Page 30 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“If you’re uncomfortable, you are free to wait in the carriage. In fact, perhaps that would be best. I don’t need you upsetting the ladies with you in all yourstate,” he said with a grin. The carriage pulled up to a large building at the end of the street—a once-grand home that had been turned into a modest hotel.
Étienne got out of the carriage. When I made to descend, he stopped me on the step.
“I meant what I said, Duchesse. I won’t have you insulting or upsetting the women here.” The good humor had left his face and his hazel eyes bored into mine.
Since I didn’t trust myself to speak without some sharp retort, I merely nodded and followed him. Instead of approaching the front door, he went around to the side and entered through the kitchen.
“Étienne! You’ve come to visit me! And have you brought me sweets?” A blur of chestnut curls and matching brown wool hurled itself at him and jumped into his arms. The girl—likely no more than six—was covered in flour, which resulted in a soft puff of white enshrouding the two.
“Marie,mon Dieu!You are covered in enough flour to bake an entire loaf of bread,” Étienne laughed, reaching in his pocket for a gold coin. He palmed it and made it appear behind her ear. She squealed a giggle.
“I don’t have sweets on me today, but this will do—our little secret, okay? Where is yourmaman?” Étienne kissed the girl’s cheek and stood.
“She is upstairs in the sewing room. Come, I’ll take you—and your pretty friend!” Marie danced from foot to foot as if she had more energy than a swarming beehive.
“Manners, Marie! This is the Duchesse?—”
I cut him off. I bent to the girl and stuck out my hand.
“Daphne,chérie. My friends call me Daphne.” The girl beamed at me and shook my hand. Étienne eyed me warily, but he said nothing.
Still gripping my hand, Marie tugged me through the house, which was humbly furnished, but clean, warm, and comfortable. Up the small staircase lay several rooms on either side of the hallway. The lilt of feminine laughter sang from every closed door. If this was a brothel, it was unlike every brothel I’d ever entered.What was this place?
Marie paused before a large oak door, brushed some of the flour from her cheeks and dress, and knocked politely.
“Entrez-vous!”
“Maman, Étienne is here! And he has brought a Daphne!”
A round woman with soft red curls pinned on top of her head turned from her sewing. It looked like she was stitching a small repair in the skirt of a buttercup yellow dress. She smiled at Marie and Étienne, then stood to greet me with a polite curtsy. Marie scampered back through the hallway, closing the door behind her.
“I imagine, Madame, you should be addressed as more than just Daphne,” she said. Warmth shone from her smile and she had startlingly familiar hazel eyes.It couldn’t be…
“Perhaps elsewhere. But here, tonight, I am just Daphne.”
“I am Josephine,” she said. “Welcome to theMaison des Nymphes. But I’m sure Étienne has already told you that—if he has brought you here.”
I glanced at Étienne, who was watching our interaction with guarded interest. When I didn’t reply, she tutted and whacked Étienne’s shoulder.
“This imbecile is my brother.”
I gaped. Étienne rolled his eyes.
“Half-brother,” he corrected.
Josephine tutted again and waved her hand. “Half, quarter, cousin, whatever. Half-brother by blood, but full brother indeed.”
Seeing my confusion, she threw a withering glare at Étienne.
“You did not tell her,mon frère?Oh, you areimpossible!Fine—I shall do so.” She settled down on a chair in the corner and motioned for me to do the same.
“Josephine, please don’t. We are in a bit of a hurry,” he grumbled.
“So, you bring a woman of your own here for the first time and you tell her nothing?Quel crétin!What are you on about? Are you ashamed all of a sudden?”
“You know I’m not. We just don’t have the time tonight and Daphne is not interested in our family dramatics?—”
“Yes, I am.” I interrupted and grinned at Josephine. “Tell me, please, Madame.”
