Whether it was the next evening or numerous ones later, she reached for his hand, twined her fingers in his. She had to know how she was saved and if her captors had gotten away. “Tell me what happened.”
“We came out when you were so helpful as to feign illness. Three of us—Langley, Kane, and I—heard you from our own posts. My friend, Lord Halsey, was on the front door. We three had little problem subduing the three men, but Halsey was caught off guard by the fracas. When the woman came out the front door, she was firing her own pistol.”
“La Mère,” she whispered.
“Is that her name?”
Giselle shrugged and gasped, regretting her movement and the sharp pain it sent down her wounded arm.
“Don’t worry yourself,” Clive said. “Whoever she is, she’s a devil. Halsey caught one of her bullets in a thigh, but it is, thank God, more a graze than penetration. What those fiends did to you, I will never forgive. You have been through hell, and I will see you healthy once again.”
Breathless, she still had to know one thing. “And the woman? La Mère? Did Kane capture her?”
“No, I am sad to say. She ran. Halsey was unable to follow her, bleeding and limping as he was.”
“She was their leader. Save for a man they called the Falcon, or Faucon.”
“Is he one of the three men in the cottage?”
“No. He came a few days ago, then left after talking with all of them. He has contacts to take information—and me—across the Channel.” She caught her breath, a hand to her chest.
“I wear you out.” Clive kissed the knuckles of her good hand. “Rest.”
With that assurance, she closed her eyes again. She slept without the dreams of being tied and prodded.
Perhaps it was the next day or the next week when she sat up for the first time, enjoying bread and jam as other questions came to her for Clive.
“Who is La Mère really, I wonder?” she said.
“Do you have any clues?”
“She wore a mask in my presence, so I can say she is lovely, but I might not be able to identify her. Or even draw her.”
“You can try later. When you are up to the task.”
“I will. I will say that she speaks well, with a Parisian accent. She’s had an education. What’s more, she claims to have known my mother.I cannot imagine who she might be. But I will think on it, forever if need be. And then…there is one more minor fact. She is elegant in her attire. Why dress like a woman with flair, even though you are a cipher? Does it not make you distinguishable? Noticeable?”
He grew pensive and sat forward, his hands clasped, his brow furrowed. “Her clothing may be one of the marks of her status.”
Giselle raised a finger. “One of the ways her men recognize her.”
“Do you think she is an aristocrat?”
Giselle thought long and hard on that, only to shake her head. “New or old, I have no idea. But why does she work to secure Bonaparte’s success? No. No, don’t answer that. I know.”
“She may work to remain in his good graces.”
“Exactly. To get her lands or wealth or position back—or acquire new holdings.”
“Many do,” he said, his gray gaze probing hers. “You have worked to defeat him.”
She perceived the train of his thought. “My father’s influence is gone. The land too. Bought by friends of the empire. My brother is dead. The line of the Viscount of Touraine is gone for my family.”
Clive sat forward once more and took her hand. “What you have done for the cause is wonderful. No matter your motive. It has worked.”
She saw on his face the pleasure in his words. “You have news?”
“We have word from an agent in Ostend that the Emperor of Austria has joined the United Kingdom and Russia in a coalition.”
