us.” He didn’t speak. “Yes, you will escort us, and you will pretend to be enamored of Miss Cole. If that proud old man sees you are after the other, he will believe my Françoise safe.”
“And Miss Cole’s reputation?” A bleak expression chilled his features. “What of that, Madame?”
She shrugged. “Miss Cole is a sensible woman who loves our Françoise almost as much as I do. She has been a true friend to the child. Once this is over I will set up an annuity for her support, and she need never go into service again.”
“Yes.” Frederick held the old woman’s eyes, his voice stern. “She can live quite out of the way, never meeting those of her own station and, thanks to loneliness or a need for love, actually become what you would make her, in reputation, thanks to me!” He waved a hand, a sharp dismissive gesture. “I think not, Madame. Another plan, please.”
Those shrewd eyes narrowed. “You are rather vehement in Miss Cole’s defense, Sir Frederick.”
“Is that a crime?”
She chuckled, a chuckle which turned into a cough. When the spasm passed, she looked still more exhausted. “You are, behind that sardonic mask you wear so well, a good man, are you not, Sir Frederick,” she suggested.
“I doubt it,” he responded. His casual denial of humanity was spoiled when he added, “You must rest, Madame. We will speak when you are less tired.”
“Yes. On the packet. Or when we reach Dover.”
“You are determined to sail today?”
“The sooner we leave French soil, the sooner my granddaughter will be safe.”
Frederick didn’t attempt to argue with the determination he read in her words and expression—although it was his belief the comte wouldn’t let the English Channel interfere in his pursuit. “Monsieur de Bartigues and I will see to tickets for the packet, Madame.” Frederick rose and bowed, feeling great admiration for the proud old woman who would endanger her life to protect her grandchild. “Might I suggest that you pretend you are removing to another inn, not trusting the landlord at this one, but that you will wait elsewhere for a better crossing? That way, perhaps, if it is well-timed, you can be on the packet and away before the comte realizes you have escaped?”
“An excellent notion, Sir Frederick. You are not only a good man, you are a wise one as well.”
Ignoring her compliment he said, “I’ll reserve staterooms for your party.” He bowed again and let in the maid who stood guard at the door to Madame’s room. Speaking to her in soft French, he said, “Take care of your mistress. She is tired and not well.” The maid lifted her demurely lowered head, the look in her eyes scathing. He smiled. “I apologize. You know better than I her condition, but I cannot help worrying about her.” There was a slight softening in the hard features under the tight braid forming a high crown on the woman’s head. The maid nodded, and passed on to go to Madame. Frederick went to find Yves.
After a brief conference the two strolled down to the main taproom. They studied the men lounging there. Choosing one they believed they’d seen in the comte’s train, they took seats nearby. “I could not convince her to leave on today’s packet, Yves. And truly, she is too unwell to attempt it. But she will remove with Miss Cole and Mademoiselle to another inn. I wonder if we, too, should stay.”
“Her servants are warned. They will not be tricked again, I think.”
“I am needed at home. We delayed in Paris too long for added delay now.”
“Yes.” Yves scowled at his friend. “That express you received indicated speed was of the essence, but you would wait for the last of your order from the tailor there.”
Sir Frederick chuckled at his friend’s accusing tone. Yves must have taken part in amateur theatricals at some time in his young life, that he was able to deliver the falsehood with such believable vehemence! “I was much in need,” he said, his
“And Miss Cole’s reputation?” A bleak expression chilled his features. “What of that, Madame?”
She shrugged. “Miss Cole is a sensible woman who loves our Françoise almost as much as I do. She has been a true friend to the child. Once this is over I will set up an annuity for her support, and she need never go into service again.”
“Yes.” Frederick held the old woman’s eyes, his voice stern. “She can live quite out of the way, never meeting those of her own station and, thanks to loneliness or a need for love, actually become what you would make her, in reputation, thanks to me!” He waved a hand, a sharp dismissive gesture. “I think not, Madame. Another plan, please.”
Those shrewd eyes narrowed. “You are rather vehement in Miss Cole’s defense, Sir Frederick.”
“Is that a crime?”
She chuckled, a chuckle which turned into a cough. When the spasm passed, she looked still more exhausted. “You are, behind that sardonic mask you wear so well, a good man, are you not, Sir Frederick,” she suggested.
“I doubt it,” he responded. His casual denial of humanity was spoiled when he added, “You must rest, Madame. We will speak when you are less tired.”
“Yes. On the packet. Or when we reach Dover.”
“You are determined to sail today?”
“The sooner we leave French soil, the sooner my granddaughter will be safe.”
Frederick didn’t attempt to argue with the determination he read in her words and expression—although it was his belief the comte wouldn’t let the English Channel interfere in his pursuit. “Monsieur de Bartigues and I will see to tickets for the packet, Madame.” Frederick rose and bowed, feeling great admiration for the proud old woman who would endanger her life to protect her grandchild. “Might I suggest that you pretend you are removing to another inn, not trusting the landlord at this one, but that you will wait elsewhere for a better crossing? That way, perhaps, if it is well-timed, you can be on the packet and away before the comte realizes you have escaped?”
“An excellent notion, Sir Frederick. You are not only a good man, you are a wise one as well.”
Ignoring her compliment he said, “I’ll reserve staterooms for your party.” He bowed again and let in the maid who stood guard at the door to Madame’s room. Speaking to her in soft French, he said, “Take care of your mistress. She is tired and not well.” The maid lifted her demurely lowered head, the look in her eyes scathing. He smiled. “I apologize. You know better than I her condition, but I cannot help worrying about her.” There was a slight softening in the hard features under the tight braid forming a high crown on the woman’s head. The maid nodded, and passed on to go to Madame. Frederick went to find Yves.
After a brief conference the two strolled down to the main taproom. They studied the men lounging there. Choosing one they believed they’d seen in the comte’s train, they took seats nearby. “I could not convince her to leave on today’s packet, Yves. And truly, she is too unwell to attempt it. But she will remove with Miss Cole and Mademoiselle to another inn. I wonder if we, too, should stay.”
“Her servants are warned. They will not be tricked again, I think.”
“I am needed at home. We delayed in Paris too long for added delay now.”
“Yes.” Yves scowled at his friend. “That express you received indicated speed was of the essence, but you would wait for the last of your order from the tailor there.”
Sir Frederick chuckled at his friend’s accusing tone. Yves must have taken part in amateur theatricals at some time in his young life, that he was able to deliver the falsehood with such believable vehemence! “I was much in need,” he said, his
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