Out of the corner of her eye, her reason walked next to her. Francois had made the suggestion, and since he’d seemed so adamant about it, she didn’t want to discourage him. Her own medical practice had taught her that patients who pushed themselves often made a faster recovery than those who succumbed to their handicaps and embraced a life of inertia.
Frankly, she was surprised how well he was doing. His cheeks, though gaunt from lack of food thanks to the war and imprisonment, were flush and gave him a glow. Will’s wool overcoat engulfed him, yet he sported it well. He stood tall, shoulders straight, even though he used a cane, rather fashionably, too, to walk. It was as if he had adapted to the walking stick as if it were an accessory. Even now, on the wooden sidewalk, he guided her with his free hand on her elbow with only his body between her and the street.
“I insist that you walk on my left,” he’d stated when they exited the carriage.
She frowned. “This is just a short jaunt outside for fresh air. Not a societal affair.”
He laughed. “While that may be correct, it is nigh mid-afternoon. You are well aware, that eyes will be on those walking the fashionable district at this time. Tongues will wag if I was not the gentleman and stood as the brace between you and the wild beasts and their wheeled-contraptions kicking up mud and whatever else.”
She giggled. “Beasts, you say? All right. I will not insult your gentlemanly task.” She moved inside his left, but whispered in his ear, “If you over do this, please let me know. I will not have you hurt yourself over some farce of worrying about ‘wagging tongues.’”
“Of course, my lady.” He tipped his felt hat in her direction.
That had been virtually an hour ago. The cold was burrowing in, past the layers she wore and she’d bet he was miserable, too, for it wasn’t just his face that was thin. That lack of food had slimmed him and while they’d had two days of good food at Sweet Briar, it’d take more to fill him out. She gave him a glance as they walked and saw not only determination etched in his face but also amusement. He was enjoying this. To a Southerner, a man not accustomed to the cold of the north, this was bitter cold. Then, the skies began spitting snow at them.
Francois looked upward, his brows furrowing, his lids squinting as the flakes struck his face. He stuck his tongue out, as if licking them from the sky and that made her laugh.
He grinned at her. It was a contagious grin, and one that caught her full attention. His dark hair, even combed under the borrowed hat, gleamed. His blue eyes sparkled and the shade of whiskers that he’d missed shaving gave him a dandy appearance. The mischief that lurked behind his sapphire gaze should make her watchful, but instead, it drew her closer. This man was dangerous yet she couldn’t pull herself away.
“What is so funny?”
“You can’t catch snowflakes.”
“I wasn’t trying to catch them but to taste them. They’re a rare occurrence where I come from.”
That intrigued her more than she liked. “It snows in the South?”
“It can, during a hard freeze, which I only recall less than a handful of times.” He shrugged. “They never stick and what little we have melts fast.”
“They’re plenty where I hail from. Pennsylvania can be covered for weeks with the stuff.”
He hummed. The noise held her too close, she decided, and turned to look in the storefronts near them.
“Christmas is almost here.” She eyed the ribbon bows on the dress hanging in the dressmaker’s shop. Christmas. Balls and soirees galore sprung up from what she could see in the morning post and the stack of invitations that filled Will’s front table in the foyer. She bit back a sigh of envy.
“Yes. Do you hear the carolers?”
She turned back to see him but said nothing, straining her ears for holiday music. The sounds echoed softly and she found the handful of singers just down the street, near the train station.
“Ah, yes. Very nice.”
Francois nodded. It was then she caught the shiver he tried to hide except his grip on her arm tightened along with the tremble she saw in his jawline.
“Perhaps we’ve been out too long,” she decided, determined to turn them around but he stopped her.
“Let’s walk in here and warm up.” He nodded toward the dressmaker’s shop.
Reluctantly, she agreed. They’d warm up and then head back. She didn’t want him to come down sick. He needed to recover and Will had to retrieve him, though she buried the wayward thought that it was nice to be so escorted…
Yes, it was cold. Francois swore to himself that the Yankees could have it, for he’d stay in his warm winter state any day. The chill had managed to work its way through the heavy winter overcoat he wore, and despite the work it took to walk and keep balanced while escorting a lady, he was freezing.
He was thrilled to escape the confines of the house. Ever since his capture, he’d discovered being bound in a hospital or prison made him feel way too confined with no escape. Hospital from his injury and prison, well, it was confinement. As to his nurse, or doctor as it were, he grew more and more aware of her chomping at the bit to break free herself. What she wanted in the long run, he couldn’t guess, except a husband, her own home and children, like most ladies. Then again, most ladies he knew had no formal medical training like her,
