The Fur Trader’s Lady (Ladies of the Wilderness #1)

10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

L ight and laughter spilled out the windows of the Great Hall as Charlotte and Reid walked up the path. The moon lay low and bright on the horizon, reflecting off Lake Superior. Waves beat against the shore beyond the stockade, and revelers stood around two large campfires that burned bright in the yard. Both men and women moved in and out of the Great Hall. The Indian and mixed-blood women wore surprisingly modern gowns that would rival any Charlotte had seen in England. In the darkness, it was hard to distinguish them from their European counterparts.

“I wish I was escorting you to this dance with you dressed like one of those fine women,” Reid said quietly. “Every man in this fort would be jealous.”

Warmth filled her cheeks, and she was thankful it was too dark for him to see her response. A longing to be adorned like one of the women filled her so completely that she ached with it. How she wished Reid could see her in more than men’s clothing. Even when she had gone to him in Montreal, she’d looked like a rag woman. The next morning, she’d been clean, but she’d been clothed in his cook’s large, old-fashioned nightgown.

Every day since then, she’d been dressed as she was now.

But none of that mattered as long as she was reunited with Stephen at the end—at least, that’s what she continued to tell herself. It was only vanity making her long to be beautiful again.

They walked up the stairs and across the porch. Lanterns hung from hooks, illuminating men laughing and talking with drinks in their hands. The women present were not the same women who had served their meals. These women were refined and well mannered. Some had such fair complexions she had a hard time believing they weren’t European.

“Many of the shareholders’ wives and daughters have joined us this evening,” Reid commented as they walked past a group of four young women giggling and flirting with several clerks.

They passed over the threshold and into the Great Hall, where the tables had been pushed against the walls. The center of the room was full of men and women dancing. In one corner, three musicians played a waltz Charlotte had heard a hundred times. The familiarity of the song clashed with the knowledge that she was thousands of miles from civilized society.

“Some of the women here could pass as gentry from home,” Charlotte said. “I had no idea they’d be so fine.”

Reid handed her a glass of punch. “Many have fathers from Europe and mothers who are mixed-blood, so they are only a quarter Indian. Most are sent to Montreal—and even some to Europe—to be educated. The majority return to the interior, because they are not accepted anywhere else.” He took a sip of his punch, watching the dancers twirl around the floor. “There is a whole race of people in the northwest that did not exist a hundred and fifty years ago before the fur trade began. They do not fit in anywhere else but here.”

Charlotte watched the women in fascination. They dressed, danced, and flirted like the women she’d known all her life, though there were subtle differences. Their accents were unlike any she’d ever heard. Not quite the same as the Indians she’d encountered on their way to Grand Portage, but not quite French, English, or Scottish either. Most had dark hair and eyes, but some had blue eyes and lighter hair. There were even a few with red hair among them.

But all were beautiful and exotic to Charlotte, who felt woefully unattractive, though she wore a brand new suit of clothes, which Reid had purchased for her that afternoon after her other suit was ruined. He’d insisted, and she’d acquiesced, only to make him happy. It was chocolate-brown serge that matched the color of her eyes and made her hair look darker.

Calum entered the Great Hall, and she stiffened. She’d tried to beg off coming to the dance, not wanting to see him again, but Reid had encouraged her to come. He said it would be the last opportunity for civilized company until he returned this way again next year. When she told him she’d rather not, he said he’d stay with her then—but she didn’t want to deny him the opportunity to visit with these people. They were his friends, his surrogate family—who was she to ask him to stay away?

Reid moved closer to her, though she didn’t think he realized it.

Calum held a glass of sparkling red liquid while he laughed and joked loudly with several men and women. His movements were already affected by drink. He swayed but caught himself before falling.

Charlotte wanted to hate him, but she chose to feel sorry for him, instead. She’d been spared a horrible experience and was thankful that God had brought Reid at the right moment. It was yet one more atrocious experience on this journey, and she was determined not to let it define her.

“Do you dance?” Reid stepped in her line of sight so she didn’t have to look at Calum.

“I love to dance.” Already, her feet were tapping in time to the music.

“I do as well.” He leaned close to her ear. “I wish I could ask you to dance.”

Pleasure shivered up her neck, but she schooled her face to remain unaffected. Why was he suddenly acting this way? Was it the allure of the evening? The pleasure of fine company? Whatever it was, she’d like him to stop. It did funny things inside of her, made her feel things she’d never felt before—things she didn’t think would please Stephen.

