Page 4 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“Why, Duchesse de Duras, whatexceptionalreflexes you have,” came a silky voice at my ear. I dropped Charlotte’s arm and whirled around. The man seemed to have materialized from a pool of darkness at the edge of the garden. Despite the unseasonable warmth of the evening, I shivered.
He was clad in a rich, emerald green coat that made his striking hazel eyes appear strangely golden—almost wolf-like. They burned with heated intensity beneath long, feathery lashes. His sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, and elegant patrician nose looked like they’d inspired features of Michelangelo’sDavid, but his full lips hinted at something much less divine and far more sinful. Unlike the other nobles, he wore no wig, but had powdered his own dark locks in a soft grey and had tied them back at the nape of his neck with a ribbon. Beneath the well-cut coat, expertly tied cravat, and indecently tight breeches, I knew he was a powerfully built man. His laid-back elegance and rakish charm did little to disguise the coiled tension and corded muscle of a predator.
I schooled my features in a mask of bland entitlement to cover my apprehension.
I’d been shadowing him whenever he turned up at court, usually when he was waiting for his weekly audiences with the king. Most of thedamesanddemoisellesat Versailles refused to acknowledge him publicly, but their lustful gazes followed his every move. I suppose I could admit—entirely dispassionately, of course—that he was attractive in an obvious sort of way. Itdidn’t change the fact that beneath the seductive exterior lurked a bloodsucking villain—a selfish parasite of sheer malevolence. In fact, it made his allure that much more disturbing.
He bowed stiffly and smiled, his eyes never leaving mine. Despite my outward detachment, my heart pounded. Tonight was the night I’d been waiting for—the assignment that I hoped would further my position within The Order. I’d had to work twice as hard as the male agents—first, to prove I was worthy to join The Order in the first place, and then to be taken seriously enough to earn assignments that were more than just gossip-collecting intelligence work. Tonight, I’d banish any lingering doubts for good.
Realizing I’d yet to formally acknowledge the man before me, I inclined my head.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, Monsieur.”
His strange eyes glittered, assessing.
“Oh, but I’m sure we have, Madame. You do not remember? It was perhaps a year ago, but I remember you, of course.” One corner of his mouth kicked up in a suggestive grin.
I did not return his smile.
“Étienne de Noailles, vampire emissary to His Majesty,” he said, executing another bow.
He left outdisgraced former vicomte, legendary rake, outspoken bourgeoisie sympathizer, and—if my sources within The Order were correct—cold-blooded murderer of Jeanne Antoinette, Madame de Pompadour.
“Monsieur de Noailles,” I returned. A tense moment passed between us, like a bowstring pulled taut.
Then, unfazed by my cold address, he turned to greet Charlotte. The flirtatious greeting he issued my cousin was nauseating in its effusiveness. I watched him carefully, trying to decide if he really was as dangerous as The Order affirmed, or if he was simply the rutting beast the women of court believed,driven entirely by his libido. Either way, his very presence unsettled me.
“Comtesse de Brionne, you look resplendent this evening! Did you know that sapphire blue is my second favorite color?”
“And what, Monsieur l’Émissaire, is your first favorite color?” Charlotte tittered.
“Perhaps it is a mystery,” he said with a wink. “Or perhaps it is the lovely pink of your blush.”
I suppressed a gag at Charlotte’s breathy giggle and playful slap. I had strict orders to dispense with Noailles covertly, so I couldn’t just stake him here in the middle of the party—despite being sorely tempted. I’d lure him away from everyone—particularly Charlotte. The hedge maze in the back of the grounds was the perfect spot.
In the corner of my eye, I caught Charlotte’s husband, Philippe, Comte de Brionne, beckoning me over to a large potted palm. He’d helped convince The Order to train me as an agent—their first and only woman, I might add—in exchange for my permission to let him court Charlotte. The arrangement suited all three of us. Philippe was tall and plain, but he had always been friendly to me and kind to Charlotte. At any rate, he was less of a scoundrel than my own villainous husband, which meant Charlotte would be protected from the things I’d already had to endure. If I could shield her, at least, I might be able to convince myself that my marriage to the Duc de Duras had been worth something.
I frowned at my melancholy memories and then at Charlotte’s outrageous flirtation with Noailles. Not bothering to make my excuses, I turned on my heel and made for Philippe.
“An ‘I miss you’ gift of diamonds? Really, Philippe?” I teased.
Philippe winced. “The Order is sending me to London for another three months. I haven’t told her yet. I meant to tell herwhen I gave her the necklace, but she assumed it was for my last trip to Venice.”
He pulled me back behind the large palms, safely obscuring us from the view of the other guests.
I looked back at Charlotte and Noailles, still engrossed in each other’s company. “Perhaps she needs some looking after, or your company, at least. You could take her with you.”
Philippe shook his head. “No. It will be difficult enough for me and soon it will be nearly impossible. The king is considering closing the borders to stop the spread of the blood plague.”
“Close the borders! Around all of France?”
He motioned for me to keep my voice down and looked around.
“Be silent, Daphne. Very few at court know, and the king harbors no delusions that the act will go over well.”
“But the plague is already here!” I argued. “What good will closing the borders do? And how will he enforce it with most of the army and resources depleted by his petty foreign skirmishes?”
Philippe shrugged. “The king is—shall we say—concerned. The latest reports indicate that it’s more than just grubbing peasants being infected. The plague is starting to sweep through the bourgeoisie. Vampire numbers keep growing, Daphne, and no one knows what to do about it.”
