Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

DAPHNE

September 22, 1765

Palace of Versailles

I hurried through the Hall of Mirrors as fast as I could, which was—unfortunately—not at all fast. It wasn't the formal court dress that hindered my progress—I could run from one end of Paris to the other in stays and panniers, if I needed to. Nor was it the flintlock pistol, wooden stakes, and throwing knives strapped to my thighs. My stilted pace was all for the sake of propriety. My need to blend in with the other titled ladies of court was distinctly at odds with my real reason for attending the king's party tonight. Running through the palace was not exactly the kind of behavior one would expect from one of the most notable duchesses of the tonne.

Since I wanted to avoid unnecessary notice, hurrying was well out of the question and the best I could manage was an ambitious glide—possibly an assertive shuffle. I regretted the decision to delay my arrival until after sunset. I should have given myself more time to make a proper appearance, circulate with the other members of court, and then ready myself to lay my deadly trap.

I paused in front of my reflection in the mirrored wall that led to the courtyard outside, frowning at the beads of sweat on my forehead. Darting a look at the stoic footmen in the room, I blotted my face with my handkerchief and opened my fan to cool myself.

Breathe, Daphne. It's almost over. Soon, there will be justice for Jeanne—and vengeance for Michel .

I caught the eye of one of the servants and raised my chin haughtily, as if to say, Of course I wasn't sweating! Duchesses do not sweat. They glow with the pleasure and privilege of nobility —even though none would dare make such a comment to me, particularly the footmen in the palace of Louis the Beloved.

As I made my way into the courtyard, a squeal erupted from behind a tower of champagne glasses.

"Daphne, chérie ! You're finally here! I've been waiting for over an hour already."

I smiled at the mass of swirling blue silk careening toward me. My cousin, Charlotte, did not have the same issues moving in haste, though she had never been one to care much for propriety.

She kissed my cheeks and I embraced her tightly. After my brother Michel was murdered, Charlotte was my only remaining blood relative. She'd stayed with me for a time after his death, fussing over me in a way that helped to distract me from the abyss of my grief. She had become like a sister to me.

" Bon soir , Charlotte! I see you have swindled your husband for another new gown."

"That's not all," Charlotte giggled, gesturing gracefully at the diamond choker around her neck.

I furrowed my brow. "Oh, no! What's Philippe done now?"

Charlotte snorted with laughter, attracting the attention of several courtiers. Clearly, she'd had one too many glasses of champagne while waiting for my arrival.

"It's an ‘I miss you' gift he brought back from Venice. It's beautiful, no?"

She twirled around, stumbling slightly. My arm shot out swiftly to steady her.

"Why, Duchesse de Duras, what exceptional reflexes 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's David , 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 the dames and demoiselles at 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. It didn'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 out disgraced 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 her when 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."

"Other than The Order," I said dutifully. The Order—a long-shadowed assembly of powerful individuals (some say descended from Templar Knights) had been convening on the matter since the first cases of plague appeared in France a few years ago. They'd taken a stand against the virulent disease, determined to protect the people of France at any cost.

"Yes, naturally," Philippe nodded. "The emissary isn't really helping matters, either. Instead of trying to find ways to safeguard the uninfected, he keeps insisting that we address the needs of the sanguisuges first. As if vampire rights would save the rest of us from such damnation. It'll be better for all of us when his influence has been tempered." At his last words, he eyed me meaningfully.

The news was grim. I looked toward the hedge maze, trying to find my focus.

"I'm sorry to tell you all of this tonight. I know you've other important things on your mind," Philippe said, taking my hand and holding it between his. I flinched and pulled away.

He frowned behind a pink wash of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—it's just that ever since Henri, you know…" I faltered.

He held up his hand to stay my explanation. "Please. Don't think on it. We all knew what kind of a man Henri was when you married him. For that matter, we all knew you were fragile—in a delicate position?—"

My cheeks reddened with the unintended insult, but he blustered on.

"And, of course, I don't fault you for that. I only wish you would've let me—us—help you more. But I suppose now his absence is something of a blessing, is it not?"

" Le Duc Dépravé, " I spit. "From the Depraved Duke to the Departed Duke, even when he's gone his scandal blackens me."

Philippe stirred the gravel with the tip of his shoe and coughed uncomfortably.

"Do you know how you're going to do it tonight?" His icy blue eyes were fixed rigidly upon Noailles, who was whispering something in Charlotte's ear. A muscle ticked in Philippe's jaw.

I exhaled uneasily. "Yes. I've got it all worked out."

Philippe looked skeptical. "This isn't like dispatching some infected peasant, you know. Noailles is older than most of the other infected in Paris, and you mustn't underestimate his cunning. He is dangerous, darling. You know I adore you, but I just don't think you're up to this kind of assignment." He made a peculiar noise of frustration and I almost laughed. He glared.

"I am ready. I'm certainly more prepared than anyone else," I argued.

"Perhaps, but you just don't have the same physical capabilities as the other men. You lack their edge. Now, don't get upset, Daphne. I'm not saying you don't possess other exceptional qualities. I mean, you're certainly the best intelligence gatherer we have. It's only that I want you safe. The Order should have assigned another agent. I hate that you're mixed up in all of this, and I don't mind telling you I don't fancy you being alone with him."

"Jeanne wasn't just the king's mistress, Philippe," I whispered, ignoring the irritation I felt at his slights. "She was a friend. When I heard that she'd been attacked and left to die, I couldn't help but think of my brother, Michel. If Noailles is the bastard that killed her, then I'll happily dust him."

At that moment, Noailles looked directly at me and our eyes locked across the courtyard. I wondered if he'd heard our whispered conversation. I cursed my carelessness. I knew the creatures had supernatural hearing and sight, as well as accelerated reflexes. Something in his golden eyes made every nerve in my body crackle with energy. His otherworldly beauty was too much for something straight from the depths of Hell. Had Jeanne felt the same way? Entranced by the hypnotic eroticism of a predator? Had she left the king's bed one night to steal away with the irresistible libertine, only to be ruthlessly savaged while the rogue took his pleasure?

I closed my eyes against that disturbing vision and took a glass of champagne from a passing footman. Draining it in one swallow, I forced myself to face him, but he was gone.

Charlotte approached and threw her arms around Philippe's neck.

" Mon cher , everyone loves my new bauble! You are truly the best husband in France. Perhaps in all the world," she said. She swayed a bit as she spoke.

"Charlotte, darling, what did Monsieur de Noailles want?" Philippe asked with a touch of irritation.

She waved her hand airily. "Nothing of consequence, really. He mostly wanted to know about Daphne. I didn't tell him anything worthwhile, of course."

Philippe and I exchanged a look.

"You know, I think perhaps the good emissary fancies you. You should give him a whirl! All the ladies at court say that he's the most accomplished lover they've ever had," Charlotte whispered, though none too quietly.

Philippe sputtered a bit and wrapped a possessive hand around Charlotte's arm.

"Well," he huffed. "I believe on that note, we'll take our leave. Good night, Daphne, and good luck." He ushered his wife back through the palace, casting a meaningful glance at me.

"Come for tea tomorrow, chérie !" Charlotte called. I smiled and waved at the retreating pair.

"Your cousin is a charming creature."

I jumped at the vampire's voice near my ear again. Instinct had my fist at his throat before I could stop myself. He easily blocked the strike, grabbing my hand and using it to pull me in close to him. His iron grip didn't loosen when I tried to pull away, so I clenched my other hand and punched him in the stomach, only to connect with a wall of hard, tense muscle. He barely flinched—merely arched one dark brow and tsked .

"I think, ma chère Duchesse , we have a few things we need to discuss."