by L. M. Pruitt
We were just gaining the first set of doors when a truly horrific roar rent the silence. Covering Sophie’s ears with one hand, the Duke all but shoved me in to the forward antechamber, pausing only to pull his spectacles from his coat pocket and slide them on the bridge of his nose before hurrying us out in to the bright midmorning light. He whistled for the carriage, glancing over his shoulder at the church.
“What was that?” When he didn’t answer me, only whistling for the carriage again, I grabbed his arm and forcible turned him toward me. “Grégoire. What in the name of God was that?”
“I do not know, Marguerite.” He shook his head, his face grim. “I do not know.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You have a visitor, Miss Marguerite.”
“It’s Sunday, Addy.” I studied the selection of pastels, hesitating for a moment before deciding on a royal blue for the pond. Next to me, Sophie continued to work on the willow trees, the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration. “It’s family day. Ask them to leave a card and I will contact them about an appointment.”
“She says she’s from Father Bolt.” Addy waited a beat, lifting her brows before continuing. “She also said she is prepared to stand on the front steps until you’re ready to see her.”
“Darling, I don’t think it’s entirely wise to leave a nun waiting, especially in this neighborhood.” The Duke nudged me with his slippered foot, smiling when I glanced over my shoulder at him. “At best, she’ll be bad for business. At worst, she may disappear, thus bringing down the wrath of the Church on us.”
“Dearest, there is no one in this neighborhood—I would wager in this entire city—who would be either stupid enough or depraved enough to do bodily harm to a nun.” I sighed and shook my head, resigning myself to at least a half hour of work. “Show her in, Addy.”
I looked down when Sophie tugged on the side of my dress. “Yes, darling?”
“She’s not going to call me names like Father Beniamin did this morning, is she?” Sophie stuffed a tangled curl in to her mouth, sucking on the end for a moment before spitting it back out. The pale red rim surrounding her iris expanded as she started to tremble. “Will she, Mama?”
“No, darling.” I smoothed down her hair, wiping the chocolate smudge from her cheek. “You have my word.”
“And mine as well.” The Duke poked Sophie with his foot until she giggled and swatted at his leg. “Although you are so fierce I daresay you would have no problems handling her on your own if it was necessary.”
Sophie wiggled her way on to my lap, out of reach of her father. “Papa is silly.”
“He must have learned it from you.” I danced my fingers over her ribs, holding tight when she squealed and tried to slip away. “Once upon a time he was oh so serious.”
“I feel as if I should take offense to this statement somehow but since your Mama speaks only the truth, being offended would only prove my silliness.” Tossing the paper on the side table, he joined us on the floor, adding his fingers to mine and sending Sophie in to even more hysterical laughter. “And if I must prove such a thing, better I do it in a way such as this.”
The parlor door opened again and Addy bustled in, a woman of indeterminate age mere behind her. “Miss Marguerite, Your Grace, this is Sister….” She trailed off, her features twisting in to a scowl as she took in our collective state of dishevelment. “Why, look at the three of you. Rolling around on the carpet like a litter of puppies.”
“A happy family is a stable family.” The voice was bright and cheerful, carrying the faintest of true New Orleans accents, something I hadn’t heard in over a decade. Moving forward with the sort of gliding gait rarely seen in an individual from the human district, the Sister knelt on the opposite side of the table, the skirts of her black habit puddling around her. “I am Sister Mary Catherine. Father Bolt said you were in need of a nursemaid and thought perhaps I could help.”
“I do not need a nurse.” Sophie wrapped her arms around my torso, peering through her tumbled curls with a tiny frown. “I am not a baby.”
Before either the Duke or I could scold her in to an apology, Sister Mary Catherine nodded solemnly. “True, you are quite the little lady. So perhaps instead I may simply be your teacher and companion.”
Sophie giggled, no doubt from being referred to as a lady. Looking up at me, she said, “I like her, Mama. She can stay.”
