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 Santarém.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 fiancée is here to see him.