At home again, Gerard was the one who gave Nicole trouble. The little man backed away from her in disgust.
“It was disgusting enough to have to sell ladies’ dresses.” He stopped and smoothed his hair. It was cut in the Brutus style, fashionably shaggy and unkempt. It lay close to his head, limp, without body or curl. “Of course, the women were pleased to meet me. They were not like the people in this house. They liked the stories of my family, the magnificent Courtalains.”
“Since when has Nicole’s family become yours?” Janie snapped.
“See!” Gerard shouted. “I am unappreciated.”
“Both of you, stop it,” Nicole said. “I’m tired of hearing you bicker. Gerard, you have proved yourself a perfect salesman. The women love your accent and your charming manners.”
He preened under her compliments.
“If you want, you may give the handbills to the farmers’ wives. In fact, that may be a good idea.”
“Handbills are not silks,” he muttered.
“But food is food,” Janie said. “And if you want any, you’ll work like the rest of us.”
Gerard took a step toward Janie, his upper lip curled into a sneer, but Nicole put her hand on his forearm and stopped him. He looked from her hand to her face, then back again. He covered her hand with his. “For you, I would do anything.”
Nicole, as politely as possible, moved away from him. “Isaac will row you up and down the river to the houses.”
Gerard smiled at her as if they were lovers, then quietly left the house.
“I don’t trust him,” Janie said.
Nicole waved her hand. “He’s harmless. He just wants us to treat him royally is all. He’ll soon learn.”
“You’re too generous. Just take my advice and stay well away from him.”
Spring came quickly to the Virginia countryside, and with it came the ripening of the early crops. It wasn’t long before the enormous grindstones in the mill were again turning after the long winter break. Nicole’s handbills worked, and farmers came from miles around to bring their grain to the mill.
Nicole never allowed herself a minute to relax. She hired another man to help in the fields that were seeded with barley and wheat. Gerard reluctantly helped at the mill, but he made it clear that he considered the Americans beneath him. Nicole kept reminding him that her grandfather the duke had worked in a grain mill for two years.
No one seemed to consider the idea of the twins returning to Clay, and Nicole knew it was a sign of his trust in her. Once a week, Isaac rowed the children across the river to visit their uncle.
“He looks bad,” Isaac said once after he returned.
Nicole didn’t bother to ask whom he meant. In spite of all her work, Clay was never far from her mind.
“He drinks too much. I never knew him to drink so much before”
Nicole turned away. She should feel glad he was so miserable, since he certainly deserved it. But somehow she wasn’t glad. She left Isaac and went to the vegetable garden. Maybe a few hours of hoeing would keep her mind off Clay.
An hour later, Nicole leaned against a tree and wiped her forearm across her face. She was hot and sweaty from the vigorous hoeing.
“Here, I brought you something,” Gerard said as he handed her a glass of cool lemonade.
She nodded her gratitude and gulped all of the liquid.
Gerard brushed a piece of grass from the sleeve of her cotton dress. “You shouldn’t be out here in the sun. It will ruin that beautiful complexion of yours.” He ran his hand down her arm.
Nicole was too tired to move away from him. They stood in a deeply shaded place, out of sight of the house and mill.
“I’m glad we have this time alone,” he said, moving closer to her. “It’s strange that we live in the same house, yet we rarely have a chance to be alone, to have a private conversation.”
Nicole didn’t want to offend him, but neither did she want to encourage him. She stepped away. “You could talk to me at any time, I hope you know that.”
He moved near her again, his hand running up and down her arm, caressing it. “You’re the only one here who understands me.” He spoke in French, moving his face closer to hers. “We’re from the same country, the same people. No one else knows what France is like now. We’re drawn closer together by our common bond.”