John, the similarity to Frederic went beyond appearance. John was so self-assured, directed himself with such purpose, that Paul couldn’t hope to compete. Suddenly, she was ill at ease with her mutinous musings.
“Will you monitor my bedtime preparations like you do Pierre, my Charm?” he quipped as he worked at his belt buckle. “Or must I beg for some privacy?”
The twins giggled, and Charmaine’s cheeks flamed red, realizing she’d been absentmindedly scrutinizing him. “I—I’m terribly sorry!” she sputtered. “I didn’t mean to—I mean I was—”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” he interrupted with a chuckle.
Realizing the shirt was coming off next, Charmaine hurried to the door. But when she looked over her shoulder to bid them one last goodnight, she saw he’d merely untucked it and was already stretched out alongside Pierre.
“I’m bunking with you tonight, Pierre,” he said, unaware of her nettled regard.
She’d show him she wasn’t embarrassed! She marched to Jeannette’s bed. “Let me tuck you in, sweetheart,” she said, pulling the coverlet up and giving her a kiss. She did the same to Yvette. “No talking,” she ordered mildly, walking over to Pierre next. She picked his lamb off the floor and placed it in his arms, giving him a kiss on the forehead.
“Don’t I get one?” John asked in feigned disappointment.
The twins giggled.
“I only kiss good boys.”
The twins giggled again.
“Bad boys are more fun to kiss.”
The giggles grew louder.
“Goodnight, Master John.”
The children’s glee followed her into her bedchamber.
“You two had better stop laughing,” he warned, “or else Mademoiselle Ryan will tan my hide. Kissing I can take. A spanking? Never!”
Paul was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. The day had been blisteringly hot and his chambers were uncomfortably warm. Presently, he stood on the balcony taking in the cool night air. It was impossible to keep up the exacting pace of running Charmantes and developing Espoir at the same time. Thankfully, George was back, but even so, critical problems ultimately fell into his lap, the biggest of all, the infant tobacco fields. Not so terrible if he wasn’t needed on Espoir, but he was. Supplies had arrived, new construction hadcommenced, and fresh cane tracts were planted. It demanded a week of his time. His brother had experience with tobacco. Paul wondered if John would agree to help out while he was away.
Voices seeped into Charmaine’s dreams, melded, then abruptly broke away, snapping her awake. It was dark, but the voices came again—from the children’s room—one of them deep and irate. She jumped up and opened the door.
John stood in the center of the room, holding a distraught Joseph Thornfield by the scruff of the neck and pointing to a crumpled sheet that lay at his feet.
“I told you, sir,” the boy stuttered fearfully, “I didn’t mean any harm!”
“ Didn’t mean any harm? ” John expostulated. “You come creeping through the French doors in the middle of the night, draped in a white sheet, and you’re telling me you didn’t mean any harm?”
“No, sir.”
“John—I mean, sir,” Charmaine corrected, “please—let him go.”
“ Let him go? Can’t you see what he’s been up to tonight?”
“I can see, but it’s not all his doing. Is it, Yvette?”
John’s brow knitted, befuddled, but when Yvette threw Joseph a murderous scowl, he understood.
“It was only a wager,” she replied defensively. “And I tell you now, Joseph Thornfield, you did not frighten me, so you have not won the bet.”
“ A wager? ” John railed, shaking the lad hard. “You’re telling me you’ve crept into this room—God knows how many times—just to win a wager?”
“It was only tonight, sir!”
“That’s a lie!” Yvette blazed. “You’ve frightened Jeannette before!”
“I have not! I swear I haven’t! This was the very first time!”
“You’re just saying that
“Will you monitor my bedtime preparations like you do Pierre, my Charm?” he quipped as he worked at his belt buckle. “Or must I beg for some privacy?”
The twins giggled, and Charmaine’s cheeks flamed red, realizing she’d been absentmindedly scrutinizing him. “I—I’m terribly sorry!” she sputtered. “I didn’t mean to—I mean I was—”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” he interrupted with a chuckle.
Realizing the shirt was coming off next, Charmaine hurried to the door. But when she looked over her shoulder to bid them one last goodnight, she saw he’d merely untucked it and was already stretched out alongside Pierre.
“I’m bunking with you tonight, Pierre,” he said, unaware of her nettled regard.
She’d show him she wasn’t embarrassed! She marched to Jeannette’s bed. “Let me tuck you in, sweetheart,” she said, pulling the coverlet up and giving her a kiss. She did the same to Yvette. “No talking,” she ordered mildly, walking over to Pierre next. She picked his lamb off the floor and placed it in his arms, giving him a kiss on the forehead.
“Don’t I get one?” John asked in feigned disappointment.
The twins giggled.
“I only kiss good boys.”
The twins giggled again.
“Bad boys are more fun to kiss.”
The giggles grew louder.
“Goodnight, Master John.”
The children’s glee followed her into her bedchamber.
“You two had better stop laughing,” he warned, “or else Mademoiselle Ryan will tan my hide. Kissing I can take. A spanking? Never!”
Paul was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. The day had been blisteringly hot and his chambers were uncomfortably warm. Presently, he stood on the balcony taking in the cool night air. It was impossible to keep up the exacting pace of running Charmantes and developing Espoir at the same time. Thankfully, George was back, but even so, critical problems ultimately fell into his lap, the biggest of all, the infant tobacco fields. Not so terrible if he wasn’t needed on Espoir, but he was. Supplies had arrived, new construction hadcommenced, and fresh cane tracts were planted. It demanded a week of his time. His brother had experience with tobacco. Paul wondered if John would agree to help out while he was away.
Voices seeped into Charmaine’s dreams, melded, then abruptly broke away, snapping her awake. It was dark, but the voices came again—from the children’s room—one of them deep and irate. She jumped up and opened the door.
John stood in the center of the room, holding a distraught Joseph Thornfield by the scruff of the neck and pointing to a crumpled sheet that lay at his feet.
“I told you, sir,” the boy stuttered fearfully, “I didn’t mean any harm!”
“ Didn’t mean any harm? ” John expostulated. “You come creeping through the French doors in the middle of the night, draped in a white sheet, and you’re telling me you didn’t mean any harm?”
“No, sir.”
“John—I mean, sir,” Charmaine corrected, “please—let him go.”
“ Let him go? Can’t you see what he’s been up to tonight?”
“I can see, but it’s not all his doing. Is it, Yvette?”
John’s brow knitted, befuddled, but when Yvette threw Joseph a murderous scowl, he understood.
“It was only a wager,” she replied defensively. “And I tell you now, Joseph Thornfield, you did not frighten me, so you have not won the bet.”
“ A wager? ” John railed, shaking the lad hard. “You’re telling me you’ve crept into this room—God knows how many times—just to win a wager?”
“It was only tonight, sir!”
“That’s a lie!” Yvette blazed. “You’ve frightened Jeannette before!”
“I have not! I swear I haven’t! This was the very first time!”
“You’re just saying that
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