Page 19 of The Rebellious Countess (The Ruined Duchess #2)
Eight
Mr. Greasley,
The Earl of Astley was captured in the Bay of Biscay.
He was on board a merchant ship from America, and claimed to be traveling to France in search of a stolen piece of jewelry for his wife.
I will be taking him to Le Mont-Saint-Michel.
I need you to broker a ransom of fifteen thousand pounds.
Your cut will be one thousand pounds. Once I receive the balance, your debt is paid and the earl will be returned to England—in a box.
Maximilien de Danton
—A letter from the Prince de Wagram, also known as the Minister of War and chief of staff to Napoleon Bonaparte. Recovered from the pocket of dead double agent Henry Greasley.
I t was time to explain everything to his bride, whether he wanted to or not.
Since the Confiance had left port, Hag didn’t have any other guests staying at the inn, and she and her ever-loyal henchman had moved across the room to allow him to explain what he must. He should not have discounted Hag’s past and how she might react to Máira’s unwitting participation in this mission.
Yet he found it somewhat astonishing the past would stir any emotion other than mere annoyance in Hag.
Throughout the years of cold indifference, he hadn’t suspected a moment of emotion until Hag looked into his eyes and said, She’s your wife.
In those three words he saw every tear she never allowed to drop, every cut to her heart she’d seared over with the heat of her anger.
Until the day her husband died with a noose around his neck, Hag had been the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.
He just hadn’t realized her grief still tore at her to this day.
He’d truly believed she had moved past it.
Now, he realized the danger in allowing Hag to see a kindred spirit in his wife, because for however short their marriage would be, Máira deserved the truth. “The Earl of Astley needs my assistance here in France.”
Máira gasped and covered her mouth with the same delicate hand she’d wrapped around his cock not an hour earlier. “Simon?” She asked.
His stomach flipped uncomfortably when she used the earl’s Christian name, and he narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“Of course I do.”
Of course she did. Everyone knew of the earl, but not everyone knew him well enough to use his Christian name. He waited for her to explain. When she gave him no more information, he found it difficult not to infuse animosity toward the man he was to rescue in his next question.
“How well do you know him?”
“He often dines with us when we are in town.” Once again, her answer gave him less than he’d asked for.
He waited for her to elaborate. Waited for his wife to say she knew the earl on a more intimate level.
The muscles in his chest twitched with his desire to punch something or someone with Simon Clark’s jaw.
He didn’t want to hear it, yet every ounce of the man he was told him that one look at Máira and the earl couldn’t help but want more. Her lips. Her neck. Her décolletage…
Merde . He was usually good at interrogations, quietly waiting for a prisoner to fill in the blanks as he stared them down. He could use none of his interrogation techniques with her, and he found himself becoming increasingly more impatient.
His next question escaped through clenched teeth. “Why would an earl frequently break his fast with you and your sisters?”
Her adorable brow puckered in consternation, as if it was ridiculous for a husband to ask such a question. “He’s Ross’s best friend.”
“I see.” No. He didn’t see at all. Did men of the ton often visit friends’ homes first thing in the morning?
If a gentleman was to eat his morning meal away from his home, wouldn’t it be with his mistress?
Not that Elias could afford to keep such a woman, but the earl certainly could.
And of course, now he wondered how much he dared share about why the earl had been kidnapped in the first place.
The last thing he needed was for the mission to become fodder for the Blair sisters to discuss with various guests over a meal.
“Elias. Please tell me what has happened to Simon.” The imploring look in her beautiful blue eyes was enough to undo him.
“Astley was kidnapped and is being held for ransom by French authorities.”
“No!” Her hushed denial of the truth as her fingers covered her mouth spoke volumes to how well she knew the earl.
He knew the earl by reputation alone—if one included having seen the caricatures in gossip rags of the earl’s exploits with widows and women of questionable morals.
Or of the images of the ladies of the ton dropping like a litany of flies at his feet as he walked through a ballroom.
The Earl of Astley was a consummate rake and gambler.
