A Midnight Dance (21 page)

By the look in her eyes and the statement, Sabine easily read that both wine and brandy had been tainted.

“No,” she managed to force out, “thank you.”

Vincent poured water into a goblet and set it before her.

“This burgundy has an odd taste to it,” Jules said.

His statement grabbed everyone’s attention. Seeing him holding the goblet up, frowning, knowing he’d just taken a sip, made her stomach drop.

“Why, it’s our finest,” Louise advised.

Setting the goblet on the table, Jules pushed it toward Louise. “I don’t care for it. Take it away.”

Sabine’s heart missed a beat, uncertain whether she felt defeated or elated.

“As you wish.” Louise picked up the goblet and the decanter of tainted wine. “Claire, rush downstairs and get another burgundy,” she said to Agnes, handing her the items.

Without hesitation, Agnes hurried to do her bidding.

Vincent poured a goblet of the brandy and set it before Jules. “What about the brandy, sir? Would you care to try it?”

Sabine forced her gaze down to her soup, unable to watch Jules drink it. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Louise and Vincent were engrossed, eagerly anticipating Jules’s sampling of the corrupted amber liquid. Sabine loathed every moment of this.

“It’s good. The brandy may stay.”

Sabine closed her eyes briefly before she shored up her nerve and returned her gaze to him.

He met her regard with those dark seductive eyes of his and a lopsided smile. He picked up his spoon. Sabine mimicked the gesture, schooling her expression, forcing a look of gladness she didn’t feel.

He tasted his soup. Unable to bring herself to eat, she simply stirred hers. Given the state of her stomach, she feared she’d lose its contents if she dared try.

“Tell me about your cousin, Elise.”

His voice yanked her out of her thoughts. “Cousin?”

“In Maillard. What sort of man is he?”

“Oh, him.” She glanced at Vincent and Louise. Their expressions gave away nothing of the horrible scheme they were involved in. This had seemed like such a good idea once. But now, in the thick of it, it felt unscrupulous. Didn’t any of this bother them? Even a little?

“He is a good man. I think I will enjoy living with him.” What a consummate liar she’d become. She hated it. She hated it that Louise and Vincent stood watching this wicked deception with morbid fascination. She hated it that she didn’t despise Jules like before. Most of all, she hated it that she felt so corrupt and conflicted.

Jules reached for the brandy.

“Wait!” she exclaimed.

He lifted a brow, his hand around the goblet.

“Jules, do they”—she nodded at the familial spectators—“have to be here?”

“Why, we’re here to serve your needs,” Louise stated, obviously objecting to any sort of dismissal.

Before Jules could answer, Agnes rushed in.

“A different burgundy, sir.” She gave him a ludicrous grin while holding a new decanter and goblet. Quickly, she poured the wine for him and set the items down on the table.

“Jules, I can serve us . . .” Sabine suggested, anxious to see her family leave the room.

“If they make you uncomfortable . . .” Jules turned to the threesome and said, “you may leave.”

“But—” Louise began and was instantly silenced when Jules raised his hand.

“Without another word,” he added with finality.

Sabine refused to look at her family, but sensed their piercing stares nonetheless. Having no choice, they left, closing the door behind them.

Sabine’s small measure of relief was short-lived. Jules reached for the new burgundy that was undoubtedly as tainted as the first had been.

“Jules!” She stood up and walked around the table.

Slipping onto his lap, she wrapped her arms about him and buried her face in his neck. She drew in his scent and the warmth of his strong body, wanting, needing one final moment with him.

Think about what the Moutiers have done
. . . But a voice inside her countered,
Think of the joy he’s given you over the last day. More bliss than you’ve known in your entire existence
.

She gazed into his eyes.

“What is it, Elise?”

She wanted to blurt out the truth, but knew she couldn’t. “I wish . . .” Her words caught against the lump in her throat.

“What?”

That I didn’t have to do this
. “That after we part, you’ll think of me fondly.” She was making a fool of herself. Jules de Moutier was accustomed to women who were more sophisticated about bed sport. What she’d just uttered amounted to no better than emotional gushing.

A smile formed on his lips. “I will think of you fondly.” After what she was about to do to him, nothing could be further from the truth.

Despite her better judgment, she kissed him, savored his taste, the texture of his mouth, knowing that later she’d have to do everything in her power to forget everything about him.

He broke the kiss, and brushed his lips against hers. “
Chère
, as much as I’m enjoying having your bottom resting where it is, if it continues to remain there much longer, neither of us will be eating a warm meal.” He rose with her in his arms, walked over to her chair, and set her down on it. Smiling into her face, he said, “I need sustenance. Sit and behave . . .
for now
.” The last two words were uttered with such heart-fluttering sensuality. She nodded and fisted her hands on her lap to keep from reaching for him and hauling him back.

Sitting across from her, looking better than any male ought to, he tasted his soup again.

“You know, Elise, once you’ve reached your cousin and have settled there, you must do right by your former lord. You owe him money.”

Having just taken a drink of the water from her goblet, Sabine almost choked.
“Pardon?”

“You need to attend to your debt.”

She stiffened. “I did attend to my debt. I
left
.”

“That doesn’t negate your obligation to him. You must pay it off. You lived on his land. He has every right to expect payment for it.” He sampled the burgundy in his goblet. “At least this burgundy is better than the last.”

She reeled from his statement.

“I’ve paid all that I can and will ever pay him. Thanks to his excessive taxes, he’s stripped me of everything I hold dear.”

