Rosemary Rogers - Sapphire

“I’m not certain exciting is the word I would choose,” Sapphire answered. “I cannot imagine being trapped on that ship with Lady Carlisle and Lady Morrow for three weeks. I fear I’ll go mad with their incessant gossiping and ridiculing.” She stared at the ceiling as she lifted arm over head to rest her wrist on her forehead. “I still can’t believe Papa is sending me away.” Her initial response to her father’s decision to send her to London had been to refuse out of stubbornness, but in truth, she wanted to get away from Maurice. And though she had mixed feelings about finding her father, it was important to her that she do it for her mother.

“He’s sending you away because he knows the world has great things in store for you. He has always known it. We all have.”

“What great things? That’s ridiculous!”

“The daughter of an earl?” Angelique dangled the words as if they were a sweetmeat. “I see you as a highborn lady, making your entrance into London society dressed in a lavish ball gown, the suitors clamoring to have just one dance with the Lady Sapphire.”

“And why in heaven’s name would I want to dance with any man?”

“You must dance so that you can meet and marry a great man, of course. You know it’s always been your dream. It’s why you read those silly novels and poetry all the time, isn’t it? Because you fancy romantic love?”

Sapphire frowned. Marriage was the furthest things from her mind. She was in too much turmoil to even contemplate such a thing, even if it was inevitable. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to go, Angel. This is our home! There’s so much I’m going to miss, and not just Papa and Orchid Manor. I don’t know that I can bear to leave my horses.”

“Don’t be silly. They have horses in London.”

“This seems so easy for you and I don’t understand. You were born here. Our mothers died in this place.”

“I’m eager to go because there’s nothing to keep me here. Our mothers aren’t in those graves,” Angelique said with her usual practicality as she sat up beside Sapphire, resting her back against the headboard. “And Armand isn’t my father.”

“You don’t know that.” Sapphire picked at the thin fabric of her knee-length sleeping gown. “He could be.”

“So could any number of white men on this island, you know that.” She looked at Sapphire in the darkness. “But that was never important to me. What’s important is the journey we’re about to embark upon.”

“You know that when we arrive in London, things will be different, there. Everyone here loves you, but—”

“Some better than others!”

“But the way you give yourself so freely to men,” Sapphire continued diplomatically, “might be…might be misinterpreted.” It seemed to her that Angelique had always been a sexual creature, even from the time they were little girls. Certainly from the time Angelique was fourteen and had climbed through the bedchamber window after lights-out to surrender her virginity to a neighboring plantation owner’s sixteen-year-old son.

“You worry too much,” Angelique told her. “I am what I am, just as my mother was what she was, and I will not apologize for either of us.”

Sapphire glanced at Angelique. “We could find you a husband, too, you know. You look more French than native and Armand has already said you must use his surname when we arrive in London. With Armand’s name and the money Mama left you, surely—”

“Marriage is your dream, puss,” Angelique said as she gave Sapphire a gentle push, “not mine, nor will it ever be.” She stretched lazily, like a cat. “I want to get to know a hundred men, a thousand, and not over biscuits and tea.”

“Angel, the sisters and Lady Carlisle were all correct. You’re quite incorrigible.”

“Quite.” Angelique turned her head, a mischievous smile on her face. “What’s amazing is that you’re still so naive,” she teased, “especially now that we know you were brought up amidst such bawdiness—your mother and Lucia’s colorful past in New Orleans, Armand and his slave women, me.”

Sapphire said nothing. She wasn’t like Angel. She couldn’t accept change so easily, especially not when she had believed one thing her whole life only to find it untrue. Three weeks had passed since Armand told her the truth about her mother and herself and she was still trying to make sense of it all. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became with her father, this Edward. Why hadn’t he tried to find her mother? Had he looked for her at all or had he just gone along with the annulment and the new marriage arranged by his family? She intended to ask him just that the moment she saw him. It had been her mother’s dream that Sapphire meet her father, to be drawn into the loving embrace of the family, but what Sapphire wanted was an apology—that and to be recognized as Edward’s daughter, but not because she wanted any sort of relationship with the man. She wanted the recognition for her mother’s sake. And for that reason, she was going to London. Not for Armand, not for herself, but for her mother.

“Now we’re off to begin the journey Sophie dreamed of,” Angelique murmured. “You to find your rightful legacy and a handsome, titled man to wed, and me to sample an entire new continent of men!”

“I’m not sure that is what my mother had in mind.” Sapphire absently reached out to stroke the delightfully smooth silk of one of the bed draperies. “Please don’t put it in quite those terms at the dinner table when Lady Carlisle asks you of your plans once we arrive in London. I overheard her talking with Aunt Lucia yesterday and she is not at all pleased that you are being included in the traveling party, though she didn’t actually say that to Papa. I think her husband’s business profits with Papa are far too great to deny the request to escort us, but she has managed to get her invectives in just the same. I do believe she suggested to Aunt Lucia that you might search for a good position as a lady’s maid.”

“I’ll try to hold my tongue for your sake,” Angelique replied with a laugh. “It’s the least I can do, considering that Lady Carlisle has barely recovered from the incident at the falls. I understand Lord Carlisle was quite taken with us both.”

Sapphire couldn’t resist a smile as she slid down in the bed, thrusting a pillow under her head. “We should get some sleep,” she said. “Four will come early. Papa says we’re to sail at first light while the tide is favorable.”

Angelique slid down beside Sapphire, drawing the light sheet over them. “I still can’t believe it’s happening. I can’t believe I’m really leaving this island.”

Sapphire smiled, and although she was not entirely eager to go, she couldn’t help but wonder what awaited her so far from the familiar shores of Martinique.

Sapphire stood on the rail of the sailing schooner the Elizabeth Mae, holding tightly to the ribbons of her bonnet. The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon in the eastern sky, and there was a good wind that would carry them safely from Martinique’s rocky shores. She gripped the polished wood rail as she gazed down on her father and the maid, Tarasai, who had escorted him to the dock.

Sapphire knew the young native woman adored him and, in the past weeks, she had seemed to be able to cajole him into caring better for himself. Sapphire hated leaving him, but at least she knew there would be someone here for him, seeing that he didn’t smoke too many cigars or drink too much rum. She managed a smile and a wave as he looked up to meet her gaze. He had dressed carefully that morning in a finely cut coat and trousers with a starched cravat around his neck, all the latest French fashion. He wore a straw boater on his head, tilted jauntily, and in his hand was an exquisitely carved cane. Monsieur Armand Fabergine had orchestrated this fine image of the man she had thought to be her father, the man who would always be her father in her heart. A lump suddenly rose in her throat and she made a little sound.