Chapter Sixteen

T he clock's ticking echoed through the sitting room. Violette stopped her pacing to glance at the time and sighed. Nicolas had not been gone an hour, but she was nearly going mad, waiting here alone. She stalked to the window and craned her neck to scrutinize the comings and goings in the Palais Royal. The light faded as dusk settled, but she could still make out a few people darting through the square swaddled in dark wool coats.

Where was Nicolas? When was he coming back? Lord above, if anything should happen to him…

She bit back a scream of frustration. Even if she did go out, she had no idea where he had gone. Which was certainly why he hadn't given her any information on his whereabouts—to keep her from going after him.

Blast, he knew her too well. How could he expect, then, for her to stay here with nothing to do but worry herself sick?

She ran the words he'd exchanged with Pierre in her mind. If anyone tries to break in, you take her to the staircase immediately. Whatever he was doing, it was connected with the Boneman, she was certain of it. The miscreant had already burned down Saint Aphrodise, but the hint of fear she'd seen in Nicolas's gaze told her this must be even worse. Or at least bad enough that he thought she might be in danger, even here.

" Madame ?"

She whipped around. Pierre stood at the door, holding a small silver platter stacked with envelopes.

"A letter came for you with the afternoon post. It's at the top of the pile."

Emile . Her heart leaped… only to fall again when she realized her mistake. He couldn't possibly know she was here. Just like she had not the slightest idea where he was.

"Thank you, Pierre."

She took the letter, and he left the room. A strange pounding filled her ears as her gaze darted over the name and address scratched hastily on the envelope. It wasn't just Emile. Who could possibly know she was here?

Stupid, foolish girl. Who do you think?

With trembling fingers, she ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter.

I have Suzanne Foucher, but it's you I want. Be at Chaillot Gate at nightfall. If you bring Lefevre or anyone else, she dies. –JL

Her legs nearly gave way. She stepped back and fell onto the couch, heart pounding so hard she was dizzy with it.

Suzanne. They had taken Suzanne. Lenoir had her.

She closed her eyes and covered her mouth. Oh God, this was why Nicolas had left so abruptly. Raoul must have sent word. And Nicolas hadn't told her, because he didn't want to alarm her, or make her feel guilty. Yes, this was far, far worse than an old church burning down. Enough to put fear in the eyes of a man like Nicolas.

Her fault. It was her fault. There was no telling what Lenoir would do to Suzanne, not to mention the Boneman and whatever horrors he could come up with.

Sweat pearled on her forehead, and she fought back a wave of nausea. It was a trap, a deadly trap, but she was well and truly caught. If she went to Chaillot, they might kill Suzanne anyway. But if she didn't…

Find Nicolas. Warn him. She glanced out the window at the deep blue dusk. Was there even time? Besides, if she did go to him, Nicolas would never let her anywhere near Lenoir. He would sooner keep her under lock and key and take his chances to rescue Suzanne himself. But if Suzanne died…

Violette would never be able to live with herself. The guilt would eat away at her as long as she lived. She couldn't simply leave her to whatever horrid fate those villains had in store.

No, she must go. Get out of here somehow. Out the front door? No, it must be locked, and Pierre certainly had instructions not to let her leave. Would she able to fight him off? Even if she did, he would warn Nicolas as quickly as possible. If she could find a way to leave undetected… Another way out…

Take her to the staircase immediately.

Realization washed over her. Yes, of course.

Nicolas couldn't mean the main staircase. There must be a servants' staircase in the building. Several, in fact. The Palais Royal was once the residence of the king's brother, and palaces had hidden doors and corridors running parallel to the rooms. In fact, it was the first thing she'd searched for when Cransac had locked her up: a hidden door leading to the service stairs.

She stuffed the letter in her pocket and glanced around the sitting room. If there had been a hidden door there, it had long been covered with wallpaper and wainscotting. Perhaps in Nicolas's bedroom… If he needed a way to escape quickly, there was no better place for a secret exit.

She jumped to her feet and hurried to the bedroom. Her gaze ran the length of the wall, but the paneling gave nothing away. In broad daylight, perhaps…

Nightfall. You must hurry. She slid her palm along the wall, feeling for an indent. One wall… Two… There . The tiniest hollow between the wall and the trim. She flattened her hand against it and pushed.

Click.

It opened a crack just large enough for her to grab hold with her fingers inside and pry it open. On the other side was darkness.

She hastened to retrieve her wool shawl and shoes from her trunk. She tried not to look at the rumpled bed. For a few hours, a few days, she'd known bliss. It was more than many people could say, but the loss tore her heart to shreds. Perhaps it would have been better not to know at all what it was like to be warm and safe and cherished.

