Gibson opened the door. “My lord, a Madame Fontaine is here. Would you like me to—”
“Gibson, is it? Move aside.” The woman pushed Gibson as she brushed by him. “Me and the fine capitaine are well acquainted, are we not, mon ami.” She walked briskly toward him, her pale blue dress rustling.
At the sight of Madame Fontaine, Marcus jumped to his feet, quickly striding around the desk. “Madame, I did not expect you.”
She waved off his comment before accepting a buss on each cheek before sinking down into the chair before his desk. She crooked her finger toward Anthony. “Come here and greet me proper, filou.”
As Anthony, or trickster, as Madame referred to him, did as bidden, Marcus studied the older woman who had saved his life. From her dress and better English, he’d say the allowance he’d given her had greatly aided her.
After batting Anthony’s arm, she shooed him away. “Now you go. I have très important matters to discuss with the capitaine.”
He held back a grin at Anthony’s surprised look.
“I am hurt that you could not take me into your confidence, Madame.”
She rolled her eyes. “No you’re not. Now go.”
“Anything for you, ma belle dame.” With his hands crossed over his heart, he gave the woman a bow then left the room.
Madame Fontaine waited for the door to close behind her before she looked up. Her face broke into a wide smile. “You look hail and hardy my guerrier brisé.”
No one called him broken warrior anymore. “I am.” He held his arms out wide, before leaning his arse against the desk and grasping the edge with his hands. “And you, my angel, are doing well.”
She shrugged, the gray curls about her face swaying with her movement. “We do well, thanks to your generosity.”
He was pleased he could do something for her. Before the war, she and her husband had owned a great farm that was prosperous and then not only was it stripped of its harvest, but also burned, leaving nothing but the house standing. Napoleon’s army took both her husband and son into service and they were killed in the wars, leaving only her young granddaughter who she’d hidden beneath the floorboards whenever soldiers were about.
“Still the nightmares?” Her brow knit with concern.
The question caught him off guard. “They are rare, now that I have Mariel.”
Her smile was back. “So you are married. I wish to meet this woman that kept your heart beating, even when it should not.”
“I promise, you will. We marry in a few days. I would like very much if you could be there.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You English are so slow. It is difficult to believe you won the war.” She winked. “But I’m glad you did.”
He agreed. At first, he hadn’t understood the significance of it, but after knowing Madame Fontaine, he understood how important it was to win.
“I’ve come to ask for your help yet again. I do not know if it is considered proper in your country, but I treat you like my son and so I ask you like a son.”
He tried to imagine his mother and Madame Fontaine conversing about him. That would never occur as his mother would immediately know that the older woman was not of the French Aristocracy, though she was most likely on a level as their gentry. “You know you have only to ask. I can never truly recompense you for saving my life.”
She sat a bit straighter in the chair. “Très vrai. I am thankful my mother taught me what I needed to know to save you. For you are an important ally, non?”
“Yes. Tell me what I can do.”
“It is Lissette. I wish her to marry an appropriate English gentleman.”
He widened his eyes in surprise. “Little Lissette? Marry?” He tried to remember how old she was. She’d dressed as a boy for safety and had the curiosity of an innocent child.
The woman raised one eyebrow much higher than the other. “That petite fille is grown now. Overnight, she became woman in body but not yet in mind.” Madame Fontaine snorted. “She thinks she is a woman, but she is not. Much trouble she causes me.” The woman sighed. “She is much like me when I had dix-neuf ans.”
Nineteen. Little Lisette was nineteen? And ready for marriage? That wasn’t exactly his specialty, but he would figure out what needed to be done. “Of course, I will help you.”
“I knew the moment I heard you speak that you were un homme bon. I do not allow her to marry yet. She must know more of English ways. I let you guide me on it all.”
She rose quickly, and he offered her his arm. “I promise, I will put a plan in place so that little, I mean, Lissette will have the best opportunities for a good man.” He knew exactly who was good at planning and could help immensely with this task.
