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‘I am aware of that.’
‘You were—are—agitated. He is also, I believe, very fond of the ladies, so could it be you had an assignation and were having second thoughts about the wisdom of it?’
She stopped and turned angrily towards him. ‘How dare you, sir? How dare you? My husband could call you out for that.’
He laughed. ‘It would not be the first time.’
Curiosity got the better of her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Ah, I see he has not confided in you. I am not surprised; it is not something he can boast of and especially he would not want a new wife to know about his unsavoury past.’
‘Unsavoury,’ she echoed. She ought to turn and walk away from him, she ought not to listen to him, but if Jay would not tell her why he hated this man, then he could not blame her if someone else chose to do so and she listened.
‘Oh, yes. He was responsible for the death of his first wife.’
‘How can you say that? He loved her and mourned her passing.’
‘That is what he would like the world to think, but in reality the case is very different. He treated her abominably. She stuck it as long as she could for the sake of her children, but in the end his cruelty became too much to bear and she fled on horseback and came to me because she knew I was aware of what he was like and had promised to protect her. He chased after her and in her desperation she tried to jump a hedge that was too high. She was thrown and landed in a ditch with the horse on top of her. The horse struggled up, but by that time she had been badly trodden on. I found her and took her home and cared for her, but sadly she died next day.’ He gave a soft chuckle. ‘Drymore had the effrontery to challenge me over it.’
‘You fought?’ She ought not to heed him, but he was very sure of himself and she did not seem able to help herself.
‘Yes. I overcame him, but I decided to spare his life. He has never recovered from the humiliation.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I think it is something you ought to know. After all, how can you be sure the same fate will not befall you? He is a violent and ill-tempered man—I would advise you to take care.’
‘Rubbish!’
‘Is it?’ He paused. ‘Does he know you are out and about alone?’
‘I do not have to ask his permission to leave the house, Mr Wentworth.’
‘Ah, so he does not. But if it was not an assignation, what was so urgent about visiting Monsieur Robespierre that you had to creep out early before you were missed?’
‘I did not creep out. I can come and go as I please.’
He laughed. ‘You know, you are extraordinarily like Marianne, both of you headstrong and independent. It does not bode well for your continued existence.’
‘I have heard enough of this, Mr Wentworth. Pray do not speak to me on the subject again.’
‘I do not need to. You have the facts—what you do about them is your affair.’
She began to walk very fast, but he was not ready to leave her yet. ‘Tell me, what were you going to see Monsieur Robespierre about? It wasn’t just to thank him for giving you supper, was it?’
‘It is not important.’
‘Anything that upsets you is important to me, Mrs Drymore. Pray, confide in me, I might be able to help.’
She hesitated, but then she thought of Michel, her beloved brother, incarcerated in prison and likely to be executed, and the effect that would have on their father, and took a deep breath, deciding to tell him the story that she had concocted for Robespierre. ‘There is a French Comte and his daughter staying with Lord and Lady Drymore at Blackfen Manor and when the young lady heard that I was to accompany Commodore Drymore to Paris, she begged me to use my best endeavours to see her brother and persuade him to return to England with us. Unfortunately I have discovered he has been arrested and I am at a loss to know how to fulfil the promise I made to her. I thought Monsieur Robespierre might help.’
‘What has the young man been accused of?’
‘Nothing that I know of, except that he was in the King’s service.’
‘I see,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘And your husband was not to know of your visit to Monsieur Robespierre?’
‘My husband is in Paris on a diplomatic mission, Mr Wentworth, he cannot compromise himself or Britain by involving himself with one prisoner in the hands of French justice.’
‘I am glad you told me, Mrs Drymore. If you tell me the name of the young man, I might be able to help. I have the ear of Robespierre and Danton, too.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, not questioning how he came to know those gentlemen so well or why he should choose to help her. ‘His name is Michel Giradet and he is being held in La Force.’
