“Does it require you to speak English?”
I saw the shadow of a smile as he cradled my injured hand in his own. “Sometimes. Fortunately, I spent time in Boston.”
What a coincidence, I almost said. Instead, I smiled.
He smiled back. “No broken bones, I think, just a scrape to be tended.”
“That’s good.” I started to rise, and he stilled me by producing a flask from the inside of his coat. I thought, at first, he meant to offer me a drink. Instead he poured some out onto his handkerchief. “This will sting.”
I bit my lip so as not to hiss when he dabbed the cloth to my rent flesh, tenderly washing my palm, removing the grit of the street. The intimacy was unexpected. How long had it been since any man had touched me—much less in tenderness? How much longer still since anyone had taken care of me? I was an abandoned wife. A mother forever bandaging up little boys from their battles on the playground. I was the president of the Lafayette Fund, packaging up comfort kits for much older boys fighting in much more dangerous battles. Even before I was any of that, I’d learned not to trust strangers. And to let this man tend my wounds elicited a vulnerable silence I couldn’t bear. “Don’t use up your ration of soldier’s wine on me.”
He gave an indignant snort. “It’s not that swill, it’s cognac.”
“Expensive medicine.”
“The best, madame. My family’s blend, beyond age.”
“You’re a distiller,” I guessed.
He chuckled. “Non. A banker.”
This made me sputter. “You—but you said your civilian profession required a refined nose.”
“To sniff out good and bad investments.” Our soft laughter drifted up into the moonlit sky. At length, he curled my fingers over the kerchief. “Here. You must keep this as a bandage until you can get one better.”
Then he stood, and at the withdrawal of his touch, I felt strangely melancholy. “You’re too gallant, sir.”
“I am a Frenchman, no? Now, let me see you safely home.”
“I couldn’t trouble you further.”
“It is no trouble. It is, after all, to defend my own honor. If I were to leave you alone and something should happen to you . . .”
“You’d be heartbroken?”
“Under suspicion! For the gendarmes would find you with my embroidered kerchief in your hand.”
I laughed and took his arm. “For your honor, then.”
I let him guide me through the scenic route, down the marble stairs, along the path by the basin, our way lined with the green aroma of lily of the valley. “Does it still hurt?” he asked.
“I can scarcely complain about a little scrape whilst soldiers brave bullets in trenches . . .”
As we passed a statue packed in sandbags, he said, “As if the loss of life wasn’t wicked enough, I cannot begin to describe the treasures obliterated, from art to old churches . . . the barbarity of it. The Boche wants to demoralize. Do you know what they do when they come into a town? They seek out the vineyards and burn them to the roots—vines that have sustained families for generations. Unique fruits wiped from this earth.”
“You’ll stop them,” I said as we neared the gate.
“Ah, American optimism!”
“I wouldn’t have come to Paris without it,” I said.
“Why did you come? Don’t you have a safe home across the sea?”
“I came to help France, of course.”
He put his palm over his heart. “Mon Dieu, you should have said before. Now that I know the wound you took tonight was in the service of France, I shall put you in for a medal.”
Again, he was teasing. He had, perhaps, encountered far too many well-to-do American ladies wishing to donate useless items and otherwise getting in the way. I didn’t wish for him to believe I was one of them. I was about to tell him about our work, when we stepped into full moonlight, and his breath quickened.
“I had not realized . . .” I expected him to say that he recognized me, but what he said was, “You are so beautiful. I must have your name.”
Utterly charmed, I fluttered my lashes. “A name would break the spell, monsieur, as I am only free to flirt as a stranger.”
“What, then, will we tell people about our meeting?”
“I shall simply say I met a handsome French lieutenant in the gardens.”
Despite the darkness, I was certain he blushed. “Captain, actually.”
“Where are you stationed, Captain?”