by L. M. Pruitt
“Perhaps not.” I braced myself against the carriage as it jerked forward before settling in to a smooth, steady rhythm. “And yet I know if humans had won the war, if my parents had not died, and I had married some local businessman, I would no doubt be doing the same activity.”
“So do you come to the district to soothe your conscience, to mourn the life you did not have, or to honor the memory of your parents?”
“I do not regret my life with the Duke.” I smiled, remembering the frightened girl I’d been the first time I’d met him. “I could never regret something which has brought me so much joy.” I sighed, reaching up to fiddle with one of my earrings. “And yet….”
Octavian laughed and shook his head. “And this, my lady, is why I do not seek my companions amongst humans. You are all far too complicated for a simple soldier such as myself.”
“Ah, Lady Saint-Laurent.” Father Bolt smiled as he nodded down the church aisle, his hands stretched out in welcome. We both ignored Octavian’s pointed cough at the older man’s familiarity and general lack of courtly manners. Not even the Duke, on the one time he had deigned to accompany me on my monthly visit, had truly said much about the priest’s behavior.
Even in a monarchy ran by vampyres, the Church was still the Church.
“It is lovely to see you, my lady, as always.” Taking my hands in his, Father Bolt squeezed them tight before leaning in, kissing one cheek and then the other. Drawing back, he glanced over my shoulder, his lips twitching for a split second. “And you as well, Octavian. Still as sour-faced as ever, I see.”
I choked back a laugh, not daring to look at the vampyre. Of all the people I encountered in the human district, only Father Bolt dared to poke fun at the various members of my guard. I had never asked any if they were truly offended by the good Father’s teasing but since I had heard nothing from the Duke I could only assume not.
The Church, much like the demimonde, offered humans a bit more freedom than they might otherwise possess.
“I saw your carriages pull through the gates and took the liberty of sending the caretakers out to assist your entourage.” Tucking my hand in the curve of his elbow, Father Bolt turned us toward the front of the church, effectively dismissing Octavian. Despite the sanctity of the surroundings and the certainty no one—not even an angry mob—would dare an attack, the vampyre would still stand guard at the door until I completed my visit. Both Father Bolt and I had long ago accepted there would never be any true privacy during our talks. “Tell me how you’ve been, Marguerite, and the Duke and Sophie as well.”
My smile was genuine, one of the few true ones there would be while in the district. Most of the organizations who I supplied with food and clothing and medicine were grudgingly thankful at best, openly hostile at worst. Nobody turned away the aid but neither were they enthused about the source. Father Bolt was one, if not the only, individual who accepted any donation with cheerfulness and general goodwill and took the extra time to inquire about my family. The majority of the district’s inhabitants shared the same views as the Vicomte in regards to Sophie.
I wondered if Balogh would be amused by that knowledge or if it would simply disgust him further.
“We are all well, as usual.” I lowered myself to a wooden pew, settling my skirts around me, careful not to snag the black satin on the rough surface. “Sophie is quickly becoming not one handful, but two.” I paused, considering my next words before continuing. “I am wondering if perhaps you can help the Duke and I in that particular area.”
“Me?” Sitting down next to me, he folded his hands together, resting them on the portly belly the generous cassock couldn’t quite conceal. “I’ll confess, I’m at a loss as to how that can be accomplished, Marguerite.”
“Is there a member of the convent who would be willing to take up residence in my house?” When the priest sucked in a harsh breath, his brows drawing together in a thunderous expression, I hastened to explain. “As Sophie’s nursemaid. Her current one, despite the love she has for my daughter, is simply not up to the task. Sophie needs a firm hand and Emily cannot provide that.”
“By your tone, I can assume you had some of your own education at the hands of one or two of the Sisters.” Father Bolt chuckled, his face slipping back into its normally pleasant and placid lines. “It is something of a tradition among the nobility to entrust their daughters to the good teachings of the Church.” His laughter died away and he sighed before looking at me curiously. “I do find myself wondering why you would not seek the counsel of one of the good Sisters of the Ursuline Convent. It is, after all, only a few blocks from Basin Street.”
