While Henri stored his traveling bags upstairs, Nathaniel observed the usual crowd gathering in his tavern. From his first visit, when he was considering purchasing the establishment, he had considered the tavern cozy and inviting. It had room enough for several lantern-lit tables throughout the room, as well as shelves for books and a comfortable hearth. It had filled with soldiers by the time Henri returned from upstairs without his traveling cloak and in more comfortable shoes. The soldiers sat around tables drinking and playing cards. The group closest to the fire were certainly officers, though Nathaniel wasn't intimately familiar with the structure of the British army. They never appeared to drink as much as the other men.

Scattered amongst the British uniforms were everyday men who gave the soldiers unhappy looks and muttered about sharing the tavern with them. As was often the case, Nathaniel overheard one man say he would go elsewhere but the soldiers were in nearly every tavern in the area and that the ones they weren't in were overcrowded with those who also wanted to avoid them. He heard other whispers of half-hearted wishes to poison the soldiers or run them out in whatever manner was required.

Marie bustled about the room, refilling drinks and serving food. She paused frequently to talk briefly with the men at each table and, per Nathaniel's request to keep his business profitable, appeared to spend equal time with the soldiers as with the others. Occasionally she talked to him, though he stayed mostly at the bar, watching. He usually only left the bar to make certain the fire in the hearth continued to warm the room, or to make short visits to patrons who caught his attention.

Henri moved around the room, socializing with anyone who seemed willing to speak to him. He even played a hand of cards with some of the soldiers. Eventually, he wandered over to the bar and sat across from Nathaniel. "What compelled you to hire my sister?" he asked.

"She was my first applicant," Nathaniel replied. "I wanted someone quickly. She answered my ad the day I posted the sign at my door. I was worried at first she was going to expect more than employment, but she made it clear she had no interest in marriage or the attentions of suitors. That was ideal for me, so I hired her on. I was also a bit worried she wouldn't take to the work among all the men who visit. She took to it easily."

"Marie was always unwilling to follow the expectations of our parents," Henri said fondly. "That is why she and I were the closest of our siblings. We never could please our parents, either of us."

"She always spoke highly of you, though not often," Nathaniel told him. "When she did she said you were her closest friend and seemed very proud of your talent in the theater."

Henri chuckled. "She was the only supporter of mine in the family. I was pushed for marriage just as she was, but I was given the opportunity to set aside those demands for the sake of my performances. Now things have taken a turn for me and I could fall back to the family expectations, or continue making my own life. I'm sure you can see what I chose."

"I'll spare you the questions about what occurred only because I just met you," Nathaniel said. In truth, he also didn't want to be asked the personal questions he was sure would follow. "And because your business is your own."

Henri gave him a thoughtful look. "You left your family, as well."

Nathaniel nodded and glanced quickly away, at the tavern room at large. "I did. For similar yet different reasons, I'm sure. Perhaps one day, when I know you better, I'll tell you more of it."

"Then I will do the same for you," Henri declared. "I understand the burden, whatever it must be."

When Nathaniel turned his gaze back to Henri's he was certain he felt something pass between then, a sense of solidarity that told him they perhaps understood each other better than either of them knew.

Marie joined them then, leaning on the bar beside Henri. "Are you boys getting acquainted?"

"I needed to know more about the man who keeps my sister about," Henri answered, smiling at her. "So tell me, why Boston and why this Englishman's establishment?"

She patted his arm. "It was the first port the ship came to and it was the first place that didn't turn me away when I sought work."

"Did Pierre simply leave you here then?" Henri demanded. "I expected he would have taken you to New France. Or whatever it is they call the place now that the King of England possesses it."

Nathaniel was amused to think Henri would worry about the actions of the very concerned French sailor who had been at first unwilling to leave Marie in Nathaniel's care. He had been introduced to Nathaniel as Marie's cousin, and the reason she was able to leave France.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "Pierre went through the city with me and would have taken me back aboard if I'd found nothing by the time the ship was required to move on. He did as you paid him to do."

"Have you seen him since?" Henri asked. "I haven't heard from him, except to inform me where he'd left you."

"Only twice in the last three years," she answered. "I hope he's well. The sea isn't kind."

"It certainly isn't. Especially in the winter," Henri agreed, visibly cringing. Nathaniel assumed the journey from France hadn't gone pleasantly.

