* * * * *
Strolling down Exchange Alley, Lottie wanted to share with Gabriel how much she detested the visit from Paul Bastion and how she dreaded the ones that would be forthcoming. But to mention his name would be insensitive, and she had demonstrated her capacity for that last week. Lottie didn’t really need Gabriel to say the words to know he loved her. It was easier—for her—if he didn’t. Words spoken aloud were irretrievable. Voices gave them form. She was grateful for the wagon that had passed that day, else she might have had to find a way to stop him herself.
On Sundays before they met, she had time to construct an emotional barrier, to convince herself that since what they wanted was impossible, she needed to be protected behind a wall of politeness. Today, the surprise attack of his appearance lowered her defenses and her vulnerability. She sensed it in him as well.
“I want to apologize for how I acted toward you last week on the way home,” Lottie said.
His eyes scanned her face, but he said nothing.
So, he wasn’t going to make this easy for her.
“If the carriage hadn’t passed to interrupt you, I—I was scared… am scared. Because this can go nowhere. And if I let you say those words, they will echo in my heart for the rest of my life.”
She blotted her eyes with one gloved hand and felt Gabriel’s hand entwine itself in her other.
A trio passed, too intensely and loudly arguing about their food bill at Antoine’s to be attentive to Lottie and Gabriel. When the three young men turned out of the alley, Gabriel lifted his arm, bringing Lottie’s hand to his lips.
She didn’t object and might have offered her other hand to have the experience again except that, with his kiss still lingering on her hand, Gabriel tugged her toward him. “I hardly need to tell you how I feel about you. It’s in my eyes from the moment I see your face. Your beautiful face,” he whispered.
His hands held her waist, and she saw such longing in his eyes that she closed her own, for fear that he would see the same in hers. If he did not kiss her, she would never know what she missed. And if he did, she would always know.
He didn’t give her time to think about the slow heat that rose from where his fingertips pressed into her, that made her heart race as if it could outrun the very warmth it craved, or the fire he created when he kissed first one eye, then the other. His lips…his lips gently kissed their way down the curve of her cheek, and when she felt them on her mouth, everything in her begged to melt into this one moment.
But where could they go from here?
She had barely time to feel his mouth on hers when she leaned away. “I can’t, Gabriel. I can’t.”
* * * * **
The Sunday service ended and, as usual, Grand-mère hurried from the pew to reach the church doors ahead of Père François. He stationed himself there to greet his congregation as they went forth to their houses, their placées, the gambling hall, the racetrack, or one of the guzzle shops along the river. And, as usual, the reverend appeared as if he had bloomed from between a crowd of his parishioners to smile at Lottie’s grandmother as she left.
Lottie saw the shine in his eyes and wondered if this had become a game for him, this making sure she didn’t escape without seeing him. Grand-mère wore her disdain like expensive perfume, and he diluted it every time they made eye contact.
“Lottie, Lottie.” Justine bounced at the bottom of the stairs, waving her hand.
Lottie tapped her grandfather on the shoulder and pointed in her friend’s direction. “I’m going to talk to Justine. I won’t be long.”
He reached back to pat her hand. “Take your time.”
Lottie squeezed between the Bourgeois twins, who, at fifteen, still dressed identically, except that Eulalie’s curls were on the left side of her face and Eleanor’s were on the right side. Passage through was complicated by their matching blue, green, and white plaid skirts creating a twelve-foot-wide swath of fabric blocking her path. Lottie had almost cleared their blockage when one of them stopped her. “Charlotte LeClerc, we heard that a suitor came calling.” It sounded like Eulalie sang instead of spoke.
“Yes, but just once. Last week. Thank you for inquiring. I am meeting a friend.” She waved to Justine, who offered proof by waving back.
Eleanor leaned close to Lottie. “Mama says he’s rich enough to have two women.” The two girls smiled as if they’d dispensed communication from a heavenly body.
“Then I must make certain to ask Madame Bourgeois to explain what she means.” Lottie waited for the girls to react to what she said, which they did with their O-shaped mouths, and then she smiled until her cheeks pinched the corners of her eyes and made it down the steps to hug her friend.