He shrugged. “Not in particular.”
Amelia gripped his forearm and dragged him toward the door. “You have to leave.” She paused. “No, you have to stay and put some clothes on first. What if the servants saw you this way?”
At that comment, Philippe shot me a sly look. I could guess his meaning. Most of the servants here were young, female, and had already seen him naked. I fought down a laugh.
Amelia scooped up a white shirt from the floor and handed it to her brother. “Now, put this on and leave. Summon Clothilde. We must get Elea ready.”
Philippe slipped on the garment and turned to Amelia with a mock flourish. “Better?”
“Presentable.” Her voice lowered to a hush. “And what were you doing in here with Elea, anyway?”
Philippe just kept on smiling. “Why are we whispering?”
“Because I don’t want the servants—” Amelia rushed over to the door and pulled it open. “Just get out of here.”
“I can’t,” said Philippe.
Amelia set her fist on her hip. “Now, you’re just being contrary.”
“No, he isn’t.” I pointed past Philippe’s shoulder. A servant stood in the hallway beyond. I’d seen that kind of multicolored livery before. It was what servants of the Vicomte wore. My hands curled into fists. The last thing we needed was interference from that man.
Amelia swung around and took in the new figure. All the blood drained from her pretty face. “What are you doing here, Giles?”
“What I always do when I reach your door.” Giles bowed, but the disdain in his eyes said that he thought Amelia unworthy of such a gesture. “The Vicomte would like to see you in the reception room. Now.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “Daddy Dearest is here?”
Giles sniffed, a motion that showed off the thin nostrils of his overlong nose. “Obviously.”
“Yes, I’ll be right down.” Amelia closed the door and began pacing the floor. My heart went out to her. “I haven’t seen the Vicomte in years. What could he want?” She kept her voice so quiet I could hardly hear her. “Do you think he knows what we’re looking for?”
“I don’t think so, Amelia,” I whispered. “If he knew, then the Vicomte would have sent guards, not come himself. Most likely, he’s here for another purpose.”
Amelia and I shared a glance. I thought back to our conversation with the Marchioness.
The Vicomte wants to sell Amelia off in marriage.
Philippe’s charming face turned stony. “Whatever your Daddy Dearest has planned, it won’t be good. And I won’t let him get away with it.”
“Don’t be rash, Philippe. You know how he hates you already.” Amelia turned to me. “Can you do anything to help?” Her gaze landed pointedly on my left hand. “Make him forget why he came here?”
I shook my head. “He’s sure to have Fantomes nearby.” I stepped closer and spoke in a whisper. “And if I’m to reveal myself, it must be for a higher purpose. Don’t forget what we’re working toward.” It was on the tip of my tongue to describe my vision of Ada and Veronique. Amelia needed to understand how horrible things really were for our friends. I’d held off before because she had such a sensitive nature. But now?
Amelia stared at the tapestry for a long minute before speaking again. “You’re right. I can’t forget Veronique.”
“Veronique.” Philippe folded his arms over his chest. “What a waste to try to help that one.”
Amelia raised her chin. “We’re not having this discussion again, Philippe.”
I stepped closer to Philippe and spoke in a gentle voice. “It’s more than Veronique, you know.”
Philippe rubbed his neck in a nervous rhythm. “I know.” His carefree face became lined with worry. “I don’t like the idea of you risking yourself, Amelia.”
“Thank you. I’ll be fine. Elea will be with me.”
I took a half step backward. “I’m not at all sure I should accompany you.”
Amelia grasped my arm. “He won’t recognize you, I swear.” Her fingers trembled against my skin. “And you’re so powerful. I’d feel better with you at my side.”
“He’ll recognize me. I sent the Tsar into exile.”
She rolled her eyes. “You saw him for a day. I’ve known the man all my life. If we dress you as a Royal, he won’t look at you twice.”
I shot Philippe a questioning look. Amelia had said this before, but I still wasn’t sure. “Is this true?”
“Certainly,” said Philippe. “Women rank about the same level as furniture in the Vicomte’s world. Royal women even less so. If you’re perfumed and dressed up like a little doll, he’ll never recognize you.”
“See?” Amelia gripped my arm even tighter. “You have to join me.”
I didn’t like this. However, if my presence calmed Amelia, it was probably for the best. A worried Amelia could say or do anything. “I will.”
She sighed. “Thank you.”