“Your mama and I are so delighted we have your permission, daughter.” The Duke pinched her ear lobe before untangling her from between us and setting her on her feet. “However, perhaps you would allow us to conduct a more thorough interview? Go with Addy, please.”
“Come along, Miss Sophie. We can see what Cook is preparing for dinner tonight.” Addy held out her hand, wiggling her fingers until Sophie scampered over, slipping her tiny palm into Addy’s larger one.
The door closed behind them with a tiny snick and I turned to the still smiling nun. “That was only a very small taste of what our daughter can be like.”
“Father Bolt said she was quite spirited and something of a handful.” Sister Mary Catherine adjusted the folds of her wimple before clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “He also said she has a habit of slipping away and disappearing, which has led to some uncomfortable situations.”
“Ah, yes.” I smoothed down my hair, wondering idly if I’d managed to lose a few pins during our family tickling match. “I’m not sure how much Father Bolt told you about our household but we are somewhat… unconventional.”
“Your school is quite well-known, Lady Saint-Laurent.” She inclined her head slightly, her smile growing a fraction wider. “So is the nature of your family make-up. You do not need to mince words with me.”
“The school and the students are housed in what used to be the garconniére, entering the house only for meals and private tutoring sessions.” I began straightening the sea of papers and scattered pastels, more to keep my hands busy than out of a desire to clean. “Still, Sophie manages to see more than either the Duke or I believe a child of her age should see.”
“Children with a high level of energy and a curious mind usually do.” Sister Mary Catherine frowned and shrugged. “I cannot promise you such a thing will not happen while she is under my care but I can promise I will do my best to keep such incidents to an absolute minimum.”
“Forgive me for asking, Sister, but why did Father Bolt suggest you for this position?” The Duke straightened his lounging robe before adjusting his cravat, somehow managing to make the disparity between the two actions seem not odd in the least. “My interactions with members of your community have given me the impression you and your fellow sisters were not entirely forgiving of our lifestyle.”
“Most of the sisters at Saint Orleans were brought to the Church as children—it is the only life they have ever known.” Sister Mary Catherine smiled, something I was beginning to believe was her default expression. “I did not enter the convent until I was twenty-five, after I had spent five years working in the human pleasure district.”
I blinked and sat back firmly. “That is quite a change in career, Sister.”
“Men are much… rougher in the human district, my lady.” Unclasping her hands, she pushed up her sleeves, revealing arms littered with long, jagged scars and small circles which looked suspiciously like burns. After a moment, she shook the habit back in to place, once again resting her hands on the table. “The sister at Saint Orleans were kind enough to take me in after I crawled to their doorstep, nearly dead from another beating. While there, I developed an interest in their beliefs. Once I was healed, I entered the convent as a novitiate. I took my vows only last year.”
“Now I see why Father Bolt felt you would be the best candidate for the position.” The Duke bit his lower lip, a sure sign of intense concentration, and scratched his chin. “Sister, would you mind allowing us a moment to discuss things?”
“Of course not.” Rising, she exited the room, closin
g the door behind her with a firm click.
We sat in silence for a few minutes before the Duke began to chuckle. “Do you find the fact our daughter, who is all of five years old, was able to discern the character of an individual in under a minute as annoying as I do?”
“I am too astonished by the individual in question to be annoyed, truth be told.” Propping my elbow on the table, I rested my chin on my palm and sighed. “And somewhat uneasy.”
“Uneasy? She is a nun, dearest.”
“A nun with the sort of background which would make us inclined to view her favorably all but falls in to our lap and you are not the slightest bit suspicious?” I stared at him, somewhat taken aback at how easily he had accepted the veracity of Sister Mary Catherine’s story without any proof. “Grégoire, forgive me for being somewhat paranoid, but given the environment of late I would not be surprised if someone were to attempt to slip a spy in to our midst.”
