A Midnight Dance (32 page)

“
Dieu
, I’m sorry, Jules.” Luc placed his hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “It’s been one astonishing revelation after another. Nothing makes any sense.”

“What are you rambling about?”

“I encountered Corrine d’Autmarre in Clouquet while I was waiting for you.”

“Corrine? Your former favorite?”

“Yes. She insisted I return with her to her château. She said she had something she wanted to give me.”

“No doubt.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Luc’s mouth. “
In addition
to several hours of erotic bliss, she gave me a letter.” Luc pulled it out of his doublet. “It was inside a trunk of my personal belongings she’d been storing since the arrest years ago. The trunk came from my ship. It was sent to her by her brother, Thomas, Baron de Brimot. He was formally under my command. After the arrest, I was never able to return to the vessel to collect my things. Brimot sent the trunk to his sister knowing it would eventually be returned to me.” He held out the letter. “Take a look.”

Jules took it, noting it had their family seal pressed into the wax. “Is it from Father?”

“I thought so, too, when I first saw the seal. I thought perhaps it was something he’d written before his arrest, or soon after. It’s undated, unsigned, and
not
from him.”

Jules unfolded it.

 

“What do you think, Jules? Who could have written it?”

Jules’s heart raced. In his hands was tangible proof of what he’d believed for years: Someone had intended to do his family harm, resulting in his father being falsely and deliberately condemned because of it.

The author of the letter knew information—the author whose penmanship had a distinct flourish.

He’d seen this handwriting before. And he knew where.

Jules ran outside the moment he heard shouts from Raymond, Luc on his heels.

The sight before him arrested his steps.

A caravan of carts accompanied by thirty men on horseback neared. He spotted Marc and Fabrice, and then to his amazement, his commander, privateer Captain Simon Boulenger. Judging by the blood and dirt smearing their faces and encrusted in their garments, there had been trouble.

Out of the corner of his eye Jules saw Sabine gather together with her family and Vittry. The women’s mounting anxiety was palpable as everyone scanned the men looking for Vincent the actor and Sabine’s cousins, Robert and Gerard.

Jules spotted them just then, slumped in one of the carts, looking gray-faced and battle-sullied. Knowing Sabine and the others were likely to race toward the carts at any moment, Jules strode forward barking out orders. “Raymond, keep everyone back. Luc, order your men to help, then come with me.”

When Jules reached the caravan, it halted.

“What happened?” Jules demanded the moment Simon, Marc, and Fabrice dismounted and approached.

“We had some trouble, Commander,” Marc advised.

“And the silver?”

“Recaptured—with but a small portion missing. The majority of it remains intact in the two chests.”

Relief rushed through Jules.

“Thank God,” Luc murmured beside him.

“What sort of trouble did you meet?” Jules indicated the injured men with a nod of his head. “A band of vagabonds?”

Simon shook his head. “No. Not these men. They were well armed with quality weapons and horses.”

“It was an ambush, Commander. Well planned,” said Marc. “Had the captain not arrived when he did, it would have been an easy slaughter. We were outnumbered three to one. They specifically demanded you and the silver. They clearly knew we would be on the road from Paris with the chests.”

Marc smiled. “We don’t know how, but we do know who.”

“Go on,” Jules pressed.

“Once the captain and his men arrived, we decimated the attackers. By the end, two were left barely clinging to life. They were questioned separately and both gave the same name before they died. The man who ordered the attack is the Archbishop de Divonne.”

“The Archbishop de Divonne?”
Luc repeated the name incredulously. “Our father considered him a friend.”

Jésus-Christ
. “I think we should consider him to be his betrayer. Who better than someone in his inner circle?” Jules said, his fury burbling in his blood.

Simon nodded. “With the wealth you’ve been amassing, he must have feared you’d soon regain your rank and title. His fear was strong enough to want you dead.”

Jules had spent years racking his mind, agonizing over every possible traitor, considering everyone his father had ever known. During his months of incarceration it was all he had to occupy him, to torment him.

It had become his obsession.

His private torture.

Forbidden to reenter Paris once he’d been released, refused admittance to country châteaus he’d once been welcomed in, it had been impossible to learn the truth. The only one who’d been remotely willing to communicate with him was his father’s friend Valentin, Marquis d’Argon. More out of a sense of obligation to Jules’s father’s memory than anything else, his notes were sparse, always apologetic for not being able to do more, and clearly unwilling to do anything to rectify Jules and Luc’s situation. The Marquis was fearful of jeopardizing his privileged status. He didn’t want to do anything that might inspire disfavor from the Crown.

Now Jules had the name—the Archbishop de Divonne—but not the reason. Luc’s letter had mentioned a conspiracy. Who were his accomplices?

Hungry for revenge, every fiber in Jules being rioted for action, burning with the urge to ride out immediately and pay a longoverdue visit to the Archbishop.

“If he wants you dead, then he wants me dead, too,” Luc surmised, frowning.

