Lady Mary and Her Rakish Count: A Clean Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Revelstoke Legacy Book 3)

by Lynda Hurst

  Next to him, Valerian could feel Mary trembling against him, and he drew her closer to him with an arm about her shoulders. Facing the man with the gun opposite him, he asked through clenched teeth, “Where are you taking us?”

  “Why, you’ll be happy to know we’re heading home to Mont-Tremblant.”

  19

  A Few Hours Later, The Gates of Mont-Tremblant

  The Doctor waited patiently for a sign of the carriage that would bring him the leverage he needed to carry out his boldest plan yet. He had instructed his men to bring him the comte and his fiancée unharmed; if they had the girl, the comte would come quietly. If his men followed his orders to the letter, he should be sighting their agreed-upon signal any minute.

  In the distance, against the sky now darkening quickly with night about to fall, he barely made out the comte’s carriage being driven by Osgood who had Brebeuf next to him in the driver’s seat. Everything seemed to have fallen into place just as he had foreseen; his careful planning of intricate deceptions and intrigue had finally culminated into this long-awaited moment. In his mind, having a small object such as the Ark being given so much power over one’s right to rule seemed ludicrous, yet his plans would not have been made reality if not for its existence.

  Drawing nearer to the gate portal, he observed the carriage being taken to the agreed upon location, just outside Mont-Tremblant’s gates in a grove of trees just off of the road proper, and he smiled to himself. Bound at the wrists, the comte and Lady Mary were dragged from the coach by ham-fisted Brebeuf as Osgood and Gilles trained their pistols on the couple. With vast numbers of people milling through the gates, his ruffians’ movements were largely unnoticed by those around them, and he had every confidence that the hapless couple would do everything commanded of them just to see the other safe from harm. He was counting on it.

  Not quite having left the carefully-watched gate, a whiff of a certain perfume passed him by as he strode closer to meet him hired men; a scent familiar to him that reminded him instantly of the person who wore it. And he had taken care to avoid her after what he had done to her husband when he was last in Paris. He spotted Colette first before she did him, and he quickly ducked behind a lumbering horsecart, obscuring his view of her just as he hoped it would conceal him from her.

  It wouldn’t do for a future king to be seen alone in conversation with a palace servant. Yet her position was what gave him the idea for stealing the Ark in the first place, and with her husband Jean’s Laurent blood being a well-concealed fact from those in the palace, he had been able to track him down to assist in taking up this worthy cause.

  Now that Colette had been easily avoided and he was now within earshot of his hostages, he caught the last strains of Lady Mary hurling colorful insults at his men. Raising a brow at her knowledge of such words, he was both surprised and amused. Observing her closely, he noted that her hair had come undone from its moorings, with a few hairpins jutting from her tresses, and her clothing was rumpled as if she had risen from bed still fully dressed. She looked every bit the virago she was proving herself to be with the string of invectives she was launching at his men’s heads.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he asked as he approached them, bringing himself in full view to gather their attention.

  The comte, he saw, sported a bloody lip and a reddened cheek that would soon purple. Lady Mary rushed him, and in high dudgeon, furiously spat in reply, “There was no call for that—that imbecile to hit him! Sir St. Germain, please help us. They took us unawares and have taken the Ark which we were about to take to—”

  “To King Bastien, yes, I know,” he affirmed. “But as you will soon see, I have much greater need of the Ark than he does.”

  Lady Mary shot him a puzzled glance and then looked to the comte whose face now blazed with unholy fury.

  Through gritted teeth, the comte accused, “And I came to you for help! I take it you are the Doctor then?” Lady Mary blanched at the connection the comte had openly stated. His identity would have been discovered sooner or later, and it seemed only fitting that it be the comte who would be necessary for the next stage of his grand plans.

  At his nod, the comte continued, “Then asking you for aid was pointless from the start. What is to become of us now?”

  With great satisfaction, he watched as the comte turned pale. He then directed a slow, evil smile at Mary and proceeded to untie her. With his work at her ropes finished, he finally answered, “One of you will remain my prisoner while the other is delivered safely to Bastien himself to deliver my message. I cannot be too sorry that the two of you will be separated since I intend to enjoy Lady Mary’s company while you saunter off to the palace.”

  “No!” The comte roared, “She will not go anywhere with you!” Using his size now enlargened by fury, he tried to take a step towards St. Germain, but Brebeuf and Gilles held him fast from behind. Lady Mary could do no more than struggle against the strong grip on her arm, but he held her securely in place beside him. The comte looked wildly about, frantically searching as though he would find a weapon or a useful means of intervention, and it took but a moment for his gaze to suddenly freeze and stay fixed upon something some distance away.

  Swinging about to see what had the comte’s gaze arrested, St. Germain saw nothing noteworthy and returned his attention to Mary whom he held fast against him. What he didn’t expect was for the comte to suddenly bellow, “Philippe, attend me now! Warn the king that there are traitors who are seeking to dethrone him! Go to Bastien quickly!”

