Page 26

Dupree shot Pirard a contemptuous glance.

Didn’t he realize a prize like this must be given to someone worthy of its glory?

Camille Cadeaux occupied a necessary place in his life but that place was dark and secret and had nothing to do with glory.

Pirard was not only a fool but was becoming insultingly intimate since he’d been chosen as Dupree’s lieutenant.

He would have to do something about the man.

“No, I have no intention of giving it to Camille.” He would have the chain repaired and cleaned, then have the gold polished until it was as bright and shining as when it might have been worn at Versailles. “I shall give it to the only woman in France who is blameless enough to wear it with honor.”

“And who is that?”

Dupree took his lace-trimmed handkerchief from his pocket and carefully began to rub at a dried spot of blood on the spray of lilac engraved on the gold surface. “My mother.”

Catherine was screaming.

Juliette was out of her bed and halfway across her chamber before she was fully awake. What could it be now? Catherine had been sleeping soundly when she had peeked in on her before going to her own chamber.

Robert Dameraux stood outside Catherine’s door that Juliette had left ajar. He wrung his hands. “Mademoiselle Catherine, she’s not—”

“She has the fever,” Juliette said as she brushed past him. “I’ll take care of her. Go back to bed.”

“Bed?” he asked in a high, surprised tone. “I was not in bed. My Marie and I were sitting down to our supper when we heard Mademoiselle Catherine screaming.”

Supper? Then the half darkness mantling the hall was not dawn but twilight. They had slept the entire day through.

Catherine screamed again.

“I don’t need you.” Juliette threw open the door.

“Bring soup and wine for Mademoiselle Catherine after you finish your meal.” She slammed the door behind her, then flinched as the sound bludgeoned her throbbing temples.

Her tongue felt coated and sour. Dieu , she didn’t want to face this right now.

Catherine moaned, turned restlessly on her side but did not wake.

Juliette straightened and moved across the room toward the bed.

“The windows are open. Do you want the entire neighborhood to know we’re here?

Wake up.” She reached down, grasped Catherine’s shoulders, and shook her.

Catherine’s lids flicked open to reveal wild, glittering eyes and Juliette’s irritation melted away as if it had never been.

“You’re safe now. Well, as safe as we can be in this city of madmen. ”

“Juliette?” Catherine whispered. “I dreamed…” She shuddered. “But it was real, wasn’t it?”

Juliette sat down on the bed beside her. “It was real.”

“They hurt me.” Catherine’s tone was wondering, childlike. “Like they hurt Henriette and Sister Mathilde.”

Juliette’s hand closed on Catherine’s. “Yes.”

“They tore my clothes and then they tore…me.”

“Yes.” Juliette’s grip tightened. “But you’re alive and I killed the canaille who did it.”

“Murder.” Catherine’s eyes glistened with tears. “It’s a mortal sin. I made you commit a mortal sin.”

“You made me do nothing. It was my choice.”

“No, I was to blame. You would have never—”

“I wanted to do it,” Juliette interrupted. “I enjoyed doing it. I wish I could have killed all of them.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Juliette said fiercely. “I want them all dead. I want them all burning in hell. Do you think I should forgive them? Are you going to forgive that loathsome slug who raped you?”

“I…don’t want to think about him.” Catherine turned her gaze toward the window. “I don’t want to think of either of them.”

Juliette stiffened. Them. She had been so weary she hadn’t realized Catherine had been speaking in the plural. “Catherine, how many men…hurt you?”

Catherine’s voice was barely audible. “Two.”

Fury surged through Juliette, taking her breath, sending the blood pounding in her temples. “There was only one man in the tomb.”

“There was another before him. He left after…” Catherine’s voice broke. “But the other one stayed. He did it over and over until I—”

“Shh. Go to sleep.” Juliette enfolded her in a close embrace. “He can’t hurt you now.”

“Yes, he can. I dreamed about him. He was there above me. Hurting me. Looking down at me with no face.” Catherine was trembling uncontrollably. “No face. He had no face.”

“He had a face. It was just too dark to see in the tomb.”

“They were shadows. They didn’t have faces.

I thought if I could see their expressions I’d know why they were doing this to me.

I thought I’d be able to make some sense out of it, but they had no faces.

” She was panting as if she were running.

“And then I realized I had no face either. I was nothing. I was something to use and throw away. It didn’t matter what they did to me because I was already so soiled that I couldn’t get dirtier, more fouled, or—”

“It’s not true,” Juliette said. “None of that is true. It wasn’t your fault.”

