Page 61 of Lord Carlisle's Enticing Lure
But on an afternoon in the third week, horses’ hooves and a dog barking announced a visitor.
“Faucon!” Franchot whispered with glee.
La Mère picked up her pistol and strode to the side of the small window. Using the butt of her gun to move aside the crocheted curtain, she put down her weapon. “Go greet him, Franchot.”
“I hope he has a new bottle of cognac,” Maurice said with a grin.
“You need none of it, clod,” La Mère replied.
“I’ll take my money, too, witch.”
The four of them had engaged in many an argument over the payment of the fee for their services. La Mère claimed not to carry such large amounts. “Faucon will pay you.”
They had grumbled.When will that be?they wanted to know.
Now the fellow was here, with whatever rewards he had for his minions…and for his prize captor.
Giselle sat, calm as death, her breathing saving her sanity as she awaited the arrival of the man who was to be her doom.
*
Faucon was atall, nimble fellow who spoke excellent, refined Parisian French. He entered the room to fill the cottage with a fragrance of expensive cologne. There he stood examining each of his four cronies, finding fault with each man for some small infraction of bad grooming and praising La Mère for her pretty décolleté and her wisdom to wear the mask. With eyes of green so dark they were nearly black, he was an athletically built man who glided toward Giselle as if indeed he flew before her. Then he took her by her chin and bent close. Too close, his breath minty, he spoke with a relish that was salacious. “A beauty.” Then he leaned nearer and inhaled as he ran his nose down her throat to her cleavage. “You smell sweet and succulent. Your doing, is this, Sa—La Mère?”
Giselle blinked. What was La Mère’s real name?Samartine? Sanibel? Sabine? Sandrine?
“She had to be cleaned, Faucon. None of us could stand her.”
“Well, my lovely little artist,” Faucon breathed, “I’ve come to view your work.” He whirled away from Giselle toward the others. “Show me what you have of hers.”
So this is why they took my drawings and watercolors and oils. To show Faucon.
The three men scurried to grab it all up and array it on every available space. Faucon took his time examining them all.
Finally, he turned to La Mère and grinned. “Well done. This lady is the one we seek.”
Did they believe the drawings to be accurate? Or false? Giselle sat, so frozen in fear that she could not breathe.
If Faucon thought them accurate, then the reason to take her to Vaillancourt was for that man to imprison her for personally working against him, despite her so-called good work for the navy. If Faucon thought her work false and the basis of the French navy’s analysis of the amphibious invasion boats, the charge against her would be treason.
Either way, she was doomed.
How to learn the answer?
“Surely Monsieur Vaillancourt did not send you to detain me if you question that I am a woman he wants?”
Faucon turned on her with such a vicious look, narrowing his eyes and thinning his lips, that she saw why he was named after a bird of prey. He chucked her under her chin. “Not to worry,ma petite. Vaillancourt eats delicacies like you for any reason he chooses.”
Well, that was a truth she’d learned long ago. But his answer held no new meanings for her.
“When do we leave this place?” Maurice asked Faucon, irritated.
Faucon sniffed, seemingly indifferent to the man’s need for haste. “Ah, well, soon.”
So…he has no idea when we can leave.Giselle grabbed a few breaths and, in her heart, warmed to the news.
“Howsoon?” Franchot sneered.
“When I find a Frenchman eager to risk his neck and the guns of the British navy. Want to go in the midst of them? Swim well, do you?”
