Page 59 of Lord Carlisle's Enticing Lure
Giselle remained passive. A mother of thugs. Did Scarlett Hawthorne know about this female? Did Ashley or Gus? Ramsey or Amber?
If they did, could they find her, and find Giselle?Oh, God.What a tangle. Her heart leapt into her throat. Whoever La Mère really was, or whatever she did, the woman would not get the better of her.
The lady dropped her hands to her hips. “No need to enlighten her, Franchot. In fact, the less she learns, the more she will be surprised. We want surprise.” She leaned down to put her face much too close to Giselle’s. She smelled of cognac and good French perfume. “You know too much of everything. I want you terrified.”
Giselle did not bat an eye.
The lady huffed. “Good for you!” she went on in French.
Did she not know English? Or did she stick to her native language for the sake of her three imbeciles? Whatever her reason, Giselle could tell by the quality of the lady’s pronunciation that she had command of very fine Parisian French. So then, she was from Paris and had a good education.
“I do like a good foe! You are undaunted, Madame Laurant! Oui, I see you have noticed I do know your full name. I know so very much about you. Even your lover, Monsieur le Marquis de Carlisle. Oui,quite a handsome fellow. Bold. Virile, eh? A good catch for you. Money, power. His connections to the prime minister and with his own agents here in the southern towns. Too bad, my pet, he is of no value to you any more.”
As Giselle let La Mère’s insults roll off her, she imbibed the importance of what the woman revealed. Clive, sweet man, ran agents, informants for the prime minister. He had not told her that. Part of her rebelled at this. How dare he not tell her!
But then, why would he? He certainly should not have. It wasn’t as if she could or would sell him to anyone. But he knew she was harmless.
Ah, yes.He knew all along. Somehow he had seen into her. He had persisted to learn what she did, but through it all, he knew who she was and feared her not. Instead, he loved her.
The realization washed over her like a refreshing shower. Clive was involved in saving England from the tyranny of Bonaparte.As am I.
This “mother” would not conquer her. Giselle would leave the lady, perhaps even with a bit of this woman’s blood on her hands. She squeezed shut her eyes.Please, God, let it be so.
La Mère snapped her fingers high in the air, and from the alcove stepped forward a young woman of twenty or so.
“Suzette!”
Giselle let the name of her little daughter sing through her veins. She might be very foolish, but she nourished the hope it was a sign that this girl would be kind. Giselle could use a friend here.
“Take our guest out and let her relieve herself. Then get her into the bath and wash her.” She gazed at Giselle with false pity. “You do stink. Not your fault, of course. But I cannot have that. No lady should suffer such indignities, eh?”
Suzette came forward and waited while Franchot removed the rope from her wrists and tied one end to the girl’s.
“Go with them, Franchot. Turn your back on her as she pees. But if she runs, shoot her.”
That shocked Giselle, but she bit her lower lip and held her tongue.The lady would allow them to kill me? Really?
The woman sneered at her. “You are a pretty thing. Too bad you are headed for a dungeon. You will lose all that rosy color and rod up your ass. Take her out! Be quick.”
Suzette and Giselle were back inside within minutes. Paul and Maurice were busy filling a small copper tub with water Giselle hoped held some heat. She’d take whatever it was, yearning for the eloquent provision of splashing, sloshing water.
“Strip!” La Mère ordered her.
Giselle clutched her gown to her chest. To protect herself, she pretended embarrassment and frowned at the woman. She had faked her monthly courses so that the three men would leave her alone. If they remained to watch her disrobe, they would see she had not donned her apparel for that. Worse, if Suzette took her clothes away, Giselle would lose her coins. “I need nothing from you,” she declared to the woman.
“But you enjoy rich attire.”
Another fact they knew about her. How had they learned this? She employed no maids, no retainers. Those she had met while here in the South of England were strangers. Only Clive, his sister, and Langley were her new friends—and they were not ones to tell such tales to French conspirators.
“Why treat me well, madame?” She tossed her curls over her shoulders in feigned defiance. “Your new clothes will not persuade me to your cause.”
“I supply you with finery to appeal to men.”
“I have no desire for that either.”
The woman thought that over. “You will if you want to gain favor.”
And live?A shiver ran down Giselle’s spine. She had watched her sister suffer the outrageous attack of three rapists—and die from their barbaric assault on her pretty body. No one—no one—would ever touch her like those men had hurt her sister. She would happily kill them, no matter the cost.
