The prince of pleasure n-5

by Nicole Jordan

  "I do!" Ivers insisted. "I think Caliban means to kill the foreign secretary."

  "Who is Caliban?" Julienne asked sharply. "Perrine?"

  "I don't know," Ivers said. "It's possible. Perrine said Caliban couldn't trust anyone else but himself for this mission. And Perrine left town yesterday." Ivers turned his pleading gaze back to Dare. "Please, let me go. I don't want to hang."

  "I'll leave that decision to the Foreign Office," Dare replied. "Now get up."

  With a groan of pain, Ivers rose from the bed and limped over to the hearth to dress. Dare saw Julienne turn her back and move toward the door, possibly because she could no longer bear to look at her assaulter.

  "I'm bleeding like a damned butchered pig," Ivers complained.

  "And you expect me to cry for you?"

  Ivers bent over, seeming to fumble with his trousers. Out of the corner of his eye, Dare saw Ivers raise a fire poker over his head just as Julienne cried out in warning, "Dare!"

  Ivers charged, but Dare had time to defend himself. Sidestepping swiftly, he drove the blade through the fleshy part of Ivers's waist.

  A stunned look on his face, Ivers clutched at his side and sank to the floor. He curled into a ball, whimpering in pain. "You've killed me…"

  "Regrettably, no," Dare drawled.

  He found a cravat among the slovenly pile of discarded clothing and knelt beside the injured man, pressing the linen against the seeping wound.

  "You'll live, more's the pity. As you said, I'm an accomplished swordsman, and I was very careful not to wound you fatally. But you've put me to the trouble of fetching a surgeon."

  The door flew open and a man burst into the room, brandishing a pistol. He was a rough-looking character, despite the fact that he was dressed like a dandy. He took in the scene in a rapid glance: Julienne with her hand to her throat. Ivers wounded and half-naked on the floor, his shirt stained scarlet. And Dare with the blade of his swordstick covered with blood.

  "Pardon, your lordship," he said, addressing Dare, "?but I heard a cry. I thought murder might be being done."

  "Attempted murder, perhaps." Dare rose to his feet. "And you are…?"

  "Henry Teal, in the employ of Lord Wycliff, sir. I've been keeping an eye on this scurvy gutter rat"-he shot a glance at Ivers-"so he didn't brush and lope. My partner has summoned Lord Wycliff. He should be here shortly."

  "Excellent. Wycliff is just the man to sort out this mess." Dare moved toward the door. "Will you oblige me and keep an eye on our prisoner?"

  "Aye, milord."

  "And, Teal? We want him alive. If he tries to escape, please direct your bullet to a nonlethal portion of his anatomy."

  Teal grinned. "Aye, milord."

  Taking Julienne's arm, Dare escorted her from the room and shut the door behind him. Several groggy patrons garbed in nightshirts had gathered in the dimly lit corridor,

  "A small mishap," Dare reassured them. "No cause for alarm."

  He waited until they had returned to their own rooms before pulling Julienne into his embrace.

  "I was afraid he would force your hand and make you kill him," she murmured against his shoulder.

  "No. But he will pay for his crimes."

  Julienne shuddered.

  "It's over, love," Dare said softly. "You won't have to deal with Ivers ever again."

  "Thank you. But… it isn't entirely over." She drew back to search his face, keeping her voice low and hushed when she asked, "Is Perrine really Caliban?"

  "I think it likely. Certainly our mild-mannered house-guest has just become our chief suspect." Dare frowned, suddenly wondering how Julienne had come to be here. "How did you know where to find me?"

  "Riddingham. I had asked him to keep a watch out for me, and he told me Ivers was staying at this hotel. I managed to hail a hackney, even at this late hour, but discovering the exact room was more difficult. The proprietor was reluctant to allow me up here." Her mouth curved sardonically. "I persuaded him that you had summoned me here. No doubt he thinks me your doxy."

  Dare reached for her arm again. "Come, I will take you home."

  Julienne shook her head. "I'm not leaving, Dare. Not when the matter of Caliban is still unresolved."

