Page 29 of The Rebellious Countess (The Ruined Duchess #2)

Thirteen

My dearest Simon,

I received word the brooch was destroyed. Regardless, I don’t want you to face unnecessary perils. Please come home to me.

Your loving wife

—A coded letter to Simon Clark, Earl of Astley, secret agent of the Crown, from Sir Robert Williamson, War Office London, England. It never reached the earl because double agent Henry Greasley killed the messenger, a young man with a son to feed.

T he town was deadly quiet. Nothing stirred.

No cats, no dogs, no owls hooted in the night air.

Even the tavern was empty of no-good men and whores trying to survive.

Elias kept their horse to the shadows, watching every doorway, every rooftop, every nook and cranny that did not waver with movement.

One of his absconded pistols was hidden in the skirts of Máira’s gown, ready to use on the first man to make a move, yet something told him no one in this village was a threat, at least not in the manner he was accustomed to facing.

The conversation of the couple came back to him.

Hag’s warning of a deadly sickness made him want to turn back and forget his mission regardless of the cost to England and Astley.

The silent woman wrapped in his arms was too precious to lose for a man who went on suicide missions for the Crown.

He felt as if he were on his own mission of murder, and the only victim would be his wife. Mon Dieu , if his plan of using her as a wife caused her death…

“Don’t worry. I never get sick,” she whispered in French, her accent a bit too stilted for his comfort.

Máira was in tune with his emotions. It was uncanny and unlike anyone else since his father’s death. Even Hag no longer knew his heart the way she once had. He squeezed Máira’s waist and spoke in his native tongue as well. “I’m going to hold you to those words. Now be a good wife and be quiet.”

She gave a huge sigh, as if she found him impossible.

He nuzzled her hair and whispered in English in her ear. “Your French is atrocious.”

She smacked his hand but did not argue. For now, for him she would be the obedient silent wife, later she might throttle him.

Elias found a stable where he would have to either rest their horse or talk the proprietor into trading the stallion for a fresher mount, an act of necessity that would cost him plenty with Tomás.

He relieved Máira of her pistol, shoved it into the back of his waistband and dismounted before lifting Máira to the ground. “Stay behind me.”

He had already told her they would not speak in English again until they were safely aboard the Maribelle . He’d thought she would object, but she acquiesced without argument. Just as now, she stayed behind him as they entered the large stable with the stallion in tow.

“ Bonsoir !” he called out to the quiet space in front of them. The stable was lit. Someone had to be inside. No fool would leave lanterns burning in a veritable tinder box if someone wasn’t there.

The snick of a musket being cocked behind him made him slowly turn, reaching behind him to wrap his arm around Máira to keep her close to his back as he turned to face the threat.

Looking down from the loft above the main door, stood a teenage boy with eyes wide as he held the weapon up against his jaw, the barrel aimed in their direction. If it weren’t for the way the boy quivered, the muzzle would have been aimed at his chest.

“We mean you no harm. We are looking for a fresh horse.”

The boy shook his head, his dark black hair spilling into his eyes. “We have none.”

Elias smiled. “As you can see, I am from the imperial guard.” He hoped the blood on the borrowed uniform did not show too much. “My horse is of good stock. He is more valuable to you than any of the nags you have.”

The boy shook his head once more. “You need to leave. Everyone here is infected.”

Elias nodded his head. “That’s why we have come. We are on our way to Mont-Saint-Michel. My wife will tend the sick there. When I became ill, she did not, and she saved me. She is blessed by the Almighty. She can help the military men at Mont-Saint-Michel survive as well.”

The shake of the boy’s head made Elias want to stop him from talking before the words left his mouth. “They’re dying like flies. Everyone is.”

Well, shite. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. “Then it is important that we get there quickly.”

“I told you, I have no horses.”

Elias looked from stall to stall. Every stall appeared as empty as the boy said. “None? Why?”

“They were stolen by people trying to escape the illness.”

“So why do you have the stable lit up as if you do have horses available?”

“To let my aunt know I am well.”

“I don’t understand?” None of it made sense.

“She is caring for her children. They are all sick. My uncle died, and that’s when people stole their horses.

My aunt asked that I come here and make sure nothing else was taken.

She sent word of her husband’s death to my parents, and they sent me to help, but when I arrived, the children were sick.