“You lived under his protection, on his domain.” He drained his goblet. “You received something in return for the taxes you paid. You were given the opportunity to flourish. If you didn’t, it isn’t his fault. He ought not to be denied what he’s justly owed because of poor management of funds, or in many cases with the lower class, plain laziness.” He sliced a piece of ham from the platter before them and placed it on her plate.

His words were like a fist to her belly.

Gone was Jules her lover. In his place was an Aristo, lacking in empathy for all those he considered a lesser breed of human.

“Laziness?” She could barely contain her ire. “
Opportunity to flourish?
How, pray tell, does one ‘flourish’ when the lower class must farm their lord’s land before they’re permitted to farm their own? When they aren’t permitted to sell any produce until their lord’s is sold? The lower class is made to use his mill and ovens and pay him for the ‘privilege.’ They cannot touch the forests or lakes on his lands, hunt or fish there, no matter how starved they are. And taxes are levied against them at his whim.”

“It’s his right,” he said blandly. “He deserves what he’s owed.”

Her mouth fell agape, utterly incredulous. Quickly, she clamped it shut.

She was a fool! How many times did she have to be disillusioned by him before she finally accepted that there was no Dark Prince? Born of her imagination, he didn’t really exist.

She’d seen signs of his arrogant noble airs again and again, yet still deluded herself into believing he was somehow different from his peers. Jules’s disgrace hadn’t humbled him at all. Not even a little.

“Elise, everyone bemoans the taxes,” he said pouring more wine in his goblet and taking another drink. “But they are necessary and just.” Setting his goblet down, he looked about the room, then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger.

Furious, she countered, “Just? If they’re so
just
, then why doesn’t the upper class pay any? They don’t even pay taxes to the Crown. Those are paid by the lower class, as well!”

He shook his head. At first she thought he was protesting her statement, but then he dropped his head into his hands. Her tirade died in her throat. When at last he looked up, his face was pale, and his breathing quick. He blinked hard, as if he was trying to clear his vision. Glancing at her untouched meal, he demanded, “Why aren’t you eating?”

Before she could think of an answer, he rose, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. He gripped the edge of the table and hung his head. “What’s happening?”

With her heart pounding in her chest, she rose, too.

He met her gaze, his eyes narrowed, his expression fierce. “Tell me you haven’t done anything. Tell me you haven’t tainted the food.” He was beginning to sway. “Tell me!” he bellowed.

She jumped.

“Come here,” he ordered.

She couldn’t speak and there was no way she was going to approach him. She took a step back.

“Damn you, I said come here!” He stepped away from the table. The sudden movement caused him to stumble back and knock over the chair. His large body collapsed, striking the chair, and landed on the floor with a hard thud.

Except for the uncontrollable quaking of her body, Sabine didn’t move. Pieces of the broken chair around him, beneath him, Jules lay on his side, wisps of his dark hair on his cheek.

Her heart in her throat, she called out his name.

No response.

Cautiously, she approached him.

Lowering herself onto her knees, an arm’s length away, she reached out a shaky hand and pushed at his shoulder. He rolled onto his back. His head lolled to the side, his hair falling away from his face. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with every breath he took in his artificial slumber.

Her throat tightened. Such a beautiful face. Sadly, it belonged to a man who was so heedless of the suffering he and his class had caused.

Footsteps approached. She shot to her feet and stepped back. The door burst open. In rushed Vincent, Louise, Agnes, and Robert. Clearly, they’d heard the commotion.

They gathered near her and peered down at Jules.

“D-Did it truly work?” Robert asked, incredulous.

“It did,” Sabine said.

A burst of joviality erupted from the foursome, startling her.

“She did it! We’re rich!” Vincent embraced his sister, then Agnes.

Agnes giggled like a little girl. “We can buy whatever we want! We’ll want for nothing ever again!”

Sabine didn’t share in their gaiety. Her eyes were drawn back to Jules. Elise was gone. Sabine was back. And so was her empty reality. Yet she felt no sadness. No anger. Or even satisfaction over her deed. Only a dull familiar ache.

Standing behind her, Robert flung his arms about her waist, picked her up, and swung her around. “We are richer than the King, Sabine! Your plan worked!”

Sabine tried to smile. “Put me down, Robert.”

The moment her feet touched the floor, Robert wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her from behind, and pressed his cheek against hers. “We made them pay, Sabine. All of them. The men in the stables are down, as well. Gerard is there guarding the silver. There is so much silver!”

Agnes stepped forward and hugged her. “I had all the faith in the world in you.” She gazed at Sabine and lovingly caressed her cheek. “You brought him down, just as the Moutier deserved.”

Robert and Agnes stepped back when Vincent approached. For the first time in her life, she saw tears in Vincent’s eyes. Giving her a fatherly embrace, he said softly near her ear, “What you have sacrificed for us,
tesora . . .
” using his native Italian.

She knew he referred to her innocence and should have been embarrassed by the comment, but the numbness had spread through her body. Being in a deadened state for so long, she hadn’t known a day without it. Except during her time with Jules. Then and only then had it receded.

Now it was back, and like a shield, it protected her from heartache. And—she looked over at Jules—she was grateful.

Vincent placed an arm around Sabine’s shoulders and led her toward the door. “Come, let us get you out of here. Everything will be fine. Wonderful, in fact.” He kissed her temple. The others followed behind. “Agnes is right. The Aristo does not deserve regard or concern. If one of us were laid out on the floor, the only emotion he would feel would be annoyance because we were blocking his path.” Sabine said nothing. Had nothing to say.