  "You can't mean to involve yourself with hunting for him?"

  "I already am involved. I am in the government's employ, remember?"

  Dare hesitated.

  "You will have to follow Perrine to France, won't you? Well, I am French. I think I can be useful in searching for him."

  When his frown deepened, Julienne raised her chin. "You are not just going to send me away," she insisted.

  "Well, I don't intend to stay out here in a public corridor debating it with you."

  This time Julienne's smile held faint amusement. "Then I suggest you find the proprietor and hire a parlor so we may argue about it in private."

  It was perhaps three hours later before Lord Wycliff joined them in the private parlor.

  "I am honored to meet you at last, Miss Laurent," Lucian said when Dare had made the introductions. "My wife and I both have enjoyed your performances."

  "Thank you, my lord."

  "Have some breakfast," Dare suggested, "while you tell us what more you learned from Ivers."

  Lucian brought them up to date as he filled a plate from the sideboard. Ivers had been stitched up by a surgeon, interrogated intensely, and hauled off by two of Lucian's chief agents to the Foreign Office, where he would be questioned yet again before being charged and imprisoned by a magistrate.

  "And do you think Caliban and Perrine are one and the same?" Dare asked when Lucian was seated at the table.

  "All my instincts tell me so. As an untitled younger son, Perrine may have discovered that manipulating his victims satisfied his hunger for power as well as his desire to fill his pockets. And he has long had political connections. Perrine is a close friend of Lord Aberdeen."

  "Wasn't Aberdeen appointed our ambassador to Austria last year?"

  "Yes," Lucian said, his tone edged with scorn. "Despite the fact that he was far too young and inexperienced for the role. Aberdeen's incompetence nearly sabotaged our negotiations with the Coalition-which is what forced Castlereagh to take over. As for Perrine's guilt… the man I had watching him confirmed that he left London yesterday for Dover and boarded a packet to Calais. It's likely he is bound for Paris, where Castlereagh is."

  "I understand," Julienne said, "that the foreign secretary is heading the current conference?"

  Lucian nodded. "Napoleon has abdicated, but it remains for the Allied Powers to conclude peace with Bourbon France. We've long suspected that someone is eager to kill Castlereagh. He barely escaped being poisoned last month. But he's been well-guarded since the first attempt on his life. Perrine may be hoping for the chance to get past his guards."

  "I suppose you cannot simply arrest him," Dare mused.

  "We could, but we have no proof of his guilt other than Ivers's accusations. And if Perrine isn't our culprit, then Caliban will still be at large." Lucian's mouth tightened in a grim line. "We can't risk losing his trail yet again. The trick will be not only to prevent Castlereagh's assassination, but to lure Caliban out and finally make him reveal himself, whether he is Perrine or someone else."

  "Do you intend to pursue him to France?" Dare asked.

  "It would be unwise of me to try. I want nothing more than to put a period to Caliban's existence after all the carnage he's caused, but I'm not the right man for this mission. I'm too well known to him. I would never be able to get close."

  "Besides which you've sacrificed enough for your country. Brynn is expecting your first child any day now. You can't go haring off to France."

  "I mean to send my best agent, Philip Barton, in my stead. He's been following Caliban's career from the first. But Barton is known to him as well."

  "I want to go," Dare said, "but Perrine knows of my interest in Caliban."

  Lucian's brow furrowed in contemplation. "We would have
to devise a plan that made use of your acquaintance with him…"

  "Perhaps we simply need to bait a trap for him," Julienne said quietly.

  Dare regarded her with unease. Julienne's determined expression heightened the hollow ache in his chest. "There is no reason for you to become involved," he said once again. "You will only be endangering yourself."

  She met his gaze evenly. "There is every reason. My name has been under the taint of suspicion for years, and this is my chance to clear it once and for all."

  "What did you have in mind, Miss Laurent?" Lucian asked.

  Julienne turned to him. "A scheme that will trap Perrine into showing his hand."

  "You are offering to be the bait?"

  "No, absolutely not,"" Dare said emphatically. "It's out of the question. He already almost killed you once before."