  In an instant of desperation and uncalculated fury at the comte’s audacity, he wrestled the pistol from Brebeuf’s grasp. He barely heard Lady Mary’s hoarse cry of negation once he had the pistol firmly in his own hand, but it was the only solution available to him without losing all he had worked for. Just as Lady Mary released an anguished wail, he deftly reversed his grip on the weapon and slammed the butt of the pistol firmly and mightily against the comte’s temple.

  Out cold before he could hit the ground, the comte fell in a heap at his feet just as Lady Mary screamed loud enough for his ears to ring. Now it was only a matter of leaving with the Ark and Lady Mary before his plans could fully unravel, dashing his lifelong dream to pieces. His heart sank a little as he heard the answering shout of someone calling for the comte, and judging from the distant sounds, a large group was now drawing nearer to their location.

  20

  Mary had never known fear as she did when she witnessed Valerian fall unconscious into the dirt. Logically, she knew screaming would accomplish nothing in this situation, but it was a knee-jerk reaction to seeing him hurt. St. Germain had let her go momentarily when he swung the pistol at Valerian’s poor head, and her first instinct was to rush to Valerian’s side to check on his condition.

  However, she also wanted to hurt St. Germain for hurting Valerian, and she knew of one way that would directly hurt his plans for the Mont-Tremblant crown. While St. Germain and his men were currently distracted by the shouts of men drawing nearer, she quickly turned back into the carriage and snatched up the chest containing the Ark, the key still stuck in its lock. Unlocking the chest, she grabbed the Ark from its cushioned bed, and she dashed back out of the carriage, praying that she could reach help before she was caught again.

  Before the men knew what she was about and on legs used to scampering about in games of tag with a twin brother, she expertly avoided their grasps as she ran headlong towards the nearing shouts. Running as fast and hard as she could, she nearly collided with a young uniformed soldier who deftly caught her and asked, “The comte? Comte Loire?”

  Relieved that help had arrived, she gasped, “He is hurt! Please help him!” Pointing in the direction from where she had come from, she urged, “Please hurry! The Ambassador St. Germain and three men are the ones responsible for kidnapping the comte and I. All in an effort to gain the Mont-Tremblant throne with this!” Holding up the Ark, the soldier’s eyes widened at the appearance of the roya
l object.

  She wasn’t given a chance to explain further as eight more men had caught up with the soldier. Clearly the one in charge, the soldier issued the eight men, who were fully armed, orders to go to the comte’s aid and to arrest the four men who have him. As they marched off, the soldier told her, “I am Sergeant Philippe Goudreau, a friend of the comte. Stay here until we come back. May I ask your name, miss?”

  “Lady Mary Ellesmere. Comte Loire is my fiancé,” she said tremulously. Afraid for Valerian, she urged, “Please help him.”

  “Of course, my lady. Wait here,” he said, then ran off to catch up to his men.

  Now on her own, she could do nothing but wait and strain her ears for some hopeful sign that the soldiers would be successful in bringing Valerian back safe. Clutching the Ark between both hands, she turned it this way and that, amazed that such a small thing could build up or topple a country, depending on the person who possessed it. She imagined what her dear friend Faith would say if she knew she held a very different piece of the Revelstoke legacy, one that once belonged to the first earl of Revelstoke.

  Then, the cacophony of male voices shouting and the firing of several pistols knifed through the silence, causing her to almost jump out of her skin. The uncertainty of what was happening in the distance iced the blood in her veins, rooting her to the spot, but she was half-poised for flight in the event danger should come her way. Worry carved twin grooves between her brows, and only then did she allow herself to feel regret for leaving Valerian behind.

  Cursing herself a million times over for being a fool, she was on the verge of following after the noise, but Sergeant Goudreau and his men had arrived back. She quickly scanned among the faces staring back at her for a sign of Valerian, and with questioning eyes, she asked the sergeant, “Valerian? Where is he?”

  “My apologies, my lady, but they have him. We had them surrounded until they used Comte Loire as their shield to make their escape in the carriage.”

  “And the shots? Was anyone hurt?” Mary asked, looking them over for any indication of injuries.

  “The only pistols fired were theirs as they sped away. And no, none of us were harmed.”

  “What of Valerian? Was he conscious at all when you came upon them?” Fear for him clutched at her heart as she awaited the sergeant’s answer.

  Shaking his head, the sergeant morosely replied, “No. He hadn’t awoken when we came upon the villains. But can you please explain what Ambassador St. Germain has to do with all of this?”

  “All I know is that he is the one to blame for the Ark’s disappearance from the palace. What he planned to do with it, I cannot guess, but he had said he had greater need of it than Bastien did.”

  Sergeant Goudreau mulled over her words for a few moments before he piped up, “His Majesty will want to hear of all of this, and with his cousin taken prisoner, he will know what should be done if he is to be ransomed.”

  Agreeing with a nod, Mary said, “Yes, please take me to the King. He needs to hear everything that has happened leading up to today.”

