Page 20 of The Rebellious Countess (The Ruined Duchess #2)

He looked at her in disbelief. Her beautiful, innocent, mistrusting face that he adored despite knowing he shouldn’t.

He had created her wariness of him and his abilities.

Yet he couldn’t understand how she had so little faith in him rescuing her precious earl.

He had sent his ship into the worst squall he’d seen in a decade at sea to avoid the British warship that had somehow seen them leaving Dumfries in the middle of the night and had chased them relentlessly off the coast of Scotland until he’d done the one thing they would never do, enter a damned storm that would swallow a lesser ship commanded by a lesser man.

He wasn’t being arrogant. It was the damned truth. He’d had little doubt they’d survive.

Then he’d sent the Maribelle and his crew back into the same storm when the French had attempted to hunt them down as well.

It was as if their mission had been reported to someone who did not want him to rescue her earl.

Or perhaps her brother-in-law had discovered his duplicity and was attempting to stop him from stealing his sister.

Either way, their short-day journey had taken multiple days, not hours and they had survived because of his ability to captain his ship in the worst of conditions. “Then I will rescue him from prison.”

“No one escapes Bagne of Toulon.”

He tamped down the growl threatening to surface as he chose to take another tact. “How do you know about Bagne of Toulon?”

“A member of the émigré army visited us at Caerlaverock and often spoke of the deplorable conditions at Toulon.”

Good God, how many spies dined at Caerlaverock? Not counting himself, because the ladies had not known his occupation, but the earl and now this nameless émigré . Perhaps he was the source of their trouble after all. Trying to inflect as little emotion as possible he asked, “What’s his name?”

Her brow rose as she ducked her head in a coquettish display that made him want to crush her delectable mouth with his own. Something he could never do again. “Why do you think it was a man?”

Focus on her question and not her mouth , he warned his over-eager libido.

“Because the émigré army wanted to restore the House of Bourbon to power, not establish women’s rights.”

“That doesn’t mean there weren’t members of the female aristocracy fighting with them.”

He sighed. This conversation was getting them nowhere. “The name of the émigré , Máira. It could be vital to Astley’s recovery.”

She dropped any semblance of flirtation and gave up the name without another word. “Comte Mathieu Armand du Motier. He is cousin to the Marquis de Lafayette, Gilbert du Motier.”

Good God. Did her family ever look into the lineage of nobility?

He had worried over one of the sisters checking DeBrett’s and finding his lie, but it turned out he wasn’t the only man to hide behind a title while entertaining the Blair family.

The Marquis de Lafayette, Gilbert du Motier, had no cousin.

Mathieu Armand was as big an imposter as he was.

Damnation. He let out a beleaguered breath and told her the brutal and honest truth.

“I regret to inform you Mathieu Armand du Motier is a fraud.”

She laughed, a disbelieving sound that was not her normal joyous fare, until she saw the serious expression he leveled at her. Her face dropped. “You’re joking.”

He slowly shook his head. “I am not.”

Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. “Yes, you are. I have known Mathieu Armand du Motier almost my entire life.” When he did not waiver, she continued.

“If you are not joking than you are sadly mistaken. The comte was business partners with my father. We lost contact with him after my father’s death, but he has just recently come back into our lives. ”

That caught his interest. “How recently?”

Her anger turned to suspicion. “I don’t see how this is relevant to rescuing Simon.”

“Is the comte French?”

“Of course he’s French. He fought in the émigré army. What else would he be? He barely escaped with his life in 1789. He came back to France several times and fought in the war. Each time he returned to Scotland injured and would recover with my family.”

“You remember him recovering at Urquhart Castle, not Caerlaverock?”

She gave one curt nod as if she’d proven him wrong. “Yes. The same man who visited my family and was my father’s business partner in the Highlands, began visiting us again last summer at my sister’s home.”

Could a man remain in one alias that long and never be detected?

“What was he doing while you and your sisters were living in destitution?”

“He searched for us, but was told the same thing Ross was told when he looked for us: we were sent to live with relatives. It was only when the comte saw the announcement of Iseabail’s betrothal to Nash that he learned our location, and he sought us out immediately.”