  "I should like to help," she insisted.

  Dare drew a sharp breath. The thought of Julienne risking her life by trying to lure out a deadly traitor filled him with dread. He loved Julienne; he had never stopped loving her. He didn't want her to be hurt. "I don't want you going," he said again.

  "Why not?" Lucian asked.

  Dare gave his friend a dark glance. "Would you allow Brynn to risk her life that way?"

  Lucian smiled faintly, his eyes softening in reflection. "I don't think I could stop her if she thought she could help end Caliban's reign of terror. Last fall he put a death sentence on her brother's head, and Gray will never be safe until Caliban is dead."

  "I want to do this, Dare," Julienne repeated. "And my going could provide you an excuse to be there yourself."

  He ground his teeth but, after a moment, responded with reluctance. "What excuse?"

  "We could say that I am eager to regain my late father's estates in Languedoc, and that I have demanded that you buy them back for me if you ever expect me to become your mistress."

  "So that brings us to France. What of your scheme?"

  "Perrine is aware of our wager and knows that I don't want to lose, but he doesn't know the reason for our animosity. If we find him in Paris, I can claim that I want revenge against you for spurning me all those years ago and ask him to help me be rid of you."

  "And in exchange," Dare said slowly, "you will offer to aid him in getting rid of Castlereagh?"

  "Yes. And if I can gain his confidence, perhaps I can discover something of his plan to kill Lord Castlereagh."

  "It has possibilities," Lucian said, deep in thought.

  Roughly Dare raked a hand through his hair. He wanted to refute Julienne's plan. He wanted to keep her safe and protected. But his own personal wishes mattered little compared to the present stakes.

  "Very well," he said grimly. "We'll go to France together. I presume we should leave as soon as possible," he said to Lucian. "Perrine already has more than a day's head start."

  Lucian nodded. "We'll meet with Philip Barton this afternoon and work on the details. Meanwhile you should both read the dossier on Perrine and pack your bags for a journey to Paris."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Paris, May 1814

  Julienne remembered nothing of Paris, since she had only visited it as a very young child. But Solange Brogard, who accompanied them, knew the city well.

  At the moment, Paris was bursting to the seams, not only with the occupying armies, but with Royalists determined to be present for the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy. Louis XVIII had returned several weeks before to lay claim to the throne, and with him had come a multitude of aristocratic emigres eager for restitution and revenge.

  Many of London's elite had flocked to Paris as well, to indulge in long-denied pleasures-chic fashions, delectable food, superb wines, and elegant wickedness. As a consequence, the Marquess of Wolverton's party blended in well.

  They took rooms at a luxurious hotel on the Rue de Clichy, near the center of the social whirl. Philip Barton thought it wiser to lodge at a different hotel, but they arranged to meet regularly in hopes of untangling the deadly web of intrigue that Caliban had spun.

  They had not confided fully in Solange, merely sketched some vague suspicions regarding a possible traitor they were investigating. But Julienne had argued for the Frenchwoman's inclusion in their trip to France. It would appear more natural if Solange acted as her chaperone as she had on past trips with Dare. And Julienne knew her friend could be trusted completely.

  During the journey to Paris, Julienne had been glad for both Solange's and Philip Barton's company, for their presence provided her a distraction and gave her less time to think about her own future with Dare.

  Now that the demons of her past had been exorcised, she would have to consider how to proceed. Her defenses against Dare had grown perilously thin. And actress or no, she was finding it more and more difficult to maintain her facade of indifference. Her longing for him was becoming a torture.

  She had no doubt that continuing their current affair was the certain path to heartache. If she allowed herself to love Dare again, the hurt would be even more agonizing when he moved on than before. She would be totally, eternally lost. And he was certain to move on.

  The truth was, they had no future together. Not one she could bear. There was only one accepted relationship for a notorious actress and a nobleman of Dare's exalted rank, no matter how infamous his reputation.

  But she would never agree to become his mistress when such intimacy would only imperil her heart further. Nor would she accept whatever charity he might deign to dispense. His conscience, Julienne suspected, would dictate that he make some sort of amends for the misery his grandfather had inflicted upon her. But Dare didn't owe her anything, even if he held himself partially to blame.

