by L. M. Pruitt
“Gaston?” King Bienvenu blinked once, His sole method of showing surprise. “Of course, child. Although We must admit to curiosity about your sudden desire to entertain yourself with such a stick in the mud as he.”
I let out a peal of laughter, unable to help myself. Multiple faces turned our direction, almost all of them expressing some sort of disapproval for my too human outburst. Swallowing down another giggle, I said, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. My manners--.”
“Are above and beyond those exhibited my ninety-nine percent of Our courtiers.” Leaning down, He brushed His lips a quarter inch above my cheek, close enough to show favor but not enough to offer any insult to the Duke. Straightening, He steered us toward Gaston. “Do not allow the pettiness of others to rob you of the joys of your life.”
“I will endeavor to follow your advice, Your Majesty.” I entertained the thought of opening my bag to retrieve my fan, the press of bodies in the ballroom almost stifling, only to remember how much the Prince detested the noise it made. Although I doubted he would be adverse to the idea of meeting my newest student, I’d learned it never hurt to cater to a potential client’s quirks. “I have not seen Benedict this evening, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, the poor dear is feeling a little under the weather.” King Bienvenu shook His head and sighed. Leaning down again, He lowered His voice. “We believe he partook of some tainted blood when we shared our afternoon aperitif.” When I gasped, He hurried to continue. “We do not believe it to be an attempt at assassination, merely a problem with the new cold storage unit.”
“I will be sure to light a candle and offer a prayer for his improved health, Your Majesty.” I no longer thought it strange to appeal to God on behalf of the individuals the Church had once decried as monsters. For one, I had spent few too much time around them to think of them that way. For another, the Church was unsure of where such individuals stood in the eyes of God, having discovered holy objects and silver held even less sway over vampyres than the sun. As we drew closer to Gaston, I took the plate from the King gently but firmly. “I thank you for your escort, Your Majesty, but the Prince and I have business to discuss.”
“Business?” He frowned at me for a moment before understanding dawned and He nodded. “Ah, I see. I take it you have a young lady who might serve to distract him from some of his recent troubles?”
“I have no idea what You could possibly mean, Your Majesty.” Gracing the King with a smile, I stepped away, lowering myself in to a half curtsey. When the King nodded, I rose and turned toward the grim and silent prince only to repeat the gesture. “Your Royal Highness.”
“My lady.” The Prince lifted me out of the curtsey before raising my hand to his mouth. Like the King, he brushed his lips a quarter inch above my glove, conveying his respects. Releasing me, he shifted back in to parade rest posture, a holdover from his days leading the King’s army. “Did you enjoy the opera this evening?”
“I found it educational, as always.” My preference for the theatre over the opera was well known, yet another strike against me as far as many of the courtiers were concerned. As far as I’d ever been able to discern, the only true differences between the two were the language and the amount of absurdly high singing the audience was forced to endure. Nodding at a small alcove furnished with a set of chairs and occasional table, I said, “Do you mind? I’m afraid I find it difficult to balance all of this without dropping at least one item.”
“I’ve always found myself somewhat amazed at the amount of trifles ladies are expected to carry simply to assure others they are, in fact, a lady.” With an incline of his head and a sweep of his arm, he ushered me in to the cozy space. He waited until I had settled myself and my belongings before joining me, crossing one leg over the other. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my lady?”
I hesitated, torn between the best way to proceed. While most clients preferred some degree of subtlety in regards to sponsoring a student, Gaston was known for his straight-forward manner. Clearing my throat, I said, “I understand you are currently without a companion.”
“As I have been for the past twenty years.” He lifted both of his immaculately groomed eyebrows, the gesture doing little to lessen the severity of his ebony features. He waited a beat before continuing. “And?”
