Three French Inns: The Partridge Christmas Series, #3

By Patricia Kiyono

Peter Brown joined His Majesty's Army in the fight against Napoleon, but when he was wounded, a lovely Frenchwoman tended him. She was a recent widow, and they were on opposing sides of the war, so they went their separate ways. But he never forgot his "bel ange" — his beautiful angel.

Caroline Bouchard Duval marched with her husband in Napoleon's army, eager to leave her sleepy village and see the world. But after being widowed, she returned to her childhood home in the French Alps. When a bloody traveler enters her father's inn, she recognizes him immediately. Could this man give her another chance to fulfill her dreams?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dingbat Publishing
• Release date: Aug 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393879688

Book preview

THREE FRENCH INNS

Copyright © 2016 by Patricia Kiyono

Re-Published by Dingbat Publishing

Humble, Texas

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are entirely the produce of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual locations, events, or organizations is coincidental.

Preface

In 2012, I agreed to help my fellow author Virginia Hebert chaperone a high school French class trip to Paris. We spent almost two weeks in the City of Light, soaking up the atmosphere and visiting many of its famous landmarks. But among my favorite experiences were the day trips through the countryside, visiting Giverny, Fontainebleau, and Épernay. While our destinations were fascinating, the scenes we passed were so intriguing that the images remained in my mind when I began writing this story four years later. I would love to have the chance to spend some time in some of those quaint villages unhindered by the time limitations of a tour.

In the first edition of Three French Inns, I expressed my indebtedness to several people whose assistance made the completion of this book possible, and I wish to thank them again. My heartfelt gratitude goes to Virginia Hebert, who assisted me with the finer points of the beautiful French language, to my brainstorming group for their encouragement and direction, and to my writer groups for issuing challenges to keep me writing. Special thanks go to Dr. James Smithers, history professor at Grand Valley State University, for patiently and thoroughly answering my many questions about rural French life after the Napoleonic Wars.

Through the joy of reading, I’ve been transported to other worlds, both real and imagined. The Madeline series of books by Ludwig Bemelmans first introduced me to children in Europe, teaching me about faraway people and places. It’s my hope that you’ll enjoy this short visit to the French Alps.

Chapter One

Peter Brown adjusted his hat against the midday sun. He’d left Lyon the day before, and the city of Geneva was another two days’ ride ahead of him. But his horse seemed sluggish that day. The animal had seemed healthy enough at the stable in Lyon. Perhaps he simply needed to rest. Finding a shady spot, Peter dismounted and tied the horse to a tree, letting him graze. They would soon reach the French Alps, and then the way would be even more difficult.

He sat in the shade and took a sip from his canteen. To continue his trip on an unsteady mount would be dangerous. About halfway up the first mountain, there appeared to be a tiny village. Perhaps he’d be able to get a fresh mount there.

He hadn’t been keen to return to France so soon after the war. Only a few years ago he’d been there with His Majesty’s Army, fighting against Napoleon. Though England and France were no longer enemies, there were those whose animosity hadn’t faded. But this trip was imperative to his family’s financial well-being, and going through France was the most direct way to reach Switzerland. He didn’t want to spend more time than necessary in a land where he might still be considered the enemy. Still, it was nice there in the shade. Perhaps a short nap...

An hour later, he climbed back on his horse and headed east. The sun had begun its descent, so if he was going to reach the village before dark, he’d better get going. They made their way up the winding road going around the mountain. With each step, the horse went slower and slower. Finally, at a wider spot in the road, Peter prepared to dismount. He’d taken his feet out of the stirrups when the animal convulsed and stumbled. Peter landed hard on his left shoulder and cried out in pain before everything went black.

RegencySwash

CAROLINE BOUCHARD DUVALL hung the last sheet on the clothesline then placed her hands on her aching back. Sometimes she felt so much older than her twenty-eight years. As an innkeeper’s only daughter, the work was endless. The linens were all washed and hung out to dry, and it was time to start the evening meal. Only a few guests occupied rooms at the inn that night, but someone could stop in unexpectedly.

Caroline, where are you?

She groaned. Hopefully, whatever her father needed wouldn’t delay her too long. Gaspard Bouchard was known as a genial host, making his inn an increasingly popular stop for travelers on the road between Lyon and Geneva. Now that Napoleon had been defeated and the fighting had stopped, business had increased. People were more willing to travel, especially since roadways had been improved. Perhaps if the business continued to grow, Papa could afford to hire some help...

But that was a wish to be granted another day. Just as she reached the common room, Antoine and Gilles, family friends, entered the inn, supporting a stranger between them. The man’s hair hung over his eyes, and his mouth was set in a grimace. His shirt was stained with blood on his left side, and his left arm hung at an awkward angle.

We found this man on the side of the road. His horse must have tripped and fallen. We could hear its cries in the valley below. Do you have an extra room?

Of course. The first room at the top of the stairs.

Gaspard led the men up the stairs, but before he left, he turned to her. Caroline, please bring your bandages. He needs your help.

Yes, Papa. She hurried to comply.

By the time she reached the guest room, the men had laid the stranger on the narrow bed. Her father dipped a towel in the washbasin and started to clean off the man’s face. She moved a stool to the man’s other side and began to unbutton his shirt. Dried blood made the cloth stick to his skin, and she took the towel from her father so that she could tend to his wounds.

Papa took that as his signal to back away. Caroline was no trained doctor, but she’d spent three years traveling with the French army as