Forbidden: Claude (Second in Command #2)(22)

“We must hurry because the ship won’t wait,” he told her.

“Augustin, I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” asked Claude, showing up behind her. He must have seen her leave the room and followed her. “Mayhap I can help you decide.”

Claude was the last person she wanted to see right now. To make matters worse, he overheard her conversation with Augustin. She was going to have to say something quickly to try to explain without giving away her secrets.

“This is Augustin.” Evelina introduced the man to Claude.

“Yes, I know,” answered Claude with a nod of his head. “Lady Rose said he is your brother. Funny, but he doesn’t look anything like you. He is also much older than you.”

“I could say the same about you and your little sister, Charlotte,” said Evelina. “After all, you are fifteen years apart in age if I’m not mistaken.”

“Hmph,” Claude scoffed.

“My brother has secured passage on a merchant ship back to France, but I don’t think we should leave because I have a commitment to tend to Lady Rose until her handmaid returns.”

“I’m sure Lady Rose can find another handmaid,” said Claude.

“Yes, I agree.” Augustin reached out and grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her out the door. “Let’s go.”

“Then again,” said Claude, causing the man to stop. “Lady Rose is quite fond of Evelina, and it wouldn’t be good to upset her since the birth of her baby is so close.”

“Aye, I think you are right,” Evelina agreed.

“I can’t leave her here unescorted,” snapped the guard.

“Unescorted?” asked Claude, sounding suspicious. “That is an odd choice of a word for a commoner to use.”

“He just means that he’s afraid for my safety,” said Evelina.

“Oh, I see,” said Claude. “There is no need to worry. I will watch over Evelina during her stay in England.”

“Nay, that’s not necessary,” stammered Evelina, not wanting him watching her every move.

“She’s not staying here.” Augustin dragged her toward the door.

Claude took two long strides and gripped the man’s wrist. “Get your hands off of her,” he warned him. “I said I would protect her and it starts right now.”

“I’m her older brother,” growled Augustin. “She will do what I say.”

“If you think I am daft enough to believe that story for one minute, you have another guess coming.”

“We have papers to prove it,” snarled the guard.

“Papers that are no doubt forged. I recognize you as a mercenary,” Claude told him. “I believe I hired you a few years ago, and you told me you didn’t have any family. Have you forgotten so soon, Augustin?”

The man’s hand slipped off of Evelina’s arm, but he stayed quiet.

“Evelina, you can stay if you want to, but I’m leaving.” Augustin turned on his heel and headed out to the courtyard.



Claude was glad to see the mercenary go. He’d been wracking his brain trying to figure out why the man seemed familiar. Then, when he saw Augustin pull Evelina out into the hall, it all came back to him. He was a mercenary and not a good one at that. Claude used him once, but when he found the mercenary stealing from his coffers, he let the man go. He really should have cut off his hand or hanged him, but that is not the kind of lord Claude wanted to be.

Claude had money. If the man had just asked, he would have helped him out. There were a lot of poor people that he’d helped over the years, even bringing the peasants into his castle walls for meals several times a week.

“Thank you,” said Evelina once Augustin had left.

“Who are you?” he asked her.

“I told you. I am Evelina . . . Evelina du . . . de . . . I’m just called Evelina,” she answered, almost sounding as if she couldn’t remember who she was.

“You told me your surname was Du Bisset.”

She looked startled when he corrected her.

“Yes, that’s my name.”

“Why are you lying to me, Evelina?”

“Lying?” Her face became red.

“I knew from the moment I met you that you weren’t who you claimed to be. I have figured out who you are and why you came here from France, even though you won’t tell me.”

“Y-you have?” she asked.

“You are a merchant’s daughter. Perhaps a spinster.”

“Why would you think that?” She faked a laugh.

“I’ve seen the way you eat and the way you conduct yourself. You are certainly not a servant. I have also seen the way you stitch. It is as if you were born with a needle in your hand. That mercenary kidnapped you and brought you to England, trying to get ransom from your family, didn’t he?”

“What? Nay. That’s not true.”

“Then there is only one other option.”

“And what is that?”

“He was your lover.”

“That is preposterous! He most certainly was not my lover.”

“Then perhaps my squire was right. I saw you exchanging money with the mercenary. Mayhap you are a whore, and he wasn’t satisfied and demanded his money returned.”