A Reformed Rake by Jeanne Savery Page A

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “I’ve a better notion. Serve it to mon ami, le comte .”
    “I couldn’t .”
    “I think,” said Frederick gently, “that you could. If you do not, you will, mine host, eat it yourself.”
    “He will ruin me.”
    “Ruin or death. Which do you prefer?”
    “It will not kill me. I did not,” he seemed to be trying to convince himself, “put in enough to kill.” The man looked at the food, reached hesitantly for a spoon.
    Yves stared. “You would rather suffer agony from whatever poison you added to our food, than serve it to the man who ordered it and deserves to suffer?”
    “I would. He is evil. You do not understand what he would do to me.”
    “That’s enough,” Sir Frederick said when the man raised the first trembling bite to his mouth. “ I am not evil.”
    The man seemed to disintegrate. He slipped from the chair and groveled at Frederick’s feet. “I will serve you properly. The comte need not know you ate. He will think you fasted, not trusting the food ... or that you absently fed a bite to the dog there,” he pointed to where a small pooch lay before the fire unnoticed, “and were warned when the animal became ill. Yes, that is what I will say. He will believe me.” The man was babbling. In disgust Sir Frederick walked away. Slowly the innkeeper climbed to his feet, pasty-faced, and wavered toward the door. “I will serve you myself, m’lord. And I will taste what I bring so you may trust me.” He backed, still babbling out the door, closing it behind his exit.
    hat night Frederick slept with a pistol under his pillow, but he’d no need of it. He’d finished shaving when, early the next morning, he received a message that the comtesse wished to speak with him. Not bothering with breakfast, he dressed quickly. About to leave for the assignation with Madame, Frederick turned back and shook Yves awake. “Madame requires words with me. I will return shortly, but stay awake, my friend. I do not trust our acquaintance, le comte.”
    Sir Frederick bowed when brought into Madame’s presence by a tall, thin, grim looking maid, one of the pair of sisters who had been in Madame’s service for many years. “Madame?”
    “Sir Frederick. Again we are in your debt.”
    He waved a hand. “Please. It was nothing. I would know how I may serve you now.” His eyes noted the palsied shaking of the hand gripping the ever present cane. Her face, which had worn age-wrinkled but healthy looking skin on first meeting, seemed shrunken, the skin tightening around the magnificent bones of her skull. It had a faintly yellow tinge to it, too, which he did not like. He knew she was holding herself stiffly erect by willpower alone and moved toward her, seating himself after receiving permission. He laid his hand over the one on the cane. “Madame, please. Do not exert yourself so.” She relaxed enough the back of the chair helped support her, but kept her chin raised. She stared at him for long moments before stating, “You mean my Frani no harm.”
    “I mean her no harm. My only wish is to help all of you.”
    “Yet Miss Cole reads your reputation as such that you will wish to seduce my granddaughter.”
    Frederick chuckled. “What it is to have a reputation. At one time, I certainly might have done so. She is just the sort of lively minx that appealed to my grass-time. That has passed, Madame. I swear to you I have no evil designs on her person or reputation.” He frowned. “But the very reputation which bothers our Miss Cole will make it difficult for me to help once we’ve crossed the Channel.”
    Shrewd eyes held his, the steady look disconcerting even to one as strong-minded as Frederick. “I see, I think. If you escort my granddaughter to her English grandfather, he would not believe you had not touched her.”
    “You speak bluntly, Madame. You also speak truth.”
    “But you would help?”
    “I would help in any way you can conceive.”
    “You will escort