“And you know as well as I that while they are, and will always be, loyal to the Church, they are far more sympathetic to vampyres than humans.” I huffed out a breath in frustration, rising to pace. “Sophie has more options than most humans, simply by virtue of her heritage, but I would like her to know there is more in this world than Court appearances and morning visits and the opera.”
“Again, forgive any disrespect, Marguerite, but having met the Duke and being somewhat well acquainted with you, believe me when I say I do not see any child produced by the two of you being content with a life in service to the Church.”
“I am well aware of that, sir.” Whirling to face him, I scowled. “Just as I am aware that any of the Sisters in residence at the convent now will not sugarcoat the death of the old nation and the rise of the new, nor will they hide the truth about how life was before the War.”
“Ah.” The single word was so thick with understanding it was a wonder the old man didn’t choke on it. He nodded solemnly. “You seek someone to make sure she understands her true heritage.”
“Her true heritage, as you put it, is not one thing or another—it is both.”
“Yes, but….” He trailed off when I simply glared at him. After a moment, he stood and coughed. “I believe there is one Sister who might possess the qualities you seek. I will need to speak with Mother Superior first, of course, but if the Sister in question is willing, I do not seek any further issues.”
“Thank you, Father.” An uneasy silence settled between us until I cleared my throat, forcing a smile. “I must continue on with my visits. I shall see you again next month.”
“Of course, Lady Saint-Laurent.” Taking my hands, he kissed my cheeks again before drawing back. “Go with God, my dear.”
Walking up the aisle, I was nearly at the door before the priest called out to me. “Marguerite?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“There has been some… disturbing talk lately about the members of my congregation.” Father Bolt hesitated, clearly torn between saying more and not breaking the Sacrament of Confession. Finally, he sighed. “Be very watchful.”
I blinked and frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t--.”
“Marguerite.” He stared at me, the gaze heavy with words unspoken. “Be very watchful.”
CHAPTER TEN
“You’re home early.”
“You are now, and always, a master of the obvious, darling.” The Duke all but threw himself on the sofa, sprawling out with far less grace and dignity than he normally showed when anyone other than myself or Sophie might see. He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “It has been a long and trying day.”
“I’m sorry, dearest.” Setting aside my ledger, I rose and crossed the room, lowering myself to the carpet in front of him. Nudging his fingers away, I started to massage his temples in slow, steady circles. “I take it you still have some work to do regarding Nicolae’s upcoming visit?”
“Every time Henri and I believe we have finally arranged things to satisfy the little lord’s exact tastes, we receive another wire with another demand. Oh, they are always couched in the most proper language and with the utmost deference but it is also quite clear Nicolae will be most aggrieved if the request isn’t met.” He sighed again, grumbling under his breath. “Today he—or rather that little upstart, Ch
astity—asked that we make sure there are no roses in their private apartment.”
“It’s the wrong season for roses.”
“Yes, we thought so as well, and communicated as much to them.” The Duke opened his eyes, his face so aggrieved I struggled to keep my own serious and interested. “We were informed any roses were unacceptable—even those found on fabric or on wallpaper or in paintings.”
I stared at him. “Didn’t Marcella decorate the apartment in a floral theme?”
“Yes¸ she did. And she went heavy on the roses.”
“So you are being forced to redecorate everything in… a little over a week?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Cheeky little thing, isn’t she?”
“Henri said something quite similar, although his language was a trifle more coarse.” Wrapping his fingers around my right wrist, he pulled my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm. “The King, of course, finds the entire situation more an amusement than an annoyance.”
“Because you and Henri are wonderful at your jobs.” I stroked the line of his jaw, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I studied his face. “How long is Nicolae’s visit to last this time?”
