The Pelican Bride Read Online Free Page B

who needs it.” At her alarmed gasp, he laughed. “Don’t worry, I can be subtle when necessary.”
    Geneviève eyed him with mock severity. “Wise as a serpent, hmm?”
    “Quite.” He drew her toward an officer supervising the removal of luggage from the cart. “Pardon, m’sieur, can you advise us as to the procedure for boarding?”
    The officer turned and removed his hat to wipe his forehead, revealing a curly mop of red hair. Geneviève recognized the young officer from the dining hall.
    He bowed. “Good morning, Father, mademoiselle.” Rising, he gestured toward the swarm of activity surrounding the lading process. “As you can see, we are not quite ready for boarding, but your punctuality is commendable.” His gaze found Geneviève’s. “And how did you ladies pass the night? I hope you fared well on your first day in the New World.”
    “Tolerably,” she said without much enthusiasm. The scuttling nighttime noises had been different from, but no less disconcerting than, that of the rats which infested the Pélican . And Aimée’s nightmare couldn’t be mentioned. “I must thank you again for your men’s willingness to sacrifice their beds in our favor.”
    “It is no sacrifice when one reflects that those beds may soon be jointly warmed.” His sly tone was mitigated by a twinkle in the greenish eyes. “Within the bonds of matrimony, that is, begging your pardon, Father.”
    Father Mathieu laughed. “No offense taken, my son. I’m sure you young men have been looking forward to the company of our gentle beauties.”
    “And the reality far exceeds the hope. But we have not been properly introduced.” The officer bowed once more, this time with a flourish of his plumed hat. “I am Aide-Major Julien Dufresne, at your service.”
    Geneviève dipped a curtsey. “I am Geneviève Gaillain. This is Father Mathieu.”
    Dufresne took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Mademoiselle, I am enchanted.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder as he rose. “One of these young ladies is your sister, if I’m not mistaken. I see the familial resemblance.”
    Geneviève turned and found Aimée and the other three girls clustered in a tittering knot a few paces away. “Yes, come here, girls. I wish you to meet Aide-Major Dufresne.”
    All four spilled forward and introduced themselves with a rush of giggles and curtsies.
    “Barbe Savarit!”
    “Ysabeau Bonnet— bon jour , m’sieur.”
    “Élisabeth le Pinteaux.” Poor Élisabeth, shy and still weak from the fever, looked as if she might faint.
    Aimée took the girl’s arm and gave a regal nod. “We are pleased to make your acquaintance, m’sieur. I am Aimée Gaillain.”
    Dufresne kissed each girl’s hand in turn. “Enchanted,” he murmured, lingering over Aimée’s slim fingers. He released her only when she gave an impatient tug. With a small smile, Dufresne addressed the priest. “If you will escort your fair charges to the end of the pier, we shall begin boarding as soon as all have arrived.” He bowed, then returned to his duties without a backward glance.
    Sensing trouble, Geneviève glanced at her sister.
    Clearly piqued, Aimée shrugged. “Come, girls, let us watch to make sure these oafs don’t drop our baggage into the ocean.” Lifting her skirts, she flounced toward the activity near the gangplank.
    The other three girls hurried after her, leaving Geneviève to follow on the arm of the priest. Oafs? From whence had her common-born little sister arrived at the notion that she was better than anyone else, particularly men who were doing her a service? Her assumption of Aimée’s naïveté might be a bit over-hopeful. Father Mathieu would have his work cut out for him, keeping those four on a leash.

3
    T he sixty-foot, seven-ton barque Tristan used for transporting supplies upriver fought the current despite the best efforts of the oarsmen to set her course. It was going to be a long trip, especially if the women kept rocking the