He looked over Mathieu’s head at Wachiwi and smiled at her. He thanked her for her lessons to his son.

“I enjoy it even more than he does.” She was in the stables all the time now and rode out in the hills by herself. No other woman in the district did that, but she was totally at ease. There were no dangers here. No war party was going to attack her, or spirit her away. She was safe on his lands. And he suggested they ride together that afternoon. “How was court?” she asked him politely.

“As it always is. Excessively busy, with too many people and a thousand intrigues. It’s very fatiguing, but one has to go. It makes a bad impression to stay away for too long.” But it was a long trip for him from Brittany.

“At least you have a house in Paris to stay at when you’re there,” she mentioned, and he nodded.

“Since my wife died, I seldom use it anymore. She enjoyed going to court more than I do, and we went to Paris more often.” Matthieu was running ahead of them as they walked back to the house. He loved his riding lessons with her. And Tristan was excited at the prospect of her teaching the boy more.

“Is your house right in town?”

“Yes, not far from the palace of the Louvre, although the king and queen are more often in Versailles now, which is just outside the city. Perhaps you will go one day,” he said vaguely. He had mentioned her to one of his friends at court, who had said it would be amusing if he brought her. But Tristan felt cautious about his role with her. She had been his late brother’s fiancée, and no matter how much he liked her as a person, her presence was still awkward for both of them. She was keeping busy with the riding lessons for the children, and he was grateful to her. He liked the way she was with his children. She was sensible, and warm with them. And he could see how much they liked her. When he went to the nursery to see Agathe after his trip, she threw herself into Wachiwi’s arms first, and then her father’s. She was hungry for the mother she had never had. Mademoiselle was no substitute for the mother she had lost. Wachiwi wanted only to be her friend, and had hoped to be her aunt.

The riding lessons continued over the next several months. Matthieu became noticeably more proficient, and Wachiwi taught his father a few of her “tricks” (as he called them). She had taken his breath away one day when she showed him how she could conceal herself along the side of a horse at full speed. He wasn’t about to try it, but she seemed to become part of the horse, and hang in space as they flew and she clung to the heavy beast. She had no fear at all. She could stand on the horse’s back as it galloped, and leap onto its back from the ground. She had a magic with horses and they did things for her they would do for no one else.

His children adored her, and even Agathe had come to enjoy her pony rides now. She would never be a horsewoman, her mother hadn’t been, but she wasn’t frightened anymore, and she loved feeding her pony an apple when she got off.

Another thing they had all noticed about her was how silent Wachiwi was. Particularly in her moccasins, but even in normal shoes, Wachiwi made absolutely no sound when she walked. She seemed to walk on air. Her father had frequently commented on it too. She had the grace of a butterfly and made as little noise. The Dancer was the perfect name for her.

She was able to laugh at herself too, which was a trait that Tristan admired in her. When she did something silly or wrong, she made a joke of it and herself, and they all laughed with her. She had a multitude of good traits, all of which Tristan appreciated and admired in her. He had never been as comfortable with any other woman before.

“I want a dress like Wachiwi’s,” Agathe said one day as they went back to the house in a group, and her governess instantly gave her a furious look. She thought Wachiwi’s native dress disgraceful as it molded her figure and ended just below her knees. Despite the leggings she wore beneath, the governess thought her native costume shocking. It looked well worn now, and Agathe’s remark gave Wachiwi an idea. She sewed almost as well as she rode, and had made a little doll for Agathe for Christmas, and a small bear for Matthieu, and they loved them.

It was spring by then and the weather had been unseasonably warm in Brittany. They had a picnic in the garden one day, on a cliff overlooking the sea. The king had been sick that winter, and the queen had given birth to the Duke of Normandy only weeks before. So the marquis had only gone to court once, but he was planning to go again soon. He hated to make the long trip but knew he should. And he wanted to bring a gift to the new royal baby. But he was so much happier in the country, with his children, on his own land. There was always so much to do. This spring they had been busy cutting down trees that had been damaged in storms during the winter. And he loved talking to Wachiwi about what he did on the property. She was always interested and offered him excellent ideas, which sometimes amazed him coming from a young girl.

He surprised her one afternoon after a long ride, when he asked her to have dinner with him that night in the dining room. He had never asked her before. She usually took her meals in the nursery with the children. They loved her company, although their governess still didn’t.

Wachiwi accepted his invitation with pleasure. She always enjoyed her conversations with him. They spoke of many things—he was very knowledgeable, and her French was proficient now. The one thing she didn’t know, and wished to learn, was how to read. He had promised to teach her, but hadn’t had time to do it that winter. She wanted to read the books in his library. They looked fascinating to her.