“If you were looking to change that, I accepted a student in to my school this evening who, if I may be so bold, I believe would suit you quite well.” Removing my gloves, I pinched off a tiny piece of turkey and plucked it in my mouth. The wafer-thin salty sweet meat all but melted on my tongue and I was forced to concede the King had been quite right about its quality. Swallowing, I studied the plate for a moment before teasing a single grape free from the bunch. “I haven’t had the chance to interview her fully but there’s something about her which instantly made me think of you.”
“And you are famous—or infamous, depending on who is speaking—for possessing some sort of uncanny sixth sense for such things.” Pursing his lips, he drummed his fingers on the chair arm, gazing across the room at nothing in particular. “How old is she, this girl?”
“Sixteen, an orphan, and….” I trailed off, nibbling on a piece of cheese while I turned my thoughts over. “Remarkably self-possessed. She made the journey from the human district to my school alone, less than an hour before nightfall.”
“So not likely to be put off by some of the more… gruesome aspects of my life.” Flattening his palm, he shifted his gaze back to me, interest flickering in the dark brown depths. “Sixteen is rather young, isn’t it?”
“I believe that depends on a number of factors, Your Royal Highness.” I examined a strawberry with much more regard than such an ordinary piece of fruit required before taking a delicate bite. “You, of course, and your own preferences, your desires and goals for the relationship. Her desires and goals, her willingness to learn.”
“Hmm.” Silence settled between us, the low thrum of conversation from the still growing crowd making it comfortable rather than strained. After long minutes, he cleared his throat. “Forgive my bluntness, my lady, but how long have you and the Duke been… friends?”
I blinked. Out of all the questions the Prince might have asked, this was one I would not have anticipated. “Fifteen years, Your Royal Highness.”
“That’s quite a long time for a ‘friendship’ between a vampyre and a human.” His gaze sharpened and I resisted the urge to fidget. “Again, forgive my bluntness, but is this longevity because you… care for him?”
Instead of answering, I returned his stare with one of my own. No individual—not Adelaide, not the Duke’s family, not even the King—had ever dared to ask such a question. I couldn’t be certain if I trembled from shock or from anger.
The Prince looked away first. “My apologies, my lady, if I’ve offended you.”
“If you’ve offended me, Your Royal Highness?” I tugged on one glove and then the next, secretly pleased when my hands did not shake in the slightest. “You ask me such questions and expect to not be offended? What next, Your Royal Highness? Would you care to interrogate me about my feelings for my daughter or the inner workings of my school?”
“As I said, my lady, I am truly sorry.” A dull red flush crept up his neck toward his jaw. “I ask only because….” He trailed off, shifting restlessly in his seat. “I would like to know if the picture you and the Duke have presented to the Court is as true as I have always believed.”
“I assure you, Your Royal Highness, neither the Duke nor I are in the habit of delivering falsehood of any kind.” I rose, staring down at him with what I hoped passed for a stony expression before curtseying. “Your Royal Highness.”
Before I moved so much as an inch, the Prince grabbed my elbow. I was unable to hold back my outraged gasp. “How dare you, sir. Unhand me at once or--.”
“I would like a wife, Lady Saint-Laurent.” The Prince all but hissed out the words, his gaze darting frantically around the room. “Would you please sit and
discuss this with me?”
I allowed him to draw me back down to my chair, although I kept my spine stiff and my chin lifted. “There are any number of ladies in the Court who would be more than thrilled to--.”
“I would like a wife who possesses the same degree of affection for that you do for the Duke.” Looking more flustered than I had ever seen before, he released me, raking his hand through his close cropped curls. “The ladies of the Court, while having their charms, are not known for their ability to feel anything other than ambition, gluttony, and lust. Affection is not something any of them subscribe to.”
“Your Royal--.”
“Oh, please, stop with the formality.” He flung himself back in his seat, slumping down and planting his chin in his palm. “I believe we’re both aware I am not the one in control of this situation. Pretending otherwise is ridiculous.”
