That helped ease the pain in his gut. Good girl, Julienne.
One of the servants gave Fairchild a shove. “Enough of a show for you, non? I suggest you leave before the duc decides you are not so useful an ally after all.”
“Good advice, mon ami. Good advice.” He turned as if he had no other care than preserving his own hide. And sent a prayer of thanks heavenward when Julienne pulled then from the duc.
Remi whispered something into her ear, something that made her giggle. Something that made the moonlight reflect a flash of fear in her eyes.
The second servant gave Fairchild another helpful push. He made a show of rolling his eyes and heading toward the garden path, but not before glancing over his shoulder to see that Remi was leading Julienne away, on a direct course for where his apartments lay.
And the knife was back in his hand, resting against the small of her back.
Six
By the time Remi shoved Julienne through the door of his expansive suite, she felt certain the knife had scorched its imprint into her spine. She stumbled over the fringe of the carpet and caught herself on a chair, wincing when he barked out the name of one of his servants.
What would he do? Dismiss them all so there would be no witnesses when he made good on the threat that lay beneath his whispered promise to give her far more than kisses? Then what?
Mon Dieu, protect me. Or if You will not, if this is the result of my own foolishness and it is Your will I suffer it, then insulate me. Make me numb. And Isaac, give him peace and comfort…
“Oui, duc?”
Remi tossed his hat to a side table. “Find the comtesse de Rouen and bring her to me. We will settle the arrangements for the marriage now, before I leave.”
The servant nodded and disappeared out the door. Julienne jumped when it closed behind him, her gaze tracking Remi as he paced the foyer. He was like a panther with its prey cornered, waiting for the moment it fancied to strike.
He tossed the knife to the floor with a clatter that nearly shattered her nerves and then spun to her. She managed to seat herself upon the chair, some vain hope of retaining her dignity flitting through her thoughts. It abandoned her when he braced himself on the chair’s arms and leaned over her.
How could a set of eyes such a beautiful brown be so cold, so hard? So unlike Isaac’s, though the colors were within a shade of each other. The hearts behind them were a world apart.
“Would you like to try again, ma chérie,” he said through clenched teeth, “to tell me what you were thinking? Why you would betray me?”
The truth tickled at her tongue, but if she spoke it, he would kill her and then hunt down Isaac. Even Mère and Grandpère could be in danger. Non. She could not hand them over to his rage like that. Please, Lord. Please save us.
“Well?”
She let the tears come as she averted her face. “What can I say, Remi? It was a foolish mistake, a lapse in judgment, and I am sorry.”
He pushed off, straightened, and raked a hand through his hair. “Le comte d’Ushant. You would not know him, would not realize that his…trysts…got him chased away from court once before. He is a raptor, Julienne, preying on pretty young wives.”
The real d’Ushant might be a complete monster, but Isaac was not. Still, she dared to draw in a breath at his words. Was he providing her with an excuse? “I did not know.”
He was before her again so fast she hadn’t even time to recoil before his knuckles cracked across her cheek. “You should not have had to know!”
A cry escaped, try as she might to press her lips against it. Pain stabbed, radiated, and all she could do was cover it with a shaking hand.
Remi spat out a curse and spun away again. “I thought you better than this, Julienne. For three years you have held me at arm’s length, quoting your morality. I did not respect your wishes all that time for this.”
“I…” No other words would come. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t make things worse?
He snatched up a vase and sent it to its death against a wall. “Faithless woman!”
Faithless? He called her faithless when he was the one who had wanted to make a mistress of her while his wife lay dying? She surged to her feet. “I am not! These three years I have never looked at another man, have certainly never dared speak to one lest you overreact.”
“But you toss yourself into one’s arms now?” He grabbed her and pulled her flush against him. His fingers bit into her arms so hard they would surely leave their marks upon her flesh, and he shook her. “Why?”