“What difference does that make? You know it’s a woman’s duty to keep herself pure for her husband. Do you think any man would take a woman to wife who had been so used?”

Juliette hesitated. She could not lie to Catherine and tell her it would make no difference.

The world was neither fair nor gentle to women in most instances, and men were particularly unfair in matters of chastity.

“No one need know. At Versailles there were tricks the women used to fool a bridegroom into believing he was getting a virgin. We could—”

“I couldn’t lie. I’m already stained enough without adding falsehoods to my sins. Besides, I could never marry.” Catherine’s eyes twitched beneath their lids like an animal in mortal terror. “He would hurt me. I couldn’t let him do that. I don’t want anyone to touch me ever again.”

Juliette swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat “No one’s going to hurt you. Rest now and try to sleep. Robert is going to bring soup and wine.”

“I’m not hungry. You won’t leave me?” Catherine whispered, her eyes closing. “I’m afraid I’ll dream…”

She was already half asleep, Juliette noticed. She supposed it was natural after Catherine’s hideous experience for her to wish to hide away, but she was embracing sleep with an eagerness that made Juliette uneasy.

Catherine opened suddenly anxious eyes. “Juliette, they didn’t hurt you? You got away without them—”

Blood .

The Reverend Mother kneeling before the tribunal .

The golden chalice of the holy sacrament .

Dupree’s delicate hand motioning to the man with the red bonnet .

Juliette firmly banished the memory and smiled down at Catherine. “Of course they didn’t hurt me. Do you think I’d be so easy to catch?”

Catherine relaxed. “No, I didn’t think so. You wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. You’re too strong.”

Blood .

Juliette’s hand tightened around Catherine’s. “You’re strong too, Catherine. You’ll get over this.”

“That’s what he said.” Catherine’s words were nearly inaudible.

“Who?”

“That man. Francois.”

Juliette hid a start of surprise. Etchelet had not impressed her as a man who would pass words of comfort. He would expect everyone to respond to adversity with the same toughness that seemed inherent in his own character. “Then he has more sense than I thought.”

“He was angry. I don’t know why…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Juliette released Catherine’s hand and stood up. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll sit in the chair across the room and—”

“It’s gone.” Catherine’s hand was fumbling at the high neck of her nightgown. “My locket. It’s gone!”

Juliette stiffened in sudden fear. Why hadn’t she noticed the previous night that the locket was no longer around Catherine’s neck?

If Dupree found the locket next to the corpse in the tomb, he would have Catherine’s likeness in the palm of his hand!

She mustn’t panic. The locket could have been lost anywhere and, even if found, the miniature might never be discovered.

The catch of the locket was hard to find and the opening almost seamless.

“I love my locket. I wanted to wear it forever and now it’s gone.”

Catherine had obviously not made the dangerous connection of the loss and the body in the tomb and Juliette was certainly not going to bring it to her attention. “I’ll paint you another miniature.”

“It won’t be the same.” Catherine closed her eyes and turned her face away. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

Juliette sat down in the chair and leaned her head wearily against the high back. Catherine’s words were almost identical to the ones Juliette had uttered in the salon the previous night. She wished she could argue with her, but how, when Catherine only spoke the truth.

The flame of the candle burned above her bed, hanging like a shimmering topaz teardrop on the velvet of the darkness.

She should really concentrate on learning to paint fire, Juliette thought drowsily.

She had tried once or twice but the elements were terribly difficult to master.

Fire kept changing from gold to emerald, to amber to ruby red.

People were much easier once you got beyond their surface and…

“Are you well?”

A deep masculine voice, taut with tension, issued from somewhere beyond the flame.

Juliette’s gaze jerked from the flame to the face behind the candle. High intriguing planes, bold black eyes, and that beautifully cynical mouth.

Jean Marc!

He was here. Wild joy—as instinctive as it was bewildering—soared through her. After all the years of waiting, he was here.

“Answer me!”

She sat bolt upright in bed, jarred wide awake and into anger by the sharpness of his tone. “Why did you not come for her? She’s your responsibility and it wasn’t right of you to—”

“Hush.” Jean Marc’s fingers were shaking as they pressed her lips. “For God’s sake, don’t rail at me. I’ve just come from the abbey and I thought you both dead. I rushed here and—Philippe came in time then?”

“Philippe?”