“If you insist.” Inclining my head, I laced my fingers together, resting them in my lap. “Gaston, if you decide to sponsor this girl, I can promise you a number of things. I can promise you she will be well educated in the ways of the world we move in, she will be well read and well mannered, and she will be tutored in every possible manner of giving and receiving pleasure.” Pausing, I ran my tongue over my teeth, clicking it against the roof of my mouth for a moment before continuing. “I cannot promise she will have affection for you. Matters of the heart are… complicated.”
“Yes, of course, I understand but… do you believe there is a possibility that affection could be… developed?” He sighed deeply. “I am lonely, my lady, and I am not too proud to say there are times when I watch you and the Duke and I am riddled with jealousy.”
“If you had asked me fifteen years ago if I could ever care for one of the individuals who had torn apart my county and my family and who were in the process of reworking my entire world, I would have said absolutely not.” Across the room, I caught sight of the Duke, deep in conversation with Henri. Even though it would have been impossible for him to hear me, he still glanced up, our gazes meeting. He smiled and I smiled back automatically, unable to help myself. Turning back to the prince, I said, “And yet here we are. As I mentioned previously, matters of the heart are quite complicated.”
The Prince nodded, straightening in his seat. “I have some business to discuss with the King in the morning but I should be able to pay you a visit in the early afternoon—perhaps at one?”
“Would you like to meet the girl—Harriet is her name, by the way—tomorrow as well?”
“No.” He shook his head abruptly then frowned. “Yes. No.” His frown deepened. “I’m not sure.”
“In that case, I’ll have her ready to be presented to you after our meeting.” When I rose this time, the Prince did as well, bowing deeply. I inclined my head. “Your Royal Highness.”
“Lady Saint-Laurent.” Spinning sharply on his heels, he strode through across the room, the crowd swallowing him neatly.
Smoothing down my dress, I started to make my way over to the Duke. With any luck, we would be able to find the King, make our excuses, and retire for the evening. I managed to take perhaps a dozen steps before my name was trilled out at an abnormally high pitch. Ignoring it, I moved further in to the crowd only to have my name called again, louder and somehow more obnoxiously. Plastering a smile on my face, I turned around. “Lady Lefebvre.”
“Marguerite!” She swooped forward, embracing me in a swirl of silk and lace and strong perfume which did little to disguise the sickly sweet scent of blood which seemed to cling to her perpetually. Squeezing me tight, she drew back, rapping me on the shoulder with her closed fan. “I feel as if you’ve been avoiding me these past few weeks.”
“I’ve been remarkably busy.” Easing out of her grip, I began backing away. “If you’ll excuse me--.”
“I wanted to speak with you about purchasing a student.” She flicked her fan open, the turquoise peacock emblazoned on the silk matching the innermost part of her irises perfectly. Her teeth when she smiled were tiny and white and perfect but I was far from fooled. “Preferably one who is already fully trained.”
I took a deep breath, then another, reminding myself that despite the favor shown to me earlier by the King, He would not approve of an argument in His presence. When I no longer believed my answer would come out at roughly the top of my lungs, I said, “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Well, if you don’t have one fully trained I suppose I can settle for one who is mostly trained.” She shrugged, coal black curls bouncing over milk pale shoulders. “Either way, I would like to take possession of him within the week.”
“Again, I’m afraid that’s not possible.” My smile wavered, growing thin around the edges. “I do believe the Duke is--.”
“Is there any particular reason why my request cannot be fulfilled?” Her eyes narrowed, her overly full lips thinning as she pressed them together. “I always assumed you had quite a generous supply.”
“I do not have a supply, I have students, and they are not for sale. Furthermore, if they were, it would be a cold day in Hades before they were sold to someone such as yourself.” I stepped closer, unafraid even when her fangs began to descend. Reckless, perhaps, but anger kept the fear at bay. “I know what you did to Jackson. So does King Bienvenu. If I were you, I would find a reason to spend the remainder of the winter at your country estate.”