"Yet so many of us are safely here," Nathaniel commented. "The sea must be mastered well enough now."

Someone called for another cider and Marie sighed. "Perhaps the sea should have taken some of these soldiers," she muttered before returning to her duties.

Nathaniel had noticed the soldiers being far too interested in Marie recently. He supposed she was young and pretty enough to be a distraction from their troubles, much like the alcohol was.

The soldiers seemed to take a liking to Henri, as well. He started playing cards with them once more not long after Marie had left the bar. It seemed he was winning more than losing, but supplying the men with drinks for each hand he won. The officers didn't seem pleased with the gambling, but appeared willing to allow it to continue for a time.

It was as he observed Henri rising, laughing, from a table to retrieve more drinks that Nathaniel also saw a drunken soldier at another table drag Marie onto his lap. She tried to pull away, but the soldier beside him held her arms. Yet another soldier made a grab for her skirts. They were calling her a French whore and laughing at her struggles.

Nathaniel responded without a thought for his actions. He reached below the bar, grasped the musket there, and moved swiftly across the room. He stopped not far from the table of soldiers, musket raised toward them. 

"Unhand her," he demanded.

The tavern went silent. Then there was a sea of movement. The soldiers tossed Marie away and Henri caught her up, guiding her out of the crowd as men stood and jeered at the soldiers. Soldiers stood and those few who were armed despite being off-duty reached for weapons.

"Stand down!" one of the officers roared. "For the love of God all of you stand down!"

To Nathaniel's surprise, the soldiers stopped and put their weapons away. One of the officers approached Nathaniel and he only then realized he was likely to be arrested. One glance at Marie, staring wide-eyed at him from her brother's arms, convinced him that taking action for her defense was worth any punishment he would endure. He finally lowered the musket but kept his eyes on the angry soldiers, some of whom looked prepared to shoot him despite their orders, and gave no attention to the officer.

"I suggest you put that musket away and not cause such madness again," the officer said. "I don't wish to arrest the owner of such a fine establishment."

There was muttering and jeering on both sides then, but Nathaniel raised his voice over them. "And I don't wish to put more blood on your men's hands. Anyone in this town is welcome here, day or night, so long as no men cause trouble as yours just have. My serving girl is not a whore. If your men want that, there's a house down the street that will gladly meet their needs."

"Very well," the officer replied. "But you won't bring out that musket again or there will be trouble if no officer is here to stop it."

"If your men cause trouble, then there will be trouble," Nathaniel declared. "I do not take orders from you. I am not one of your men."

"You have the sound of an Englishman," the officer countered. "Boston is also controlled by His Majesty. Therefore, you should be mindful of what I tell you."

Nathaniel gave him another glance, then turned and walked away. "Everyone can carry on. The next man who handles my serving girl in such away will be barred from my establishment, be they British soldier or man of Boston."

There were more mutters and some jeers, but the crowd settled down after a few moments.

Nathaniel retreated to the kitchen for a moment, gun still in hand. His hands trembled as he filled a cup with the strongest rum he owned and drank it swiftly, barely feeling the burn of the alcohol.

He heard footsteps and spun to face the door, expecting officers there to arrest him. He saw only Marie, then Henri behind her.

"Thank you," she told him, stepping up to kiss his cheek. "I believe that is the bravest thing I've yet seen a man do."

Nathaniel nodded to her and she left without another word.

Henri stepped into the doorway in her place. "I appreciate your affection for my sister," he said, and Nathaniel assumed the hidden question in his words.

"She is also something of a sister to me, as well," he assured him. "If she is harassed in my establishment, it is my fault, as well."

Henri nodded. Nathaniel wondered if he imagined a sense of relief in his expression. "And that was rather courageous."

Nathaniel forced a hint of a smile. "Not so much," he admitted. "It isn't loaded."

Henri laughed, and it was a laugh Nathaniel thought had no business being so wonderful, given the the risk they had faced moments before. "All the braver, then," Henri finally declared, grinning. "Thank you."

Nathaniel wasn't certain he deserved thanks, considering what could have occurred. He had not been in Boston yet when the soldiers had fired their weapons at a crowd on King Street, taking five lives in what the people of Boston had since named to be a massacre. He had heard much about it, including speeches made to honor the victims, however. It was possible that a similar event might have taken place in his own establishment for his own rash response. He was deeply thankful that one had not.

He went for more rum.