Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
éTIENNE
December 23, 1765
Chateau de Champs-sur-Marne
The streets of Paris were quieter than usual, but I suspected it was a result of the dropping temperature and thick blanket of snow insulating the city. Daphne had tried to convince me it was because a frigid pall had settled over France after the arrival of the blood plague, but I had my doubts. I studied her in the darkness of the carriage—lips drawn in a tight line, brows narrowed, distracted violet gaze focused on some fixed point on the horizon.
"This is my first time in front of The Order," I said quietly. "I'm not sure what to expect. Are you always so nervous when you're summoned?"
"I'm not nervous," Daphne argued.
I scoffed.
"I'm not," she insisted. "I'm simply…on my guard. And yes. I'm always on my guard when I'm summoned."
Inwardly, I winced. That didn't fill me with confidence. Daphne seemed to notice my anxious manner and placed a reassuring hand on my knee. My stomach fluttered, as it did every time she touched me.
The carriage ride seemed interminably long, but we arrived at the grim locale within the hour. It was a forgotten cemetery on the outskirts of the city. If the pristine, undisturbed layer of snow was any indication, no one had visited these poor souls in some time. I made to open the carriage door, but Daphne's hand stayed me.
"Everything is going to be fine," she said, likely to convince herself as much as me. "Even if it doesn't seem so, I promise it will be. I will protect you from whatever comes our way."
The earnestness in her tone made my dead heart squeeze. Dieu, I loved her. I still marveled at how we'd ended up here, when less than a year ago, she'd sworn revenge against every blood-sucking vampire in France. Still, her words needled my male pride no small amount.
"Duchesse, I will be the one to protect you. "
She smiled somewhat indulgently at me and adjusted her cloak. I heard several small noises, then the click of a flintlock pistol cocking, the snap of the leather harness she used for her throwing daggers, and the rattle of shot and powder in her tiny silver case. Anyone would think she was preparing for battle, but I knew this was a reflexive habit more than anything.
We alit from the carriage, and she led the way to a small mausoleum in the back of the cemetery. She took out a large iron key and unlocked the door, then pushed it open with a heave from her shoulder. With a creak and a groan, it opened, and we entered the tomb.
I'd expected darkness, but we found ourselves at the top of a staircase with candles and charcoal braziers lining the walls. Daphne picked up her skirts, and we descended, careful not to bump into the guttering flames. At the bottom of the stairs stretched a long corridor that smelled of damp earth and stone. Distantly, I heard the low hum of hushed voices.
Daphne took a steadying breath as we neared the end of the corridor, facing a large oak door. She reached back to squeeze my hand, then knocked firmly three times. A liveried servant opened the door and bowed, then took our cloaks.
The inside of the room looked like a cross between a well-appointed gentlemen's club and an impressive manor library. Maps of France lined the walls, alongside floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Standing around a large oval table were twenty or so men, each dressed in dark clothes and wearing black domino masks. They greeted Daphne politely but eyed me with reservation.
One of the older gentlemen— is that the Duc de Nevers? —cleared his throat and motioned to the assembly to be seated.
"I'll get right to the point," he said, addressing Daphne and I. "Madame. Monsieur. Thank you for attending on such short notice."
Daphne nodded but did not speak.
"We have become aware of a rather delicate matter that requires our attention and utmost discretion. For several months now, we believe some of the courtiers at Versailles have been targeted by a thief."
"What has been taken?" Daphne asked.
"Jewels, primarily. Some… significant ones. Only items of great value and greater sentiment," the man replied. "The robberies are daring—some have happened in broad daylight—and always in the same milieu. Some party or aristocratic function takes place, then the items suddenly disappear in the hours that follow."
"Which would suggest a highly-placed individual. A trusted servant, or…"
Daphne's eyes flashed behind her mask.
"A member of the court," he finished.
"Hence the need for discretion," she continued, nodding again. "Is the king aware?"
"We do not believe so, and we'd like to keep it that way. His Majesty has other things to occupy his mind, of course."
"Are there suspects? Surely if the guest lists were cross-referenced, one would be able to find a common name," she said.
"We've managed to narrow it down, but that still leaves us with a handful of potential offenders. We must have this sorted quickly and quietly. There seems to be a dangerous pattern emerging."
"With each subsequent theft, the thief gets closer to the king," said another man.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"At first, it was smaller items from less notable families. As time has passed, the thief has gotten bolder—larger items from families tied to the king. We are loath to name names, but I will say that the last theft was from the king's second cousin."
"Why has the gendarmerie not been involved? Jewel theft seems more their speed, as opposed to a group of agents with other, more important functions," I asked.
"We're not certain the gendarmerie can be trusted," the second man replied. "Having a thief in our midst has made us all jump at shadows, so to speak. We've decided to put the matter to bed ourselves."
"What do you want me— us —to do?" Daphne asked.
The first man smiled beatifically at her. My hackles rose a fraction.
"We've become aware of your Christmas Eve réveillon. It's possible the thief has, too. In fact, he or she may be on your guest list already," he said.
"And you want me to hunt for a thief at my own party?" Daphne sounded incensed.
"No, no," said the second man. "That's not what we're saying, exactly. We simply want you to be on your guard. You may, in fact, be the next target."
"That's absurd," Daphne huffed.
