Page 1 of The Agent and the Outlaw
PROLOGUE
November 15, 1766
Château de Champs-sur-Marne
It wasn’t oftenthat I desired bloodshed. In fact, the only other time I trulywantedto murder someone had been a year ago, when my former husband summoned a demon to try to force my cousin to love him. It didn’t quite work out for him, and needless to say, it made for a rather awkward evening.
“Do you ever wonder what they do with these reports?” I asked, stamping my seal into the hot wax on the thick sheaf of papers. “Sometimes I think they don’t even look at them. They couldn’t possibly read them all—every scrap of onlyoccasionallyuseful information from every agent. I’ve half a mind to test the theory and slip in some dirty words to see if anyone says anything.”
Firelight flickered around the room, casting an amber glow upon the towering shelves of books lining the library of my cousin’s impressive château. Daphne,Duchesse de Duras, agent of the Order, leader of their women-only sect calledles Dames Dangereuses, and my best friend, peered at me over the rim of her champagne glass.
“Charlotte, I’ve read your reports. There aren’t any more filthy words than the ones you already use. I’ve seen seasoned agents blush beneath their masks while reading them. Perhaps you should consider a career as a writer of erotic novels.”
“I would truly excel,” I preened. “I know so many good synonyms for male anatomical features.Quivering rod.Virility spear.Throbbing manhood.”
Daphne rolled her eyes to cover a smirk.
“Silent flute.”
“Speaking of silent…” She looked at me pointedly.
I grinned and handed her the sealed folio—thirty-six pages of tightly scrawled script outlining an avalanche of evidence of theMarquis de Sade’scrimes. Treason, blackmail, extortion, sexual abuses, violence against innocents…it had been months of grim and grueling work, and my biggest investigation since joiningles DD. At court, all the aristocrats knew of the marquis’s villainous tendencies, but no one had the temerity to bring charges against him. As a member of court, he was “one of our own.” At least, until Daphne and I had come along and forced the issue with the Order—the long-shadowed organization of powerful men in France who tasked themselves with the safety of king and country, but which operated in a sort of gray area just outside the law.
“What is to be done about his associates?” I asked.
She raised a brow at me and drained her glass. “I thought you handled that already.” Her displeased tone implied she hadn’t approved of my methods.
“Oh,chérie, just because I killed a vampire doesn’t mean it was an indication of my feelings about the poor souls suffering from the blood plague. You know I’m all for integration of vampires and humans—I have been since the plague took hold of Paris years ago, really—and you know how much I love you and Étienne. Your hematic preferences don’t bother me one whit. But truly, that bastard was evil. I mean,reallyevil. Quite possibly as evil as my former husband, may he rot in Hell,” I said earnestly.
“Charlotte, he’s imprisoned in the Château d’If,” she replied. “Not technically dead. Probably mad, but still quite alive.”
“Well, it’s almost the same thing, isn’t it? And the Order gave me his falsified death record after all thatunpleasantnessa year ago,” I grumbled.
“Yes,” she replied drolly. “‘All thatunpleasantness.’Summoning a demon and murdering several people—including my own awful husband, as well as the king’s mistress—is what you would callunpleasant.” She chuckled. “No,chérie, it’s not that I disapprove of you staking a vampire who certainly deserved it, it’s just that you killed him before he could tell us who Sade’s other associate was. We know he had more than one highly placed individual feeding his depraved desires.”
“Well, honestly, Daphne, it’s notmyfault a supernatural kidnapper ended up being so frail as to die when he was stabbed a few times—”
“Twenty-seven times.”
“Twenty-seven times then. But really, who’s counting?”
“You did. It was in your report!”
“Because I’m nothing if not efficient. Not only did I dispatch a villainous bloodsucker—no offense—but I wrote a fully accurate report on the matter. You’re lucky you have me as a lieutenant forles DD, you know, especially when I’m here working while you’re out having glorious carnal fun with your dashing rake of a fiancé.”
My words were meant to tease, but Daphne sensed the sadness behind them.
“Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry. I know this past year has been tough for you, what with Philippe’s crimes, the devastation of the blood plague, and my engagement to Étienne. I know what it is to see another’s happiness when you yourself are laid low by life’s blows. But you know you are always welcome here. You will always have a home with Étienne and me. We both love you, darling,” she said, putting a hand on mine.
“I know, Daphne,” I said. “But I’ve been hiding out with you for far too long. You and Étienne have a life to start living. It’s time I returned to Philippe’s—tomyestate. There are things there that I need to put to bed.”
“Like François?” she teased, referring to the latest in my string of occasional lovers.
“Non,no longer. He was beautiful, certainly, but so self-absorbed. And you know, I think he was stealing my stockings. Every time he came around, I discovered I was missing one. He must have amassed quite a collection by now,” I sighed. “Really, if he wants to wear them, fine, but at least he could buy them for himself and stop taking mine. Although, I suppose if the occasional errant stocking is the price I must pay for some thoroughly enjoyable bed sport, I should be grateful.” I laughed, but it sounded hollow even to my own ears. Naturally, Daphne picked up on it right away.
“Someone will come along for you, Charlotte. I’m sure of it. Philippe was not your match, but you have one out there. You’ll see. One day, true love will come right up to you and knock you senseless, and you’ll be as much of a lost cause as I am,” she smiled beatifically at me, and if I didn’t love her immeasurably, I would have kicked her in the shin.
“If true love knocks you senseless, thenmon dieu, I am much happier with a string of wholly inadequate but temporarily sufficient lovers. After everything that happened last year, I’d much rather keep a firm hold of my senses.”
