A Silent Ocean Away (28 page)

Of late, nothing was going Paul’s way. He crossed the emerald lawn with an agitated gait, took the stone steps of the portico in two strides, and stormed the manor’s double doors. He slapped a brown folder against his left thigh, the rhythm working his revolving thoughts into a frothing frenzy, until he found himself contemplating the circle’s inception once again: his father’s mismatched marriage, his ponderous schedule between Charmantes and Espoir, George’s prolonged absence, the new manor’s halted construction, and lastly, the circle’s end—the sorest point of all—his brother, John, and the missing shipping invoices that were not with the other, unimportant, papers he held in his hand.

“Why does he do this to me?” he seethed aloud, the habit of talking to himself most prevalent when John provoked him. “I know why,” he ground out, barging into the study and slamming the door shut with such force the glass rattled in the French doors across the room. “He knows it will foster havoc on Charmantes and I will have to deal with it! I bet he’s been snickering for months just thinking about it.”

He reached the desk in another five strides, flinging the folder atop the other papers lying there, its contents spilling out. The childish act yielded momentary gratification; he swung around to find Charmaine staring at him wide-eyed from the high-backed chair. “How long have you been sitting there?” he demanded, his temper spiking as he realized what she had witnessed. “Well? Answer me!”

“A long time, sir,” she replied docilely, fueling his feeling of foolishness.

Instantly, his anger was gone, and he closed his eyes and rubbed his brow.
Sir
…
she’s calling me sir again.
“I’m sorry, Charmaine. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’ve been plagued with countless worries, and I’m at my wit’s end.”

“I guess we’re in the same predicament,” she replied.

He heard the apprehension in her voice. “Is something amiss?”

Is something amiss?
she thought.
Surely he jests!
But how would he know of the troubles facing the entire Duvoisin staff, and her in particular? “There will be many changes in the house within the next few days,” she said, dropping her eyes to the hands in her lap. “Some of them frighten me.”

“What changes could possibly frighten you?”

“I’m to have a private meeting with Mrs. Duvoisin in a few minutes.”

Agatha
…
his stepmother
…
the new Mrs. Duvoisin
…Suddenly, he was rankled by more than the title she bore. He didn’t
need an explanation to deduce the woman’s motives, nor the distasteful outcome she would attempt to script.

He immediately summoned Travis Thornfield and dispatched a message. The manservant was to inform the new mistress her meeting with the governess had been canceled. “If she complains,” Paul concluded, “refer her to me. Miss Ryan is firmly established in this house. There is no pertinent reason to interrupt her strict schedule. That will be all, Travis.”

The butler departed, wearing an uncommon smile.

Charmaine was astonished. Once again, Paul stood beside her. When was she going to realize she had nothing to fear from him?
Perhaps today,
her heart whispered, the thought leaving her giddy.
Is it possible he’s grown more handsome in the past moments?
She had her answer as he casually walked across the room and towered over her, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“There,” he said with a wicked smile, teeth flashing below his moustache. “She’ll not be pleased, but she’ll think twice before threatening your position again.”

Charmaine was not so certain, though she was grateful for his efforts. “I don’t know…”

“Charmaine,” he chided lightly, sitting in the chair adjacent to hers. He leaned forward and cradled her hand. “You needn’t fear Agatha. Though she’s determined to prove herself mistress of the manor, I have my father’s support in this matter. He’ll not dismiss you, no matter her vehemence.”

“Thank you, Paul,” she said in a small voice. His warm hand made breathing difficult, and she found it equally difficult to concentrate. “You have lifted a heavy burden. I don’t know what I’d tell the children if I were forced to leave. I’ve become quite attached to them.”

His smile turned warm. “I know you have, Charmaine, and they feel the same way about you. My father knows that.”

“I hope he does. After yesterday, I’m not so certain.”

Paul frowned. “What happened?”

She told him about the girls’ reaction to Frederic’s unexpected marriage, and his smile returned. “Yvette has gained my respect,” he said. “I told my father much the same thing. I’m glad he’s heard it from someone other than me. I can imagine how upset he was.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make any difference, does it? What’s done is done.”

