After they released one another, Madame Dumas still clutched her shoulders. “Lottie, have you asked your grandparents why Paul Bastion?”
Lottie shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
“You need to ask them. Don’t be the last person to know.”
* * * * *
She found her grandparents in the library. Grand-mère and a hill of mending competed for space on the small settee, which had been moved from its usual place and was now closer to the tall windows. At first glance, Lottie thought her grandfather was reading a book, until she stepped into the room and saw the cover. It was a book, but it was one of his ledger books where he kept records of his business and his clients’ accounts.
They both looked up when she entered the room. Her grandfather smiled and closed his ledger. “Did you enjoy yourself, p’tit?”
Lottie hesitated. Should she broach the question about Paul now? Soon Gabriel would be here, and she did not want the lingering feelings of that conversation to follow her the remainder of the day. Knowing the reason for their decision would not change the making of it, so waiting for the answer would not change the substance of it. Were she to plan the possibility of misery, she did not want it to be today.
“Yes, Grand-père, very much so. Being at the Dumas house is always enlightening.”
“Are you still intending to visit that orphanage with Gabriel Girod?” Grand-mère picked up a ruffled petticoat and examined it.
Lottie could have substituted “to pick a field of cotton” as her intention and the sound of her grandmother’s voice would not have changed. “Of course. As the future wife of a wealthy man, would I not want to appear concerned about the less fortunate?”
Her grandmother managed a “Hmpf,” and continued stitching.
Grand-père quickly reopened his ledger, and he briefly cut his eyes in his wife’s direction. His pursed lips were a sure sign of his attempt to stifle the smile that threatened his lips.
“I’m going upstairs to refresh myself and rest a bit,” Lottie said and left the study.
* * * * *
Partly to cheer herself, Lottie selected a bright turquoise-blue gown belted at the waist with a gold buckle and bands of white-lace ruffles and tucked fabric that ran from the waist to the hemline. A pair of soft blue gloves and a black cape with blue bows to match her bonnet finished her outfit. She pulled her curls to the back, and after seeing her pale cheeks in the mirror, she pinched them to draw some color into her face. If only pinching her eyes would brighten them.
Lottie gathered the gloves, bonnets, and underpinnings she planned to carry with her today. She didn’t find her grandparents in the library or anywhere else downstairs, so she assumed they were napping. She located the basket of food she was to take with them—Agnes had filled it before leaving this morning—and waited for Gabriel in the rocker on the gallery. Since their encounter the day before, Lottie had wished she could have forbidden herself to think of him. It might have been easier to forbid herself to breathe. She couldn’t control the way she felt when Gabriel neared her any more than the earth could control the moon’s tug on its waters. And when his lips touched her fingertips, Romeo’s words to Juliet, “let lips do what hands do,” never became more alive than they did at that moment.
But what did Gabriel know that she did? Or, worse, that she didn’t? Paul would be visiting again tomorrow, and just the thought of sitting in the same room with him repulsed her. If they could spend their married lives in different rooms, which might be likely considering the situation with his placée, then Lottie could tolerate him. Unlike the man who walked through the courtyard so tall that, should they be close enough, she could hear his heartbeat. He sidestepped where Abram had been in the process of placing new bricks along the flower ledge, and when his face lifted, Lottie’s skin warmed with the sight of his dark eyes focused on her and his lips slowly responding with a smile.
She met him before he reached the gallery, thankful for the cold wind that would account for the blush on her face. “Agnes prepared this. She must have intended for you to carry it, because it’s quite heavy.”
He relieved her of the basket of breads, rice, and yams. “Good to see you,” Gabriel said.
“And you.” How was it that his reply could leave her both sad and happy?
They walked in silence for some time.
“At least you don’t need to be concerned that I will hold your hand on the way,” Gabriel said.
Lottie stared straight ahead, else her disappointment be obvious. “No, I’m not concerned,” she responded, employing her best matter-offact voice.