“Only a month, thank God.” He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles before opening his eyes. “Why?”
“Once he departs, I think we should go away for a while, just you and I.”
“Darling, the holidays will be here very soon and--.”
“You are not well, Grégoire.” I didn’t raise my voice but neither do I soften my tone. “You are tired—no, you are exhausted and it shows in every inch of you.”
His brows drew together, annoyance sparking in his gaze. “If my appearance offends you in some way--.”
“I am not offended, I am scared!” I jerked away, something I was only able to do since he goggled at me dumbly, scrambling to my feet as fast as my corset and skirts would allow. Stalking to the window, I braced my hands against the sill, struggling to control my breathing. “I am scared you will fall sick and die and I will have nothing but a shattered heart and memories to last me the rest of my unnaturally long life.”
Silence settled in the room, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock and my ragged breaths. I stared out in to the street, watching the electric lights flicker on one after another, until the entire avenue was infused with a soft glow. The setting sun cast a hazy lavender shadow over everything, turning the scene into something worthy of one of the King’s paintings.
Hands closed over my shoulders as lips brushed the top of my head. “I am sorry, my little daisy. Truly. I do not mean to frighten you.”
“I do not know how many times I must say so before you believe me but I could not bear it if anything were to happen to you.” I attempted to choke back my sobs, not surprised when I failed, tears spilling rapidly down my cheeks. “And yet I would have to because I cannot leave Sophie. You would not have the same worries or fears because you would be gone but I would still be here, alone.”
“I am not going to die.” He sighed, whirling me to face him when I snorted. “You know there are a very limited number of things which can kill me.”
“All it takes is one, Grégoire.” Lifting a hand, I began to tick off the threats. “Fire, a well-placed wooden stake, decapitation.”
“While Court can be a dangerous place, I don’t think I need to be concerned with any of those there.” He winced when I slapped him. “I suppose I deserve that.”
“I offer the barest of protests when you make demands for my safety and health. Do not make mockery of my fear.”
“I am sorry.” He kissed my forehead and the tip of my nose before pressing his lips to mine. “I am. If it will ease your mind, I will make arrangements with Henri and the King for us to leave town for a week.” When I started to protest, he kissed me again. “A week will be a gift, Marguerite, and you know that. I cannot ask for more without making one or both of us appear weak.”
Sighing, I wrapped my arms around him, closing my eyes and resting my cheek against his shoulder. “Do you ever think of how much simpler life would be if we were not required to constantly be on our guard?”
“I have lived and worked with the King so long I do not think I would know what to do with myself if I were not in his employ.” Returning my embrace, he stroked a hand up and down my back. “And goodness knows I would not wish the struggle of dealing with Nicolae on any other person.”
“Perhaps the Vicomte.” Opening my eyes, I tilted my head back until I was able to see the Duke’s face. “He would either learn a little humility or be driven utterly mad, forcing the King to dispose of him once and for all.”
“Such a bloodthirsty streak you have.” Kissing me again, he tucked a loose curl behind one ear before cupping my cheek. “I adore it, and you, above everything in this world.”
“And for reasons unclear to me, I adore you as well, even when you give me cause to worry and weep.” Smiling, I kissed his thumb where it rested on my lower lip. “Dinner will not be ready for another hour. I will put away my work and we will go upstairs and spend it with our daughter.”
“If she is not hiding in some little nook or cranny, listening in on conversations she is far too little to understand.” Turning us toward the door, the Duke shook his head and laughed. “Poor Emily. If she should choose to seek employment in another household, we must make sure to give her a glowing reference.”
“I believe I may have found someone to replace her—or rather, Father Bolt has found someone.”
“The priest in the human district?” The Duke slowed his forward movement, frowning at me. “Who could he possibly know?”
“A nun.”
The Duke burst into laughter. “A nun, in this household? We will be lucky if God does not strike us with lightening the instant she crosses the threshold.”
