Page 9 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“You are charged with killing the murderer of Madame de Pompadour, no? I am in agreement, becauseof courseI didn’t do it. Furthermore, I don’t believe it was any vampire. I don’t want The Order to send some other assassin after me, so it’s imperative I clear my name before they do. Ergo, I propose you and I work together to find the killer and bring the bastard to justice.”
“Absolutely not,” she scoffed. “Perhaps you are telling the truth. If that’s the case, I’ll discover the murderer myself and deal with him as The Order commands.”
“And how will you eliminate the possibility of vampire involvement? Just stroll through the streets of Paris and knock on the nearest coffin for questioning?”
“Why not? I am the Duchesse de Duras,” she said with a haughty sniff. “The title is good for something.”
“No one will talk to you, Duchesse. You represent the cause of their misery. You’ll be lucky if you return to Versailles unmolested and unbitten.”
She frowned, uncertainty creeping into her lovely visage again.
“If only you had some sort of intermediary who could help you—an emissary, if you will! Someone who had connections all throughout the city, in both high places and low. Someone else with a stake—no pun intended—in the truth. But where would you find such a humble, handsome ally?”
A look of sheer loathing twisted Daphne’s face and I preened.
“If I agree to a temporary alliance with you, it’s just that—temporary. We will not become friends, or lovers, or anything more than a means to an end—the end, in this case, being the truth. And if I find out that you really are responsible for what happened to Jeanne, I will take great pleasure in cutting out your heart and feeding it to my dogs.”
I arched a brow at the violent rage simmering beneath her soft curves.
“And they say thatI’mthe monster!”
CHAPTER THREE
DAPHNE
September 28, 1765
Château de Champs-sur-Marne
I madea deal with the Devil.Damn him.
Monsieur de Noailles or, as he preferred,Étienneswore he didn’t kill Jeanne. Did I believe him? I hadn’t decided. It was true that Étienne was a vampire, and in my estimation, a worthlessroué,but I felt I owed it to Jeanne to be absolutely certain about his guilt as her murderer. He had, after all, alleged some rather shocking things that I felt compelled to disprove.
Tonight I hoped to do just that.
“Daphne, must we keep drinking this filth?” Charlotte whined, interrupting my thoughts. She wrinkled her nose at her teacup.
“Filth? I’ll have you know this is one of the finest teas from China.”
“Yes, it’s fine and all, but couldn’t we have something a bit more fortifying? Some champagne, perhaps, or even a glass of sherry? I mean, what’s the good of being married tole DucDépravéif you can’t enjoy a little debauchery yourself once in a while,” she said.
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning,chérie. Doesn’t Philippe object to you drinking this early?” I laughed.
She narrowed her gaze at me. “We agreed we weren’t going to discuss Philippe, remember? Otherwise, I shall have to plead with you to respond to his messages, and we were havingsucha good time by ourselves.”
I winced at her veiled chiding. I’d been avoiding Philippe and the numerous missives he’d sent on behalf of The Order. I knew they’d be furious with me for failing my assignment, but I needed to know if there was even a remote possibility of Étienne speaking the truth—not just about Jeanne, but about the unfortunate people of Paris. Thinking of them offering themselves up to the horrible blood-drinking plague just because they had no alternative turned my stomach. It couldn’t be true, could it?
“Incidentally,” she carried on, oblivious to my wandering worries. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and I pay my servants assiduously to ensure that hedoesn’tknow.” She lifted her periwinkle-colored skirts and slipped a flask from her garter. She poured a healthy measure of brandy into her teacup and, with a saucy wink, into mine as well.
“Is he horribly cross with me?” I asked her.
Charlotte raised her eyes heavenward. “Philippe is cross about everything these days. The war, the grain blight, our estate,les sanguisuges?—”
“Oh, don’t call them that,” I admonished, thinking back to my words with Étienne. I’d felt a curious sort of shame at his reprimand.
Charlotte’s eyebrows rose with interest and her mouth split into a wide grin. “Ah! So, you’ve been entertaining our handsome royal emissary, have you? Lucky thing! If I were thetype of woman to have a lover, he woulddefinitelybe at the top of my list. That naughty smile, that muscled body…” she opened her fan and cooled the blush reddening her face. “You must tell me everything, darling. What’s it like with a vampire? Is he—you know—well-graced?Do his fangs get in the way when he’s licking your?—”
I nearly choked on my brandy. “Charlotte, I amnot‘entertaining’ him. We had a conversation at the ball the other night and that’s it.”