“Unfortunately, you are right, Charmaine. It is just one of many things that has added to a deplorable week.”

“I’m sure. I wish I could resolve your dilemmas as swiftly as you have mine. Unfortunately, all I can offer is sympathy.”

Paul’s demeanor abruptly changed. His eyes sparkled beneath raised brows, and a roguish smile spread across his face. “Don’t depreciate that offer. I’d love to indulge in a bit of sympathy and forget my troubles for a time.”

She knew where his words were leading, where the invitation would take her if she allowed it. That was the key, allowed it. She’d enjoyed his company for almost a year now. Once his flirtatious advances had frightened her; today she found them exciting. Suddenly, she wanted more, wanted to know he wasn’t just toying with her, that he was truly attracted to her, wanted to know what it felt like to have his mouth upon hers. Intuitively, she knew the lust that had sparked his first proposition in the gardens those many months ago had blossomed into something more. And yet, he had never kissed her. Why? On Christmas Day, he had almost done so, but they had been interrupted. And once he’d returned home, they’d been thrown into the turmoil of Colette’s death. Beyond that, there was Espoir and his merciless work schedule, his treks home few and far between. Today was the first time they’d been alone in ages. She returned his dazzling smile. Let him think what
he would. She wanted him to kiss her right here and now. As if reading her thoughts, his gaze traveled to her lips.

Paul had watched numerous emotions play across her comely face, yet was no closer to figuring her out. The risqué invitation didn’t seem to upset her, yet she didn’t speak. She was so lovely, and he longed to make love to her, slowly and sweetly. He had no use for this little cat-and-mouse game and was annoyed with himself. “Charmaine? Did you hear what I said?”

Her coyness vanished. “I heard,” she replied, more evenly than she thought possible.

“And?”

He released her hand to cradle her cheek and chin, his thumb brushing across her lips. She closed her eyes to the sensual caress. She couldn’t breathe and broke away, standing and turning her back to him.

“And?” he pressed again, moving behind her.

“And”—she faltered—“I don’t see how I could possibly help you.”

So,
he thought,
she’s playing to a new set of rules: Don’t act offended, but don’t give in.
He had dallied too long, and the dreamy moment was dissolving. He felt cheated and chuckled ruefully, his breath catching in her hair.

Embarrassed now, she stepped farther away and composed herself. Finally, she faced him. “Perhaps if you explained some of your problems…”

“Some?” he derided suavely. “Where would you like me to begin? Agatha? George? Or perhaps John, the biggest problem of all. There’s nothing you can do to rectify that headache.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” she said.

He laughed outright. But when her stance remained set, arms folded one over the other, her eyes serious, he strode to the desk
and lifted the sheaf of papers he’d thrown there earlier. “Very well. These are invoices. They—”

“I know what invoices are,” she cut in.

He nodded, then explained why those he held were so perplexing.

Apparently, a ship had docked on Charmantes midweek and had sat in the harbor for five days, her cargo untouched. The captain and Jake Watson had disputed over which goods were intended for Charmantes and which were to be shipped on to Virginia.

“The captain maintained the supplies packed for Charmantes were at the rear of the hold,” Paul was saying. “Jake was confused and demanded to see both the European and Virginia invoices. He didn’t believe even a new captain could be so dimwitted as to bury our goods behind those that would be discharged at a later time. The captain bristled, probably because Jake’s estimation of him was accurate. Again, Jake insisted on seeing John’s invoices, informing the captain not one cask would be hoisted without proof of merchandise. The captain hemmed and hawed, eventually admitting that—although he
thought
John had given him the proper paperwork—the invoices he carried were, in fact, invalid. When Jake saw these, he had had enough.”

“Enough of what?” Charmaine asked.

“Enough of John’s antics! I didn’t rant and rave when he changed the shipping routes last year, so he has come up with another scheme to impede the work on Charmantes. Once our staples were loaded in Richmond, John removed the legitimate paperwork and gave the captain these instead.”

Paul waved a pile of papers under her nose. When they stopped flapping, Charmaine caught sight of several crude drawings with accompanying notes, which he abruptly withdrew and shoved back into the folder.

