"No, you've been more than generous." He tried to smile. "But you'll remember to let me know as quickly as possible? My wife has a delicate constitution and is not pleased to be going to such a savage land."

"She will thrive in Tahiti. The climate is much more pleasant than that of either London or Marseilles." Raoul smiled again. "Now I must go. Good journey, Charles."

"Good-bye," he said faintly.

"And good journey to you, little mademoiselle." Raoul turned his smile on Cassie. "Take care of your father."

Exactly like the garden snake. Her arms tightened fiercely around Papa's neck. "I will."

They watched him move down the gangplank and walk across the dock.

Papa tugged at her hands. "A little air, ma chou." He chuckled. "You cannot protect me if you choke me to death."

Her gaze never left Raoul's retreating back. "I don't like him."

"Raoul? You don't understand. He's my good friend and wants only what's best. You heard him say he wanted you to take care of me."

She was not convinced, but grown-ups never paid attention when she argued with them. She laid her head on his shoulder and whispered, "I'll always take care of you, Papa."

"My big girl. I know you will." He bit his lower lip as his gaze went back to Raoul, and he added absently, "But it's not Raoul who is the danger, it's the Duke."

Cassie knew about dukes. Clara had told her with great enthusiasm of all the aristocrats who had lost their heads on the guillotine. Clara was English, like Mama, and had no use for French aristocracy. But, then, Clara had little use for anyone. "Like the dukes who died in the Place de la Concorde?"

"No, he's a British duke." He suddenly turned away from the rail and set her down. "Now I must return you to Clara and your mother. The ship is about to depart."