The prince of pleasure

Chapter Sixteen

Paris, May 1814

Julienne remembered nothing of Paris, since she had only visited it as a very young child. But Solange Brogard, who accompanied them, knew the city well.

At the moment, Paris was bursting to the seams, not only with the occupying armies, but with Royalists determined to be present for the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy. Louis XVIII had returned several weeks before to lay claim to the throne, and with him had come a multitude of aristocratic emigres eager for restitution and revenge.

Many of London's elite had flocked to Paris as well, to indulge in long-denied pleasures-chic fashions, delectable food, superb wines, and elegant wickedness. As a consequence, the Marquess of Wolverton's party blended in well.

They took rooms at a luxurious hotel on the Rue de Clichy, near the center of the social whirl. Philip Barton thought it wiser to lodge at a different hotel, but they arranged to meet regularly in hopes of untangling the deadly web of intrigue that Caliban had spun.

They had not confided fully in Solange, merely sketched some vague suspicions regarding a possible traitor they were investigating. But Julienne had argued for the Frenchwoman's inclusion in their trip to France. It would appear more natural if Solange acted as her chaperone as she had on past trips with Dare. And Julienne knew her friend could be trusted completely.

During the journey to Paris, Julienne had been glad for both Solange's and Philip Barton's company, for their presence provided her a distraction and gave her less time to think about her own future with Dare.

Now that the demons of her past had been exorcised, she would have to consider how to proceed. Her defenses against Dare had grown perilously thin. And actress or no, she was finding it more and more difficult to maintain her facade of indifference. Her longing for him was becoming a torture.

She had no doubt that continuing their current affair was the certain path to heartache. If she allowed herself to love Dare again, the hurt would be even more agonizing when he moved on than before. She would be totally, eternally lost. And he was certain to move on.

The truth was, they had no future together. Not one she could bear. There was only one accepted relationship for a notorious actress and a nobleman of Dare's exalted rank, no matter how infamous his reputation.

But she would never agree to become his mistress when such intimacy would only imperil her heart further. Nor would she accept whatever charity he might deign to dispense. His conscience, Julienne suspected, would dictate that he make some sort of amends for the misery his grandfather had inflicted upon her. But Dare didn't owe her anything, even if he held himself partially to blame.

Admittedly it had surprised her when he'd responded so violently to her assault-that he had been willing to kill Ivers to avenge her. But she couldn't put much stock in Dare's reaction when he could be acting out of wounded pride or male jealousy or simple possessiveness.

No. When their search for Caliban was over, Julienne knew, she would have to extricate herself somehow. It would be better to end their relationship cleanly and swiftly. She had already allowed herself to become far too vulnerable.

Indeed, perhaps it had been foolish to come with Dare to France, despite her eagerness to clear her name. It was possible he didn't need her help to expose Caliban. Dare was no longer the devil-may-care rogue she had once known. There was a hardness to him now. A purpose and determination that boded ill for his enemies. She had no doubt that he was prepared to risk his life in pursuit of a deadly traitor.

They saw no immediate sign of Martin Perrine, however. It was not until their third day in Paris when Philip Barton spied him at the British embassy, where most of the English gentlemen in the city gathered from time to time.

"Perrine is billeting with Lord Aberdeen in a hired town house," Barton informed them.

"We will have to arrange to encounter him," Dare replied. "And we must make it look as natural as possible."

They had no difficulty finding social opportunities. The Prince of Pleasure was much sought after, as was Solange Brogard. From the moment of their arrival they were showered with invitations for a profusion of dinners, balls, receptions, and salons.

Although Julienne was included in the invitations, she knew she would forever be relegated to the fringes of society. The fashionable English set tolerated her only because she was Dare's guest. And the French aristocracy was only slightly more forgiving. She was the daughter of the late Compte de Folmont, and in France that meant something. Even so, she would always be disdained because of her profession.

Of Lord Castlereagh they saw nothing during the first few days, for he was closeted in conference with the most powerful leaders of Europe-Tzar Alexander of Russia, King Frederick William of Prussia, Chancellor Metternich of Austria, along with French foreign minister Talleyrand-negotiating terms of peace.

"Castlereagh's absence from the public eye," Dare remarked to Julienne, "is actually fortunate, since his habits are well known. Normally he makes daily visits to the baths at the Bain Chinois so he can nap, rumor has it. He's said to be so fatigued by the affairs needing his attention that he can't sleep at night and so spends most of his time there dozing. And his favorite promenade is the gallery of the Palais Royal. If Caliban is targeting him for assassination, the Palais would be a prime location. That may be the most likely place to find Perrine."

