“Merde,” Marc said. He then leaned over and whispered, “I suppose it would be considered poor form to have her shot?”
Bertrand simply nodded, but that wry smile hinted the desire was there. Not even her husband could stand being around the Comtesse for long.
“Who dares disrupt my afternoon—”
The effect he had on the Comtesse was similar to that of the Steward. The exception is that her lips nearly disappeared and what remained turned white from the strain.
“You’re supposed to be—” the Comtesse said.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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