She did not want me to go inside her house out of fear that I will get it as well. ”

A donkey brayed in the rear of the barn.

“You have a donkey?” The beast of burden would have to do. It would kill the stallion if they continued.

His question brought a bark of laughter from the boy that was hardly filled with joy. “Pierre cannot help you. He is nearly twice my age.”

Elias winced. No, he could not take a chance with a stubborn old beast that may drop dead before they reached Mont-Saint-Michel.

They would have to stop for the night and move on in the morning after their horse rested, but if things were as bad as the boy made them out to be, he wasn’t about to leave his horse unattended here.

“We need to rest our horse.”

“You are still sick?” The caution in the boy’s question was understandable.

He lied. “No. It has been over a fortnight since I recovered.”

The relief in the boy’s eyes made him feel dirty for his deceit. “Very well. I’ll tend him.”

Elias held up his hand to stop the boy before he scurried down the ladder. “I will take care of him, but we will need a place to stay.”

“The tavern?—”

“I have no doubt the tavern keeper has fallen ill as well. The tavern was dark when we came into town. In fact, very few places had a light on. If I take my wife to the tavern, I have no doubt she will get caught up with caring for the people there and she will never leave. We must rest. She will have her hands full soon enough.”

The boy began shaking his head as if he knew what Elias was going to ask before the words left his mouth.

“I have herbs that will help your aunt and her children.” The soft voice behind him rose to the boy as Máira stepped out from behind him and pulled some purple flowers from a small satchel tied to the saddle. Damn her.

“You need to keep quiet,” he hissed.

“The boy needs our help,” she shot right back.

Bloody hell, her bleeding heart. He should have never mentioned her tending to the ill.

Feet hitting the ground behind him made him turn to face the boy, expecting the rifle to still be pointed at his chest. Instead, it was slung over the boy’s back.

“You have an angel for a wife,” the boy said as his eyes took in Máira’s form with a little too much admiration.

He cleared his throat. “Eyes on the plants, garcon .”

The boy’s cheeks reddened and his chest puffed up at being called a boy. His wife slapped his arm for his trouble.

“Stop it,” she scolded, and then turned to the boy. “Steep the leaves in their tea, it will calm their stomachs. Then you must feed them chicken soup, put these in the soup.” She handed him a different plant from the satchel. “It will give them strength.”

The boy nodded as he took the plants from Máira.

“Now go. The sooner you get these in their bellies, the better off they will be.”

“ Merci Madame, but what of my aunt’s stable?”

The way the boy had watched Máira’s mouth move, Elias wasn’t certain if he was mesmerized by her delectable lips or if he was observing how her English tongue struggled with the words.

He stepped between them before Máira could respond.

“I understand your apprehension, but we will be here until you return in the morning. I will guard the stable.” When the boy still shook his head, Elias continued.

“I obviously have to protect my own horse if things are as bad as you say.”

He softened his tone. “You look like you have not eaten in a week. If you do not stay strong, you will get sick as well. Go. Cook them a meal and eat heartily.”

Once more the boy looked affronted. “I don’t cook.”

He tossed him some dried meat Hag had provided for their trip. “Every good soldier learns to cook. Boil this in water with some potatoes. Then get some sleep before you return. It will keep you healthy.” Elias had no idea if what he said was true or not since no one had identified the illness.

The kid, however, seemed to take his advice to heart. Elias and his wife had survived the ague, there had to be something truthful about what he was saying. “Only one night?” The boy asked.

He and Maria nodded in unison. “One night,” he said. “Then my horse will be rested and we will be on our way.”

“Very well. Madame, you can sleep in the loft. The hay is clean and it is warmer up there.”

“ Merci. What is your name?”

Damn her obstinate tongue. He didn’t give a damn what the boy’s name was.

“Hubert, Madame. It is my father’s name.” The boy blushed once more.

Elias barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“Hubert, we thank you for your hospitality.” Máira bowed her head to the boy, and the boy’s eyes darted to Elias. No lady would bow to a servant or someone in working class, he wanted to throttle her.

The boy’s lips quirked in an uncomfortable smile and then he ran from the stable. No doubt ready to turn them over to the first soldier he saw.

He turned on his wife. “I told you to keep quiet.”

“He needed my help.”

“When did you pick those plants?”