Nicole Jordan (32 page)

“You are offering to be the bait?”

“No, absolutely
not
,” Dare said emphatically. “It’s out of the question. He alreadly 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 émigrés 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 fa¸cade 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, since 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 cafés 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 café, 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 café. 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.

“May I present Madame Brogard?” Julienne said easily. When the niceties were observed, she added, “It is so comforting to see a friendly face. May we join you? Darling,” she said to Dare, “will you be so good as to order me some wine? I declare I am parched.”

Dare looked appropriately reluctant, but he did as she bid, raising a hand to summon a waiter.

“What brings you to Paris, Miss Laurent?” Perrine asked in an idle tone as she settled in the chair next to him.

Julienne held out her arm smugly, flashing the diamond bracelet Dare had just purchased for her. “Lord Wolverton has been extremely generous, but I hope he will be even more so. You may know that my father was a noble….” She told Perrine of her desire to recover the Folmont estates. “I have asked Dare to visit the south of France with me, but he says it is too dangerous just now to travel.” Julienne pasted a slight pout on her lips. “I told him we can hire outriders to protect us from bandits—”

Just then Solange was hailed by friends, and Dare’s attention became occupied with greeting them.

“I must speak with you in private,” Julienne murmured under her breath to Perrine. “Can you meet me?”

His brows drew together sharply, and he studied her for a long moment, his eyes showing a momentary flash of the keen intelligence that was attributed to the cunning Caliban.

Then he gave a shy smile. “I am at your command, Miss Laurent, of course.”

“Then come to the Hotel Clichy for tea tomorrow at four,” Julienne whispered. “Dare will be gone by then—Do tell me what brings you to Paris, Mr. Perrine,” she added when Dare turned back to her.

He launched into a story about Lord Aberdeen, the British ambassador to Austria, who was a close friend and who had invited him to participate in the historic marking of the liberation of Europe.

Solange and Dare joined the conversation then, leaving Julienne little to say. But a half hour later, as they prepared to leave, she gave Martin Perrine a meaningful glance. “It was delightful to see you again, Mr. Perrine. I hope we may meet again very shortly.”

“That would please me a great deal,” he replied in his usual unprepossessing tone.

Later that night, after a ball given at the British embassy by Sir Charles Stewart, the popular English ambassador to France, they met with Philip Barton to discuss various contingencies of their plan. Dare severely disliked the thought of Julienne meeting alone with Perrine, but she reminded him that she had her knife for protection, adding that she doubted Perrine would do anything to harm her just yet, since he was obviously curious about what she had to say.

In the morning Solange left the hotel to spend the day with friends. Julienne engaged a private parlor for the afternoon and arranged for tea to be served. In the event that Perrine was watching, Dare planned to make a show of leaving the hotel early in the afternoon but return shortly through the back entrance. He and Philip Barton would be in the adjoining room in case of trouble.

Martin Perrine arrived punctually and was shown up to the private parlor where Julienne awaited him.

“You must be wondering why I asked to speak to you,” she said as she poured his tea.

Mr. Perrine gave a shy smile. “I confess to a great curiosity, Miss Laurent.”

“Actually, I thought to warn you.” Pausing to let her remark sink in, Julienne stared thoughtfully at her guest. “Wolverton has been trying to discover the identity of a cunning traitor who goes by the name Lord Caliban.”

The puzzled look on Perrine’s face would have done justice to the best actors of her acquaintance, Julienne thought. “What does that have to do with me?”

She passed his cup across the table to him. “He thinks you might be this Caliban, or at least that you know his true identity.”

“
I,
a traitor? Whatever gave him such a notion?”

“You were once in possession of a ring that was known to belong to Caliban.”

“Indeed?” Perrine murmured, lifting an eyebrow.

“The Earl of Ivers was arrested last week,” Julienne added evenly. “He implicated you.”

Not so much by a blink of an eye did Perrine exhibit any emotion that could be considered distress. “I own myself astonished that Ivers would make up such tales. He owes me a large sum of money. Perhaps he thinks to cause trouble for me so he can avoid having to settle his debts. If he impugns my honor, then my power to collect will be lessened.”