He told her about some of the current intrigues at court that night at dinner, and why they fatigued him. People had been complaining about the queen and her extravagance for several years. Tristan had always found Marie Antoinette a pleasant woman, even if silly when she was young. But now that she had begun having babies in the past few years, she seemed more serious to him, and more mature. He had no patience with the politics and manipulations of the ministers, the courtesans, and all the opportunists who gravitated to the court. He told Wachiwi that the queen was Austrian, not French, which people tended to forget, and she had become queen as barely more than a child. Her marriage was arranged when she was fourteen. Wachiwi explained that that happened in Indian culture too. Girls married very young, and most marriages were arranged. She was grateful her father hadn’t done that to her. Undeniably, the queen had led the court into incredible excesses and people were constantly vying for her favor and her ear. It was a lot of power for a young girl. But it was all too much for him. He was a quiet man who enjoyed managing his vast properties, and spending time in the outdoors. They were still talking about the court at the end of dinner, and Wachiwi found what he told her very interesting, but she could tell that he didn’t. Jean had told her that he had never liked court much either, and had been happy to flee to the New World, rather than get caught up in the intrigues of the court. But as head of the family and owner of extensive lands, the marquis couldn’t avoid his responsibilities to the king, and couldn’t shun going to court. It was even more tedious for him now without his wife. At least he had enjoyed showing her off and dancing with her. Now he stood talking politics with the men all night.

As they left the dining room, Tristan turned to her with a warm smile. Their evenings together were always pleasant, and they had stayed at table that night for a long time. He was lonely at times, and had been since his wife’s death, and he envied Wachiwi her nightly dinners in the nursery with his children. He would have enjoyed that too, but it would have seemed odd for him to be there. Something had occurred to him that night during dinner, and he suggested it cautiously to Wachiwi.

“Would you like to come to court with me next time? I have to go in a few weeks. It might be interesting for you to see it, and I’m sure the king and queen would like to meet you.” She was very flattered to be asked. She was worried that she didn’t have the proper clothes, but he said he’d see to it that the local dressmaker made something suitable for her, and she thanked him for his kind invitation. She mentioned it to the children the next day, and they were excited for her. Agathe said she thought she should wear her pretty dress with the porcupine quills, and Wachiwi smiled mysteriously when she said it. The child’s birthday was a few days away, and Wachiwi had been working on a present for her for months, and it was almost ready.

It had been singularly hard for her to find all the materials she needed for the gift. In her village all of it would have been easy. Here it was a challenge to find each piece she needed. She hadn’t been able to find elkskin, but she had been able to buy deerskin in the village, which reminded her of Jean’s buckskin trousers that she had given away when he died. The porcupine quills had taken months to find. Tristan’s game warden had gotten them for her. And she was delighted to find the right berries to make the paste she needed to dye them. She had taken the beads off the shirt she’d made for Jean. She preferred to give them to his niece now. She had carefully sewn them on the tiny deerskin dress. And she had had enough left over to make a pair of moccasins for her. And on Agathe’s birthday she carefully wrapped the gifts in a soft red cloth and tied it, and she gave the package to her in the nursery that morning. The child squealed with glee when she saw them. She insisted on putting them on immediately much to Mademoiselle’s horror, and to Wachiwi’s delight they fit perfectly. It was an exact replica of her own dress with the porcupine quills, only it was fresh and new and perfectly proportioned for her, and the moccasins fit her small feet exactly. Agathe was so excited that she ran downstairs to show her father, without asking for her governess’s permission. And the moment her father saw her, he burst out laughing.

“You look like a little Sioux!” Agathe was beaming and preened proudly for him. And when Wachiwi followed her downstairs, he thanked her. “Now if you can teach me to ride like one, I will be very happy.” But she had already taught him enough that he had become a far more skilled rider, and so had Matthieu. She had shared many of her talents and customs with them, and it was hard for any of them to believe that she had already been there for five months. Doing little things for them was the only way she could think of to repay them for their kindness. She still had no idea where to go, or what she would do when she left them, but she knew that sooner or later, she had to move on, whether she wanted to or not. She couldn’t take advantage of Tristan’s kindness and hospitality forever. But in the meantime, the dress and shoes for Agathe were an enormous success.

And the gown Tristan had made for Wachiwi for court was even more so. It arrived the day before they left for Paris. It fit her perfectly, and she looked spectacular in it. It was a heavenly pink satin, and had a deep décolletage and an enormous skirt with huge extensions on either side, beautiful sleeves trimmed with lace, and a lace shawl to wear with it. The color was very flattering to her, and Agathe gasped when Wachiwi tried the dress on, and assured her that she looked like a queen. She showed Tristan and he approved as well. The gown was packed in its own trunk, and she took several of the dresses Jean had given her the year before. All of her things were carried in a separate coach when they left for Paris. They rode in Tristan’s elegant carriage.

The children waved goodbye when they left, and Wachiwi looked nervous and excited. She and Tristan chatted easily on the long two-day drive. They had left the château at nearly dawn, drove into the evening, and stopped at an inn along the road. The accommodations were decent but no more than that, and on the second day, they arrived in Paris after midnight. The house in Paris had been prepared for them. There were candles burning everywhere, the furniture had been polished till it gleamed, and one of the bedrooms had been opened and aired for her. She was sleepy when she walked into the house on the rue du Bac, but dazzled when she saw the main hall, the beautiful marble staircase, and her apartment. And it had been exciting just driving through the city late at night. Tristan had gone to his own rooms once he put Wachiwi into the hands of the housekeeper and told her he would see her in the morning.