Page 15 of The Assassin and the Libertine
DAPHNE
October 2, 1765
Château de Champs-sur-Marne
“Daphne,are you even listening to me?” Philippe complained. He seemed more ruffled than usual.
Truthfully, I was not. My mind had wandered back to the same place it had been for the last four days—Étienne’s carriage. I’d tossed and turned for the last three nights, poring over his words. Had The Order really tried to kill him before? Why would they? What had he done?
Was he right about me?
He’d been right about Jeanne. I’d seen it for myself. The vicious tears in the flesh of her throat—no vampire would have done that. I’d seen real vampire bites firsthand.My poor Michel. I shut my eyes against the painful memories.
Philippe crossed the room and knelt before me. Concern marred his face.
“Daphne, please. Talk to me. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. I can’t keep The Order at bay much longer. Why haven’t you killed Noailles yet?”
“I do not believe he is Jeanne’s killer,” I finally said. Philippe rocked back on his heels and stood.
“Why not? You read the report. She was bitten. Her blood was drained.”
“Who wrote the report?”
Philippe lifted one shoulder. “Another agent. I don’t know who.”
“Well, whoever it was either wasn’t present and was putting it together from rumors, or is deliberately trying to accuse the emissary. That report is all wrong, Philippe. Her blood was not simply drained. Her throat was ripped open. She likely bled out. The wound was no vampire bite—it was too savage. Inhuman, even. It looked like some kind of animal attack.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Didhetell you that?”
I’d been debating telling Philippe the entirety of the situation. I knew he wouldn’t approve, but up until now, I hadn’t told anyone, and I needed someone I could trust within The Order. I faced him, mustering my courage.
“We exhumed her body. I inspected her myself. Étienne professes his innocence, Philippe, and I am starting to believe him.”
He took the news like a physical blow. Eyes bulging, he gaped at me. “Daphne,” he breathed. “That is—it’s blasphemous! How could you?”
“Perhaps it is, but I wanted the truth, and now I have it. Well, part of it, anyway,” I said, resigned.
Disappointment flowed off Philippe in waves and I found myself caught up in the tide. He stared at me in stunned silence.
“So, it’sÉtiennenow, is it?” he asked, shaking his head. “If you don’t believe he is guilty, why haven’t you informed The Order?”
“I don’t think they’ll listen to me. They might listen to you, though,” I hedged.
Philippe sighed deeply. “Have you any other evidence of his innocence?”
“Not yet,” I admitted. “But I hope to soon.”
“Darling, you know I can’t just go to them armed with your unsubstantiated suspicions. You know what they’ll say. They’ll say he has bewitched you, just like he bewitches every other woman—that you think his handsome face and his charm excuse the horrible things he has done. They’ll say you’ve been compromised by your emotions, and I’ll have nothing to show them to prove otherwise.”
“I’ll get proof,” I insisted. Philippe cast me a doubtful look. “One other thing—he mentioned that The Order had sent agents to assassinate him before. What do you know of that?”
Philippe shrugged. “Nothing, really.”
“What else is he accused of?” I pressed.
Philippe looked at me like I’d gone mad.
“Well, murder, for one! And treasonous slander. And adultery!”