“Monsieur McCoy.” An exquisitely dressed woman sidled up to Reid, her long eyelashes dipping to her high cheekbones in a beguiling way, as her ebony hair shined in the lantern light. “I have not seen you for a long time.” She spoke in French, though her accent was not European. “I have missed you.”

“Mademoiselle Tremblay, may I present my clerk, Monsieur Crawford?”

Miss Tremblay offered a regal curtsy, her full purple gown splaying out on either side of her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She spoke to Charlotte, but her brown eyes stayed on Reid. “I have been waiting for you to ask me to dance,” she said to him.

Charlotte tried to look away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Miss Tremblay’s gown.

“I am not—” He paused. “I dinna think I’ll danc—”

“You should dance,” Charlotte said, not wanting him to refrain on her account—and needing a little space from the handsome fur trader.

“You see?” Miss Tremblay said. “Even your clerk wants you to dance.”

Reid glanced in Calum’s direction, uncertainty in his gaze making him hesitate.

“Go,” Charlotte said, though in truth, she didn’t feel like sending him away with this pretty woman. “I won’t wander far.”

He finally nodded and bowed to Miss Tremblay. Taking her arm, he led her into the group of dancers and began to spin her around the room.

An Indian woman appeared at Charlotte’s elbow with a tray of roasted beef. “The meal is served.”

Charlotte moved out of her way and noticed the table laden with food behind her. It was being served buffet style.

She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and her stomach growled. A crowd of people gathered around the food quickly. If she wanted to eat, she’d need to move fast.

“Mr. Crawford?” An older voyageur stopped before Charlotte with a woman at his side. There were only a few voyageurs in the room, and Charlotte had guessed they were the highly respected guides. The rest were the gentlemen bourgeois and their wives and daughters.

Charlotte nodded. “I’m Crawford.”

“I’m Jean-Paul Michaud, and this is my wife Noemie.” He bowed and his wife curtsied. “I will guide the brigade to Crow Wing.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The three of them moved toward the buffet table, where they waited in line.

“Reid is an old friend.” Jean-Paul’s kind blue eyes softened. “He is like a son to Noemie and me.”

Noemie nodded and smiled. She was a mixed-blood woman with silky black hair streaked with gray. Though she wore a beautiful red gown, her ears were adorned with beaded Indian earrings.

Charlotte warmed to this couple immediately and was thankful they would travel with her to Crow Wing. She also loved knowing they were Reid’s friends. Somehow, that made her feel like she already knew them.

And even if Noemie couldn’t know that Charlotte was a woman, it was a relief to have another woman nearby.

From where Charlotte stood, she had a good view of Reid as he danced with Miss Tremblay. The young woman was smitten with him—it was written all over her face. Did Reid know? He was attentive to his dance partner, holding her close, smiling while he listened to her speak.

Jean-Paul and Noemie followed Charlotte’s gaze and then shared a secret smile of their own.

“Celeste will not let him go,” Noemie said, “now that she has him back.”

“Celeste?”

“Tremblay,” Noemie provided. “She is dancing with Reid. He was her father’s clerk for many seasons, and everyone thought they would marry.”

Jean-Paul handed a plate to his wife. “You are spreading gossip, my love.”

Noemie shook her head. “Everyone thought so—Celeste most of all.”

“What happened?” Charlotte couldn’t help but ask.

With a shrug, Noemie placed a scoop of roasted potatoes on her plate. “Who can tell in matters of love? A quarrel, perhaps.”

Jean-Paul clicked his tongue. “Hush, Noemie,” he chastised her gently. “Let them alone. If it’s meant to be, it will grow.”

“Sometimes a couple needs a little nudge.” Noemie placed a biscuit on her plate and winked at her husband playfully.

“I would still be single if she hadn’t nudged me all the way to the altar.” Jean-Paul laughed. “My wife is a matchmaker,” he explained to Charlotte. “Whether she’s asked or not.”

Noemie lifted her shoulder and shrugged. “I like to see people happy. Is there harm in that?”

Reid and Celeste were a handsome couple, and it was obvious Celeste still cared for him—so why had Reid not married her? Though Charlotte had spent six weeks with him, she realized she didn’t know him well at all. He was a private man and did not give information away freely.

“What about you, Mr. Crawford?” Noemie asked. “Do you have a girl?”

Charlotte paused, her hand gripping the ladle of corn. “No.”

“There are plenty here to choose from.”

“Now, now, Noemie,” Jean-Paul chided. “The boy is young. He has plenty of time before he needs to make that decision.”