The first man raised a placating hand. "You must admit you are uniquely positioned to help resolve this matter," he said. "Your holiday feast gives us a perfect opportunity to draw out the thief, and your impressive skills as an intelligence agent and field operative would make this particular assignment relatively easy for you, no?"
I could tell Daphne wanted to refuse, but whether the older man had appealed to her vanity or her sense of duty, she merely pursed her lips and nodded.
"I'll sort it out," she said tightly. "But I will want some things in return. Starting with your list of suspects, the previous victims, and the items that were taken."
"Of course. Naturally."
I scanned the other faces at the table, noting a mixture of relief and doubt beneath the other masks.
I cleared my throat. Several sets of disapproving eyes cut to me.
"I'm happy to help out here, but I must ask you, Messieurs, why did you send for me as well?" I wondered.
The second gentleman narrowed his eyes at me, and the smile of the first man dropped. The changes in their manners seemed to bode ill for me. My muscles tensed, waiting for what was surely bad news.
"As it happens, Monsieur, we thought you might be of assistance to Her Grace. You see, there is a name on this list of suspects that you will find familiar."
Ah, merde.
"Yes. We thought you would be able to help eliminate the Marquise de Balay from our inquiries, since previously you knew her so well," the first man said.
"Or perhaps persuade her to share her thoughts on the matter," the second man said. "We hear that's a specialty of yours."
My fangs lengthened reflexively at the challenge in the man's sneering tone, but I kept them covered. It was only recently these bastards had deigned to stop trying to kill me, and I didn't want my behavior to reflect badly on Daphne. Instead, I smiled at the men.
"Bien s?r," I said in a silken tone. "I'm happy to help in whatever way I can."
"I'm sure you are," hissed the second man under his breath. Anger rose from within, and it was a Herculean effort for me to swallow my outraged reply. Daphne's hand on my knee beneath the table was the only thing that kept me calm. Her stormy eyes promised we'd discuss my past tryst with the wretched marquise, but I'd take a thousand jealous Daphnes over any discourse with these men.
She must have sensed my patience ebbing, because she stood abruptly, forcing the entire assembly to their feet, as well.
"If you'll excuse me," she said. "It's been a long night and I have much to do. The list, if you please."
She held out her hand expectantly. The older man took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and hesitantly handed it over.
"The utmost discretion," he repeated.
Daphne nodded once and took my arm. When we were back in the corridor with the door closed behind us, my supernatural hearing picked up the delightful things they had to say about me. Bastards.
We were both silent on the way back through the cemetery to the waiting carriage—me, lost in the fantasy of draining every member of The Order and then going home to Daphne's bed; her, predictably stewing in haughty jealousy over the mention of my former lover. I certainly didn't fault her. The thought of her dead and quite evil husband made me feel a jealous rage that usually led to splintered furniture.
"Chérie," I tried. "That was practically a lifetime ago. And it was never for love—or even mutual regard, really. She was meant to be a means to an end."
"Oh, of course," Daphne said. She stared hard out the window. "It's fine, étienne. I knew your reputation a long time ago."
"My reputation was widely exaggerated, Duchesse. And it wasn't some great love affair. It happened once, and I've regretted it since. I was merely trying to find some influence with the king, which didn't exactly work in my favor, considering she happens to be his least favorite cousin."
"Honestly, it's fine," she repeated. "We'll say no more about it, d'accord?"
I eyed her skeptically. She sniffed in irritation, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Do not laugh at me," she growled. "I am still armed, you know."
"But it's just so sweet," I chuckled, dragging her into my lap. "I adore your jealousy. It makes me feel like you're just as possessive of me as I am over you." I pulled her head down to mine for a searing kiss. "It is the best kind of Christmas present."
Daphne sighed against me and melted into another kiss. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out, dragging lightly against my fangs. The sensation was like a bolt of lightning through my body, tightening every muscle and making my cock hard. The bouncing of her bottom on my lap as the carriage rolled over cobblestone streets did nothing to slake my building lust.
"You know," she murmured playfully at my ear. "I rather like this mask on you. It makes you seem like a charming, yet dangerous, highwayman."
"Stand and deliver," I growled. "Your money or your body!"
Daphne tilted back her head and laughed, and I took advantage of the pose to kiss her throat. She moaned softly and slid her hands beneath my waistcoat. It was like flinging a match into a tinderbox. I pushed her back against the opposite seat, diving for the pins and ties on her bodice. The carriage pitched roughly, and I lost my grip, then abandoned the quest in frustrated haste. An instinctive vampiric hiss emanated from my throat as I fumbled for her skirts.
"Daphne, l'amour, I need you," I demanded between kisses. I stared into her lust-glazed eyes in the darkness, feeling the blood pound through my body like a drum on a battlefield.
"You have me, chéri ," she whispered. She pulled her skirts up to her waist and wrapped her legs around me, grinding her heat against my breeches. Dieu, I will lose myself right here.
One hand was at the falls of my breeches when the carriage came to a stop.
"Putain!" she swore. "What timing!"
I thought a thousand evil thoughts about the carriage driver, the roads, and the speed of our travel as we righted ourselves and stepped out onto the snowy drive in front of Daphne's chateau.
"Sunrise isn't for a few hours," she said in a low voice. "We don't have to say aDieu quite yet."
I needed no other encouragement. I picked her up and raced into the manor like Lucifer himself was on my heels.