Until Elias had been given this assignment, he’d no idea Astley had any worth beyond his title.
It was even more obvious now that Astley was worth more to Elias’s wife, and that made him want to hit someone. He swallowed the anger he shouldn’t feel and replied with the controlled command of a captain. “Yes, and I’ve been sent to recover him.”
“But how will you rescue him from the French?” She looked around the room, seeing it for the first time as the foreign land at war with England.
She eyed Hag and Tomás with even more uncertainty before saying, “It’s not as if they will open their doors and say, ‘Come, take your English comrade back to England.’”
He grabbed the drink Hag had poured. “By any means necessary.” He downed the contents.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He let the alcohol settle and replied, “It means I will bring the earl home to English soil regardless of the cost.”
The spark in her eyes fluttered. The glow dimming like the stars in the morning light. “You mean you would stoop low enough as to marry a desperate debutante?”
He nodded his head, not letting the fingers around his glass inadvertently smash it to bits. There was enough broken glass on the floor, and he’d certainly done enough injury to her ego, if not her heart.
Her question was barely audible. “Why?”
He frowned. “Why what?”
“Why choose me as a means to an end? What made you choose me as part of your ruse?”
“Astley is a peer that I had been tasked to recover. To obtain information as to his whereabouts, I had to obtain some Scottish whisky. In order to obtain the whisky, I had to be married to a Scottish lady.”
“And you chose me as your target.”
He nodded, knowing he would hurt her all over again with his acknowledgment. He didn’t say she’d captured his attention the moment he laid eyes on her. Everything about his growing feelings toward her were irrelevant.
“And you are…what? A mere knight tasked to recover him at all costs—even if you destroy my reputation? My virtue? My sisters’ chances at good marriages? How much am I to sacrifice in the name of your mission?” Her voice became shrill as a laugh which held no mirth, escaped her lips.
“I would not sacrifice you. I would not?—”
“That’s exactly what you did! I was forced upon a ship without my knowledge, nearly died as we sailed to God knows where in France.
I nearly lost my virtue right there—” Her finger jutted out in the direction of a table in a corner near the door.
“—in a tavern on the floor.” A flicker of the horror she’d endured flashed in the depths of her eyes as she accused him of being the worst sort of man.
“That man died lying next to me. His blood stained my wedding gown… my wedding gown. ” Her voice broke, and he wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her.
Apologize for all the pain she’d endured.
He knew she wouldn’t allow it. She would fight him.
Bite him. Kick and scratch and do everything to him that he deserved for taking her from the comfort of her family.
He looked away, too ashamed of what he’d inflicted upon an innocent.
“And yet, do you want to know the funny thing, dear Husband?”
No, he didn’t, because he knew there was absolutely nothing funny about the pain he’d inflicted upon her.
“If you had asked me to do all of that to save Simon, I would not have hesitated. I would have stood at my family church in front of God and my loved ones and said, ‘I do.’ Swearing my reputation, my virtue, my life to save Simon, because he is a better man than you could possibly hope to become, a better person than I will ever be.”
He did not flinch at her words despite the gaping hole she left in his chest. What she spoke was nothing but the truth—about him. He deserved her wrath and so much more. She, however, deserve none of her self-deprecation.
“I will get him back for you.”
“What if you can’t?”
“I will.”
“How do you know you will?”
He ground his teeth. She could question his character, he had no qualms with that.
His ability to complete his mission, however, was backed by a perfect record.
Since the day he’d shown up at his uncle’s doorstep with a letter from his mother, his uncle had questioned everything he had ever learned.
He’d questioned his ability to saddle a damned horse, earn his commission in the navy, and eventually command his own ship, but Elias had proven his worth as a military man, if not a gentleman.
“Because I was tasked to do so,” he bit out, with more irritation than he’d meant to show. What he didn’t say was, because you wish to have Astley back .
“That doesn’t mean you can do it. There are some situations you won’t be able to overcome. What if he’s in Bagne of Toulon?” She asked.