  “This way, my lady,” the sergeant waved her forward.

  “By the by, how did you know it was Valerian when he shouted after you? It was dark, and even I could not have spotted you.”

  “Comte Loire has always had the eyes of a hawk, able to see further than most others. As he has been appointed with the task of training His Majesty’s royal guard, he has trained me himself when I was but a new recruit, low in rank as I was. I’ve learned to respond instantly to the comte’s barked orders without question, even after so much time has passed and he is no longer my commanding officer.”

  “Then I am grateful for your quick actions, but we must hurry to the palace if we are to get Valerian back.”

  “Yes, my lady. You have my word that we will make all haste to see the comte back safe and sound.”

  21

  A Few Days Later

  Valerian groggily came to, but left his eyes closed as he slowly assessed where he ached the most. His head still felt sore from the blow he was dealt across his left temple. He tentatively wriggled fingers and toes to assure himself they still retained feeling, and he realized that he was still bound at the wrists, except this time, they were behind him. He knew he was upright in a chair with his ankles bound to the chair legs.

  Slowly he opened his eyes only to find his vision fuzzily obscured, and he realized he was trying to see out of a musty flour sack. Without sight or smell, he couldn’t determine where he was, and nothing but silence reached his ears. Frustrated at his helpless state, he contemplated rocking back and forth in his chair to try to dislodge himself from it and the mask, but there was no guarantee he would succeed in his efforts.

  The sound of a door opening at his left surprised him as did the bar of light that poured through the sack. He still could not make out much except for the shapes of two figures who entered the room and stopped before him.

  The sack was ripped off of his head, none too gently, and his eyes squinted against the too brightly lit room.

  “Ah, he’s awake. I was afraid I almost killed you with that blow, seeing as how you have been asleep for some time,” said a familiar voice.

  Focusing on the owner of that voice, Valerian croaked out, “St. Germain, where is Mary? What have you done with her?”

  Sighing dramatically, St. Germain replied, “I am afraid to admit that I don’t know the whereabouts of your lovely fiancée, so I haven’t done anything to her, you will be happy to hear. Instead of taking her hostage, I have had to resort to taking you instead.”

  “To what end? You had a gun in your hand before you struck me with it, yet you refrained from shooting me with it. Why?”

  “Because you’re much more valuable to me alive than dead. At first, I was going to have you run to your cousin along with my demands, when I had both Lady Mary and the Ark in my hands. She would have ensured that you followed my instructions carefully to help me on my path to the throne. Now that I have neither, you will have to do.”

  Demands? “But as you are only the French ambassador, the king would have you arrested for your criminal acts against us thus far. How would the Ark serve you any good?”

  “Because I’m a Laurent! Direct descendant of the last reigning Laurent monarch! I have every right to that throne, and if it were not for the Law of the Ark, I would have taken the throne long since then!”

  Valerian had not expected that answer, but everything the ambassador who had been masquerading as the Doctor all along made perfect sense now.

  St. Germain continued, “It is of no consequence, now that you would serve as better leverage in my negotiations with that usurper who sits on the throne.”

  Valerian quipped, “Mont-Tremblant’s annals of history saw King Jullien as a savior of Mont-Tremblant. How would you attribute your contribution to Mont-Tremblant if the throne does indeed become yours?”

  “You fool! The law states that one of royal blood who also possesses the Ark has the right to rule. I am only taking back what is due our family line, and there are many who would back me as the rightful ruler once I claim my birthright!” St. Germain backhanded Valerian across the cheek, but not before Valerian caught the glow of madness glinting in those crazed eyes.

  Spitting blood onto the floor, Valerian replied, “Then what of the people of Mont-Tremblant? Are they so unhappy under Bastien’s rule that they require your leadership instead?”

  “They will love me because I am their ruler,” he stated haughtily. “A fact you would do well to follow once I wrest the throne from Bastien.”

  Rather than voice his doubts about St. Germain’s certainty of the people’s loyalty to him, Valerian refrained from biting out a response that refuted his arrogant claim. It was already clear to him that the man had already imagined himself the true and lawful ruler of Mont-Tremblant, having gone to such lengths to ensure its fruition. Only a madman would believe himself a better alternative to a ruler like Bastien, who valued i
ts people and worked hard to keep their tiny kingdom prosperous and thriving.

  So, instead, Valerian deliberately changed the course of conversation, in an effort to appeal to the other man’s pride. He said, “All right. Then, please enlighten me as to how someone such as yourself has aspired to such an endeavor. We had thought that most of the Laurents were no longer residing in the city.”

  “Or hiding from you for obvious reasons,” St. Germain snorted. “In places like this, it was easy to hide in plain sight. As long as I kept up a semblance of a law-abiding citizen, I had no reason to alarm anyone to my true plans.”

  St. Germain continued, “This place was where I had set up my practice as a physician. My father insisted on having me study medicine just as he did, and when he died, I took up his work of being the trusted physician of some of Mont-Tremblant’s noble families.”

  “But not mine,” Valerian remarked.