Humbled by Renee Rose Read Free Book Online Page A

back. “Where is my cabin?” she demanded.
    “Cabin,” he chuckled, and she realized she had just shown her privilege again.
    “Pierre will show you to your berth in the foc’sle,” he said, summoning the boy who had served their tea. “You will report to Citizen Roux for work. She will likely put you to serve in the saloon.”
    She pressed her lips together resolutely. “Very well.”
     
    * * *
     
    He followed them out, not about to leave Corinne until assuring himself of her safety. He hated the arrangement—not because he thought hard work would harm Corinne, but because he was not certain her mistreatment would stop there. The captain enjoyed playing games, and making Corinne pay for her nobility was obviously one of them.
    Pierre led them to the foc’sle area—a dank, crowded room with hammocks strung up in a row for sleeping. A foul smell emanated from the room as if the sanitation had not been well-tended. Corinne nodded silently, though he sensed her repulsion. He might be amused over her lowering, except for his concern.
    Yet there was nothing he could do. She made her choice, and the captain had her ring. He had done his part and it was time to leave her, no matter how reluctant he felt. When she arrived in La Nouvelle-Orléans, the nobility there would surely assist her.
    “Would you like to go back out onto land? Take a walk or have a meal in Le Havre before you set sail?” he asked, unable to simply walk away and leave her.
    She shook her head. “No, thank you. It is safer here, unless Moreau plans to turn me in. And I do not want him to leave without me. But I will walk out with you—to say goodbye.”
    Goodbye.
    He had not expected to experience such loss at being rid of his responsibility for her. They walked down the platform together, and she stopped on the ground.
    “Well… thank you. I mean—”
    He gave a quick shake of his head. “No need to thank me. I repaid a debt to you, nothing more. Now we are even.” He ignored the sensation of his gut burning. “Be very careful—trust no one.”
    She nodded. “Thank you.”
    Washes of cold made him feel almost feverish. He needed to part quickly with her—dragging it out only made them both uncomfortable. He grabbed her and pulled her against him in a rough embrace. “God be with you, Corinne.”
    “Thank you,” she repeated, her voice sounding strangled.
    He turned and strode away without looking back. Finding a tavern, he entered and ordered a drink, his heart still beating erratically, his chest feeling tight.
    Why did she have to choose La Nouvelle-Orléans? He gave a silent curse and tossed his drink back with a gulp.
    He sat in the tavern until it grew dark, though no amount of time or drink eased the aching under his breastbone, or the curious sensation of longing.
    Did he long for her?
    No, he had never pined for her.
    But that was a lie. She stirred something in him, though he never aspired to be her husband, nor even a lover. As much as he believed in the revolution and the equality of man, Corinne was still a lady to him, and he was nothing more than a pig thief to her.
    He rubbed his face and ordered another drink.
    Damn her . She was not safe on that ship alone. And he could not, in good conscience, leave her to make that voyage on her own. What did he have to return to in Gramont, anyway? His wife and unborn child had died. He had his smithy, he had work, but was it not reasonable to assume he might find that sort of work in La Nouvelle-Orléans? Perhaps he could even apprentice with a silversmith and do the kind of work he loved.
    He stood up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, and marched back to the ship. Night had fallen, the stars hidden by a thick blanket of fog. The ship was gone from its position that afternoon.
    He scanned the area, blood rushing in his ears.
    There it was. The plank had been pulled, and the ship sat anchored several hundred yards out in the ocean, ready to set sail on the morning tide.
    He found