Page 21 of To Love A Spy
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied. “I am curious to see you in action, sir.”
“Let the despicable dastard show his face,” continued the American in a loud bellow. “I should like to know who dares attack a diplomat here in France on official government business.”
Lynsley threw open the parlor door. “That would be me.”
His appearance elicited a gasp from the consul’s wife, a rather horse-faced lady with auburn hair and pale skin. SeeingValencia in trousers and brandishing a pistol, she went several shades whiter and fell silent.
Lynsley didn’t blame the lady for looking afraid for her life. With his three day stubble, matted hair and coarse clothing, he no doubt resembled a cutthroat pirate.
Her husband, however, refused to be intimidated. “Release us at once, you rogue! I am a representative of the American government, and President Madison will bemostdispleased to hear of this incident.”
“If I were you, I would endeavor to speak a touch more civilly to my captors.” Lynsley smiled, but made a show of drawing the pistol from his waistband and checking the priming. “You are hardly in a position to be making threats.”
“D-d-do moderate your voice, Tobias,” stammered his wife. “I-I am sure this man will be willing to discuss the matter reasonably.”
“Hmmph!” Tremaine scowled. “I suppose you want a ransom?”
“Not at all, sir,” said Lynsley.
“Then what?”
“Why don’t you take off your coat, sir,” replied Lynsley politely. “You are looking a trifle warm.”
The American looked about to retort when his wife whispered, “Please, do as he says, Tobias.”
“Allow me to take it for you.” Lynsley held out his hand. “Quality fabric,” he remarked, rubbing the superfine wool between his fingers. “And excellent tailoring.” He set down his pistol and stripped off his knitted jumper. Slipping the garment over his ragged linen shirt, he smoothed at the lapels. “The sleeves are a touch short, but that can be mended.”
Dagget sputtered in outrage. “You mean to take mycoat, sirrah?”
“And your hat.” Lynsley took up the elegant high crown beaver from the sideboard and tipped it low over one eye. “And the rest of your wardrobe as well. However, I shall be a gentleman and leave you your wife.”
The lady gave a little shriek.
“By god, you are no gentleman!” shouted Tremaine.
“Actually, he is,” said Valencia. “The Marquess of Carabas,” she added with a straight face, using the name of the make-believe hero in the fable ‘Puss In Boots.’”
The consul’s wife squinted in confusion through her lorgnette. “The man does not look like a titled?—”
“The man’s only title is that of a scurrilous thief!” Tremaine shook his fist. “I will see you hung for this, you scoundrel!”
“The only cravat I will be wearing is one of your freshly starched lengths of linen. Good day, Mr. Tremaine.” Lynsley inclined a courtly bow. “And you, madam. I regret to inform you that a good deal of your clothing will also be leaving with us. Your belongings will be returned . . . eventually. In the meantime, enjoy your stay in rural France. I do apologize that you will miss Paris. Perhaps next time.”
Retreating with a jaunty salute, he closed the door on a string of invectives. “A bit hot under the collar, isn’t he?”
Valencia regarded him with an odd stare.
“Come, while I gather up Mr. Tremaine’s credentials and clothing you must also pick out a wardrobe.” Turning for the stairs, he ran a hand over his bristly chin. “The coach and horses won’t be ready to leave for an hour or two, so in the meantime, I’ve ordered hot water to be brought up to both bedchambers. I don’t know about you, but for me, a bath would be most welcome.”
“Aye,” replied Valencia dryly as she fell in step behind him. “Perhaps when the layers of dirt and salt are washed away, Mrs. Tremaine would recognize the true nobility of your lordly person.”
“I devoutly hope not.” Lynsley wrinkled his nose. “Do I smell as bad as I look?”
“Worse.” She choked down a laugh as they hurried down the corridor. “That was really rather naughty of you ,sir.”
He grinned. “I daresay it was.”
This whimsical side of the solemn and serious Lord Lynsley was a real revelation. “You are truly finding all of this fun,” she said, slanting a sidelong look at his stubbled profile.
