Free The Countess by Claire Delacroix Page A

what I have always told you, Jacqueline. The first lie is easy—but it quickly requires another to support it. The web of deception I have begun will grow every day, though that will be my burden to bear.” She touched Jacqueline’s chin and kissed her cheeks, her voice turning husky. “But not yours, Jacqueline, not yours. This price is not yours to pay.”
    Jacqueline felt her tears well, though for once she was not ashamed of their appearance.
    â€œI have learned but one thing in this life, Jacqueline,” Eglantine said quietly, straightening like a queen. “One changes what one can, endures what one must, and prays for the best at every opportunity. I have made the change I can—now ’tis left to both of us to endure and pray for the best.”
    Jacqueline finally found her tongue. “Thank you, Maman !” she cried. Eglantine opened her arms and Jacqueline fell against her mother’s chest in gratitude. “I can never repay you for this, never never never !”
    Eglantine kissed Jacqueline’s brow gently, a whisper of softness against her skin. “Aye, you can, my child.” She pulled back and surveyed Jacqueline. “You can find such a love, you can be happy, and you can prove my choice right.” Her mother wrinkled her nose playfully. “You do know how I love to be proven right.”
    Jacqueline smiled through her tears. “I shall try my best, Maman .”
    Eglantine caught her close, her whisper hoarse. “A mother could ask for naught more.”
    Melusine screamed and Jacqueline pulled back to look skyward. The bird circled above them and cried again, as though it would rebuke them. Eglantine laughed despite a suspicious shimmer in her eyes.
    But her mother never wept, Jacqueline was certain of it.
    â€œThe greater good summons us to our labor anew, Maman ,” Jacqueline declared and lifted her gloved fist for the bird. She would do whatever she could to ensure that they never returned to Crevy, or to Reynaud.
    Even hunt.
    As the predator landed heavily on her hand and her heart leapt in terror, Jacqueline knew even this was a small price to pay.
    * * *
    But they were not the only ones who hunted in that early morn. Eglantine straightened from the tenth rabbit that Melusine had killed, and a flicker of movement caught her eye. She spun quickly as the boy took the kill, and saw a short shadow slip through the trees. It disappeared before she could discern precisely what ’twas. Four legs it had, though ’twas smaller of stature than the wolfhounds and moved with a stealth they did not possess.
    The hunting dogs growled, the fur on the back of their necks bristling as they looked after the shadow. Eglantine exchanged a glance with Jacqueline, noting the girl’s concern.
    â€œWhat is it, Maman ?”
    Eglantine held up a hand for silence. The rain pattered on the ground and echoed on what few deadened leaves still clinging to the trees. The branches of the trees rattled slightly in the wind, the sea sang in the distance as the surf broke against the shore. She heard naught else.
    But there ’twas again.
    â€™Twas no more than a dark fluttering between the tree trunks, at such a distance that it could not be readily observed. ’Twas smaller than either of the dogs accompanying them but fleet of foot. One of the dogs took a few steps forward and growled.
    It could not be a fox, for such creatures avoided human contact. Her horse began to stamp, more troubled than the steed usually was. Its nostrils flared and its eyes widened, its fear telling Eglantine what she should have already guessed.
    She eyed the blood of the butchered hares and knew ’twas a hungry predator who trailed them. Though she had only heard tales of wolves, she should have expected they would thrive in this remote place.
    But because of her lack of foresight, Eglantine’s small party were not equipped to face a wolf. They would cease the