“No one is ever too young to start looking.” She lowered her chin and studied Charlotte. “And he is a handsome boy—almost beautiful, if a man can be beautiful.”

Charlotte turned away, pretending to survey the food options. She did not want Noemie looking at her too closely.

“Is there someone in this room that has caught your attention?” Noemie asked.

There was someone who had her attention tonight, but she would never admit it to Noemie—didn’t want to admit it to herself either. Her gaze floated to Reid of its own accord. He was the handsomest man in the room. Taller than most, with broad shoulders, dark hair and eyes, and an air of confidence that made other men seem weak. But he was more than handsome—he was kind, courageous, and selfless. Any woman would notice—and many had.

“Ah, I see.” Noemie nudged Jean-Paul. “Our Mr. Crawford has already noticed at least one person in this room.”

Concern tightened the crease between Charlotte’s eyebrows.

“Celeste is a beautiful woman,” Noemie said with a knowing smile. “But you’ll have to draw her away from Reid first.”

Charlotte recoiled at the assumption the woman had made, but decided not to say anything, afraid she’d give herself away.

“Why don’t we eat and forget about this matchmaking?” Jean-Paul pointed to a table. “Would you care to join us, Mr. Crawford?”

Charlotte did not want to join them and risk Noemie’s prying.

“I think I will go onto the porch for some fresh air.”

Jean-Paul nodded and led his wife away.

Charlotte left the buffet and skirted around the dancers to step outside.

“I was sad when you left.” Celeste pouted and Reid tried not to sigh. It had been much the same with Celeste since she was old enough to bat her eyelashes at him.

“I had to return to Montreal. I told you that, lass.”

She shrugged. “You could have taken me with you.”

“It wouldna been proper.”

“If you’d marry me, I could go anywhere with you.” She moved closer to him than the dance required, her voice dripping with intimacy. “I’d go to the ends of the earth with you.”

He’d tried making it clear to her that he wasn’t interested, but it seemed Celeste needed another reminder. He stopped dancing. “I do not want to marry, Celeste. I’ve told you this.”

She lifted a delicate shoulder and readjusted his cravat, her eyelashes lowering with suggestion. “And I told you I don’t require marriage.”

“Your father would not agree.”

“I do not care about my father.”

“I do.” Her father was a wintering partner who had managed the Sault Saint Marie District. Reid had worked under him for several years before taking over his own post. He had nothing but respect for Monsieur Tremblay, though the older gentleman had spoiled his only daughter.

Celeste moved closer to Reid, brushing him with her body. “Are you certain?”

Reid had no desire for Charlotte to see him in this position with Celeste, so he stepped away from her and looked to see if Charlotte was watching.

But Charlotte was not with the Michauds, as he’d thought. And a glance around the room revealed she was no longer inside the Great Hall.

Alarm seized him, especially when he could not locate Calum either.

He didn’t bother to excuse himself but left Celeste to find Charlotte. He wanted to run, call out for Charlotte, but he didn’t want to bring attention to himself or her. Rushing onto the porch, he looked left and then right, his pulse throbbing in his ears—and then he saw her standing near the railing, a plate of food in her hands.

Relief made him weak, and he leaned against the doorframe. What was happening to him? He felt like a skittish colt.

Surely it was his debt to Stephen that had him acting this way. What would he say to Stephen if he handed Charlotte back misused or hurt? He couldn’t live with himself.

Charlotte had not noticed him but stood in the soft light of a lantern, looking wistfully toward the lake. Wind ruffled the curls near her face, teasing them out of her queue. What occupied her thoughts tonight?

A new waltz started, playing softly on the breeze.

If they were anywhere else, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d asked her to dance. He’d use almost any excuse to hold her again—and dancing seemed like the best one he could think of.

The light did not reach beyond the porch, and an idea came to him.

His boots clicked across the wide planks as he approached her.

“You gave me a scare, Charlie.”

Lowering her plate, she tore her gaze from the lake. Her eyes were large and beautiful, with long dark lashes. And when she looked at him in the soft light, she stole his breath away.

He stood beside her, collecting his thoughts for a moment. “I dinna ken where you went.”

She put down a biscuit and rubbed her fingers together, scattering crumbs on her plate. “I’m sorry I pulled you away from your dancing partner. You looked like you were having a good time.”

A group of gentlemen stood nearby, and their laughter overpowered Charlotte’s words. He almost missed what she said.

