Humbled by Renee Rose Read Free Book Online

some feeling akin to her own distress at parting.
    The ship was huge, filled with workers and middle-class merchants. She saw no aristos on board. Or perhaps they were all disguised, like her.
    “Can you point out the captain?” Jean-Claude asked a worker.
    “Citizen Moreau is the captain. He is standing over there,” he said, pointing.
    They thanked the man and walked to the captain.
    “Let me do the talking,” Jean-Claude ordered.
    “Yes, citizen,” she said in mock submission.
    “Give me the ring.”
    She drew the ring from her clothing and handed it to him.
    “Good afternoon, Citizen Moreau,” Jean-Claude said. “We are Citizen and Citizeness Armand. How much is the passage to La Nouvelle-Orléans?”
    The captain turned a beady eye on the two of them, one that made her flush with discomfort, though it was not of an amorous nature—more a scrutiny of her very soul.
    He named an outrageous price, and to his credit, Jean-Claude kept his face impassive. “Would you accept a piece of jewelry worth far more than the price of passage?”
    The captain looked amused and held out his hand. “Show it to me.”
    Jean-Claude dropped the ring in his palm without naming its special characteristics, seeming to know the captain would recognize the value.
    The portly man examined it, then fixed her with the inquisitive gaze again. “Where did you get such a ring?”
    “I made it,” Jean-Claude answered without skipping a beat. “I am a silversmith.”
    Citizen Moreau made a great show of looking him up and down with disbelief. She shifted nervously, knowing what he saw—a silversmith would not be dressed as Jean-Claude was.
    “And you are?” he asked, looking at her.
    “She is my wife.”
    The captain grinned. “Come into my quarters for a cup of tea so we can discuss it.”
    They trailed behind him to the lower level room with a table and maps that served as his office. A young sailor, no more than twelve years old, entered immediately with the tea, served in fine china with a pitcher of cream and dish of sugar.
    She accepted a cup from the boy and served herself the accoutrements, stirring it with a little silver spoon. When she began to take a sip, her pinky lifted in the air, she noticed Jean-Claude staring at her in dismay.
    The captain grinned like a cat with a canary.
    She had just given away her privileged upbringing with a simple cup of coffee. Her heart pounded in her throat. Would he call in the police? Refuse her passage? Would he try to get more money out of her?
    “The ring was yours, mademoiselle?”
    His use of the title pained her ears.
    She shook her head stubbornly. She would not admit to anything. “No, I am just the silversmith’s wife. This ring was not made for my finger. You see?” she said, snatching the ring from him and trying it on each finger. “It does not fit.”
    Citizen Moreau smirked. He sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee. “I will take you to La Nouvelle-Orléans,” he said slowly. “And I will accept the ring as partial payment. The remainder of your passage you will work off as my servants for the duration of the voyage.”
    Jean-Claude sat up straighter. “I am not taking the voyage, citizen. So the ring should more than pay for the—for my wife’s passage.”
    Moreau grinned more broadly. “Your wife, yes,” he said. Then the smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “The ring and your labor as a servant is the payment I require, no matter if you are one or two.”
    She swallowed.
    Jean-Claude darted a look at her, clearly unhappy with the turn of events.
    The captain knew her farce for what it was and wished to see her lowered—humbled. Whether she could trust him not to turn her in, she did not know, but if he demanded her labor, she would show him she was not above it. “I accept your offer,” she said, lifting her chest.
    The smile returned. “Excellent.” He held out his palm. “The ring, please.”
    She handed the ring to him and sat