Page 23 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“It matters little now. Louis knew exactly which strings to pull to coerce me into emissary service. My ancestral estate and holdings have been returned to me, at least. I don’t care aboutthe title. I shan’t be having an issue to pass it on to, anyway.” Frustrated and resentful, I turned from the bookshelves and sat heavily in one of the armchairs before the fire. It needled me, if I let it—the inability to sire an heir. In my boyhood, when I was to inherit a title and the responsibilities attached to it, my father worked tirelessly to drill a sense of duty and honor into my head. Even when I rebelled as a young man, I knew that I’d return to the fold eventually. Find a wealthy, well-connected wife—hopefully pretty—and get her with child after child. We would enjoy family holidays in the country and seasons in Paris; try not to squander the fortune my father had carefully amassed and invested; I’d find some way to serve France, whether on the battlefield or in court.“Honor, duty, and responsibility, son. That’s your lot in life. Do not waste it.”
And I almost had—but I was trying to make up for it now.
Daphne went to a sideboard, poured two generous glasses of cognac, and sat in the other armchair. She handed me a glass, which I took gratefully. I’d wanted company, but I hadn’t expected to spill my life story. I swirled the cognac in the glass, unexpectedly self-conscious.
“Is that a…vampire problem?” she inquired awkwardly.
I nodded. “Hard to sire heirs when your body functions as a walking corpse. Did you and the duc never?—”
“No,” she cut in. “After a few months of marriage, I refused him. I would not consent to carry his bloodline.” At this, she drank a sizable swallow of cognac. Her cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink.
“Was he—” I floundered for the right words, but she interrupted me again with an acerbic smile.
“He wasn’t calledle Duc Dépravéfor nothing,” she said.
Things started to fall into place, then—rumors I’d heard about the brutal, predatory aristocrat. I hadn’t realizedle Duc Dépravéwas Daphne’s husband. Horror filled me in a way Ihadn’t experienced in some years. The thought of her suffering the abuse of such a man made me see red. My fangs lengthened impulsively, and my muscles bunched, preparing to attack some unseen threat. Without warning, the cognac glass exploded in my hand.
“Merde,” I swore. Daphne jumped up, grabbing a cloth and a pitcher of water from a nearby table. She reached for my hand—tentatively. “I’m not going to bite,” I chuckled. My fangs retracted. Daphne eyed me cautiously and started wiping the blood from my palm.
An uncomfortable silence settled between us.
“I heard from The Order,” she blurted.
I arched a brow. “Good news or bad?”
“Both, or neither, depending on your perspective,” she said. “They seem open to considering your innocence in Jeanne’s murder, but they require proof. They’ve allowed me some time, but no resources, to settle the matter.”
“How magnanimous of them,” I drawled. She’d finished cleaning my hand and was using a clean scrap of cloth to bind it. Her movements were firm, but tender.
“There’s more,” she said, gingerly picking up shards of glass from the floor. “I had a letter from Charlotte. It sounds like many of the nobles are relocating to the palace. I fear things are escalating. The aristocrats are worried.”
This wasn’t exactly surprising, but certainly more concerning.
“What will The Order do?” I wondered.
Daphne went to her desk to throw the broken glass and bloody rags away.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know about all of their plans, and I’m afraid if I don’t find Jeanne’s killer and bring them proof soon, they’ll kick me out and I’ll know even less.”
I agreed. “We must hurry. I’m well enough to carry on. I’ll send a message to some of my contacts in Paris and let them know we’ll be in the city tomorrow night. We’ll start with the ring.”
Some relief shone in Daphne’s face.
“That would be best,” she said. “I’m eager to see this through and move on with my life.”
“As am I,” I said. I stood to leave and she followed me to the door. “Tomorrow night, we’ll need to play the parts of intimidating aristocrats. Prepare accordingly.”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “I think I can manage that.”
“I’ll do what I can to keep you safe, but you should remain on your guard.”
“I don’t need you to keep me safe, Étienne,” she snapped.
“Perhaps not,” I conceded. “But I will try, all the same. Should things go awry, I mean.”
We were standing at the threshold of the library, the dark hallway yawning behind me. Daphne appeared at a loss for words and stood at the door, hesitating. The tightness around her mouth relaxed and she mumbled a soft, “Thank you.”
“I’ll say goodnight, then,” I said.
