White Horses. Joan Wolf
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He’ll probably think those tasks are beneath him, though.
The waiter was standing by to take their order and she gave her attention to the menu. Once they had chosen, Leo looked at Gabrielle and said, “So tell me about your circus. How many people do you employ and what do they do?”
Gabrielle folded her hands in her yellow silk lap and replied, “It is called the Cirque Equestre because we feature horses. We have five Arabians who perform at liberty, we have a grand old fellow who is our rosinback, and we have two Lipizzaners that are trained to High School and who do a pas de deux. They also perform individually.”
Leo held up his hand to stop her. “You have Lipizzaners trained in High School?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. Two of them. Papa was able to buy them off the farm in Austria and he trained them himself.”
“He trained them with your help, Gabrielle,” Emma put in.
“Papa had the knowledge. I just followed what he said to do.”
Leo said in amazement, “I had no idea you had horses of this quality.”
Gabrielle was insulted. “Did you think we were just a carnival? I’ll have you know that the Cirque Equestre is well-known for its horses.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “I did not mean to denigrate you. Forgive me. It’s just that I am very interested in classically trained horses. I had an opportunity to see some Lusitanos in Portugal and I thought they were marvelous.”
Gabrielle didn’t care for the amusement, but she accepted the apology by nodding gracefully. When she spoke she kept her voice cool. “Portugal has a wonderful history of classically trained horses. France, of course, did also, but the Revolution destroyed it. Papa was determined to keep alive the tradition as best he could. All of our horses are classically trained.”
“That’s wonderful. Who rides your Lipizzaners?”
“I do. And my brother Mathieu accompanies me in the pas de deux.”
“I look forward to seeing them perform,” he said with such obvious sincerity that Gabrielle was appeased.
She smiled at him. He did not smile back.
Very well, monsieur, she thought with annoyance. If you want to be all business, then we will be all business.
“How many people do you employ?” he asked.
“The part of the circus that is permanent is my family—myself and my brothers, Mathieu and Albert. Then there’s Gerard, who is our ringmaster, and Emma and her dogs. That makes five. Then we have the acts that accompany us.”
“And what acts are those?”
“First there is the circus band—that is four members. Then there is Luc Balzac, our equestrian, Henri and Franz and Carlotta Martin, who are rope dancers, and the Maronis, who are tumblers—there are four of them. Sully is our clown, and Paul Gronow, our juggler.” She tilted her head a little. “How many is that? I have lost count.”
“Fourteen plus the five permanent members,” he said.
“Oh, and we employ two grooms.”
He nodded. “Which of these people know about the gold?”
“Myself, my two brothers—” she smiled at her companion “—Emma and Gerard. The people who winter with us.”
“What about the grooms?”
“Jean and Cesar don’t winter with us. They report to the circus when we are ready to set out.”
“So, five people. And everyone else will think that we are married?”
“Yes,” she said. “I suppose it is good that you are so handsome. That will make it more believable that I should marry a noncircus man.”
“Thank you,” he said sarcastically.
She shrugged. “I speak the truth. You are going to be difficult to explain. You will have to work, though. You can’t just stand around and do nothing. Everyone who knows me knows I would never marry a man like that.”
Leo just looked at her.
“What do you think you could do?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” he replied shortly. “Just don’t expect me to perform. I’ll help out with the labor end of things, but I’m not getting up in front of people and making an ass of myself.”
Her eyes glittered. “Our performers are all trained artistes, Leo,” she said. “I wouldn’t dream of putting an amateur in our ring.”
“Good,” he said. “Then we understand each other. I’m here to get the gold to Wellington. If I have to work, I will. But not in public.”
She folded her lips in a stern line. “Very well.”
The first course was served. What the hell can we talk about? he thought. What do I have in common with circus people?
Gabrielle said conversationally, “It looks as if we are seeing the last days of Napoléon. His grande armée was destroyed in Russia and soon your General Wellington will defeat his army in Spain.”
The war was something Leo could always talk about and he responded appropriately. The war and international affairs carried them through dinner, and when he got up to escort the ladies out of the dining room, Leo was feeling slightly better. If he was going to have to spend the next month shackled to a female circus player, it was a help that she seemed to be intelligent.
Three
The following morning, Leo met his traveling companions in the hotel lobby, where they were waiting for their coach to be brought up. He was dressed in a rust-colored riding coat, breeches and high boots—an appropriate outfit for a circus, he thought.
Gabrielle frowned when she saw him. “Those clothes are all right for dress-up,” she said, “but you can’t dress like that around the circus.”
He was dumbfounded. He had thought he was dressed down. “What do you suggest I wear?” he asked a trifle acerbically.
“Trousers, low boots, a shirt—without the tie—and I suppose you can wear that jacket to keep warm. We’ll stop in a town along the way and do some shopping. I have a feeling that nothing you have with you is appropriate.”
Leo looked at his portmanteau and said sarcastically, “Can I at least keep my underwear?”
He would never in a million years have mentioned underwear to an English lady.
But Gabrielle didn’t blink. “Yes, you can keep your underwear. But I will pick your outerwear. It’s important that you don’t raise any suspicions. We can’t do anything that may call attention to ourselves.”
She was right, and he was annoyed that she was right. He was also annoyed that she looked so pretty, standing there with the chandelier light shining off her beautiful silky brown hair.
“Where’s your bonnet?” he asked abruptly.
“In the hatbox,” she replied. “I hate wearing bonnets. They are so confining.”
Emma, who was wearing a bonnet, said, “Nevertheless you should wear it, chérie.”
“I made my impression coming into the hotel. Now that I am leaving I can do as I like.”
Emma rolled her eyes. Gabrielle patted the circle of braids that crowned her head. “Besides, I can’t fit a bonnet over these braids.”
Leo said, “I was under the impression that short hair was in vogue for women.”
“It’s not in vogue for circus performers,” Gabrielle informed him haughtily.
Leo was conscious of a fleeting feeling