The Baroness snorted and rolled her eyes. “If you believe the King will exile me over a single human whore--.”
“Then Lady Saint-Laurent knows Us quite well.” King Bienvenu sidled up next to us, hands clasped behind His back, head tilted inquisitively. “Lady Lefebvre, We are most disturbed by the reports We have received regarding your behavior.”
“Your Majesty.” The Baroness waved her fan somewhat frantically, her smile brilliant and frazzled. “A simple misunderstanding between the boy and myself. There is no need for the Court to be involved.”
“And yet We would say that simply by an account of the boy’s suffering reaching Our ears We are involved.” The King paused, glancing at me. “We believe your friend is looking for you, Lady Saint-Laurent. Both you and the Duke are excused for the evening.”
“Your Majesty.” I curtseyed and backed away, more than willing to leave the situation in the King’s capable hands. Mere seconds later, fingers closed over my elbow, pulling me deeper in to the densely packed crowd.
“I’ve always admired your talent for not only causing a scene but ensuring someone else dealt with the clean-up.” The Duke continued to ease us through the crowd, the Baroness’s high-pitched protests of innocence audible even over the murmurs and subdued laughter. Rearranging our limbs until my fingers once again rested gently in the curve of his elbow, he shifted us toward the exit. “Although I must say it is quite impressive you were able to maneuver the King Himself in to doing so not once this evening but twice.”
“And here I believed I was going out of my way to avoid drawing any attention to myself.” I sighed, resisting the urge to rub at the headache which had only increased over the course of the last three hours. “The King has given us leave--.”
“I have already called for the carriage. It should be waiting for us by the time we make our way downstairs.” He trailed a single finger down my jaw, his easy smile slipping away. “You look tired, darling.”
“I recall saying the same thing to you earlier tonight.” I chuckled as he retrieved my cloak from the attendant, draping the fur over my shoulders. “If I remember correctly, you responded there was nothing an evening in my company could not fix.”
“Indeed I did.” The Duke leaned close, his lips brushing against my ear. “Let us put my theory to the test.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“You did not need to wait up, Grace.” I swallowed a laugh when my personal maid bolted upright from her slumped position, nearly toppling out of the chair. “You know I am quite capable of undressing myself.”
“And even if she was not, I have plenty o
f experience playing the part of a lady’s maid.” The Duke tugged off his gloves slowly, laying each one on the bureau with precise movements. He unknotted his cravat even more slowly, his gaze never straying from mine. “Seek your bed, Grace. Lady Saint-Laurent will not require your services this evening.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She scrambled to her feet, bobbing a quick curtsey at the Duke before doing the same in my direction. “My lady.”
I waited until the door closed behind her to finally give in to my laughter. “There was no need to frighten her, Grégoire. I warrant she’ll sleep no more than an hour between now and dawn.”
“All I did was dismiss her.” He unfastened his cufflinks, setting them in the small gilded wooden box next to his gloves. Lifting his brows, he said, “I do believe if she had stayed to witness the remainder of our evening she would have suffered from more than an attack of the vapors.”
“An attack of the vapors.” I laughed even harder, sitting on the vanity stool and beginning the painstaking process of divesting myself of my own jewelry. “I doubt any individual in this house over the age of sixteen would be shocked by the sight of a little skin.”
“Perhaps not, my little flower but…” He trailed off, crossing the room to stand behind me. Resting his hands on my shoulders, he traced random swirls over my bare flesh. “I plan to see more than just a little skin tonight.”
My heart caught in my throat and I swallowed hard. “You promised you would eat.”
“Indeed, I did.” He lowered himself to the floor and even on his knees he was still able to press his lips to the nape of my neck. “Would you prefer I sup downstairs?”
“No, dearest.” I sighed, tilting my head to give him better access. “I don’t believe either of us have the patience tonight.”
“No.” He rose ever so slightly, licking the spot where my pulse beat. “Not this evening.”