Page 96 of Their Master

Sandrine paused and inhaled deeply, visibly upset.

“I was to approach Smith directly and throw myself on his mercy, beg him to help me. I was to tell him that I could give him damaging information about our father, whom Smith has hated for years. I don’t know the story between them, but it goes back a long, long way. Although Smith never told me how it started, I’m sure Blois did something terrible to deserve his animus.” She gave Moira a firm look to go with her declaration. “I was supposed to worm my way into his trust and then kill him.”

“They wantedyouto do it?” Moira could not believe what she was hearing.

“Yes. They gave me poison to use.”

Moira stared, speechless.

“I knew I wouldn’t do it even before leaving France.” Her beautiful blue eyes flickered around the inside of the coach, as if she were trying to collect her thoughts. “TheComtetold me that I was to kill Smith because he had killed his son. I remember thinking to myself:Why should I murder to avenge somebody I was never even good enough to meet?”

“That is more than theComteever told me,” Moira admitted, sickened by how stupid she had been. How gullible.

Sandrine looked up from her clasped hands. “I didn’t want to leave you, but Ineededto get away, Honorine. I—I thought Bujold might kill me with his beatings. Marie told me the only way to get out of my contract with him was to run away.” Sandrine scowled. “Of course, Marie wouldn’t give me my money when I left—you know how she always held the contents of that damned vault over our heads!”

Yes, Moira knew.

Sandrine sighed and went on in a calmer voice. “So, I took the chance they offered and I made it my way out. Once I was here, I told Smith the truth. Instead of killing me, he saved me.”

Moira felt like she couldn’t get enough air: Sandrine had done what she couldn’t do—and she had freed herself.

While Moira had handed Smith over to people who would have killed him.

“Honorine?” Sandrine leaned closer. “What is wrong?”

“Moira.” It was a struggle to get even that word out.

Sandrine’s forehead furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“Call me Moira—not Honorine. Honorine Bardot is dead.”

It remained to be seen what happened to Moira Dunsmuir.

***

“I want at leastpartof the story—I’ve earned it,” Gideon proclaimed. “Don’t you agree?” he asked Malcolm and Edward, both of whom hesitated.

Smith snorted and looked from the glass of American whisky—called bourbon—to his three friends.

“Do we need to do thisnow?” he asked. “Because I’d really like to climb into my bathtub and soak for three days, eat a good meal, and sleep for a week.” He yawned and then winced at the pain in his face and ribs.

Malcolm wore a resigned, but stubborn look. “Think of it as a tax, Smith, the price of friendship.”

Gideon and Edward nodded.

Smith had to laugh at that.

And then winced again.

“Besides,” Mal added. “You know every damned detail of my life.” He glanced at Edward and Gideon, who immediately nodded. “So, it only seems fair we learn a little about yours.”

They were sitting in Malcolm’s study. Although Edward and Gideon had only met Malcolm Barton at his wedding the year before the three men were already on the way to becoming friends.

Indeed, Smith thought sourly, when he’d told Malcolm what he was doing, the man had gone behind his back to rope in Edward—and apparently Gideon, whom he’d not learned about until today.

“It is for your own good,” Malcolm had had the nerve to say when Smith had confronted him about bringing in Edward.

In retrospect, Smith was very, very grateful to have had the assistance of all three men. Things had become ugly today and he and Malcolm would have had their hands full without the other two.

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