Chapter 12
Davien found Cosette in their chamber. She had her arms crossed and was pacing the floor, absolutely furious.
The moment she heard him enter, she spun on him. “Do you have a mistress in every city in Europe then?” She stamped her foot. “I won’t stand for it. Do you hear me? I won’t be a party to your scandalous escapades while I am besieged by—” She snapped her mouth closed.
Davien had been fully prepared to explain who the woman he’d met with was, when something she said stopped him. He frowned warily. “Has something happened?”
She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. “Why should I tell you? After what I just witnessed, it’s not as if you truly care.”
A deep growl rose up within Davien’s chest, giving way for the arrival of the beast. Apparently, it was done slumbering.
Whenever Davien allowed his desire for Cosette to break free, or his anger was riled, that inner demon began to stir. It was the only reason he’d continued to remain infuriatingly polite with Cosette for the past week, because as long as the beast was asleep, he started to feel almost . . . normal.
But as the beast within grew and bristled, he knew that time had come to an end. Since he was once again reunited with his darker half, there was no use in pretending that they were anything else but one entity. “How quickly you are to think the worst of us, dear Cosette, rambling on like a deranged fishmonger’s jealous wife,” he drawled, as the shadows around him grew and lengthened. Instantly, her eyes widened. “Perhaps I should offer her the position if I am to be accused of it.”
He meandered around the room. “Then again, I shouldn’t think that the Duc de Chartres would appreciate it if I seduced his mistress right in front of him when he was so graciously inclined to extend an invitation to us this evening in order to watch her perform. After all, it’s best to check every possibility the locket might lead us to.”
He wasn’t even looking at Cosette, but he could tell in the silence that followed his pronouncement that he had her at a loss for words. He allowed a small smile to grace his features before he turned to face her. As suspected, her cheeks were high with color, the aftereffects of her anger, but it was the way she was biting her lip that spoke of her chagrin.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me about your vision?”
She visibly swallowed. “It was the same voice. It told me that as long as you were . . . alive that we couldn’t be together, and that it couldn’t teach me the old ways that were my birthright.”
He tapped a finger against his chin. “Very intriguing.” He dropped his hand to his side. “We shall think on this and see you downstairs in a couple hours. Wear something . . . fashionable. We are in Paris, after all.”
~ ~ ~
Cosette sagged against the bedpost when Davien departed. She had forgotten just how fearsome the beast was when he was ruling the duke’s human form. Strange, but she’d almost missed that side of Blackburn, for it not only unnerved her, but—dare she admit it?—excited her as well.
Dear God, was she truly so deprived that she entertained dark fantasies about . . .
She shook her head. She refused to even finish that thought.
Instead, she went over to the wardrobe and began to rummage through all the fine materials at her disposal. If possible, there seemed to be even more dresses than before.
Then, as if being led by an unseen force, her hand touched the sleeve of a gown in silver satin. She slowly brought it forth, nearly hypnotized by the shimmering material, as if it glowed with a light all its own. It had a sack-back design, the hips only slightly flared. It would require panniers, and although Cosette had never worn them before, as it wasn’t a necessary requirement for the workhouse, nor was it something she chose to wear at Shadowlawn, she pulled out the undergarment now.
She was still inspecting them when a soft knock came at the door, followed by the arrival of a woman in servant attire. The maid bobbed a slight curtsy as she entered. “’Ello, Mademoiselle. I was sent to help you get ready for this evening. You are excited, no?”
Cosette had never asked anyone to help with her clothing, and yet she’d never had any reason to need assistance before. But considering the pile of linens that were starting to litter the bed, she knew that, at least for tonight, she would.
How else was she to make an impression otherwise?
“I’d like a bath first, if that’s possible.”
The maid nodded. “Of course. And afterward, I shall fix your hair in the latest style.”
Cosette’s mind started to whirl as several images came to mind. “And perhaps a bit of face powder?”
“Naturally.” The girl grinned conspiratorially. “You wouldn’t be in France without a bit of adornment.”
~ ~ ~
Exactly two hours later, the moment the clock struck eight, Cosette was walking down the stairs. Her silver pumps with their diamond buckles peeked out from beneath the hem of her skirts with each step she took. Her gown caught the light around her and cast prisms along the gold wallpaper. Her only adornments were a pair of diamond, silver drop earrings—along with her silver locket.
Her dark hair was lightly powdered and piled atop her head in an elegant design of curls, an array of white ostrich feathers peeking up behind the coiffure. Her face was also powered, but it only caused the small bit of red rouge that covered her lips and cheeks to stand out. A false mole in the shape of a heart adorned the right side of her mouth and completed her ensemble.
When she’d caught the first glimpse of her reflection in the looking glass, Cosette hadn’t even dared to imagine that she was the same woman who had arrived earlier that day. The outward difference was remarkable, for the timid woman from England had been left behind, and replaced with a confident, well-to-do lady from Paris.
