After everyone had eaten and the poor Chancellor had said his goodnights, flustered as a pigeon with all the various forms of nobility and prisoners in his town and his home, the house was silent. Philippe sat alone in the drawing room, writing out a few last notes before making his next move. He wanted to get to Alex but was still weary and didn’t feel like he could take another round of rejection after everything they had been through that day. He was at least thankful for the quiet, which allowed him to think out just what he would say.
But the resting night was destroyed before it began.
The clock had just struck ten, when a horrible ruckus hit the great hall. Philippe shot out of his seat, grabbed his sword and hit the ground running. When he reached the front room, he saw that Alex had the same idea, along with Michel and much of the house staff. Philippe quickly realized what the commotion was and saw that, for once, no one was in any danger.
Emily stood in the center of the space, screaming her head off as the frantic butler tried to quiet her.
“He is my husband!” she cried. “I have every right to see him!”
Philippe watched as Alex rushed over to her. Emily collapsed into her friend’s arms. Philippe stomped over to the butler.
“Let her see him,” he said.
“But he is under arrest, My Lord!” the man said with a disconcerted bow. “The Chancellor was very strict about not allowing anyone in his room.”
“Well, I put him under arrest so I will dictate the terms.” Philippe turned to Alex. “Take her to his room. I will join you momentarily.”
Alex nodded and led the sobbing Emily down the hall.
The butler looked at him contritely, and Philippe spoke to calm him. “Good sir. I appreciate your attention to the situation, but as it were, I have little fear that the Marquis can escape through contact with his wife.”
Michel spoke then, “I will speak with the Chancellor if this makes trouble for you.”
The butler pressed his lips together and nodded in compliance.
Philippe marched through the hallways with Michel behind him. They entered the dimly lit room where the Marquis was being held. He was a sight, wrapped in bandages and moaning like a wounded animal. Emily stood over her husband, looking stricken. Alex stood in the corner.
No one spoke for a moment while the husband looked pitifully at his wife.
Michel ended the silence. “I know this must be difficult for you, Lady Marquise, but?—”
Emily raised her hand to cut Michel off. She remained staring at her husband. “Etienne,” she said to him. “Etienne, I hoped, Ireallyhoped, it wasn’t you.”
“Me?” cried the Marquis, “I was manipulated by Girard Giroux,” he said. “He wanted to control the assets for himself!”
“Lies!” she cried, seething. “I searched for every possible outcome that didn’t place you at the head of this debacle,” she said. “Do you know what this will do to our family? Our people?”
“Mon choupette,you must believe me. It was not at my hand!”
Emily fumed. She looked as though she would attack him and, for a moment, Philippe thought he would need to restrain her, but she took a breath to calm herself before continuing.
“I thought perhaps this game would fizzle out,” she said. “But I realized you had really lost it this time. Do you know, Etienne, what it is like to make a decision between your husband and your country? I had sworn my loyalty to you. But am I more a wife than I am a marquise?” She thundered at him. “Do I let my husband profit at the detriment of the people we are bound to protect? Do you understand what you put me through?”
“I have only ever wanted the best for you,” he said, pleadingly.
“No,” she said as she whacked his knee with a flick of her wrist. The Marquis moaned woefully, but Emily continued. “You want the best for you,” she said. “Do not blame your tastes on me.” She took another breath to calm herself. “Etienne, you must know.” She paused. “I wrote to the Duke. Shortly after I received news that the man was beheaded.” She looked at Philippe. “Maurice,” she said the name of the fallen soldier solemnly. “I’m sorry this escalated to such violence. I tried to intervene, but I was too late.”
Philippe turned from her to Michel forconfirmation.
Michel nodded. “It’s true,” he said. “We received her communication moments before I departed.”
“You betray me to the Duke?” the Marquis said, his own anger resurfacing. He winced as he struggled to push himself up in the bed.
Emily straightened her dress and stood tall. “I merely stated that if anyone in my household—” she paused to clarify, “anyonein my household—were in line with the raids, that it was in isolation and did not reflect the dealings of Ponce.” She stared daggers at her husband. “And that when found, the Duke would have my full support in that person’s arrest.”
Michel interjected. “Between her letter, and yours, Philippe, we were fairly certain of our culprit at that point.”
Philippe folded his arms and leaned back, impressed with Emily’s conviction.
