The atmosphere at the inn that night was one of celebration. No one seemed in any doubt that Tristan was the missing heir, and in truth, the fact that Tris had recognised Antoine Barbier erased the last niggling doubt in Raphael’s mind.
For the rest of the evening, Rafe watched the proceedings with cautious optimism. Rather than emptying as people returned to their homes, the bar gradually filled to bursting with people vying for Tristan’s attention. Clearly, word was spreading of his arrival.
But it wasn’t enough – the agent dared not rest on his laurels. They needed to get to the chateau as soon as possible. To be firmly in situ by the time Fontaine returned.
So he remained seated alone, taking mental notes of the local people’s attitude towards Philippe’s son’s return. So far, everyone had appeared delighted, though Rafe knew that at least some of their euphoria was due to the liberal provision of free alcohol.
The problems would come tomorrow. At the moment, the drunken assumption was that Montclair’s caretaker would be delighted to learn that the heir had returned home.
However, on waking in the cold light of day, there would be many who suspected the truth. They would fall into two categories. Those who would do what they could to protect Philippe de Montclair’s son. And those who would happily profit from his betrayal.
Raphael’s task now was to spot which was which.
Thinking on her grandfather’s words, Henrietta carefully seated herself next to her mother. The two didn’t speak, but clasped hands tightly, sharing a smile and a promise that the talking would come later. As they were served dinner, Henri divided her time between carefully observing both Raphael and Roseanna. She had no doubt that her cousin was delighted at Tristan’s effusive welcome. However, Henrietta knew Rosie better than most and could clearly see the hint of worry in her eyes – likely down to an erroneous fear that once he was acknowledged as a marquis, he would no longer want to leg shackle himself to an introverted country miss. Of course, everyone who knew Tristan also knew such a concern was ridiculous.
The old Henrietta would have simply told her cousin not to be so deuced bacon-brained, but the recent conversation with her grandfather had caused Henri to think twice before making such sweeping statements. Indeed, the more she considered her own conduct, the more she realised what a peagoose she’d been.
Raphael Augustin was first and foremost an agent of the King. He was aspywho’d spent his entire adult life operating in the shadows. Why the devil would he even consider sharing vital information with a chit of a girl - no matter how astute he thought her?
Rafe had never tried to hide his ruthless, single-mindedness – and no one could argue that secretly putting his own man on board theFortunehad been both.
Everyone in their party might well have been outraged at what they saw as his betrayal, but if the agent had shared his actions with her father, and one ofFortune’slong-time crew members had been unmasked as a traitor… In truth, Henri herself had been concerned about Roan Carew’s ability to remain impartial when it came to his men. And despite his anger, her father realised it too.
She didn’t know whether she and Raphael had any future at all, but she finally acknowledged that now wasn’t the time to question it – no matter how much she wanted to.Talk to himher grandfather had advised, and Henrietta fully intended to do so – as soon as the whole havey cavey business was over.
They ate breakfast early the following morning. Rafe remained aloof from the rest of the party, his eyes constantly on the road outside, openly anxious about Fontaine’s return.
News of Tristan’s sudden appearance had travelled faster than expected and by lunchtime, the inn was again filled with local people seeking to take a look at the so-called lost heir. However, as Raphael had predicted, there was much more scepticism in the cold light of day.
Antoine Barbier spoke very little about their flight from Montclair on the night of the attack, preferring to talk about their time in Pontorson. Rafe had the feeling that he and his wife had been happy there. For much of the time, the old man sat close to Tristan, as if to reassure himself that he wasn’t imagining things.
Raphael was acutely aware that they needed to be inside the Chateau before dark. Fontaine would likely return by noon on the morrow, and they had to make sure that Tristan was firmly ensconced before then.
Over lunch they decided that Rafe, Roan, Gabriel, Faith and Hope would accompany Tristan, while Henrietta and Roseanna remained at the inn with the Reverend, Percy, Dougal and Finn. While Raphael had initially been in favour of all the ladies remaining in the inn, both Faith and Hope had argued that their presence would add to the illusion that they were here merely as a favour to the new Marquis with no hidden agenda at all.
Faced with a possible mutiny, Rafe explained it was imperative they didn’t all become trapped within the Chateau if they found themselves in the suds – a possibility that certainly couldn’t be discounted.
‘Well, I’m not rightly sure where you think the reinforcements are going to come from,’ the Reverend declared matter-of-factly. ‘You’re not exactly knee-deep in military types here.’
‘Ye speak fer yersel’, Augustus Shackleford. We Scots be made o’ sterner stuff than ye pigeon livered Sassenachs.’ He stood up, fished out his bonnet and, plonking it on his head, launched into the opening bars ofLoch Lomond. It would actually have been quite moving if Dougal hadn’t had the voice of a strangled cat.
‘Aye, anybodie wad hae tae be daft tae abide an’ listen tae that noise. It be terrible,’ Finn winced.
‘Finn Noon, I believe you owe Dougal an apology,’ Percy interjected sternly before an argument could ensue.
‘It nae be ma fault Dougal cannae sing,’ the boy protested.
‘We will not be relying on you to provide the reinforcements,’ Raphael countered through gritted teeth. Truly, he was dealing with idiots. ‘You’ll need to get yourselves back to theFortuneand tell Spalding. He will know what to do…’ The agent paused and picked up his wine before adding, ‘While there are no guarantees, it’s always been my hope that Fontaine will see the futility of responding with violence when he discovers Tristan has reclaimed the Chateau. His punishment from those above him will be swift and brutal if he becomes involved in anything so public. My guess is they’ll do nothing until the furore of Tristan’s return has died down.’
‘So, will this never end?’ Roseanna asked, her voice trembling. ‘Is Tris always going to be at the mercy of these men?’
Rafe shook his head decisively. ‘Wewillbring them down. At the very least, Fontaine will know he is treading on very thin ice. My hope is that he’ll realise his time is done. Whatever happens,he’ll have failed – and those above him will not easily forgive that. I think he will try to negotiate.’
‘So, will there be no retribution at all?’ Tristan grated. ‘This bastard had my parents murdered.’ Roseanna laid her hand over her fiancé’s, and he gripped it tightly.
Raphael looked at his countryman in sympathy. ‘I cannot promise you Fontaine, my lord, but then he was never the one orchestrating your parents’ death. He was simply the tool, and the truth is that we may well need to sacrifice the smaller fish to get at the bigger. But if Fontaine goes rogue, he’ll have to give up those at the top, otherwise, he’ll live the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.’
‘Exactly like me then,’ Tristan retorted bitterly.