The Palais Royal, Julienne learned shortly, was a massive amusement center where every vice and pleasure could be found. The tamer offerings included gardens and galleries of shops-jewelers, milliners, modistes-as well as numerous cafes and restaurants.

Above were apartments to let. But it was the gambling hells and brothels that made the Palais a center of dissipation and depravity. The evening entertainments, Dare said, rivaled London's most scandalous.

It was there during their fifth afternoon in Paris, as Julienne strolled the arcaded pavements with Dare and Solange, that she first spied Lord Castlereagh. The foreign secretary was plainly dressed in a blue coat and hardly looked like a man of such enormous power. His entire posture was solemn and weary, as if he truly did have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He wasn't alone, Julienne noted. Two British soldiers walked a discreet distance behind him.

"Are those his bodyguards?" she asked Dare.

"I expect so. And it seems we may have guessed correctly. Our friend Martin Perrine is sitting at the next cafe, with a clear view of the gardens. Shall we see what he is up to?" he asked, steering the two ladies on his arms in Perrine's direction.

Julienne had to look twice to recognize the nondescript fellow sitting at a table at the open-air cafe. With his brown hair, average build, and modest attire, he would easily disappear into a crowd.

As they passed Perrine's table, Dare pretended not to notice him, but Julienne paused, flashing a brilliant smile. "Why, Mr. Perrine, is that you? How delightful to see you here."

Perrine rose politely and bowed to her, then Dare. "Miss Laurent, Lord Wolverton…" He gave Solange a quizzical glance.

"May I present Madame Brogard?" Julienne said easily. When the niceties were observed, she added, "It is so comforting to see a friendly face. May we join you? Darling," she said to Dare, "will you be so good as to order me some wine? I declare I am parched."

Dare looked appropriately reluctant, but he did as she bid, raising a hand to summon a waiter.

"What brings you to Paris, Miss Laurent?" Perrine asked in an idle tone as she settled in the chair next to him.

Julienne held out her arm smugly, flashing the diamond bracelet Dare had just purchased for her. "Lord Wolverton has been extremely generous, but I hope he will be even more so. You may know that my father was a noble…" She told Perrine of her desire to recover the Folmont estates. "I have asked Dare to visit the south of France with me, but he says it is too dangerous just now to travel." Julienne pasted a slight pout on her lips. "I told him we can hire outriders to protect us from bandits-"

Just then Solange was hailed by friends, and Dare's attention became occupied with greeting them.

"I must speak with you in private," Julienne murmured under her breath to Perrine. "Can you meet me?"

His brows drew together sharply, and he studied her for a long moment, his eyes showing a momentary flash of the keen intelligence that was attributed to the cunning Caliban.

Then he gave a shy smile. "I am at your command, Miss Laurent, of course."

"Then come to the Hotel Clichy for tea tomorrow at four," Julienne whispered. "Dare will be gone by then- Do tell me what brings you to Paris, Mr. Perrine," she added when Dare turned back to her.

He launched into a story about Lord Aberdeen, the British ambassador to Austria, who was a close friend and who had invited him to participate in the historic marking of the liberation of Europe.

Solange and Dare joined the conversation then, leaving Julienne little to say. But a half hour later, as they prepared to leave, she gave Martin Perrine a meaningful glance. "It was delightful to see you again, Mr. Perrine. I hope we may meet again very shortly."

"That would please me a great deal," he replied in his usual unprepossessing tone.

Later that night, after a ball given at the British embassy by Sir Charles Stewart, the popular English ambassador to France, they met with Philip Barton to discuss various contingencies of their plan. Dare severely disliked the thought of Julienne meeting alone with Perrine, but she reminded him that she had her knife for protection, adding that she doubted Perrine would do anything to harm her just yet, since he was obviously curious about what she had to say.

In the morning Solange left the hotel to spend the day with friends. Julienne engaged a private parlor for the afternoon and arranged for tea to be served. In the event that Perrine was watching, Dare planned to make a show of leaving the hotel early in the afternoon but return shortly through the back entrance. He and Philip Barton would be in the adjoining room in case of trouble.

Martin Perrine arrived punctually and was shown up to the private parlor where Julienne awaited him.

"You must be wondering why I asked to speak to you," she said as she poured his tea.

Mr. Perrine gave a shy smile. "I confess to a great curiosity, Miss Laurent."