“He used invoice sheets for his artwork just to make certain I knew the entire mix-up was intentional.” Paul slapped the folder against his thigh again, his agitation escalating. “When Jake saw the sketches, he was furious. Apparently, he called the captain a few choice names and informed the man that if his crew unladed the packet, he was storing every last cask, including the merchandise for Virginia, in our warehouses until I returned from Espoir and decided otherwise. The captain lost his temper and stood sentry against Jake’s threat. And so, the ship has sat in our harbor for five days!
Five days!
” he bellowed in exasperation. “Her European cargo losing hundreds of dollars in market value.”

“Why didn’t Mr. Watson talk to you when you returned on Friday?”

“Friday
night,
Charmaine,” he corrected. “
Late
Friday night. Everyone was at Dulcie’s, and I just assumed the ship had been unloaded, reloaded with sugar, and was ready to depart for Richmond. I should have known better! We spent the better part of two hours climbing over barrels to find out whether those in the stern contained island supplies. Without the invoices, I couldn’t be certain, and John would love to learn I had spent the entire day shifting hogsheads just to find nothing at the back was ours!”

Charmaine knew he was chasing circles and felt sorry for him. “Why would your brother create such confusion? He has just as much to lose as your father and you do, doesn’t he? That’s what Colette used to say.”

“He will pay any price, Charmaine,
any price
, if he knows he’s upset me or, better yet, made my hard day’s work harder.”

She was appalled. “If that’s true, you have to turn the tables on him.”

“How could I possibly do that?”

“Send the ship back to him, just the way it is. Or better still, keep all the merchandise.”

Paul disagreed. “Sending it back will deprive us of valuable supplies, especially grain. Keeping it would cost my father a fortune. His buyers in Virginia would be none too pleased, either. John knows all this.”

Charmaine nodded to his final declaration, but turned back to her original suggestion. “Are you certain Charmantes couldn’t survive without the grain?”

“Of course we could survive, but it accomplishes nothing.”

“Nothing, except sending the problem back to your brother. Maybe you should include your own set of drawings, telling him a thing or two!”

Paul chuckled. He certainly would love to see John’s face when he began unloading the vessel and found his mean-spirited tomfoolery had backfired—that
he
was the one facing a laborious day on the docks. Let the captain talk his way out of that one, and let John deal with the buffoon he had hired. Yes, it was a most pleasing fantasy…Then Paul was struck by a new thought. Perhaps John knew about Espoir and had hoped to sabotage his efforts by creating more work on Charmantes. But no, Stephen Westphal and Edward Richecourt were sworn to secrecy, so John couldn’t know—unless George had spilled the beans. But that was impossible. The
Heir
would have left Richmond before George got there.

“Paul?”

He came around when Charmaine called his name a second time. “I’m sorry, Charmaine. Not to worry. I’ll sort it out.”

“Very well, but I wouldn’t stand for such nonsense!”

Her eyes flashed with fervor, and thoughts of his brother vanished. Damn, she was desirable, and he ached to hold her, to release the dark locks pinned at her nape and stroke the abundant mane as it cascaded down her back, to possess her petulant mouth. He stepped closer, but her eyes remained hard, oblivious to the fire
she had stoked. He stopped.
Now is not the time,
he thought, steeling himself against his carnal appetite
. We’ll only be interrupted again. But soon, very soon, another opportunity will present itself. Perhaps late one night when everyone else is abed
…Yes, he fancied that idea. Then he would conquer her.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Paul chuckled with the anticipated interruption. “Yes, Travis?”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Duvoisin wants to speak to you now, sir. I tried to tell her you were preoccupied—”

Before he could finish, Agatha pushed her way into the room. “So,” she accused, “the governess is overburdened with her duties and cannot make time for an interview with me. And here I thought those duties involved the children.”

“At present, Miss Ryan happens to be helping me,” Paul replied stiffly.

Agatha’s eyes raced up and down Charmaine’s slender form, eagerly searching for some incriminating evidence to feed her evil assumptions. “Helping you? I can just imagine how.”