Loved.

Tears blurred her vision but she swept them away. None of it made any difference. She would not leave Suzanne to take her place, and pay for it with her life.

*

As soon as Violette emerged from the fiacre, she understood why Lenoir had instructed her to meet him at Chaillot Gate. Where a castle had once stood, there was nothing but an empty, sprawling square, stuck between the outer wall of Paris and the Seine. No buildings, no trees, not even a few ruins. Nothing where someone could hide and mount an attack.

She made her way to the gate through the muddy gravel and the puddles of melted snow. Another fiacre was waiting there, driver hunched in his seat, a single lantern lit. A silhouette moved in front of it, then stepped into the circle of yellow light. Brown hair, a strong jaw, broad shoulders… Her insides roiled with disgust.

"Right on time," Lenoir said. "I'm most pleased to see you, Violette. I must admit, I thought we might not meet again. Here, come closer."

By God, the mere sight of his face, the sound of his falsely courteous voice… Red-hot fury coursed through her veins, smothering her disgust to leave only anger. She forced herself to approach, one step at a time.

"Where is Suzanne?"

"In the fiacre. Don't worry, as soon as you're inside, I'll let the little harlot go."

She dug her nails in her palms. "If you hurt her in any way…"

"You'll do what? You can try to fight me, you presumptuous bitch, but I'm not a slow, lazy tub of lard like Cransac. I'll hit back tenfold."

"The Boneman told you, then."

He smirked. "Not directly. But Estienne was enraged and word gets around. Everyone knows Malenfant's men broke you out, and since Lefevre is working for him now… I figured you'd show your gratitude by spreading your legs for that bastard."

"I'm surprised you and Estienne went through all the trouble to retrieve spoiled goods," she shot back. "But it only proves you're too cowardly to attack Nicolas directly."

"Me and Estienne?" His face contorted with rage. "Estienne had nothing to do with this plan. I'm the one who put it all into place. He doesn't even know I'm here."

For a moment, shock prevented her from speaking. "What? But why?"

Lenoir grabbed her wrist and shook her. "Because I'm fucking tired of kissing his arse and still having my due taken away. You were supposed to be mine . My prize. And then Estienne sells you to Cransac. You'd have left that place no better than a broken marionette, if you'd have left at all."

If Lenoir was turning on Estienne, perhaps she could still reason with him. "Listen to me. Nicolas could help you. You were friends once, if only you—"

"Shut your mouth!" he roared, spittle flying from his lips. "Get into the fucking fiacre. By day's break, we'll be far away from this shithole."

He pulled Violette toward the door and wrenched it open. Suzanne . Hands tied behind her back, a gag covering her mouth, but she was there.

Her gaze met Violette's and widened. She shook her head frantically.

Lenoir pushed Violette inside, then dragged Suzanne out, flinging her to the muddy ground. Then he slammed the door shut and knocked on the ceiling. The fiacre rolled into motion. Violette grabbed the door handle. Lenoir's fingers sank into her hair and yanked her back. Pain shot through her scalp, and she cried out.

"Do not test my patience, for I have none left," Lenoir growled, keeping a tight hold on her hair.

She stared helplessly out the window. They had just passed the gate. Where was he taking her? How far would they go?

"You see, I am true to my word," he added, his tone more measured. "A fair exchange. I am not the monster you think me to be."

An empty laugh burst from her lips. "I do not think you a monster. I think you a fool. A weak, ignorant fool who has never had the spine to stand up for himself."

"Perhaps not until now. But I will take great pleasure in showing you that there is nothing weak about me."

He released her hair to wrap an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Heaven help her, if she had to die fighting him off, she would.

The fiacre stopped.

Lenoir pounded against the wall. " Allez ! What's the problem?"

The door on his side opened to Estienne's grinning skeleton face.

No. No, not that, anything but that. Dread caught in her throat, and she scrambled back into the seat.

"How nice of you to do all the dirty work for me, Jacques."

He held up his lantern and inspected Violette.

"You've been passed around quite a lot these last few days, haven't you, my dear? Unfortunately, some clients prefer stealing rather than buying fair and square."

"Estienne… Marcel… I can explain," Lenoir started. "I swear I—"

"There now, don't bother. I've known what you were planning from the start. Good a way as any to get the girl back. You have my thanks."

The blade of a knife flashed in the yellow glow. And plunged straight into Lenoir's chest. He drew a horrible, gurgling breath as blood seeped out onto his shirt.

Violette screamed.

"Shame I had to put him down," Estienne said, almost conversationally. "But I think I can find one last use for him."

He retrieved his knife, and a fresh spurt of blood gushed forth. Violette kept her eyes fixed on the blade, and wondered if she was next.