The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

Dare gave his friend a dark glance. "Would you allow Brynn to risk her life that way?"

Lucian smiled faintly, his eyes softening in reflection. "I don't think I could stop her if she thought she could help end Caliban's reign of terror. Last fall he put a death sentence on her brother's head, and Gray will never be safe until Caliban is dead."

"I want to do this, Dare," Julienne repeated. "And my going could provide you an excuse to be there yourself."

He ground his teeth but, after a moment, responded with reluctance. "What excuse?"

"We could say that I am eager to regain my late father's estates in Languedoc, and that I have demanded that you buy them back for me if you ever expect me to become your mistress."

"So that brings us to France. What of your scheme?"

"Perrine is aware of our wager and knows that I don't want to lose, but he doesn't know the reason for our animosity. If we find him in Paris, I can claim that I want revenge against you for spurning me all those years ago and ask him to help me be rid of you."

"And in exchange," Dare said slowly, "you will offer to aid him in getting rid of Castlereagh?"

"Yes. And if I can gain his confidence, perhaps I can discover something of his plan to kill Lord Castlereagh."

"It has possibilities," Lucian said, deep in thought.

Roughly Dare raked a hand through his hair. He wanted to refute Julienne's plan. He wanted to keep her safe and protected. But his own personal wishes mattered little compared to the present stakes.

"Very well," he said grimly. "We'll go to France together. I presume we should leave as soon as possible," he said to Lucian. "Perrine already has more than a day's head start."

Lucian nodded. "We'll meet with Philip Barton this afternoon and work on the details. Meanwhile you should both read the dossier on Perrine and pack your bags for a journey to Paris."

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.