Page 48 of The Assassin and the Libertine
The memory of the scents in his awful bedchamber resurfaced in my mind. Henri, whatever he was, whatever he’d become, was dangerous. Just because he hadn’t come for Daphne yet didn’t mean that he wouldn’t come for her still. The thought gripped me in a panic that I could not assuage.Damn it all.
If she’d been able to endure his cruelty for so long, surely I could endure the pain of being near her in order to help protect her, at least until we’d brought this whole horrible investigation to a close. She deserved that much.
I couldn’t do that acting like an inebriated imbecile. It was time to straighten up and honor my responsibilities—to the country, to my reputation, and to Daphne. Then, when this investigation was finished and she was safe, I could well and truly move on.
Satisfied with myself for the first time in ages, I hurried inside my château and called for my butler and valet.
“François, Robert, have a bath prepared downstairs immediately. Then while I rest, send for my tailor. I’ll need something appropriate to wear to the All Hallow’s Eve masquerade at the palace. Spare no expense—just tell him to have something ready for me by sunset on the thirty-first.”
“Oui, Monsieur.”
“Bon. Merci, mes amis.”I stripped off my soiled clothes on my way down to my apartments. I entered my bedchamber and tossed the clothes to the side. My men followed and, to their credit, did not bat an eye at my carelessness. I’d managed to retain most of the staff after I’d been turned. A few of them had chosen to leave, understandably, but many of them felt a sense of familial obligation. My father had been well-loved, even in his dour twilight years of failing health.
“Do you wish for us to change the bed linens now, Monsieur?”
“No!” I barked, startling them and myself. Daphne’s scent still lingered, but it would be gone in a few more days. She’d be safe by then and I could let her go—orange blossoms and vanilla and all. “No, thank you. When I am ready for new linens, I shall strip the bed myself.”
“As you wish, Monsieur.”
I nodded gratefully. Two footmen appeared carrying the large copper tub and started the laborious process of filling it. Sinking into the hot, lavender-scented water, I allowed myself to revisit the memory of Daphne’s bath. I hardened, fantasizing about the episode ending differently. I should’ve checked my need and moved more slowly—kissed her and stoked her and made love to her until her cries shattered the steamy silence.
What a fool I’ve been about her.I groaned, gripping my cock and thinking of her passionate words.Étienne, give me all of you. I need you. Desire arrowed through me, closely followed by the remembered pleasure. This was the last time, I told myself. It had to be the last time. I did not love her. I could not love her.
I should not love her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DAPHNE
October 31, 1765
Palace of Versailles
“Daphne,you look absolutely gorgeous! Surprisingly virginal for Aphrodite,” Charlotte laughed.
“Mon Dieu, do I look like I’m supposed to be Aphrodite?” I cursed. “I was going for Artemis.”
“Oh, really? But you’re covered in all those pearls.”
“Well, yes, but they’re supposed to symbolize the moon. Did the bow and arrows not give me away?”
I peered at my reflection in a back corner of the Hall of Mirrors. I’d decided on a shimmering silk gown in the palest blue, so light that it almost looked silver. I wore a spiked silver tiara to represent a crown of moonlight and had adorned a matching satin domino mask with several large pearls. I’d strapped a bow and golden arrows to my back, as well.
“It doesn’t matter. You are breathtaking,chérie!I’m sure your dance card will be full in no time.”
“Merde!I don’t want to be the center of attention, Charlotte. We’re supposed to be sneaking into Jeanne’s library.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. She was dressed in a gown of fine plum silk that was almost dark enough to be black. She’d attached matching silk wings to the back of her gown and wore a black mask with high, pointed ears.
“Charlotte, I thought you were coming as a peacock,” I said.
“Well, I was, but then I had this moment of divine inspiration! I changed my costume at the last minute and decided to come as a bat. Oh, Philippe wasfuriousabout the expense!” She chuckled and to illustrate her point, she held her arms out and the wings unfolded beautifully. She did, indeed, look like a lovely, mysterious bat.
“How clever you are! You look beautiful,” I said with a smile.
Philippe joined us and held out two glasses of champagne. He’d come dressed as Apollo, resplendent in gold brocade with a glittering mask and crown. A papier-mâché lyre hung from a belt at his waist.
“Daphne, you are certainly the most beautiful Aphrodite—lovelier even than the goddess herself,” he gushed.
