Page 60 of The Rebellious Countess
“What would you call it?”
“A one-man operation!”
That made the priest laugh…when he finally stopped and caught his breath, he laughed again. To make matters worse, Máira joined him. It was as if the two of them had planned to change his tactics from the very start.
“She is not going.” He insisted.
The monk sobered. “We need her. My contact inside Mont-Saint-Michel is no longer available.”
“Why not?” Elias demanded. “The man can just make himself available. I don’t give a damn if he suddenly thinks there’s too much risk involved. I’ll pay him double, that will change his tune.”
“He died.” Father Charles made the sign of the cross, and Elias felt obligated to show that much respect for the man whose honor he’d just impugned.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Unfortunately, he is not the only one on the island who has become ill. Many of the guards are ill, along with the shopkeepers, but it can work in our favor. Many of the outposts are vacant, and with someone who knows how to bypass locked doors, our task just got easier.”
“What about the ransom? Why has Napoleon decided to hang the earl?”
“Hang? They’re going to hang Simon?” Máira’s face drained of color.
“We will get to him before they do.” Elias assured, as he reached out and squeezed her hand.
“The Minister of War would like to make an example out of the earl who came here to spy. He’s also received word that his own spy was executed by the English,” Father Charles explained.
“Who was that?”
“Lord Greasley.”
“He wasn’t executed. He was killed on French soil. In The Happy Hag to be exact, by a French woman.” Elias took off his stolen tricorn hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Why did everything circle back to Hag?
Father Charles nodded in sympathetic understanding. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?” Máira asked. She looked as confused by the events unfolding as he felt.
“Why the Minister of War said his spy was killed by the English.”
Except it didn’t explain anything. “Why would he say that?”
The priest searched his face as if he realized for the first time Elias was missing a crucial piece to the story. His expression dropped. “She hasn’t told you.”
It wasn’t a question, but Elias felt as if it was. “Who hasn’t told me what?”
The priest made the sign of the cross once more and turned away. “We need to prepare, otherwise we won’t rescue him in time.”
“Now?” Máira asked.
“Now,” Father Charles confirmed.
Elias was tired of secrets. Tired of attempting to figure out another person’s thoughts. He’d been doing it too long, and after doing it with Máira, he had no patience for games. He grabbed the priest by the arm and confirmed his suspicions about the man’s mettle. “We’re not going anywhere until I understand all the cogs to this story, Father Charles. Who should have told me something she did not?” It really could have been every woman he’d ever met, he suspected, however, that it was his mother.
Father Charles huffed and closed his eyes as if he did not want to see Elias’s expression. “Your mother.”
“My mother?”
It wasn’t really a question, but the priest answered it anyway. “Yes.”
He didn’t want to ask the next question, but lives were at stake—Astley’s and most importantly, Máira’s. “What has Hag neglected to tell me?”
