Page 68 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“Elegance?” I finished for her.
“Cleavage,” she replied.
I laughed. Despite everything that had happened, Charlotte’s spirits had not suffered more than an occasional dip. Philippe had been carted off for a secret trial within The Order where the agents and other members vehemently condemned his actions and, while unwilling to sentence an aristocrat to death, stuck him in the worst of all possible places—a filthyoubliettein the island prison,le Château d’If.To avoid further embarrassment, The Order offered Charlotte a falsified death record for him, which allowed her to maintain her wealth, title, and property, as well as her reputation—and she was free to pursue any number of courtly love affairs. Most of the time, however, she could be found at my château, assisting me with my work for The Order. Once they realized what a valuable asset she could be, they had eagerly requested her participation. We’d been devising plans for a separate branch of women agents,Les Dames Dangereuses,orDDfor short. Charlotte had proven herself an extremely capable co-conspirator.
So, now she was here in my bedchamber, helping me dress and get ready for one of the most nerve-wracking errands of my life.
“Are you going to invite him to your Christmas party?”
“I have an invitation ready, just in case. If it doesn’t go well, he might not want to come. He might be cross with me for some reason.” I chewed on my bottom lip.
“I’m sure it’ll go well,” she encouraged. “Unless he was offended that you sent Doctor Van Helsing to him to spy on him for the rest of the year.”
“Not to spy!” I defended. “Just to, you know, look after him, make sure he’s all right. Van Helsing doesn’t report to me, Charlotte. I just wanted him to be safe.”
“He’s a vampire, Daphne. He doesn’t need you mothering him,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Well, how else was I supposed to be able to sleep at night? Worrying about him constantly—always thinking about him. It’s maddening! I had to give myself some peace of mind. Van Helsing’s support allowed me to do just that.” I fastened a strand of pearls around my neck.
Her brows lifted. “Has it? You are such a horrible liar, Daphne. The whole time since the cellar you’ve been moping around your château, anxiously checking for letters from him every morning, tying yourself up in knots and consequently forcing your attentions on work. If that’s peace of mind,mon Dieu, I’d hate to see what you’re like when you’re distraught.”
Peevishness crept into my tone. “Just what are you implying, Charlotte?”
“Implying? Nothing. Stating outright? That you’re in love with the man and you’re too much of a twit to go after him and tell him so.”
Itsked.“Don’t be ridiculous. I amnotin love with him. And even if I were, it wouldn’t matter because he told me himself that he does not love me.”
“He did not! When was this?” She came to stand behind me, helping me with my hair.
I felt the pressure of tears behind my eyes. I squeezed them shut and swallowed.
“Back at the bookshop. Asmoday—before he was exorcised—told Étienne that I would never be able love him in the way that he wanted. I asked him about it afterward, but he brushed it off. Said it was a lie meant to provoke him.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened, then she broke into a fit of giggles. Irritated, I scowled at her.
“It’s really not funny.”
“No, no, you’re right, darling. It’s just—you’re so oblivious! And you’re the best intelligence agent in the country. It’s not often you miss things, but when you do—mon Dieu—you really miss them!”
Anger surpassed my annoyance.
“What the Hell are you on about?” I balled my fists at my sides. Charlotte continued to cackle, until she was wiping tears from her eyes and gulping down air.
“I’m sorry,chérie,” she sighed. “I just don’t understand how you couldn’t put it all together. Étienne is obviously in love with you, otherwise Asmoday would have offered up some other insult. He went for what he knew would hurt most.”
“But he denied it!”
“Of course he did. We’d just battled your dead husband, a demon, and my own idiot husband who’d been murdering people across Europe to try and win your affections. I can’t imagine he would have thoughtthenwas a good time to profess his undying love for you.”
The realization slammed into me and I staggered back.
“You think—Charlotte, do you really think he loves me?”
She threw me a pitying look and poured herself a large brandy from the decanter nearby.
“Please don’t be dense with me, Daphne. You know he does. I suspect you’ve always known, you’re just too stubborn to admit that you rather like the idea.”
For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of lightness.Was it true?If he had loved me before—did he still love me now? Had he moved on with other women? How did I truly feel about him?Stupid question, Daphne.The truth of it burned through me.I was in love with him.
