Section Two Milady de Winter restrained herself from raising her voice, unwilling to reveal her vexation to either of her bodyguards.
Already Richelieu was attempting to limit her access to the funds she required to carry off the tasks his eminence had entrusted to her.
In addition it was beginning to appear that after the successful completion of this last job the cardinal would relinquish the major reasons for his hold over the comtesse if she kept a close eye on things.
Of course, there was always that one influence she wasn't sure how to remove from his hands.
Almost imperceptibly, she winced as a shot of pain struck her, reminding her that her ribs were still tender.
Well, she would not be dancing to the cardinal's tune, not after she visited her first stepfather's estate and claimed the money she had secreted and never had the opportunity to retrieve.
Until then her leverage was very limited, considering .
.
.
Gracefully, she took the proffered hand and entered her carriage, informing the driver to head towards the Loire River Valley.
The door closed behind her and the carriage rumbled off towards its destination, and away from Moulins, as Milady stashed the ornate but highly functional dagger in the sheath between her breasts.
Where to find Laurel? That was the question.
She had obviously fled the estate, but to where? Where had Thomas told her to seek refuge when she thought that she was in danger? Monsieur de Treville.
No.
The marquis' dislike of the cardinal and anywhere near Richelieu had surely infected his daughter.
Milord Compton, however, was a possibility, and Compton was in Marseille; it appeared she would be headed to Marseille after the stop at her stepfather's estate--logically speaking.
"Marseille," she spoke aloud.
"Of course! That was where Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan had escorted a caravan of merchants several days back.
" According to Richelieu the musketeers had not yet returned.
If Laurel went to Marseille she might have contacted the musketeers.
Dear old Thomas had adored the musketeers, as had his daughter.
Which could mean that if she found the four musketeers, she would also locate Laurel d'Anlass at the same time.
Now where had the cardinal's men lost sight of those musketeers? Milady rapped upon the screen, and one of the drivers opened it.
"There's been a change of plans," she said brusquely.
"Head towards Aurillac as quickly as you can.
" She closed her side of the screen and leaned back.
Her instincts had not been wrong before, and she saw no need to doubt them now.
Besides, her money had waited this long.
It could wait a little longer.
* * * * * * * * * * * * As the carriage rumbled through streets that were badly in need of servicing.
Milady pushed aside the curtain and peered into the bustling street scene, carefully committing each detail to memory.
Her life could depend on it.
Just as she was about to let the curtain fall back into place, she caught sight of a man striding purposefully away from the market.
Taller than average, with shapely legs that matched the rest of his well-toned body.
Blond hair and commanding carriage and confident stride.
She knew that man.
He turned around for just a moment before he disappeared from her sight.
She let the curtain fall back and whispered under her breath, "Athos.
" Swiftly, she instructed one of her bodyguards to follow the man who had just vanished and not to come back until he knew where the man was staying.
As Milady de Winter was completing her task of getting settled in her recently procured chamber, her bodyguard entered and bowed.
At her bidding he informed the lady of the name and location of where Athos was staying.
"Merci," she said without an audible change in the tone of her voice and dismissed the guard.
The noblewoman double-checked to be sure that her dagger was in place between her breasts and another in her hair comb.
Satisfied, she donned her hooded cloak and slipped from her room to the darkened alley below.
She stopped short as three men sporting sabers by their sides approached the door-jamb of the derelict building.
A tall man with a crescent-shaped scar from ear to chin and an eye patch swept his hat off and addressed her.
"What can we be doing for you, madame?" Milady ignored the lapse, the fact the man had not accorded her fully qualified proper title.
She would rather they not know anything about her identity.
She extracted a sack full of pistoles and several gold pieces from her purse and put them in the scarred man's hands.
"That is the first half of your payment.
If you carry out the task successfully then you will get an equal sum when you report back here tomorrow night.
" The man undid the drawstring of the little bag and ran the coins through his fingers.
She was offering them what these men considered a small fortune.
"What would you have us do?" "Tonight I want you to kill a man, and I'd best not be disappointed," she responded with a disturbing lack of emotion.
Emotions would not be permitted to interfere with revenge, not this time as they had before.
She simply could not permit it.
Besides, it was too late to save her blighted soul.
Far too late...