Page 61 of The Agent and the Outlaw
If I’d knownhe was going to be traipsing around a graveyard, sneaking into tombs at night, I might have reconsidered my decision to follow my father. Yet here I was, crouched in a bush, soaked with melting snow and misery, still sore from my healing injuries, waiting in the worst place for the worst confrontation with the worst man. Things felt as hopeless and bleak as the weather.
I’d lost count of the nights since I’d left Grandrieu. They all seemed to blur together into one long stretch of frigid darkness. Sleep eluded me, and when I could shut my eyes for longer than a few hours, my mind conjured dreams of Charlotte.Charlotte.I still ached with her absence and the sadness I felt knowing she’d been in Grandrieu and had left without seeing me. When I decided to return to Paris to hunt down my father, I’d considered calling on her, but had thought better of it.
What would I have said? Would she even receive me? I could see it now—a shabby, damaged outlaw showing up on the steps of some grand estate, inquiring after acomtesse. Her servants would probably summon the authorities and I’d be carted off to the Bastille just for being a suspicious character—even without the murder charge and bounty on my head. I hated how much I felt like I needed her, as if every day since we’d parted had me living a sort of half-life. For the sake of my own sanity, I was determined to leave her alone. She had a life of passion and danger and…werewolfishnessto return to and I had my vengeance. Neither of us wanted to watch the other go down in flames, so perhaps it was best if we simply turned our gazes away, as impossible as that felt.
Another carriage arrived and the door opened. As soon as the woman descended from the interior, I knew her—masked or not.Charlotte.She appeared as if summoned from my very thoughts, not that she was ever far from them these days. As she stepped down onto the snowy ground, she was followed by the duchess, who led her to the mausoleum where my father had disappeared. Fear pulled my nerves taut, and my stomach dropped.No!It couldn’t be.What the hell was going on?
I debated storming in after her, but every time I’d acted without thinking, it had ended badly for both of us. I needed to get her alone—to talk to her. Nothing more. I just needed to find out what business she had in this forlorn cemetery, if it included my villain of a father, and make sure she was safe and well.
The familiar dread and memories of trauma spurred me into action, and as soon as they were out of sight and her coachman was distracted, I crept through the bushes and discreetly climbed into her carriage. I wouldn’t charge in after her, but I would wait for her here to ensure we had a chance to speak with one another.
Dieu, please let her be okay. Please protect her from my father. What could they be doing in there?It had to be the business of the Order, but I was certain that my father wasn’t a member. Why had he come? The anxiety I felt knowing they were near each other was almost too much to bear.
After an interminable amount of waiting, men started to file out of the dilapidated tomb, two or three at a time. I did not see my father, but after an eternity, Charlotte appeared with the duchess following behind. They were having a somewhat frenzied conversation with each other until they both got a short distance away from the carriage. They stopped and turned to each other, bodies tense.
Damn! Of course, they can sense me. How stupid could I be?
“Charlotte,chérie, I do believe you have a visitor,” Daphne said.
Charlotte’s face tightened with emotion and—is that longing?—before she schooled her features in a mask of vexation. Her eyes narrowed on her carriage. “What is it about my carriage that seems to invite unannounced visitors? I must have the most unobservant coachman and footman in all of France.”
“You know, it’s such a beautiful winter night. I think I’ll walk home,” the duchess said. I barely caught her wink. Charlotte’s expression was drawn, and for the second time that evening, I regretted the decision that brought me here.
She stepped up into the carriage and sat on the seat opposite me. I waited with bated breath.
“So,” she said. “Here we are.”
“Charlotte,” I said. I hated the way it sounded—like a whisper of hope.
“You look like you haven’t eaten or slept in a week,” she said.
I frowned and grunted, not wishing to lie to her or admit that I couldn’t rest with thoughts of her haunting me.
She continued. “I’m only slightly surprised to see you, but I’m afraid to inform you that you’re only the second person to ambush me in my own conveyance this evening. Daphne beat you to the punch earlier.”
“It wasn’t planned,” I admitted.
“Of course, it wasn’t! I assume you’re here because of your father,” she continued. “And not because you’ve just been out there paying your respects or going for a moonlit stroll through an abandoned cemetery.”
I didn’t trust myself to say much, so I grunted in assent. “What was he doing down there? He’s not a member of the Order.”
She leaned forward, and a shaft of moonlight spilled across her lovely face. “Perhaps you could tell me,” she said. “After all, I’m sure you’ve been following him around. You know him better than most. What’s his end game?”
“What did he tell you?”
She snorted. “He was a distinguished guest of the Order. He came under the guise of questioning me as to your whereabouts and to hear my testimony about Sade’s botched assassination and my subsequent turning.”
Panic crept into my voice. “He knows you’re a werewolf. And that you were a match for thebêtes?”
“Well, he saw me change with his own eyes. But I’m uncertain how much he knows about our altercations with thebêtes.I didn’t tell him anything that happened outside Grandrieu. I didn’t think it would be prudent to tell the Order I was involved in the deaths of several vampire soldiers, which, by the way, youneverthanked me for,” she added with an air of petulance.
“Wait. He saw you change? What did you tell the Order? What did you tellmy father?” I couldn’t help the betrayal in my tone.
She signaled to her driver and the carriage pitched forward. “Oh, Antoine, don’t get your hackles up. I didn’t tell him or anyone else in the Order anything damning. I told them you killed Sade to protect me—not entirely a lie—and that we went to Gévaudan to escape thebêtessent on your father’s behalf. He denies it, of course. Says he sent human soldiers after you, and they must have been turned after they left his command. He says he only hopes for your safe return, so he can reunite with his beloved hero of a son.”
I scoffed. “I’ll bet.”
“What’s he really after, Antoine?”
