Page 5 of Echo in the Wind

He attributed Claire’s good upbringing to her early years with her mother and, after Ariane’s death, the teaching of the Ursuline Sisters of Saint-Denis, not to anything he had done.

“There must be something more behind Henri’s bequest. My father ordered Henri to break contact with me and he complied, though not happily. A decade ago, he sent me a letter expressing his regret for the family lost to me and telling me his wife had finally conceived.” He paused, reflecting. “Still, entrusting me with his only child is more than I could have foreseen.”

Émile raised a brow. “So, now that he has, ye’re to be a father once again.”

Jean gave his quartermaster a sharp glance. “We will see.”

Chapter 2

The Harrows, near Chichester, West Sussex

At the bottom of the stairs, the sound of a flute caused Joanna to veer from her intended destination and strike out for the music room.

Her grandfather, the first Earl of Torrington, had built The Harrows as a grand estate for his family. The three-story rectangular house, outbuildings and stables were his creation, but Joanna’s parents had changed a charming room in one corner of the house with south-facing windows into a music room for the family. Each of their children had been encouraged to become proficient with an instrument. Joanna could play a fair cello but nothing like the talent her mother had displayed.

“You are late!” Freddie scolded, setting down his flute as she entered. The light from the branched candlestick on the table where he’d propped up his music score set his face aglow.

His auburn hair, darker than hers, was tied back in a queue. It made him appear years older, and his light brown coat made his brown eyes seem darker. Underneath the coat, a thin slice of his moss green waistcoat revealed elaborate gold brocade trim. She smiled to herself thinking of the pains Freddie had taken with his attire.

“At least I am ready,” she told him. “What about Tillie?” Her younger sister, Lady Matilda West, nineteen and relishing the idea of her first Season, would be anxious for the evening’s celebration. It marked not just the Prime Minister’s Tories having swept the general election, but one of the first social events since Tillie’s come out. Unlike Joanna, her sister looked forward to balls, house parties and… marriage.

“Tillie popped her head in a few minutes ago but left to look for you. Richard, too, has been asking for you.”

“It takes a lady so much longer to dress than a gentleman, Freddie. I’ll not bore you with the details, but stays and petticoats are a nuisance, and that does not begin to describe what I must endure to have fashionable hair. Piles of curls must be added to produce this coiffure. Without Nora’s skill, I’d not be standing here now.”

Joanna smiled at the thought of her maid’s fussing, a whole hour of chatter that was as much a part of her toilette as the pulling and poking of hairpins to secure her curls. Nora was Zack’s sister, as small and talkative as he was big and taciturn. As if the same litter had produced both a lap spaniel and a mastiff, no two siblings were ever so little alike. Both had brown hair, but Nora’s eyes were green, while Zack’s were hazel. And Nora was more attractive than her scarred brother would ever be handsome.

Freddie gave her an admiring glance. “Well, you look beautiful, so I suppose your maid deserves your praise.” He picked up his flute and gave her a smirk. “’Tis quite a change from last evening.”

She curtsied deeply and mirrored his smirk. “Why, thank you, kind sir. And you, little brother, are quite dignified this night.”

Freddie smiled, the mouthpiece of his flute paused in front of his lips. “By the bye, where have you been all day?”

“In the village. I had to assure the brandy was properly diluted and doused with burnt sugar. And there were deliveries to arrange.” It was only after Joanna’s eyes had been opened to the plight of the poor in Chichester that she realized the tea and brandy her family consumed were made reasonable in cost because they were unaccustomed, which is to say smuggled, goods. And some who looked the other way, like the vicar, received his tea at no cost. After a run, there were many to satisfy so that their trade could proceed unhindered.

“The vicar?”

Joanna nodded. “Aye. And the proprietor of the White Horse Inn was running low on his supply of brandy.”

“I could have helped.” Her brother looked disappointed that she had not included him.

“There was no need. Zack did much of the mixing. Besides, I wanted to look in on the Ackermans. The whole family is ill with the ague; the mother is only now recovering. Nora and I took them some broth, bread and tea, then stayed to see to the children.” The worried faces of the younger ones, concerned about their mother since their father had died a year ago, lingered in Joanna’s mind. “I will go again tomorrow.”

“Be prepared for Richard to expect you in London.”

Joanna sighed. “Oh, dear. I was hoping to escape this Season.”

“Not likely, but I can keep things going with Zack and the others till you return.”

“I will try and avoid London if I can.” The back of Joanna’s throat began to itch and, with a sudden intake of breath, she sneezed. “Ah choo!”

“Over there,” said Freddie in a quieter voice, pointing to a chair in the far corner of the room.

Asleep with her cat, Aloysius, curled up in her lap, Aunt Hetty reclined in a blue-gray gown the color of her eyes, currently hidden beneath closed lids. A swath of white lace graced her bodice and cascaded from her elbows. Her unpowdered silver hair was simply dressed. “You might have told me. What if she’d heard us?”

“No chance of that. She’s not likely to be hearing anything.”

Casting a glance at her aunt, she noted the steady rise and fall of her chest, satisfied she was truly asleep. “Your flute playing put the old girl to sleep?”