Jules turned to his younger brother. “You may have avoided an attack, as you and your men were not in Clouquet, as expected.”

“True. My little detour may have spared us. I must remember to thank Corrine for more reasons than one.”

“Commander, if the Archbishop knew our stolen silver would be returning from Paris, do you think he was the one who took the silver the mademoiselle buried?” Marc asked.

“I do.”
Dieu
, Sabine could have been attacked and killed. His stomach tightened at the thought. He was thankful that she’d buried the treasure instead of keeping it in her home.

Luc’s green eyes were aglow with lethal intent. “What do you wish to do?”

Jules smiled without mirth. “We will do what we are most proficient at. What we have spent years doing at sea. The Archbishop will have a visit like none he’s ever known.”

But first he was going to have a conversation with a spirited blond woman about the letter that was tucked inside his doublet.

Sabine fumed as she followed Raymond into the common room. Summoned by Jules and refused access to her cousins, she had a few choice words to direct at Raymond’s master.

Raymond chose that moment to step aside, out of her line of sight.

It was then she saw that Jules was flanked by his brother and Simon. The angry words scorching her tongue dissolved when she found herself standing mere feet away from Luc de Moutier.

An ache welled up and pressed against her heart as thoughts of her sister rushed to mind. How utterly giddy Isabelle would have been to see the object of her long-held affection standing in her home.

Seeing Luc made her want to run back to her family all the more. She hadn’t stopped reeling from her torrid encounter with Jules. Her anger at his highhanded ways combined with her unfed carnal hunger only made her more irritable and frustrated.

She donned a cool expression and gave him a mocking curtsy.

“You’ve summoned me,
my lord-most-high
? Will
my lord
tell me what he wishes from me? Or shall I simply continue to bask in his exalted presence?”

Jules tightened his jaw.

Simon chuckled and sat down. “Oh, this is going to be entertaining.”

“Naturally, I would rather be here than attend to my cousins’ and Vincent’s injuries,” Sabine continued, “which is just as well since I have been forbidden to see them. Imagine my joy at having the privilege of breathing the same air as Jules de Moutier, nobleextraordinaire, charmer of women and wielder of a mighty sword.” She thrust her fist straight up as if holding a blade.

Simon’s mirth erupted from him.

“
This
is the thief?” Luc asked.

“Yes,” Jules responded tightly.

Luc rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed she’d be blond.”

Jules ignored the grating comment. “This woman’s real name is Sabine, Paul Laurent’s daughter,” Jules continued. “You can ignore her theatrics. She has a flare for the dramatic.”

“Really?” Simon grinned. “I think it sounds as though the lady has issue with your ‘mighty sword,’ Jules.” He winked.

It was Luc’s turn to laugh.

He placed his hand on Jules’s shoulder. “I can assure you that no woman has ever complained about my brother’s ‘mighty sword,’ or his skill at wielding it.”

“Enough. Both of you,” Jules snapped. “Lower your arm, Sabine, and sit down.”

She crossed her arms. “Go to hell, Aristo.”

Simon barked out a laugh. “Now those are words every commoner thinks, yet few have the courage to say.” Simon stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “I like her.”

Jules set his palms down on the table. “If you don’t sit your derrière down on that chair, I’ll place it there myself.”

She glared at him.

He straightened and walked around the table.

Her heart lurched. She immediately sat, horrified that he’d make good on his threat.

He stopped behind her, and then pushed her chair up to the table. Leaning forward, he set his palms back down on its wooden surface. His body surrounding her caused her nerve endings to quiver with awareness.

“You are going to behave and be most cooperative,” he told her. “In essence, you are going to conduct yourself in a manner completely out of the norm for you.” Clearly, at the moment, he was making it easy for her to cling to her ire. “As for your cousins and Vincent, their injuries are minor. My men are questioning them about their little adventure. Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t had them flogged.”

She gasped and shot him a look over her shoulder, her face now so close to his own. “If you are bent on revenge, then take it out on me. It was
my
idea to take your silver, not theirs.”

“Of that I have no doubt. Right now, what I want from you is to look at this.” He placed something on the table and straightened. “What do you see?”

She looked down at the creased parchment, the stunning sight hitting her like a physical blow.

Snatching up the letter, she shot to her feet, unable to tear her eyes off the familiar handwriting, its recognizable swirls and strokes. She spun around to face Jules. “This is Isabelle’s handwriting! Where did you get this?”

He placed his hands on his hips. “It was sent to Luc.”

“When?” Hope bloomed inside her, growing stronger with each hard beat of her heart.

“Years ago. It was sent to his ship, but he only just received it. It would seem Isabelle had learned some rather sinister information. Tell me, how is it possible that she managed to affix our family seal to the letter?” Jules demanded.

His words didn’t shatter her optimism. In fact, upon turning the letter over and seeing the seal in question, gooseflesh raced up her arms. The feeling, the one that existed deep inside her heart, the one that told her that her sister was still alive, now roared. It was so strong, she felt giddy.