Page 16 of The Assassin and the Libertine
Suspicious, I approached Philippe and stared hard into his eyes.
“Adultery is the currency of Versailles, Philippe,” I said. “That doesn’t warrant a death threat from The Order. What has he done? Is it his politics? Does it have something to do with his title?”
“How should I know?” he blustered.
“You’ve been with The Order for eight years,” I pushed. “You were with them before the blood plague came to Paris. You’re one of their most trusted members.”
Philippe’s eyes flashed and his temper flared. “Not even I know everything, Daphne. Besides, why do you care? He’s avampire, just like the ones that killed your brother. Or have you forgotten? Do you need to be reminded of the fact that it was but five short years ago that Michel was found murdered—drained—right outside your family’s home?” He threw his hands up and began to pace the room.
Pain at the memory rendered me speechless. But Phillipe wasn’t done.
“You werethis closeto poverty, Daphne, when the title and lands passed to a distant relation with no provision for you. The only thing that saved you was an ill-advised marriage to a wealthy, titled man no better than the monsters who took your brother from you! And here you are! Throwing yourself in with their kind. I simply don’t understand it.”
The utter ass—bringing up my past in such a callous, judgmental manner and then refusing to help me.
“I have not thrown myself in with their kind!” I snarled, outraged at his scorn. “And I don’t know why you don’t understand my hesitation. Does the truth matter so little to you?”
“Does it matter that much to you?” he countered. “He’s just some vampire!”
I gritted my teeth, trying to force down my rising temper. I recognized we were at an impasse, and alienating Phillipe seemed unproductive and unwise, even if he deserved a very thorough chastening. Despite the fact that I held a title above his in society, he was still senior to me in The Order and enjoyed all the undeserved privileges of the patriarchy.
I went to the front window and stared out at the drizzly, pewter afternoon.
He stopped pacing, then blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Daphne. You know I’d do anything to help you, but with the Noailles assignment, I don’t know if I can.”
“Well, if I am on my own then, so be it,” I replied in a wooden tone.
He made a noise of exasperation in his throat. “Even if I could, I doubt they’d listen to me any more than they would you. Noailles is on their list and I’m sure they have their reasons beyond Jeanne’s death. I’m sorry, Daphne, but I can’t protect you from The Order anymore. You wanted in, now you’ve got to figure your way of this mess. Find your proof, or find yourself facing their judgment.”
With that, he picked up his hat and walked out of the room.
Frustrated, I stormed upstairs, my ire growing with every step. Certainly, he could refuse to help me, but how dare he shame me for Michel’s death and for my marriage to Henri! I did what I had had to do to survive. I paced my bedchamber, punched my pillows, and threw a book across the room. The idea that The Order would suggest I’d developed feelings for Étienne enraged me even further. Of course I didn’t care for the rogue! I cared about the truth—and so far, Étienne had been more honest with me than Philippe had. That was what mattered in all of this;the truth.
With renewed resolve, I went to my desk and drafted a missive to the vampire. It was time we continued our investigation.
When I dressed that evening,I donned one of Eve’s simple gray dresses and pinned my dark blonde curls beneath a cap. I wrapped my shoulders in a brown wool shawl and strapped my flintlock to my thigh. I kept my dagger and a thin wooden stake in my pockets, though I hoped I wouldn’t need them tonight. I wasn’t sure where Étienne was taking me, but I knew it wouldn’t be anywhere near the world of Versailles.
He had responded promptly to my message, stating that he would be around after sundown to collect me. His terse response irked me. I wondered if he was still angry with me over our argument in the carriage. I hoped not. I only had the energy to deal with one intractable ass today and I’d already gotten my fill from Philippe.
Eve knocked at my door and informed me that Monsieur de Noailles had arrived. I braced myself for his broody temperament and went down to greet him.
He sat in the front parlor, staring fixedly into the fireplace. He was dressed in plain but well-tailored clothes, his hat resting idly on one knee. The warm firelight flickered across his sculpted features, casting him in a glow of amber heat. It struck me that he looked like one of Louis’s golden statues come to life. I had the strange urge to reach out and run my fingertips across his lips to see if they really were as soft as the gossips said.
“If you’re going to stand back there all night staring at me, Duchesse, perhaps you could make yourself useful and pour me a drink while you’re at it,” he said, his focus never leaving the flames.
I stiffened at his rudeness. “I can, if you require one. I was waiting for you to stand so that we may go.”
“Go where?” he asked. “It is you who summoned me.”
Still, he did not look at me. He seemed…strange, distant.
“Monsieur, are you well?”
He smiled cruelly and his tone dripped with sarcasm. “But of course, Madame. Why shouldn’t I be well?”
“I’m sure I do not know, but you seem…not yourself tonight. I was under the impression that you had a lead for us to follow. Possibly related to Jeanne’s missing ring?” I prodded.
I came further into the room and he finally looked up at me. I gasped when I saw his eyes—the honeyed hazel of his irises had changed to a deep, blood red.
