Aunt Adelie felt she’d scored a point against her brother when Gervaise Belmont joined Marie and Nefis at the rear of the riding party. Marie instantly latched on to him as an escape from Nefis, and visibly snubbed the latter for the rest of the ride.
Marie was feeling vaguely triumphant herself, and began to think that the house party was going better than she anticipated. When she got back to the stables, however, her optimism was proven completely futile.
She was the last person in the stable after the ride, meandering about and stroking her brother’s horses when she glanced up and saw Trebout enter the stable. She found it odd that the head butler should condescend to enter the stables. Her curiosity mounted into complete surprise when he strode up to her and handed her a note.
“Trebout, what…?”
He held a finger to his lips and said no more, slipping from the stables in an oddly furtive manner.
Marie was puzzled no longer when she saw to whom the letter was addressed. “Uma LaRoche,” it began, and was signed simply “Ben.”
Charles fortunately worked hard at the management of his estates and could be found alone every afternoon in his spacious study, alternately studying his paperwork and glancing out the windows.
Marie burst into the room, carelessly flinging the door shut behind her. She was still in her riding habit and utter dismay was written on her pallid countenance.
“What in heaven’s name is the matter?” Charles placidly demanded.
“This!” she exclaimed, brandishing the letter under his nose.
“I see,” he said, and continued writing.
Marie plunked herself down in the chair before his desk and took a breath.
“It’s from Ben,” she said quietly, allowing this to sink in before going on. “He asked to meet me in the north woods and I have gone and spoken with him.”
“Do you know how dangerous that is?” Charles threw down his pen, disgusted.
“Yes, I know,” she said defiantly. “But this is important. And it involves you.”
“Me? Marie, I have said it before: I will not be involved in your piratical fiascoes,” he glowered at her.
“Give me credit at least for coming to you about it!”
Charles sighed. “Alright, but cease yelling. Someone might hear.”
Marie deflated. She began to look afraid. “Charles, every time I come to visit you, I return to my ship almost a different person. For the first few weeks I’m shocked by what goes on aboard my ship. Even now, I feel I’m going soft, and I’m not sure what to do.”
Charles regarded her with rare sympathy.
“Alright, Marie. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Charles, do you remember the raid I told you about near Sardinia, and the captain of the Specchio for whom the raid was a trap?” Charles nodded. “Well, he found out what I was going to do, somehow, and followed the Syrène to the port.”
“Our port? Marie!”
She nodded. “He wants to pillage the town to find me and punish me. He may even come here.”
“Does he know your secret then?”
“No! No; he merely thinks the Syrène has docked here for supplies. My crew thinks so too. As far as Genovese is concerned, this is just a good town to plunder while looking for me.
“My crew thinks I’m at the docks on business. Ben found out when he did come ashore for supplies, and he’s afraid Genovese will come as far as your estate in his search.”
Charles rubbed his eyes. “This is too close to home.” He groaned. “Well, Marie? When’s he going to attack? I hope I’ll have time to send my guests home without any hint of his plans.”
Marie swallowed. “I’m afraid not,” she said, pained. “Ben heard he was going to begin his raid tomorrow night.”
This pronouncement fell like a rock on Charles’ head, and he turned first crimson then ghastly white.
“I,” he croaked, “am going to have upwards of five hundred people here tomorrow night.” He let his head fall into his hands.
“Is there any chance of getting out of this with your secret still hidden?” he said between his fingers.
“Yes, if you let me out of the ball to meet him in battle before he gets anywhere near here.”
"Out of… no, Marie. Uncle insists you be there. I don’t know what he has planned but he wants you to hear it. Order your crew to fight this Genovese.”
“My crew won’t fight without me. They’re too loyal.”
“But you’re acting as hostess.”
“Let Aunt Adelie do it. She’d love to. But let me go fight. Not just for our sake, but for the whole town. I will not be the cause of anyone’s death. Not if I can help it.”
Charles sighed. “How will you explain your absence?”
“I’ll come up with something.” It was her turn to sigh. “I just regret I won’t get to wear the green dress.”
To the delight of every unattached male in residence at the Duke’s estate, an angel arrived the next day in blonde and blue-eyed glory and Marie was upstaged. Marie, however, was the last person to notice because she was busy with last-minute fittings for a gown she would not wear, and then a surreptitious rendezvous in the woods.
Benoit Daladier, footman-turned-pirate, awaited Marie alone, his curly brown hair falling over one eye so that the other eye might more powerfully glare at her. Though she was his captain and his better, he considered himself in the role of older brother and so disagreed with her audacity to meet him in her gentlewoman’s garb.
“Why in Heaven are you not in disguise?” were his first words to her.
“Hush, Ben. Trust me to know what I’m doing. Do you realize I had to forgo wearing the most beautiful gown in France to fight off pirates that you allowed to follow us here?”
He beheld her with a look rife with unbelief.
“We were supposed to be in Sardinia,” he reminded her, crossing his arms.
Her lips twitched upward.
“Hmm. Well, have I ever been known to let trifles bother me? I believe I shall enjoy a bloody battle more than an elegant evening.”
“No doubt. In any case, Uma, we will lose that battle if we don’t get a plan of action.”
“No. I know this town better than Genovese. We will trounce him. However, the crew doesn’t know the town, and therein lies our only problem. Ben, we will lure Genovese’s crew to the square where my crew will have the advantage.”
“So near your brother’s estate?”
“Yes. That can’t be helped. Besides, it allows me to slip away from the ball and return quickly and raise no fuss.”
“And If you’re injured? How will you explain that?”
“You will attend to me, and I will lie up for a few days and the guests will assume that the same illness which prevented my attendance at the ball still lingers. But I will not be injured.”
“Of course not,” he said dryly. He sighed. “Well then: where will I meet you tonight?”
postscript
Aha!! Inciting incident, new characters, and hints of action to come! Chapter four soon!