They were many miles farther north of Sainte-Anne before she finally loosened her hold and let the horse catch its breath.
Spearing her fingers through her hair, she cursed her stupidity. “Espèce d'idiot!”
She had started a war and carelessly left her calling card behind.
Somewhere in the bushes, just outside the farmhouse, lay her rifle. The one with a griffin and the lettersEBLRetched beautifully in the metal just above the trigger.
Chapter Seventeen
Would he ever be able to repay the debt he owed to Stephen? The man had not only helped to save his life after he had been shot, but now he had made Jodoc magically appear in the middle of the wild marshes of Brittany.
“If I make it back to England and marry, I shall have to name my firstborn son Stephen,” he muttered.
Monsale mightn’t like being overlooked in such a way, but he would have to wait. With God’s grace a second son would follow, and he could be called Andrew.
Gus had spent the night in a warm bed. His belly was full. It was more than he had expected to have last night before his serendipitous encounter with the jovial Jodoc. Now with the sunrise, Gus had his horse saddled and was ready to leave. His bags were stuffed to the brim with gastronomic delights.
Madame Jodoc—she also wouldn’t disclose the family name—had baked some bread late last night. Along with a loaf and a slab of cheese, she had packed salted butter and a jar of sardines.
He wouldn’t starve anytime soon.
But food, much as he enjoyed it, wasn’t the main priority of his day. Finding Evangeline, or at least discovering what had happened to her, was top of his list. Jodoc had kindly sat down at the kitchen table and drawn up a rough map of the area. It was enough to ensure that Gus wouldn’t get lost again.
With his mount ready, he headed back toward the house to say his grateful goodbyes.
Jodoc greeted him in the middle of the farmyard. “You may as well come inside and have another cup of coffee. I have a feeling you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”
Gus glanced up at the heavens. There were rain clouds hanging overhead, but this was Brittany. It rained a lot in this part of France. Getting wet wasn’t an issue for someone who had sailed the seas as much as he had. “I can take shelter under trees if I need,” he replied.
Jodoc shook his head. “It’s not that. You were about to set out to find Evangeline La Roche. Well, she just walked in the front door of my house.”
The jolt of relief at hearing that Evangeline was still alive rocked Gus back on his heels. He put a hand over his heart. “Thank heavens.”
“I’ll unsaddle your horse while you go inside,” said Jodoc.
Gus laughed to himself. The way things were going, his second-born was going to be named after the Frenchman.
Monsale, you will have to be satisfied with my third son.
Inside the warm kitchen, he found Evangeline seated at the table, a cup of coffee already in hand. She rose as he stepped into the room.
Jodoc’s wife patted Gus on the arm as she passed him by on her way out.
He was grateful for the moment of privacy. “I don’t know whether to hug you or put you over my knee,” he said.
Tears shone in her eyes as she nodded. “Either one, just as long as you hold me afterwards.”
They met in the middle of the room; arms wrapped tightly around each other. The pain of his wound was ignored in the joy of simply holding her. Of knowing that she was still a living, breathing woman. “Where have you been?”
Evangeline drew back, head shaking. “I don’t remember half of what happened yesterday. I mean after . . .”
“Armand.”
She nodded.
Gus placed a comforting kiss on her forehead. “He is at peace now. They took him to the cathedral of Saint-Étienne, where the estate servants promised to hold a vigil for him. He sent me to find you.”
“You mean you felt he would want you to do that?” she replied.