I jolted upright, my heart hammering in my chest. Next to me, the Duke was already crawling out of bed. Grumbling under his breath, he stumbled to the door, wrenching it open. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but King Bienvenu is downstairs.” It was difficult to know whether the fear in Philippe’s voice was due to the presence of the King or the Duke’s anger at being awakened. His nervous swallow was audible even to my human ears. “He requests your presence as soon as possible.”
“Philippe, please go and inform Cook of our guest.” Sliding out of bed, I hurried to the vanity, struggling in to first my chemise and then my silk wrapper. I glanced in the mirror, taking a moment to pinch my cheeks and smooth down my hair before picking up the Duke’s robe and joining him at the door. “Here, dearest—I don’t think Bienvenu expects us to be fully dressed but I do think He wants some sort of attire.”
“I can think of no possible reason for why the King would be out and about at such an hour.” Shoving his arms in the fur-lined velvet, he tied the belt in a tight knot, continuing to grumble under his breath. “Or why He would seek my company.”
“Darling, it’s barely three in the morning.” I chuckled as I followed him down the stairs, the hem of my wrapper dragging over the thick carpet. “Most members of the Court have yet to seek their beds.”
“Most members of the Court do not have a charming companion such as yourself or a rambunctious child such as your Sophie to fill their evenings.” The King stepped out of the front parlor attired in full military dress, hands clasped behind His back. He inclined His head, His lips curved in a slight smile. “Lady Saint-Laurent. We are sorry to disturb your rest.”
“Please, do not concern Yourself, Your Majesty.” When I would have lowered myself in to a curtsey, albeit a ridiculous one, Bienvenu clicked His tongue and shook His head. Instead, I laid my hand in the curve of the Duke’s elbow, returning the King’s smile. “How may we be of service to You?”
“We simply found Ourselves in need of some company, Lady Saint-Laurent.” Bienvenu walked back in to the parlor, the unspoken command to follow loud and clear. “Benedict is still under the weather
and We have spent the last few hours being fawned and praised over to the point where it is quite possible We have forgotten how to be humble.”
“Oh, I sincerely doubt that, Your Majesty.” Waiting until the King was seated, the Duke settled me on the sofa before taking his own seat. “I am sorry to hear Benedict continues to be unwell. Has Silas been unable to offer him any comfort?”
“Oh, Silas.” The King snorted and waved a white-gloved hand, dismissing the physician as if he was no more than a fly. “He is hassling me once again about traveling to Europe to study new techniques.”
“Forgive me for saying so, Your Majesty, but I believe Silas is more interested in the actual act of traveling than what he would be traveling for.” Adjusting the folds of my wrapper, I drew my legs up under me and wondered how long Cook would be with refreshments. Philippe would no doubt be returning with champagne in a matter of minutes. Smiling at the King, I said, “However, I cannot blame him. I have heard the dirigible is quite wonderful.”
“Yes, Dalca’s invention is something to behold—quite spacious on the inside and yet still able to travel great distances in a short amount of time. Still….” He trailed off, shaking His head. “There is something unnatural about air travel. We suppose it is due to Our advanced age.”
“Mama? Papa?” Sophie’s voice floated down the stairs, thick with sleep and a hint of fear. “Where are you?”
The Duke was out of his chair and in the hall before I even began to move. Seconds later, he strode back in with Sophie propped on his hip. Instead of returning to his seat, he joined me on the sofa, Sophie firmly between us.
She cuddled against me, wrapping one arm around my waist. “The mean man woke me up again.”
“Oh, ma cocette.” I stroked her tangled hair, blinking back tears before glancing at the Duke. “We have told you, everything he said was lies. You are in no danger.”
“Forgive us, Your Majesty.” The Duke shifted his gaze from me to the King, a very faint flush staining his cheeks. “Sophie was unfortunate enough to meet the Vicomte Balogh earlier this week and she has been most unsettled ever since.”