  Admittedly it had surprised her when he'd responded so violently to her assault-that he had been willing to kill Ivers to avenge her. But she couldn't put much stock in Dare's reaction when he could be acting out of wounded pride or male jealousy or simple possessiveness.

  No. When their search for Caliban was over, Julienne knew, she would have to extricate herself somehow. It would be better to end their relationship cleanly and swiftly. She had already allowed herself to become far too vulnerable.

  Indeed, perhaps it had been foolish to come with Dare to France, despite her eagerness to clear her name. It was possible he didn't need her help to expose Caliban. Dare was no longer the devil-may-care rogue she had once known. There was a hardness to him now. A purpose and determination that boded ill for his enemies. She had no doubt that he was prepared to risk his life in pursuit of a deadly traitor.

  They saw no immediate sign of Martin Perrine, however. It was not until their third day in Paris when Philip Barton spied him at the British embassy, where most of the English gentlemen in the city gathered from time to time.

  "Perrine is billeting with Lord Aberdeen in a hired town house," Barton informed them.

  "We will have to arrange to encounter him," Dare replied. "And we must make it look as natural as possible."

  They had no difficulty finding social opportunities. The Prince of Pleasure was much sought after, as was Solange Brogard. From the moment of their arrival they were showered with invitations for a profusion of dinners, balls, receptions, and salons.

  Although Julienne was included in the invitations, she knew she would forever be relegated to the fringes of society. The fashionable English set tolerated her only because she was Dare's guest. And the French aristocracy was only slightly more forgiving. She was the daughter of the late Compte de Folmont, and in France that meant something. Even so, she would always be disdained because of her profession.

  Of Lord Castlereagh they saw nothing during the first few days, for he was closeted in conference with the most powerful leaders of Europe-Tzar Alexander of Russia, King Frederick William of Prussia, Chancellor Metternich of Austria, along with French foreign minister Talleyrand-negotiating terms of peace.

  "Castlereagh's absence from the public eye," Dare remarked to Julienne, "is actually fortunate, sin
ce his habits are well known. Normally he makes daily visits to the baths at the Bain Chinois so he can nap, rumor has it. He's said to be so fatigued by the affairs needing his attention that he can't sleep at night and so spends most of his time there dozing. And his favorite promenade is the gallery of the Palais Royal. If Caliban is targeting him for assassination, the Palais would be a prime location. That may be the most likely place to find Perrine."

  The Palais Royal, Julienne learned shortly, was a massive amusement center where every vice and pleasure could be found. The tamer offerings included gardens and galleries of shops-jewelers, milliners, modistes-as well as numerous cafes and restaurants.

  Above were apartments to let. But it was the gambling hells and brothels that made the Palais a center of dissipation and depravity. The evening entertainments, Dare said, rivaled London's most scandalous.

  It was there during their fifth afternoon in Paris, as Julienne strolled the arcaded pavements with Dare and Solange, that she first spied Lord Castlereagh. The foreign secretary was plainly dressed in a blue coat and hardly looked like a man of such enormous power. His entire posture was solemn and weary, as if he truly did have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  He wasn't alone, Julienne noted. Two British soldiers walked a discreet distance behind him.

  "Are those his bodyguards?" she asked Dare.

  "I expect so. And it seems we may have guessed correctly. Our friend Martin Perrine is sitting at the next cafe, with a clear view of the gardens. Shall we see what he is up to?" he asked, steering the two ladies on his arms in Perrine's direction.

  Julienne had to look twice to recognize the nondescript fellow sitting at a table at the open-air cafe. With his brown hair, average build, and modest attire, he would easily disappear into a crowd.

  As they passed Perrine's table, Dare pretended not to notice him, but Julienne paused, flashing a brilliant smile. "Why, Mr. Perrine, is that you? How delightful to see you here."

  Perrine rose politely and bowed to her, then Dare. "Miss Laurent, Lord Wolverton…" He gave Solange a quizzical glance.