“’Tis true.” He took her plate and set it on a table near the window. “I like to dance.”

Reid started toward the steps on the end of the porch and tilted his head, indicating she should follow.

Charlotte pushed away from the railing and crossed the porch, following him down the steps and into the inky darkness. Her new suit fit her well and showed him how much she had filled out since starting their journey. No longer was she the sickly thin woman who had knocked on his door. Now she was healthy and fit, her cheeks glowing with a rosy shine. He wondered about her womanly curves and how she kept those hidden but would never ask.

“Reid?” She stopped at the base of the stairs and reached into the darkness.

Her body was silhouetted by the light from the porch, but where he stood, it would be impossible for her to see him.

“I’m here.” He reached out and took her hand. She gave it to him willingly, clasping it with both of hers.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

No one had ventured to this side of the building, but the music and laughter had followed them.

He guided her to stand before him, though he still could not see her face. He held both of her hands in his own and rubbed the tops with his thumbs. “I’m going to dance with you in the dark.”

She was quiet for a moment, and he wished he could see her eyes.

“We’ll imagine ’tis a grand ballroom in your bonnie England,” he said as he sensed her hesitation. “Filled with a thousand dripping candles and we will not be afraid of the light. Everyone will see us together—and no one will think twice.”

Though he could not see her face, he hoped she smiled.

“Can you imagine it, lass?” he asked on a whisper, wishing it were true.

“Aye,” she said, emulating his Scottish brogue.

His chest expanded at the sound. “And what are you wearing in this fancy English ballroom?”

She paused and then said, “I’m wearing a green silk gown.”

“Not purple?”

Again, she hesitated. “There are too many purple gowns here tonight.”

Did she mean Celeste? “And what about your hair?” he asked, drawing her into this make-believe moment.

“I’m wearing it up—with diamonds tucked into the curls.”

“No.” He shook his head and reached up to touch her silky hair. “’Tis long again and you’re wearing it flowing freely to your waist, just like the morning in Montreal.”

She inhaled. “What will people think?” she whispered with a smile in her voice.

“Tonight”—he took another step toward her—“we dinna care what people think. This dance is ours and ours alone.”

Without another word, she lifted her left hand and placed it on his shoulder, then raised her right hand, still tucked inside his, into the air in preparation for the dance. “I’d be honored to dance with you.”

He filled his lungs with the scent of her and slid his right hand around her small waist. The sound of crickets melded with the strains of music as they began to dance.

Though it was dark, he waltzed with her over the grassy floor with a canopy of stars overhead. The music was muted but still magical, as he spun her in his arms.

“You’re a lovely dancer,” he said after a moment. “If any of those men inside were dancing with you now, without seeing you in trousers, they’d never think you were a man.”

His hand rested on the small of her back now, and he longed to draw her closer, but he refrained.

She didn’t belong to him.

It was time to bring up a subject that would remind them of who they were and what they were about.

“Stephen Corning is a lucky man.”

Her back tensed, but she said nothing.

“Will you ask him to leave the fur trade after you’re married?”

She was silent for a moment before she answered. “Once I’m married, I will inherit Blissfield Manor and a tidy fortune. He will have enough to keep him busy managing our affairs.” She then added quickly, “Unless he wants to remain here.”

Reid couldn’t imagine why Stephen would want to be an ocean away from Charlotte.

They danced for several moments, each in their own thoughts, before the music came to an end.

Neither one made a move to pull apart. Reid’s eyesight had adjusted, so he was able to see the outline of her face in the darkness.

She looked up at him, her soft breath warming his chin.

“Thank you for the dance, Charlotte.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” She finally took a step back and gave an elegant curtsy, and he could almost imagine her in that green ball gown she spoke of. “The honor of this dance was all mine.”

She was a bonnie lass, even in trousers and a suit coat. But her engagement to Stephen was not an obstacle he could overcome, nor did he want to. Just as he’d told Celeste, his course was set, and he would remain steadfast. He would not give up the quest to become a shareholder, even if he had the opportunity. He’d worked too hard and had too much to prove to himself and his father.

Stephen Corning had saved Reid’s life, and as far as Reid was concerned, his debt was not paid until he could hand Charlotte over to Stephen’s care. Yet, what kind of a person was he, having these feelings for another man’s fiancée?

Not any sort of man he respected.

Reid decided in that moment that he would be the man Stephen expected him to be. He would not allow himself to get into another situation with Charlotte that was so intimate.

He would be honorable, no matter the cost.