The man had not been living as Comte Mathieu Armand du Motier for the past ten years at least. How long he lived the lie before that, was still in question.

By the frustrated look on Máira’s face as she began to pace, he didn’t think she would tolerate him questioning the comte’s identity any further.

“The comte is a fraud.” Hag spat out the truth in brutal fashion, her voice filled with recrimination and Elias groaned. The woman had the tact of a sailor using a canon.

Máira spun around, a gasp on her lips. She was just as shocked by Hag’s blatant eavesdropping as he was, only Máira’s surprise was wrapped in indignation. With her hands clenched in fists at her sides she accused, “That is a lie!”

“When a woman reacts blindly to a man’s ruse, she is being as stupid as a deer in rut.”

He had to give it to Hag, she knew how to shock and blatantly tell the truth in a manner no one could deny, including a well-born lady.

His wife sputtered for a moment. Took a deep breath and walked over to Hag and met her toe to toe. Hag quirked an amused brow but didn’t take a step back. She’d never been one to back down for as long as Elias could remember.

“My father trusted him completely. That is enough for me.”

“Your father was a fool.”

The slap to Hag’s cheek left a silence in the room no one seemed willing to break.

Máira’s chest heaved with each breath she took.

Hag raised her hand to the quickly forming red hand imprint on her face and stared at Máira, her face blank of emotion.

Elias eyed Hag and then Tomás, silently willing them both not to retaliate.

If they did, he wasn’t sure how he would react.

Tomás eyed him as well. They both knew Hag could hold her own against Máira.

Neither knew if his wife had any skills in fighting.

Before he could step between the two women, Hag smiled and said in her thick French accent, “It’s about time you took a stance for yourself.”

“I took a stance for my father. He was the best of men.”

“I can only take your word for it, but I can tell you he was a fool when it came to his judgement of that scoundrel.” Hag caught Máira’s hand before she could land a second slap, the two women sizing each other up and Elias knew it was time to intervene before they began fighting in earnest.

He stepped in between them and bent down to look Máira in the eyes. “She has the tact of a whore selling her wares.”

Hag laughed and Tomás growled but did nothing to keep him from continuing. “Let her explain why she said what she said. She obviously knows something we don’t about the Comte.”

Máira searched his eyes and reluctantly agreed. “Fine.” She crossed her arms across her chest and Elias ignored the temptation she waved in front of him.

Damnation , the woman challenged his self-control.

She peered around him and asked Hag, “Why do you think my father was a poor judge of the Comte’s character?”

“Because I know the Marquis de Lafayette. He has no cousin on his father’s side.”

Máira’s brow furrowed, her eyes tracking back and forth as if she searched her memory for something to disprove Hag’s statement.

He was certain she wouldn’t find anything.

In his gut he’d known the Comte was a fraud the moment she mentioned him, and he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her Hag’s knowledge did not change the man she knew her father to be.

It only meant her father had been human.

Everyone was capable of being duped, including Hag.

That was why she was the woman she was today.

Except he couldn’t tell her Hag’s story. If he did, he would be pointing out the similarities Máira shared with the woman—both had been fooled by the men they married. He only hoped he had not created the same cynicism in Máira as Hag’s husband had created in her.

Máira’s eyes closed for a moment and when she reopened them, he saw her determination to move forward in the hardness of her gaze. She’d accepted what she couldn’t change, how that admission changed her, remained to be seen.

“How will you break into a prison?”

He gave her the straightforward answer she deserved. “If I must pretend to be a guard, I will be a guard. I’m a very good actor.” He got it from his mother.

“I see.” Her mood dropped and he knew exactly what she was thinking.

He had acted when he was with her. He supposed to a point it was true, but everything he’d felt while he was with Máira had been real.

Every emotion, every desire. It had all been real.

Especially the physical attraction. She brought out the best, and worst in him.

He wanted to be a better man when he was with her, yet he also wanted to steal every moment and enjoy them to the fullest, even though he knew he would not be there for her in the future.

He ignored that pinch, which was turning into a clenched fist in his chest and continued. “Our Regent is depending upon me to bring the earl home. I will bring him home one way or the other.”