Page 58 of The Musician (Emerson Pass Historicals 5)

James raised his glass. “Let’s toast to you, Fiona. For your big heart and clever mind, for being the sort of friend we all wish we could be. We must believe that all will work out as it should. For now, we go forward with our best intentions and a lot of prayers for all of us.”

We clinked our glasses and downed the remainder of the crisp wine that smelled of green apples and tasted of honeysuckle. I ate the rest of my oysters, enjoying them more than I had anything in a long time. Li was here. He’d forgiven me. James was now part of our family. Soon, we’d have everything sorted about the children.

Henri brought our next course, plates of wide noodles with a ragout gravy. He poured us glasses of Bordeaux. I exclaimed at the delicious aroma. “I smell blackberries, isn’t that right, Henri?”

“No, it is not blackberries. Tobacco and chocolate.” Henri made one of his haughty sniffs, followed by a remark about our lack of knowledge about French wines. Behind that, however, I could see a genuine affection in his dark eyes. We’d won him over, slowly.

“Merci, Henri,” I said. “Regardless of my untrained nose, I will enjoy it immensely.”

“Je vous en prie, Mademoiselle Barnes.” He bowed his head.

We clinked glasses again. Then we gave ourselves fully to the savory dishes and fine wine. For the moment, we would enjoy the evening. Tomorrow would bring what it would bring. Regardless, we would be together, and that’s all that mattered.