Chapter Two
Jamie watched Mari’s face pale as she read the news. He sat down quickly beside her should she swoon, although he didn’t think she was really the type to give in to the vapors. But if it gave him an opportunity to hold her again…
Mari took a deep breath and raised her eyes to her aunt. “He’s been loose for two days. How could this have happened?”
Jamie tugged the paper from her clenched hands and skimmed it. “Apparently, the mon had an accomplice. It says here he had a French visitor the day before he made his escape.”
“Do not the guards check visitors for weapons?” Mari asked as she looked at Jamie.
“Aye, I’m sure they do. But the paper says he picked the lock to his cell. Such a slim piece of steel would nae be hard to hide.”
“Why was he allowed a visitor anyway? Wesley was being held for observation. If sane, he will be tried for treason.”
“I dinnae ken, lass. Mayhap a guard was bribed. A gold coin or two could feed a mon’s family for a verra long time.”
“Treason?” Aunt Agnes asked, her pale-blue eyes wide. “I thought he had tried forcing Jillian…well, to have his way with her.”
“He did try, Auntie,” Mari replied, her voice shaky, “but Ian returned in time to stop that.”
“I will be forever grateful that he did,” her aunt said, “but how does that relate to treason? I thought Wesley Alton professed to be a war hero.”
Jamie guffawed. “Aye, the miserable liar did say he helped Wellington secure the bridge at Vitoria, but Alton had been sent away to France by his father for—” He stopped and looked at Mari.
“For having relations with his stepmother,” Mari finished. “Jillian told me.”
Aunt Agnes gasped. “Mercy, child. You simply cannot go around talking about such things in such a bold fashion.”
“Well, that is what happened,” Mari said unapologetically. “Wesley thought Jillian looked like his stepmother too.”
Aunt Agnes reached for her smelling salts.
Jamie refrained from grinning. Mayhap proper London Society would be in for a wee surprise this fall. “Alton took the name Gerard Fontaine and offered to spy for the English, since he was well-accustomed to French ways.”
“And Jillian said—”
“I do not think I care to know any more of what Jillian said,” Aunt Agnes interrupted, managing a stern look at Mari.
“’Twas a wee bit of luck that Ian has two Frenchmen bordering his lands—exiles from the revolution—but with ties to former countrymen,” Jamie continued, “’Twas they who discovered Alton was working for Napoleon and had even helped him escape from Elba.”
“Oh, my.” Aunt Agnes fanned herself furiously. “I had no idea such intrigue was being played out.”
Mari looked at Jamie. “Jillian should know about Wesley escaping.”
“Aye. Chances are the mon caught the first vessel to France, but ’tis better to warn Ian.”
“With Napoleon defeated, would it be safe for Wesley to go back?”
Jamie shrugged. “Safer than to stay here, lass. In France, he’s not a wanted mon. I will speak to Givens about finding someone who can ride north. Snow sets in the passes early in Scotland. The sooner the message is relayed to Ian, the better.” He didn’t even want to think about the blistering he would get from his brother for not being on the estates with this happening, but what choice did he have?
“You are not planning to go yourself?” Mari asked, a little too brightly.
Jamie paused. Was that hope in Mari’s voice that he would go or that he would stay? He was hard-put to decide since her face, usually expressive, remained as impassive as a faro player’s. If she really wished him to go, then that was a direct challenge to convince her she wanted him to stay. He never turned down a challenge.
Jamie gave Mari an easy grin. “Dinnae fash, lass. I will nae leave. How else could I be by yer side, day and night?”
Mari stared at him. “Are you implying you’ll be sleeping in my bed, sirrah?”
His grin widened. “Nae, but if ye wish me to…”
