What if you could be ready, and willing to offer her another life?
Suddenly, the thought of playing at being Evangeline’s husband no longer felt such an odd idea.
Chapter Twenty
She was going to have to tell Gus the truth at some point. Confess her sins. Hopefully, they would be hundreds of miles away before she finally had to share the news of her having blown up Vincent’s farmhouse. No matter which way she looked at it, there was never going to be an easy way to say it.
And once Gus had absorbed that shock, she would be compelled to disclose the rest of her secret. The full extent of her stupidity.
Did I forget to mention I left my rifle behind? You know, the one with my name engraved on it.
It was a good thing that they were riding single file. While she grappled with the problem of exactly what to say to Gus, at least she didn’t have to look at him.
The ride to Dinan wasn’t a particularly long one, but the road was narrow. It was also a thoroughfare for wandering ditch goats and Ouessant sheep, who were not inclined to yield the right of way. More than once, Evangeline and Gus had to dismount from their horses and gingerly walk past a flock of unsociable and grumpy animals.
By the time they reached the hilly outskirts of the medieval walled town, she was exhausted. Two days without sleep were now finally catching up with her.
She barely lifted her head as Gus rode up alongside her.
“I was thinking,” he said, in a tone far too lively for her liking.
“Yes.”
“We should get married.”
Evangeline pulled hard on the reins, bringing Gobain to a sudden halt. She blinked hard. Perhaps she had fallen asleep in the saddle and was dreaming. “What did you just say?”
He laughed. “I mean, we can’t exactly just arrive at any respectable inn and ask to share a room. We need to pose as a married couple. If we don’t, we may be refused.”
Her shock over his proposal turned to a surprising sense of disappointment at hearing it was only a ruse. What would she have said if he had been serious?
Yes. Perhaps.
A yawn set her mouth stretching wide. She put a hand over her face. “I really need sleep. I am bone weary.”
“What do you think?” he continued.
“Yes, we will need to create a façade. But I should do the talking as much as possible. Your French is near perfect, but your accent gives you away. The war might well be over, but outside of the major cities, the English are still not trusted.”
It was on the tip of Evangeline’s tongue to make mention that anyone who might come looking for her may also inquire as to whether a long-haired Englishman wearing a tricorne hat was in her company. Fortunately, she kept that to herself.
Gus would in all likelihood ask as to why that would be a concern.
And then I might have to tell him the truth.
It would take a solid night’s sleep before she would be in any sort of frame of mind to broach that particular subject.
To her relief, Gus simply nodded. “That makes sense. I don’t want to cause any trouble. We just want a hot meal and a comfortable bed.”
Hotel Vent de Mer was located in the older part of the city, next door to what had once been a Jacobite convent. Evangeline and Armand had stayed at the hotel on a number of occasions. It was a comforting, familiar place. It was also a mistake.
The owners recognized her immediately. She had to make hurried and rather flustered introductions to hernewhusband, Jean Augustin, who was fortunately a man of few words.
Once inside their room, he locked the door behind them. “Jean Augustin? Is that my new name? I thought Augustus Jones wasn’t that bad,” he teased.
“I’m sorry. I should have chosen a hotel somewhere else in the city. One where no one knows me,” she replied.
Merde. Now he will want to know why.
