"In flawless and very aristocratic French, Jane said, "Tell Monsieur le Comte de Brillac that he has a guest." "Er . . ." It was clear the guard didn't know what to make of her. "Do you have papers?" Yes. In a trunk somewhere on the road to Santarem. Jane drew herself up, doing her best imitation of the Dowager Duchess of Dovedale in a snit. "Take me to the comte. At once." "But--" "You may tell him," said Jane, flicking at a smudge of dirt on her sleeve, "that his fiancee is here to see him."