“How dare—” the Comte said.
“Dare what?” Marc said. “Ask about my mother’s health? Dare to see her before she passes?”
“Who told you?” the Count pressed.
His mind had yet to register his slip of the tongue. In his confusion he stepped back, and blinked repeatedly upon realising his failure. Oh non!
“The Comtesse, my Lord,” Marc lied.
For a moment it appeared as though the man believed the lie, but Marc had said too much. The commotion from earlier may have died down, but the reasons for Marc being here were obvious.“Well played,” the Comte said. “There may be hope for you—if not her then—him.”
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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