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fortifying breath, the crisp air helping to clear her mind and focus her thoughts. Perhaps if she knew where they were going she’d be able to determine how to proceed. ‘So, where am I to be married?’
    ‘That, I can tell you,’ Sin replied with a sympathetic grin. ‘First I’m taking you on an extended tour of the region—so that relatives may offer their felicitations, of course—and then finally on to the port town of Boulogne-Sur-Mer. Your betrothed is a wealthy wine merchant.’
    ‘And a drunkard to boot I expect,’ she replied haughtily. ‘That’s quite an elaborate story, let’s hope we don’t have cause to use it.’ Boulogne, oh thank God. Even if the mission had changed, she should be able to get a note sent to Monsieur Lyon to arrange a meeting—even if he had to come to her.
    Sin gave her a speculative glance. ‘Do you know how to fire a pistol?’
    Liliane blinked. ‘Sorry, I missed what you said.’
    ‘I was wondering whether you know how to fire a pistol?’
    ‘My uncle is, was ,’ she hastily corrected, ‘quite liberal and taught me to shoot. I also think he was indulging me in order to aggravate my Great-Aunt. She’s somewhat of a stickler for propriety and maintains that my only true value lays in shoring up the family pedigree.’
    He shot her a grin. ‘An utter paragon. Excuse me if I don’t request an introduction.’
    There was no fear of that. The thought of Great-Aunt Woolner and Monsieur St Clair going toe to toe sent jolts of fear to her very finger tips.
    Liliane had heard stories from Mama of the antics Uncle Nate and his friends got up to during their days at Oxford. The most notable being the time they had invited some lowly sailors and their doxies to Great-Aunt Woolner’s grand ball. The Dowager Countess of Carrick had worn that outrage like a cloak ever since, to the point that to this day she adamantly refused to allow either her or Yvette to be introduced to Uncle Nate’s two closest friends, or to even attend any function where they were rumoured to be in attendance. Doubtless, in the unlikely event Sin was to have the audacity to grace a ballroom of the Ton, Marguerite Woolner would see him banished with the utmost alacrity.
    Sin interrupted her thoughts. ‘I’d like to do some target practice tomorrow morning to gauge your accuracy. I have a spare pistol in my saddlebag and, while I think it’s unlikely, there may be a requirement for you to use it.’
    Liliane twisted in her saddle and stared at him. The possibility that she may need to carry a pistol had occurred to her; she was under no illusion about the danger of travelling through France in the current climate. But the casual manner in which he discussed carrying a weapon left her wondering what his life must be like, to always be alert to danger. Another cold chill raced through her, a portent to trouble. She rolled her shoulders to shake the feeling away and pulled her cloak more securely about herself. That must be why Sin had gone to such pains to make it appear as though they were heading north. As they rounded a corner she spied a cluster of buildings coming into view and, beyond them, an older dilapidated-looking cottage.
    Nodding towards the furthest building, Sin indicated that they would take shelter there for the remainder of the night. ‘There are mostly peasant farmers in this region. They’re not averse to travellers seeking shelter, provided a small recompense is left,’ he explained.
    Liliane was relieved they were stopping for the evening. The sun was low on the horizon and the meagre warmth of the day had started to give way to a bitter night chill. She looked around, taking in the farm house, the barn, other storage sheds and the old cottage. Her stomach churned. She had been expecting to stop at a village, or some place with an inn and separate rooms. She wiped her hand down her leg. The cottage didn’t look like it would afford much privacy, though maybe Sin would be sleeping in