He winked broadly. “Well, now, not quite every last man, or I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”
“You were not guilty, monsieur?” asked Ceci innocently, bouncing one of the little boys on her knee.
“Nay, lass, let’s just say I found another berth before the trial,” he said, and winked again before he turned back to Josh. “But this business about your sister, Cap’n. I can’t find the sense to it. You know I’m not behind it. There’s a score of fellows in St-Pierre who’ll swear I haven’t left this island in twenty years.”
Josh sighed, believing him. Whatever wickedness Miller had done in his youth, he clearly wasn’t inclined that way now. “Can you think of anyone else who might have worked for Deveaux? On his lands or in his house?”
Miller thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nay, you’ll find nothing there. Cap’n Deveaux liked slaves on account of not having to pay them wages. He weren’t particular. Africans or white folks he’d captured, ‘twas all the same to him. But you won’t find none of them now, leastways not coming clear up to Newport to steal your sister.”
Josh sighed again, his frustration growing. The last thing he wanted was to return to his father empty-handed. Miller was his last hope. But where the devil could Rusa be?
“Is there no one else, Miller?” he asked. “A sister or brother, a widow or mistress?”
From the corner of his eye he saw how Ceci stiffened, and he promised himself to apologize to her later. He wouldn’t have asked the question before her if he hadn’t been so desperate.
“Mistresses? Cap’n Deveaux?” Miller laughed uneasily, glancing at Ceci and his wife. “Ah, Cap’n, surely you’ve heard about him and the women. He was as fine a sailor as any afloat, and the coolest man you’ve ever seen in a fight, but with women things were never right, if you con my meaning.”
But Josh wasn’t sure he did. “There were that many?”
“Nay, Cap’n, it weren’t the numbers of ladies, though there were a sight more’n I ever had in my bed, to be sure. It was how he treated them that wasn’t decent. He had strange ways of taking his pleasure, Cap’n, and—well, there were plenty of stories that don’t bear repeating now. But there weren’t no love in it, and no kindness, neither. I wouldn’t guess there’s any of them ladies now who’d think too kind of that Frenchman’s memory.”
“But that could be reason enough for them to act in his name,” said Josh slowly. “Can you recall any of their names, and if they still live on the island?”
Miller chuckled nervously. “Oh, Cap’n, it’s been almost thirty years now, and most of them ladies never was with him long enough for us to learn their names. I expect most of them are dead now, too, or wish they were. One of the last was like that, a pretty little thing when he first brung her to the house, but mad as a hare by the time he’d tired of her, right before the end.”
Josh saw how Ceci was sitting on the very edge of her chair, her hand twisting anxiously in her lap and her eyes enormous, and he wished now he’d spoken to Miller alone.
“S’il vous plaît, monsieur,” she said in a tiny, nervous voice. “If you please, do you recall that lady’s name?”
“Oh, aye, that one I do, on account of having her pointed out to me in her carriage. We thought she’d died in the fire, but up she popped years later, living grand in a house her son bought her. Still mad as they come, she is, and the son’s too much like his pa for comfort, but then, there’s all sorts in this world and likely the next, as well.”
“Her name, monsieur?” begged Ceci again. “The lady’s name?”
“Antoinette Géricault,” Miller said promptly. “Lives in a house in the Rue Roseau.”
Ceci leapt to her feet, her eyes shining. “Merci, monsieur, a thousand thanks!” she cried as she turned to Josh. “Is this not wonderful news, mon cher? My aunt still lives, and I have a cousin, too!”
“It may be more wonderful still, if you can wait a moment longer.” Lightly he rested a restraining hand across her shoulders. “You said the lady’s son is too much like the father. Do you know the man?”
“I thought I’d made that clear enough.” Miller looked sheepish. “He’s Deveaux’s bastard, of course. Michel Géricault. You’ve only to look him in the face to see it, and to hear the gossip, too.”
Michel Géricault. Josh nodded, certain this was one name he wouldn’t forget. He’d stake his life that Géricault was the man who had his sister. No, more than that: he was staking Jerusa’s life, too.
And he’d pray to God he was right.
“Such wonderful news!” sighed Ceci happily yet again as they left the boat at the wharf. “Such wonderful news for us both, Josh!”
More realistic, Josh merely patted her hand. As useful as it was, learning Géricault’s name was only the beginning of what he and his father must still do to find Jerusa.
“And consider, Josh, how proud your father will be of you!” She sighed blissfully, looping her arm through his, and he thought of how impossibly dear her little face had become to him.
“Then will you come with me when I tell him?” he asked, and as soon as he’d said it the idea seemed perfect. “Come with me now, Ceci, back to the Tiger. Father wants to meet you, and this would be as good a time as any.”
Her eyes widened and she stopped walking. “To meet your father?” she squeaked. “Now? Oh, Josh, I am not ready for that! Look at me, my clothes, my hair—”
“You look beautiful,” he said warmly, and he meant it. Gently he guided her into an arched doorway, out of the street. “Come with me now, Ceci. Please.”
“Oh, Josh,” she murmured as she searched his face. “I do not know.”
But when he kissed her, he knew everything. He knew that he loved her, and that somehow, miraculously, she loved him in return, and that when he sailed from St-Pierre, she would be with him in the captain’s cabin of the Tiger, and that Newport would never be quite the same dull place once she was there with him.
“I love you, Ceci,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion as he cradled her face in his hands. “I love you, mon chère.”
Her cheeks were pink and her eyes now were wide with wonder and joy. “It’s ma chère, Josh, not mon,” she whispered. “But, oh, I did not dare to dream!”
“Then don’t.” Gently he pulled away her scarf so he could tangle his fingers in her soft curls. “Just say you love me.”
“Oh, Josh, I do, oh, so much!” She reached up to slip her arms around his neck and pulled him lower to kiss him herself.
“Then say you’ll come back to Newport with me, Ceci. Say you’ll marry me.”
She gasped, stunned. “But this is so rapid, Josh, I do not know what to say!”
“Say yes.” He chuckled, delighted that he’d surprised her this way. Hell, he’d surprised himself.
“But that a man like you should wish to marry Ceci Noire, la! You are an English shipmaster, a fine gentleman, and so very handsome and clever!”
And not a word about being a Sparhawk, he thought happily. Lord, she loved him for who he was, not his father’s name, and he loved her all the more for it.
“It