"Actually, I thought to warn you." Pausing to let her remark sink in, Julienne stared thoughtfully at her guest. "Wolverton has been trying to discover the identity of a cunning traitor who goes by the name Lord Caliban."

The puzzled look on Perrine's face would have done justice to the best actors of her acquaintance, Julienne thought. "What does that have to do with me?"

She passed his cup across the table to him. "He thinks you might be this Caliban, or at least that you know his true identity."

"I, a traitor? Whatever gave him such a notion?"

"You were once in possession of a ring that was known to belong to Caliban."

"Indeed?" Perrine murmured, lifting an eyebrow.

"The Earl of Ivers was arrested last week," Julienne added evenly. "He implicated you."

Not so much by a blink of an eye did Perrine exhibit any emotion that could be considered distress. "I own myself astonished that Ivers would make up such tales. He owes me a large sum of money. Perhaps he thinks to cause trouble for me so he can avoid having to settle his debts. If he impugns my honor, then my power to collect will be lessened."

Julienne feigned a frown. "Wolverton was extremely suspicious to find you in Paris. He thinks your connection to Caliban may have brought you here."

"I came," Perrine replied easily, "because my good friend Ambassador Aberdeen invited me to partake of the festivities. Not because I am engaged in treason- or because I know of anyone who might be a traitor." His mouth curved in an amused smile. "It does make me wonder, however, why a libertine like Wolverton would be hunting this traitor."

Her own mouth twisting cynically, Julienne nodded. "It does seem absurd, I know, but he is acting for a friend who was badly harmed by Caliban."

Reaching for an almond biscuit, Perrine remarked in a bland tone, "Even if I were this traitor you speak of, I could hardly wish to own it, would I?"

She leaned forward, giving him an earnest look. "It makes no difference to me, one way or the other. England is not my country, and I don't give a fig for politics."

"You seem to be very fond of Wolverton."

Julienne shook her head, injecting scorn into her tone. "That is mere pretense, I assure you. I've had to make a public show of interest because of our wager. But I will never become his mistress."

Perrine chewed thoughtfully for a long moment. "So why did you decide to ?warn' me, Miss Laurent?"

"Because I hoped you knew Caliban." Averting her gaze, she let her lower lip tremble. "It isn't common knowledge but, I have an… unsavory history with Wolverton. Seven years ago, his grandfather accused me of treason and ruined my life."

"And were you guilty?"

"No, not at all." Julienne took a deep breath. She had decided to stick close to the truth, in the event that Ivers had revealed her past to Perrine. And because the truth would give her stronger motivation to want to hurt Dare.

"I might have been able to fight those charges, but his grandfather hired Ivers to… to violate me." She bit her lip, letting her eyes fill with tears. "Dare not only did nothing to stop him, but he cast me aside afterward… because I was soiled goods."

"So you want revenge?"

Julienne looked up sharply, letting hatred show in her shimmering eyes. "Precisely. I want Wolverton to pay. I want his heart on a platter… literally. I was glad to see Ivers go to prison. I hope he hangs for his crimes. I want him dead for what he did to me. But it won't be enough. I want Wolverton to suffer as well."

Wiping her eyes, she made a visible effort to compose herself. "If you truly know who Caliban is, I thought… I hoped to hire him to rid me of Lord Wolverton." Julienne twisted her fingers in her lap. "Our journey to the south of France would be a prime opportunity. If our coach were to be set upon by bandits, Wolverton could be mortally wounded while defending me."

"But why can you not hire your own bandits?" Perrine asked.

"I suppose I could try. But I wouldn't know where to begin. And I want no suspicion to fall on me. I must be particularly careful, since my friend Madame Brogard will be accompanying us."

"I believe you said Wolverton was planning to buy the Folmont estates for you. I should think you would prefer to wait until after the transaction is completed to be rid of him."

"No," Julienne replied adamantly. "I merely used that as an excuse to get Wolverton away from England, where it should be easier to accomplish my goal. Recovering my father's properties isn't as important to me as finally giving Wolverton his just desserts. And to be perfectly frank"-she flashed him a smile that was a trifle flirtatious-"I have faith in my charms, Mr. Perrine. I'm certain I can find another wealthy patron who will purchase the estates for me."

Holding out her hand, she took Perrine's cup from him and refilled it, then passed it back to him. "I suppose the method of Wolverton's demise doesn't really matter. It doesn't have to be bandits. He could meet with an accident on the Paris streets."

Perrine was silent for a moment longer. "I'm sorry, Miss Laurent. I don't know this Caliban you speak of."

