Page 60 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
“And how are you today, Caroline?” Just having her near again sent an electricity through his limbs which he’d craved since Saturday’s outing to the lavender fields.
Her rosy lips pursed. Could he steal a kiss without drawing the eyes of the crowd? Or worse, of her father? She leaned in, the brim of her hat tickling his ear like it had the glorious moment she’d kissed him.Ciel, what he’d give to return it now. Suddenly he wished he’d left his jacket at home and only come in a waistcoat. Sweat already gathered around his collar.
“I do not wish to kiss you.”
Gilles inclined his head. They were back to that greeting again? After all that had happened?
She straightened, head turning indifferently as she surveyed the festivities. Blue, white, and red swirled around them in a frenzy of cockades, caps, and banners.
Whatever game she had decided to play, he would not let her win this time. If she wanted to play coy, he would match her wit for wit. “That is not the impression I received Saturday.”
“I am sorry to say that whatever observations led you to such an impression were incorrect.”
How curious. He laid his free hand over hers, and she did not pull away, but neither did she meet his eyes. Was she embarrassed by her forwardness? She needed not be. It was received only too eagerly. He took a deep breath so as to quell the flush that threatened to overtake his cheeks. “While I hate to contradict a woman—”
“On the contrary, I think you enjoy it very much.”
He paused their course, turning her to face him. “Please tell me, then, how I was supposed to interpret your actions in the garden.” She couldn’t be serious. After all the pious scolding about his kisses meaning nothing because of the games, she wanted to pretend like Saturday evening didn’t happen.
Caroline scowled, glancing about. “Hush. That sounds terrible.”
He took her elbows and pulled her closer, until she was practically in his arms again. “What did you mean by it?”
She pressed her mouth into a thin line. Revelers jostled them from all sides, but Gilles held her steady. She didn’t kiss for the fun of it; she’d made that clear from the beginning of their acquaintance. Her head turned so the sparse hat hid her face.
“Caroline?” A chill ran across his skin, despite the July heat. Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Fear of being heard? Perhaps the risks they were taking had pushed her into a panic, as they sometimes did to him. Whatever the reason, he had to know. The strange ache sprouting in his chest wouldn’t let him back down.
“I do not know what you are talking about,” she said.
“That’s a lie.”
She tugged against his grip, and all he could do was let her go. Her arms slipped from his hands.
“Wait,” he said. “Please.”
She bent in a rigid curtsy and raised her voice. “Monsieur Martel.”
Sacrebleu, Martel! He always appeared at the worst of times. Gilles dropped his hands to his sides as Caroline darted away, giving his friend a wide berth. Her footman scrambled to catch up to her. She didn’t look back once as she located her father near the waiting trees.
Martel watched her go with a sneer, brow arching when he turned back to Gilles. “You missed the Jacobin meeting again.”
Gilles winced. “I had to finish work. I told you I might.” The choice between an outing with Caroline and an evening with angry Jacobins had been an easy one.
“Someday employers will not have the power to force citizens to work whenever they fancy.” That was the same thing Luc Hamon had said. While Gilles agreed, the menace in Martel’s tone unsettled him. Martel grasped Gilles’s arm and pulled him away from the front of the crowd and Caroline. “You have become rather intimate with the Daubins lately.”
Gilles let his friend pull him forward, even though he had the muscle to break away without much resistance. “He’s my employer. How do you suggest I avoid him?”
“It’s one thing to work in his factory and another to attend social events at his home.” Martel led him to a liberty tree planted the year before, which citizens had draped with the colors of the three Estates General. Gilles wondered if white would be removed from the trio of hues if the Jacobins had their way and disposed of the monarchy. “My employer mentioned you attended Daubin’s game ofboulesa couple weeks ago.”
“He had business to discuss with me.” Business they’d made little progress on. They’d found a few ways to cut expenses, but they wouldn’t be enough to save thesavonnerie.
“And then I see you ogling the daughter like some besotted mongrel.”
Gilles bristled. “I was hardly ogling her,” he snapped. “Caroline is my friend’s sister.” Mongrel? The hypocrite.
Martel crossed his arms. “So it’s ‘Caroline’ now?”
“The planting is about to start.” Gilles pivoted, but Martel jumped to block his path.
