Page 108 of Echo in the Wind

She let go of him to search for wounds and found none. “You and M’sieur Bequel are well?” she asked, her gaze shifting from Donet to his quartermaster standing just behind him.

“We are fine, chérie. Rest assured, there will be no attacks on my carriage in the future. The deaths of my father and brother have been avenged, sending a message that will deter any others.”

“You killed the bad man who killed my papa?” asked Zoé from behind Joanna. “Tell me you did, mon oncle. I want him to be dead.” The child’s bold manner did not surprise Joanna. Zoé was a lot like her uncle.

Donet leaned down to give his niece a hug. “The bad men are gone, ma petite. Now we must look to the future. Has Lady Joanna told you she is to become my wife?”

“Oui! I am so happy. She says I’m to live with you always.”

Joanna reached down to take Zoé’s hand, and the girl smiled up at her.

Donet gave them each a kiss. “Mes amours.”

M’sieur Bequel stepped close and, in his rough voice, said, “I don’t suppose any of ye are hungry? A good fight always gives me un appétit.”

Zoé laughed. “You are always hungry, Monsieur Bequel!” Then to Joanna she said, “When we went to Paris to see the sights, he stopped often to eat at the cafés. And he drank two lemonades!”

The quartermaster smiled sheepishly and turned his eyes on the floor. A lock of russet hair fell onto his forehead. “’Twas a warm day.”

The wedding took place two days later. The king gave Jean permission for them to marry in the lower chapel of the magnificent Sainte-Chapelle, the place of worship for the king’s household.

He’d had just enough time to secure the ring, a gold band with stars etched all around. Engraved inside in English were the words, “Many are the stars I see, but in my eyes no star like thee.” When he’d seen it in the goldsmith’s shop, he knew it would remind them of the night sky and perhaps also the planetarium clock they had argued about in London, a memory that always brought a smile to his face.

Joanna loved the ring. He promised to buy her a sapphire the color of the sky on the night they met when they arrived on Guernsey where his whole crew and many merchants would attend the Anglican ceremony.

The small ceremony in the Sainte-Chapelle was attended by a few of Jean’s friends, including Vergennes, the American statesman Benjamin Franklin, and Gaspar, Flèche and Gabrielle.

In the front of the chapel, his niece stood with Joanna, each holding a small bouquet of roses, and Émile stood next to Jean.

When the short ceremony was concluded, they all retired to Jean’s townhouse for a wedding breakfast.

He and Joanna had a most delicious night in his bed as man and wife. The next day they left for Le Havre and Guernsey.

Joanna loved the island, as he knew she would. Not being precisely England or France, the independently minded island would make them a fine home when they weren’t in Saintonge, Lorient or Paris.

He would take Joanna to England to visit her family, but he had no desire to live there.

Chapter 26

The Harrows, near Chichester, West Sussex, England

Joanna sat on the terrace that graced the side of the house, enjoying the quiet morning and the peace that had always been a part of The Harrows. Her new husband and Zoé were still upstairs, sleeping after their late night celebrating with Freddie.

Nora, who was up before Joanna, was showing Gabrielle the kitchens.

Joanna’s time to herself did not last long. She heard a carriage arrive and, moments later, Richard stepped onto the terrace. Realizing he might not know she’d been gone, as quickly as she could, she explained she was now a married woman.

“Married! What do you mean you are married? When did this happen?” Richard’s face turned red beneath his neatly queued auburn hair.

“Richard, you knew nothing of my letter?”

“May I remind you, Sister, I have only just arrived. What letter?”

She let out a sigh. “Oh, very well.” Her younger brother strode through the doors to join them. “Here is Freddie.” Looking at her younger brother, she said, “Freddie, do you have the letter I sent?”

“Hello, Richard,” he said. “Welcome home.” Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Freddie handed Richard the letter she had sent from Paris. “Joanna informs us she has wed the comte de Saintonge, twice as a matter of fact. You remember he is that friend of Lady Danvers. We met him at the reception for Mr. Pitt.”

“I remember,” said Richard, ripping the letter from Freddie’s fingers. “But I recall no request for your hand, Sister.”