“And here I thought I was the one with an unhealthy obsession with Court intrigue.” He cupped my cheek, his gaze roaming my face with intense curiosity. “If you are genuinely concerned, Marguerite, I will send Octavian to the human district to verify her background and make sure she has not been involved with any sort of rebellion, human or vampyre.”
“It would go a long way toward easing my mind, dearest.” I sighed, wincing when I glanced at the clock. “We must begin dressing if we are to arrive at the palace on time.”
“I had almost managed to put the thought of our approaching evening at the back of my mind.” The Duke sighed as well, stroking my cheek once more before standing, pulling me with him. “At least we will not need to be quite so formally attired.”
“I don’t believe I have ever told you how grateful I am the King does not believe in powdered wigs.” Shaking out my skirts, I tucked my arm through his as he escorted me from the room. “Although I do wish sometimes English fashions would become more popular. Imagine how much time I would save in both dressing and undressing.”
“Ah, dearest.” The Duke chuckled and patted my hand. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying the undressing is really where my interests lie.”
I laughed as we began climbing the stairs. “Of course they are, dearest. Of course they are.”
An hour later, I finished applying the last of my cosmetics, scrutinizing my reflection for any mistakes. Satisfied with my appearance, I began the arduous process of unpinning and then repinning my hair, which had only become more disheveled while I changed my dress. I sighed when the last pin slid free, rubbing my scalp as the long waves fell past my shoulders.
“You sound as if the weight of the world has been lifted from you.” The Duke smiled as he walked out of the connecting closet and into the room, still fastening his cufflinks. “Are things really so bad, darling?”
“Just a bit of the headache, dearest.” I bent my head forward, closing my eyes as I continued to rub at the various aches. “I was looking forward to relaxing this evening.”
Seconds later, his hands slid through my hair, gently pushing my own fingers aside. When he pressed a particular painful spot, I hissed, the sound dying away on a moan when he began massaging. His chuckle was full of both good humor and desire. “After fifteen years, I thought I was well-versed in the areas which brought you pleasure. I see now I have apparently missed some.”
“Are you sure we cannot beg off tonight, Grégoire?” I sighed as his fingers moved lower, threading through my hair and caressing the nape of my neck. “Between Mass this morning and the current pounding in my head, the King would not think any less of us.”
“No, He would not… but it would give the pests such as Lord DuPont and Lady Lefebvre something to gossip about, considering the exclusiveness of this soiree.” Pressing his thumbs to the tiny knot at the base of my skull, he massaged steadily until it dissolved under his touch. “And it is a private performance by the royal acting troupe. You know how much you enjoy the players.”
“I suppose you’re right.” I straightened when I felt him tug on my hair. Opening my eyes, I watched in the mirror as he constructed two braids, one on each side of my head. I smiled, unable to help myself, as he brought them together and pinned them together in the back. “Playing lady’s maid, Your Grace?”
“The King will find the simplicity charming and perhaps your headache will ease some.” Reaching around me, he opened my jewelry box and pulled out the pearls. He clasped them around my neck, his fingers trailing over the gentle swell of my breasts as he adjusted the long strand. “And these will stir pleasant memories for me while I struggle to not fall asleep during the play.”
I sucked in a deep breath, releasing it on a shuddery exhale. “Grégoire--.”
“Did you know….” He bent lower, closing his eyes and inhaling. “I am still able to smell the evidence of your arousal and release on each pearl.”
I tipped my head back, resting it on his shoulder. “If you can do so, will the rest of the Court not be able to do so as well?”
He nipped at my throat and laughed, a low, sensuous chuckle which sent shivers down my spine. “Oh, my little daisy. I am counting on it.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Ah, Lady Saint-Laurent, Duke Barthélemy, We are so pleased you could join Us.” King Bienvenu halted us before we could pay our respects, taking my hands and pulling me forward only to turn me in a small circle. “This is quite a charming ensemble, Lady Saint-Laurent. Fitting for both your youth and the casualness of tonight’s event.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” My flush was real and I dropped my gaze to the floor. The King was not known for bestowing compliments on members of the Court, even those who were in His favor. Clearing my throat, I looked up to find Him smiling at me indulgently and I stammered out my next words. “Is Benedict joining us this evening, Your Majesty?”
