The smile froze on her face. “I thought I was to useany means,” she threw back at him. Before he could reply, she continued, “Since we’re on the subject of cloaks and daggers, I feel somewhat obliged to tell you that I saw Villefranche engaged in a rather heated discussion with my Uncle—”
“Bertie,” Nick finished for her.
“Of course, this isn’t news to you. Who in my family isn’t involved in your spy intrigues?”
It dawned on him that something was wrong. How was it possible?
They’d been about to confess their love for one another this afternoon. Now she acted as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him. His sense of balance shifted away. “What happened between this afternoon and now? This afternoon we—”
“We?” she cut in, her voice a shard of mockery. “There is nowe. There never was.”
Nick felt winded as if he’d been gut punched. He moved closer to her. He wouldn’t leave her side until they sorted this out.
A sudden and cacophonous tapping of metal against glass rang out and demanded everyone’s attention. An expectant silence descended as the collective gaze swung toward the raised dais where the Duc d’Artois sat, coolly staring out across the garden. A frustrated Nick had no choice but to wait.
A courtier stepped forward, a grave expression on his face, and proclaimed, “Le roi est mort, vive le roi!”
In unison, the gathered sank into low curtsies before their new monarch, the man who would be crowned Charles X.
Mariana finished off the last of her champagne in a single swallow. “Actors take your places.”
“Hang the assassination plot,” Nick found himself not only saying, but also meaning with every ounce of his being. “You and I are—”
“Far less important than the fate of two nations, correct?”
“Not even close.” His fingers wrapped around her arm when she made to step away. Her eyes flashed fire over her shoulder, and his stomach sank.
“You must do as you will. Just as I must.” She shook off his hand and fled toward the dais to set the plan into motion.
He’d been delivered a message in no uncertain terms. His suspicions coalesced into a fully formed conclusion, unavoidable: something was again broken between them.
This line of thought was interrupted when Percy, in the guise of a ubiquitous, faceless server, caught his eye. Nick’s feet sprang into motion. He located Mariana in time to see her barrel into the new king of France. The startled smile lighting up her face combined a flawless mixture of vacuity, sheepishness, and awe. He couldn’t resist a swell of pride, even as the prickle of anxiety remained constant. He must focus on the task at hand and see this night through. Mariana must come later.
His feet accelerated into a light sprint as he and Percy converged on the fringe of the crowd just rising from their deep curtsies and bows. Their footsteps fell into a unified rhythm as they rushed toward the same destination: the Comte de Villefranche.
“Get Villefranche out of here,” Nick spoke under his breath.
“For how long?” Percy asked.
“Tonight, at the very least. A few days would be ideal.”
“Consider it done.”
“Your cover will be blown,” Nick continued. “It is only a matter of time before Montfort knows that you are alive. Perhaps it is time for you to go home, too.”
“Perhaps,” Percy allowed, his tone indicating the opposite. Percy would follow his own path. “But Nick,” he continued, “we must discuss your wife.”
“Now isn’t the time.” Eyes trained on Villefranche some twenty yards away, Nick didn’t want to halt their forward momentum.
“There is something you must know,” Percy pressed.
“Not now, Bretagne,” Nick snapped. They were so close. Villefranche was in his sights, and nothing short of a force of nature would stop him from completing this mission.
As he and Percy closed in, Villefranche’s body shifted and visibly tensed. The inevitable was striding toward him, and there was no avoiding it.
Villefranche’s gaze met Nick’s for a fleeting second before the man excused himself from his guests and beat a hasty retreat to a nearby dark passageway. Percy, then Nick, followed. Nick took one last backward glance, his senses on the alert for a trap. Perceiving nothing untoward, he slipped into the shadows.
The three men standing in a close, uneasy triangle, Nick spoke first. “The assassination won’t be happening tonight. Your new king only awaits his crown.”
