Page 11 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“That doesn’t mean anything. I understand employment is scarce, Charlotte, and lots of people are hungry. The servants probably didn’t want to leave a sure thing for some unknown misery.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes.
I sighed. “Besides, you don’t know how much a person will endure in order to keep a roof over her head.”
Charlotte’s eyes snapped to mine, but her expression was soft as she considered my meaning. “Your servants stay for you,chérie. You bore the brunt of Henri’s temper and shielded them from the worst of his torments. They aren’t likely to forget it,” she said quietly.
I finished the tea and brandy in my cup, briefly thinking about another stiff drink to hold back the sickening memories. Before I could sink into despair, Charlotte slapped her fan against my knee with a cheerful giggle.
“Well,ma chère amie, I should be on my way. I promised Lisette I’d look in on her since she turned her ankle. She says it was during her dancing lessons, but the rumor is that she tripped over her lover’s breeches when the comte came home early. I shall let you know what I uncover!”
She kissed my cheeks and made for the door. For all her inappropriate behavior, Charlotte had a soft heart and a comforting nature. She was unfailingly devoted to Philippe and to me. Her loyalty inspired me to be honest with Philippe, but I needed to find the truth of the matter before I addressed him.
Later that evening, I dressed without Eve’s help—I didn’t need her worrying over my inappropriate attire. I needed freedom and a degree of anonymity tonight, so I’d donned some of Henri’s old clothes—the ones he used to wear when he sought what he calledcompanionshipwith the unfortunate prostitutes in the direst circumstances.The ones who would not fight back against his demands,I thought bitterly.
I donned the plain woolen breeches and hose, simple linen shirt, dingy brown waistcoat, thick black overcoat, and tattered tricorne hat. I’d taken care to bind my breasts beneath the shirt and hoped that no one would notice the ill-fitting wig, but as I surveyed my appearance in the mirror, I reasoned it would probably be acceptable given the late hour. In darkness, or even dim lighting, I would pass for a man.
In the pockets of my coat, I stashed a dagger, several small wooden stakes, my flintlock pistol, and a vial of holy water. While the holy water wouldn’t do much good against vampires, The Order had instructed its agents to carry it for other potential supernatural threats. Since vampires were a reality now, the door to the impossible had been flung open. Monsters, ghouls, demons—it seemed only natural that other unholy creatures lurked in the shadows.
A soft knock at my door made me jump.
“Madame.”
Eve poked her head in and blanched when she saw me. I offered her a sheepish grin.
“It’s necessary, Eve. Trust me.”
“Of course, Madame. Monsieur de Noailles has arrived. He’s waiting for you downstairs.”
“Merci.” I tucked an errant curl beneath my wig and took a steadying breath.
“Are you…Madame, are you sure you will be safe? Perhaps you should take one of the footmen, or Gaston, with you tonight,” Eve whispered. She twisted her fingers in her skirts.
“Non, chérie,” I replied. “Grim business tonight. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
I smiled encouragingly at her, but she looked at me skeptically before nodding and hurrying back down the hall. Making my way downstairs, I paused by the table in the hall to put an apple in my coat pocket, as well. I’d declined dinner, too anxious to have much of an appetite, and now my stomach churned with hunger and nerves.
“Midnight snack?” Étienne’s voice carried up the grand staircase from the front hall.
I cursed him softly, but his mouth quirked up in a smile and I knew he’d heard. He was dressed simply, and it seemed at odds with his ethereal beauty. He hadn’t powdered his hair but had tied the thick waves back in a simple ribbon. In the candlelight, his locks shimmered like a raven’s wing in the sun. Alarmingly, my fingers suddenly itched to touch them.
“I apologize if you’ve been kept waiting,” I grumbled. “Have you been offered refreshment?”
The words flowed out of me reflexively, but it was impossible for me to keep the irritation from my voice. It wouldn’t do for the Duchesse de Duras to have an inhospitable household, evenif she’d rather tear her beloved château down brick by brick than have a lecherous vampire ruining its serenity.
“No, Duchesse, but I doubt your household was prepared to offer merefreshment,”he drawled. “Unless you’d care to do so yourself?”
Realizing my mistake, I felt my face burn in embarrassment.Damn it, Daphne, you imbecile.
“I meant water or wine. Perhaps a glass of something stronger. I have seen you drink, Monsieur le Vicomte,” I said airily, trying to regain the upper hand.
He winced at my use of his lost title and turned his back to me, marching toward the front door.
“I am no longer Monsieur le Vicomte, Duchesse, and you would do well to remember that. You will call me Étienne. And no, I do not require refreshment. We must be on our way—my man at the graveyard will not wait for us indefinitely,” he said, ushering us outside.
I nodded. “I?—”
He turned; an impatient look etched on his handsome face.