“As the Good Book says, ‘ask and ye shall receive’, my dear.” Shifting slightly to the side, He tucked one of my hands in the crook of His elbow and proceeded to guide me across the room, the Duke trailing behind us. Raising his voice a little, he called out, “Darling, the Lady Saint-Laurent has been inquiring about your health again.”
“How kind of her.” Benedict separated himself from the trio of ladies he was holding court with, gliding toward us like a shadow. His dark skin glowed against the pure ivory of his snug waistcoat, his smile as charming as that of a little boy attempting to weasel out of a punishment. Sketching a short bow, he straightened and stepped forward, brushing an air kiss a quarter inch above my cheek. “Lady Saint-Laurent. Your attire reminds me of simpler times. I almost find myself longing to spend a weekend in the country with cows and sheep.”
“Cows and sheep?” The King burst in to laughter as He passed me to the Duke, moving forward and kissing Benedict full on the mouth. “Darling, even at your poorest you despised the countryside.”
“True, but I enjoy the idea of succumbing to pastoral delights.” Patting the King’s shoulder, Benedict sighed dramatically. “Alas, I am forced to spend all my time in the palace, where almost everything I desire is a mere hand wave away.”
“Yes, such a trying, troublesome existence you have.” Bienvenu rolled His eyes before taking Benedict’s hand and glancing at us. “We have instructed Henri to place you next to Us for the performance. We know how much Lady Saint-Laurent enjoys the theatre.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” The Duke inclined his head before gesturing across the room. “Will You excuse us so we may procure refreshments before taking our seats?”
“Of course, of course.” The King waved His hand absently, His attention already engaged elsewhere. “Benedict, let us wander for a moment and see if there is a nugget of gossip to digest.”
I waited until there we were separated from the King by the length of half the room and at least a dozen vampyres before speaking. “Is it wrong of me to wonder if those compliments were sincere or merely an effort to make amends for this morning?”
“I would not say wron
g so much as cynical—and cynical does not go well with the overall theme of your attire, darling.” He nodded and smiled at each member of the Court we passed, his grip tightening when any one individual’s gaze lingered on me too long. “You seem to be attracting quite a bit of attention.”
“I will remind you I did have some concerns something such as this might happen.” I moved as close to the Duke as propriety would allow, forcing myself to not hunch my shoulders or tremble or broadcast my unease in any way. As civilized as the Court presented itself to be, they were all predators at heart, each and every one of them. Any show of weakness would only rouse those instincts. “Perhaps you should send a note to Octavian asking him to stand guard outside.”
“No one is stupid enough to commit a physical attack in the presence of the King.” The Duke tightened his grip even further only to ease it instantly when I hissed in pain. “Forgive me, darling. I forgot myself.”
“Lady Saint-Laurent, I was hoping to have a word with you.” Prince Gaston broke away from a conversation with Lord Rowe, sketching a quick bow before attempting to draw me from the Duke. When the Duke bared the tip of his fangs and shook his head, Gaston arched a brow. “However, I am not averse to carrying on the discussion with a small audience. I believe there is a small alcove we can use.”
“Forgive my rudeness, Your Royal Highness.” Following the Prince, the Duke drew the privacy curtain closed before lowering me to the high-backed, overstuffed chair. Resting his hand on the scrolled arm, he said, “I find myself somewhat on edge this evening.”
“After the priest’s outburst this morning, I can understand why you would feel that way.” Settling himself in the other chair, the Prince tugged at the hem of his waistcoat before crossing his legs. “I hope you do not find me too forward but how is your daughter? I imagine the entire thing was somewhat frightening for someone of such a tender age.”