A Midnight Dance (30 page)

Leon stepped back. He was not as broad-shouldered, not as devastatingly handsome as Jules, but he did have features that were definitely appealing. Looking into his dark brown eyes, she was embarrassed by her inability to repay him; she had no idea when—or even how—she’d settle the sizable debt. It was this very reason she’d postponed advising Leon of her father’s passing. It was this very reason she couldn’t ask for more, despite their need.

Once, not long ago, she’d greeted Leon wearing lovely gowns, in her family’s stately townhouse. Not in drab clothing and wooden clogs on a bleak farm.

Leon placed a soft kiss against her forehead. “Everything will be all right,” he assured her in a whisper. “Louise.” Leon turned to her and kissed her hand. “My heartfelt condolences to you as well. To you, too, Olivier.” He placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Paul Laurent was a great man. I’ve come to pay him honor in a way that is befitting to his character. He always loved joviality. I’ve brought food and wine, and we will have a fête in his memory, just as he would have wanted!”

A delighted cry rose from her family. His gesture moved her. How she wished her heart held romantic feelings for this man. It would be far better than the sentiment and esteem she’d misplaced on her Dark Prince.

“Olivier,” Leon said. “I expect to hear some music from his great composer. Now I know the pianoforte has been sold, but please tell me you still have your violin.”

“No, he does not,” Jules responded, Raymond at his side.

Leon’s head snapped up. His eyes widened. “Jules de Moutier?” He approached and stopped before Jules’s taller form. “Why, this is a surprise!” He smiled, and placed his hands on Jules’s shoulders. “I’m overjoyed to see you alive and well!”

Grasping his wrists, Jules removed Leon’s hands. “Where is your brother?”

Leon was clearly taken aback by Jules’s action and curt tone. Having never witnessed Leon lose his temper, Sabine wasn’t surprised when he responded calmly, “You haven’t heard, then?”

“Heard what?”

“Sébastien died. Three years ago.”

“
Died?
He was young. Strong.
Jésus-Christ
, my age. How did he die?”

“He’d been ill off and on for months. His stomach ailments worsened. Fever took him and . . . I lost my brother. For what it’s worth, he was most distraught over what happened to you and your family. He tried to see you many times during your detainment in prison, but could not get past the guards. On his deathbed he asked for you. I had no idea where to search.”

Grief tightened in Jules’s chest. He was suddenly ashamed of the resentment he’d harbored. He’d felt betrayed and furious at Vit for turning his back on him. And he hadn’t at all. He’d rather be angry with him still, than know Vit was gone for good. He hadn’t even been there at his bedside when his closest friend was dying.

“I’m sorry . . .” Jules said, somehow managing to force the words up his constricted throat.

“Thank you. So am I. I miss him.”

Jules looked across the field. “So do I.”

“Well, then, why don’t we have our fête in honor of Sébastien and Paul.”

“Excellent idea!” Olivier rubbed his hands together as he watched the parade of food being brought into the house by the servants.

Leon smiled. “Now, where did you say your violin is, Olivier?”

Olivier’s grin died and he glanced at Jules. “Monsieur de Moutier has it.”

All eyes turned to Jules. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t betray the depth of his devastation. “Raymond.”

“Commander?”

“Get him his violin.” Needing a moment, Jules turned and strode toward the house.

“What is it, Sabine?” Leon asked as they stood at the side of the house. In the distance, Olivier played with great fervor. The delicious smell of roasted meats sweetening the air seduced her stomach. Jules was still in the house, and Raymond had just returned inside. This was an opportune time for a private word with Leon.

Though this wasn’t the sort of conversation she wanted to have, she’d no choice. She was obliged. “I wanted to talk to you about . . . the loan.”

He looked down. “Oh. That.”

“My father borrowed a vast sum, and I want you to know I will pay it back. Somehow, I’ll find a way . . . It’s just that things are rather difficult here—”

Leon placed his fingers over her lips to still them. “Sabine, it grieves me that you learned of it. I had no intention of ever bringing the matter up. As far as I’m concerned, the debt died with your father. I’ll not take a single coin from you.”

Her eyes widened. She removed his hand. “No, Leon, it’s only right that I pay it back.”

“No, it isn’t. It was a matter between your father and me. The loan is forgiven.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Leon, are you certain . . . ?”

“I am. I refuse to take any funds from you.”

Feeling a tremendous weight lifted from her shoulders, she flung her arms around him. “Thank you!”

He chuckled. “I must say, I like your gratitude.”

She gazed up at him, unable to stop smiling.

He glanced at her mouth, his smile slowly fading. “Sabine . . .” He lowered his head.

Her arms dropped from his shoulders, and she looked away, a purely reflexive reaction that stunned her. She’d never refused his kiss before.

Leon cupped her cheeks and turned her face to his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Especially under the circumstances. That was completely inappropriate. Please forgive me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. This was exactly the sort of man she should
want
a kiss from—handsome, decent, and thoughtful. Why didn’t he stir her as ardently as . . . She arrested that thought.

“Isn’t this touching, Raymond?” Jules’s voice startled her. She jumped back away from Leon and spun around.

Jules leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. Ever-loyal Raymond flanked him.

“Very, Commander.” Raymond’s tone was flat.

Leon muttered an oath. “Moutier, your timing and manners leave something to be desired.”

“Really?” Jules shrugged. “I thought they were perfect. Raymond, escort Sabine back to the celebration. I want a word with the Baron.” Raymond moved toward her.

