite. The crumb on her lips tumbled onto her skirts as she chewed. Only then did she notice it and wipe it away. “I admit I had wished to see the effigy.”
Gilles scowled. “Of Lafayette?” While he hadn’t seen it, he had seen plenty of effigies in the streets of Marseille. Clothing stuffed with straw and a rudely painted face that only sometimes resembled the real person.Marseillaisloved to abuse the likenesses. When effigies weren’t immediately burned, they were hung from nooses in the public square and usually met their final fate in the gutters and sewers. “Why would you want to see it?”
Memories of the roughness of the rope as he had tied nooses Monday evening replaced the pleasant tingling in his fingertips. He set the biscuits in his lap and rubbed his hands together. He could still feel the tiny fibers biting into his skin. Scratching, unlike the smoother, treated ropes onle Rossignol.
“Everyone was speaking of it yesterday,” she said. “I do not believe the man deserved such abuse, and I wanted to witness the injustice myself.” She popped the last bite of thenavetteinto her mouth and reached for another. Her arm grazed his as she pulled back her prize.
“Lafayette is a traitor to the revolution.”