Her shoulders slumped in discouragement. "Even so… do you think you might help me? As a man, you can make discreet inquiries with much more freedom than I." She gave him a pleading look. "I understand your purse is not as full as you would like, Mr. Perrine. I would be willing to pay you well. Wolverton has given me several costly pieces of jewelry recently. You can have those, or whatever else you ask."

"I am not a murderer, Miss Laurent."

"No, of course not. But I hoped…" She looked crestfallen. "Then you won't help me?"

"I didn't say that. I might be able to put you in contact with someone who could meet your needs. I will make some inquiries if you like."

Julienne's smile turned brilliant. "Thank you, Mr. Perrine. I would be very grateful."

After a few moments more of inconsequential conversation, Perrine rose and took his leave. Julienne watched from the parlor window as he mounted his horse in the yard below. Then she went to the connecting door and admitted Dare and Philip Barton.

"I'm not certain I made any progress," Julienne said after telling them the details of her discussion with Perrine. "He repeatedly denied even knowing Caliban. Certainly he didn't trust me enough to confide any secrets to me. But I think I convinced him that I want you out of the way. He said he could perhaps find someone to help me and that he would contact me in a few days."

A muscle flexed in Dare's jaw. "Then we will just have to wait," he said, visibly clamping down on his impatience.

It was the following day that the First Peace of Paris was signed between the Allied Powers and France. The terms of the treaty were exceedingly lenient. The boundaries of France were to be returned to those before the Revolution. And France would not be required to pay restitution for the vast sums it had cost the countries of Europe to prosecute all the years of war.

The Bourbon restoration was to begin officially the following week, on June fourth, with a public celebration planned to commemorate the event. Dare and Solange both received invitations to watch Louis XVIII resume the throne.

They heard nothing from Perrine until the day before the celebration. His brief note to Julienne said merely: I made the inquires you requested of me. Meet me at the Tuileries Palace tomorrow during the festivities if you wish to discuss further.

"Tomorrow is a likely time for Caliban to strike," Dare observed during their daily consultation with Philip Barton. "Until now, Castlereagh has been carefully guarded, but he will be more vulnerable during a public event."

Philip concurred. "Caliban could be planning to use the crowds to create a distraction. And if Perrine is the traitor, he is no doubt counting on his friend Lord Aberdeen to help him gain entree to Castlereagh's inner circle. We will have to make certain the foreign secretary is closely protected tomorrow."

"And yet we want Caliban to show his hand. Our best hope is to catch him in the act while keeping Castlereagh safe."

"I will ensure," Philip said, "that his lordship is surrounded with an additional score of guards in disguise, the better to fool Caliban."

Julienne asked a question that had been bothering her. "Why do you suppose Perrine wants to see me specifically at the festivities? He must know I will accompany you, Dare. If he is planning an assassination, he would not want you present to witness it."

"I don't know," Dare replied. "But I don't like it."

"Perhaps," Philip said, "he truly isn't Caliban, and tomorrow's celebration will simply provide him a convenient place to meet with Miss Laurent."

They all three fell silent, thinking similar thoughts, Julienne suspected. By this time tomorrow, it might all be over. They could have brought a criminal mastermind to justice. Or they could have witnessed the assassination of one of Europe's greatest men. Either way, the situation was fraught with danger.

When Barton had gone, Dare gave Julienne a brooding look. "I will come to you tonight."

She lowered her gaze, and yet she nodded. They had not been intimate since the night Dare had learned the dark truth about her past and taken his revenge on Ivers. But this could be their last chance. Caliban's deadliness was unquestioned, with murder a chief weapon in his cunning arsenal of tricks. It was possible that she or Dare would not survive the morrow.

She didn't want to go to her grave without being with Dare once more, without feeling his touch, the ecstasy of his caresses. After that, however…

Regardless of what happened, Julienne was determined that tonight would be their last night together. If they survived, she intended to find a way to say good-bye.

When he came to her that night, she was waiting by the window, gazing out at the moonlit streets of Paris, the heaviness in her chest a tangle of sorrow and fear. She felt Dare move silently behind her, felt his arms slip around her waist.

Julienne leaned back full against him. She didn't want tomorrow to come. Didn't want to face the future. When they parted, she would be left alone, nursing her terrible ache for him. Her breath caught on a surge of yearning so intense it felt like pain.

His hushed whisper brushed her ear: "I want this night to last."