Leon stepped in front of her. “Sabine and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

“A
conversation
? Interesting choice of words.”

Sabine saw Leon’s body stiffen. “I know your years in social exile have probably taken their toll on you, but you have been abrasive and rude. By what authority do you command anyone here? And what, for that matter, are you bloody well doing here in the first place?”

Sabine flinched at the fury in Leon’s tone. Peeking around him, she saw Jules place a hand on the hilt of his sword. Her stomach dropped.

“This is my authority,” Jules advised. “As to what I’m doing here, that is none of your concern. Don’t inject yourself into what doesn’t involve you.”

Sabine’s heart rapped wildly. Though dueling was illegal, that didn’t stop men in the upper class. Certain as to who the victor would be, the last thing she wanted to see was Leon injured—mortally or otherwise.

She stepped around him. “It’s all right, Leon.”

“It is not all right. Why is he here, Sabine? Why does he order you about?”

“He does
not
order me about.” She moved to Jules. Only when she stood close to him could she sense the full extent of his fury. Anger emanated from him in waves. Why was he
this
angry? “There will be no dueling,” she said to Jules.

He dragged his gaze away from Leon. “If he does not provoke one, there’ll be no trouble.”

She turned to Leon. “Please, I ask you to keep your head, when he”—she glared at Jules—“cannot.”

Leon gave a nod. “You have my word. I’ll not cause you distress.”

“Thank you. I know I can always count on you, dear Leon.” She smiled.

Leon offered his smile in return.

Every soft sentence she uttered, every demonstration of affection exchanged, boiled Jules’s blood. Feelings of possessiveness were foreign to him. It infuriated him further that not only was he feeling them now, but for a woman who was unworthy of any heightened interest.

The moment she rounded the corner with Raymond, Jules said, “You have an interesting way of offering your condolences, Baron.”

“Sabine and I have known each other for many years. We have a deep affection for each other. I’ve watched her grow into the beautiful woman she is today. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her physical appeal?”

“I’ve noticed,” Jules remarked, muscles taut.

“Yes, well there is more to her than just her comeliness. She also has wonderful wit and charm.”

Other than her journal entries, Jules had never been exposed to either.
Elise
had delighted him with both. But she was a lie.

“But Sabine is an innocent,” Leon said. “I’ve kept my distance.”

Jules narrowed his eyes. He wanted to slam his fist into Leon’s lying face. “Baron, I have over the ‘years in social exile’ developed a certain oversensitivity to lies. You have
not
kept your distance. There’s been amorous contact between you in the past as well as the present. And, we both know you want more of the same.”

“Sabine is aware of my attraction to her. What of it?”

“So you came to console her by coaxing her into your bed.” It was a statement. Not a question.

“It isn’t like that. My sympathies are genuine.”

“So is your interest in fucking her.”

It was Leon’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Not that I owe you any explanations, but I sincerely want to save her from wasting away on this farm. She was born for greater things than this.”

Jules crossed his arms. “You came to propose marriage?” His comment was purposely flippant.

“We both know that’s impossible. Though a finer wife no man could have, no one in my family would ever sign a marriage contract between us. She’s impoverished, with no noble blood to speak of.”

“Then, you do intend to make her your mistress. Paul Laurent was indeed a fortunate man to have a friend like you. Here he’s not yet cold in his grave and you’re already sniffing around his daughter’s skirts. Curious, did you make your intention to ‘save her from wasting away on this farm’ known to him when he was alive?”

“You are making me out to be some kind of roué. You know it’s a far better option than what she faces here.”

Jules hated it that Leon was right. It was an offer she might very well accept. Especially if, indeed, Leon was her precious Dark Prince.

“I’ll ask her when the time is right,” Leon said. “I’ll ensure that she lives in a lifestyle befitting a lady. Why should any of this matter to you?” He studied Jules briefly. “You want her, don’t you?” Leon sauntered over to him. “Leave her be. She wouldn’t hold your interest for long. Your mistresses never do. She doesn’t need a man who’ll grow bored and discard her.”

That was just it. She had held his interest from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. And he wanted it to end.

Jules stalked away.

He wanted to stop having erotic dreams of her every night as he slept in her bed. He wanted to forget the intensity of their past sexual encounters and the connection they’d made.
Merde
, he wanted to stop obsessing over her journal and snap this fascination he had with her and the identity of the Dark Prince.

He marched up to her as she stood listening to Olivier’s music and clapping along with the rest of her family. Wrapping his fingers around her arm, he said in her ear, “We need to talk.” Her soft blond hair tickled his nose.

Without giving her a chance to protest, he walked toward the house with purposeful strides, and her in tow.

He didn’t stop until he reached his room. Shutting the door, he pressed her up against it. Her eyes widened.

He pressed his palms against the wooden barrier on either side of her head. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want the truth for a change.
Do you hear me?
”

She lifted her chin a notch. “Of course,
my lord
. Say it any louder and they’ll hear you in England.” She tossed his earlier words back at him.

He took a deep breath, striving for patience. Lord knows she tested it in the extreme.

“Who is the Dark Prince?” he asked.

Color infused her cheeks, and her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze darted to the windowsill then back to him. “You found my journals? And
read them
? How could you? They were private. You had no right!”

“Who is he?” he insisted.

“You have no decency?”

“If you’ve read them, then you know the answer. Why ask?”

“I’ve read some, and I want to know here and now: Who is the Aristo? Who’s the Dark Prince?”

He waited, willing her to say “Leon,” praying it would kill his fascination for good.