So did she. She needed this final night with him. She would take the memory with her, to sustain her during the long, empty years that she would have to live without him. The thought brought scalding tears to the inside of her eyelids.

She swallowed hard, refusing to surrender to despair. Tonight she would pretend they were young lovers again, that the enchantment of their love had never ended. Their passion would be just like it once was: simple, pure, intense.

As if he shared the same feeling, Dare pressed his lips to the exposed curve of her neck, his touch hot and tender. It wasn't the fiery caress he usually used to seduce and inflame her; this had a poignancy that went directly to her heart. Julienne arched backward in mute appeal. She wanted Dare so desperately. She wanted to fill herself with him.

His long fingers cupped her jaw and slowly turned her face to his. His features were tight with emotion, as she knew hers were.

Julienne drank in the sight of him, committing him to memory. The moonlight illuminated the flaring elegance of his cheekbones, gilded his hair. He was such a beautiful man, she thought, surveying the aristocratic angles of his face.

"Julienne…"

He started to speak but she pressed her fingers to his sensual lips. "Just make love to me."

He obliged her at once. His mouth descended to hers with throat-tightening gentleness, dredging a sigh from deep in Julienne. For this moment, there was no past, no future.

They undressed each other without haste, taking their time, their hands searching each other with silent hunger. Her heart beat in a slow, heavy cadence when they both stood naked.

Then Dare kissed her again. He drank from her mouth as if he could absorb her, and the knot of tension in her stomach pressed up into her chest and turned searing. She arched against him, craving for his hands to soothe the aching fullness of her breasts.

His drugging, demanding kiss continued while the rhythm of his hands became urgent. Julienne felt passion rising powerfully from deep inside her as he roused her.

"Please," she whispered as his mouth left hers to trace a burning path down the side of her throat.

Needing no further invitation, he took her hand and led her to the bed. Laying her down, he followed with his body, his manhood, rigid and needy, settling intimately in the cradle of her femininity.

Julienne met his wantonly ardent gaze as he remained poised above her. Dare had made love to her many times, but never with such graveness.

Reaching up, she drew his head down to her, tasting his breath, feeling his hands cherishing her body as his thighs pressed hers wide.

He entered her with a sureness that kindled a soft cry from her, but she welcomed him eagerly, sliding her legs around his hips. Suddenly fierce, he withdrew only to surge into her again, then again. His relentless claiming threw her breathing into a series of sharp gasps, yet she responded with his same intensity.

Their lips met bruisingly in a fevered urgency as his body enveloped her, covered her. They clung to each other as the burning need built, holding on with a tight, quiet desperation. Their bodies twisted together, entwined, mating savagely, striving to become one with each other, fighting to deny anything but the primal moment.

The explosive conflagration came without warning. Julienne cried into the hollow of his shoulder as shudder after shudder shook her and swept Dare along with her.

When it was over, they lay gasping for breath, the sweat cooling on their overheated bodies. Julienne felt her eyes sting with fresh tears. That had been their deepest bonding, and the power of it made her heart ache. She wondered if Dare had felt the same way.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing away the wrenching thought, vowing not to cry.

It was a long moment before Dare eased his weight from her and gazed down at Julienne's passion-flushed face. She lay naked, shimmering with moonlight, her hair spread upon the pillow, flowing like dark silk.

Desire poured through him, filled him. A feeling so strong it was pain. And yet his yearning for her was edged with fear.

He gathered her in his arms, cradling her so she was cupped in his body. There had been something different about her passion tonight. He didn't understand the whisper of sadness in her eyes, but it disturbed him even more than his fear of the danger she might face on the morrow.

He didn't want her risking her life to deal with Caliban. His heart clamored with the need to keep her safe, to hold and cherish her forever. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. Not when he loved her so fervently.

Love. The emotion he'd denied needing the past seven years abruptly swamped him. What a fool he'd been to think he could ever live without her.

He had been only half a man without her, a hollow shell. Julienne completed him-he knew that now. She filled the emptiness inside him. She had dispelled the barrenness in the dark, hidden recesses of his heart and made him feel whole. Making love to her had been like finding the missing pieces of himself.

He wanted Julienne to be part of him for the rest of his days.

Dare's breath caught in a hard knot in his throat. What he wanted might not matter. He hadn't earned the right to have Julienne love him. He didn't deserve her-he knew that better than anyone. He wasn't worthy of her.

But he could change. He could prove himself worthy.

And he would, Dare vowed solemnly. When this was all over, he would win Julienne's love, even if it took his last breath.