I bristled. “How could he…I can’t imagine—”
Julien rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so completely na?ve, please. It makes you look a fool.”
“Then perhaps I’m a fool,” I snapped, growing tired of Julien’s condescension.
“I don’t doubt it,” he said, ignoring my venom. “But you’re a special one, all the same. Special enough for Papa to think you worthy of his favorite son.”
My stomach flexed as I recalled the baby’s frond-like arm uncurling last night. Gerard had done something to them, had done something to Constance. There was no other explanation for their appearances. And if he’d done that to his mistress, to a set of bastard offspring he’d never be able to claim, what did he intend to do to me? What plans did he have for the Laurent line?
“What do they look like?” Viktor asked with sudden curiosity, sitting up. “The ghosts?”
I twisted my fingers into a knot, grasping them so close together the tips turned white, then bright red. There was no way of skirting out of his questions this time. They knew too much. “I don’t…I didn’t always know they were ghosts.”
Julien tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“They don’t look like what you expect them to… There’s no rattling chains or spooky mist.”
“What do they look like?” he pressed.
“Like you or me.” I held up one of my hands. “Solid, like this. Though…not always.” My hand fell back into my lap. “My whole life, I thought I was as normal as anyone else. Then I saw two of my dead sisters and…the whole truth came out, all at once.”
A flicker of understanding lit Viktor’s eyes. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You learned the truth and you ran.”
I squirmed against the tall back of the chair, wishing I could sink into its tufted depths. I hated how thoroughly these boys saw me. “My sister…the duchess…she never wanted anyone to know about my…curse.”
“Gift,” Julien corrected gently. It was the first time he’d ever bothered to soften his words and I glanced up, daring to meet his eyes.
“I couldn’t bear to stay at Highmoor, at her home. She would have kept me trapped there forever.”
Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Viktor eased off the chaise and knelt before me, settling himself so that his elbows leaned on either arm of the chair. He invaded my space, uncomfortably close, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to protest. I recalled the way his lips had moved over mine and a flush of treacherous yearning rekindled in my middle.
I glanced to Julien, pushing the thoughts away with haste, but his face remained as impassive as ever.
Viktor leaned in, dipping his head as if suddenly shy. “We’re alike, Ver. You and me and Julien. We’re all the same. Our families wanted to hide us away, pretending we don’t exist, but we do. We burn more fiercely than they could ever imagine. Will you help us?”
“Help you?” I echoed, wanting to back away, to scoot as far from the insistent pressure of his body against mine as I could and clear my head from his maddening scent of autumn leaves and bonfires and danger. But then he glanced up, pinning me in place.
“Please?”
“Help how?”
“We’re looking for papers,” Julien spoke up.
I shifted from Viktor then, arching my back into the cushion to secure a sense of breathing room. “What kind of papers?”
“Birth certificates, announcements, diary entries. Papa undoubtedly altered all of the important documents but there still might be something that proves who we are. Who I am.”
“Gerard’s sons,” I realized. “You want to prove you’re Gerard’s sons.”
Julien nodded. “And heir to Chauntilalie, of course.”
My eyebrows rose. “What?” I glanced to Viktor, trying to make sense of it. “Alex is the heir.”
Viktor shook his head. “Our baby brother is most decidedly not. I’m the middle. Julien is the eldest. The firstborn. Father’s successor. The future duke.”
Julien crossed his ankle over his other leg, adjusting the cuff of his trousers with sharp precision.
“That’s why you’ve come back to Chauntilalie,” I guessed, feeling queasy. I’d listened to these boys, truly sympathizing with them. Learning they were only here to snatch away Alex’s place felt like a betrayal. To me, to him. “To claim the title. The inheritance. All that?”
Viktor leaned back on his heels, his smile sly and winsome. “It sounds quite romantic when you phrase it like that. Like it should be put into a play. The Thwarted Heir!” He swished his hand across the space between us, as if seeing the title played out on a painted sign. “The Forgotten Prince! Heirs in Exile!”
“Quiet!” Julien snapped. “Your voice carries more than you know. If someone comes to check on her, we’re both done for.” He sighed and shifted toward me. “Miss Thaumas, you may rest assured, I have no desire to upset Alexander’s position within the family. I only want to be acknowledged as a Laurent myself, to be accorded what should be mine as a son of the duke. You can’t make your way through the world without proof of who you are. That’s all I want. For Papa to claim me. To claim us,” he added, nodding toward Viktor.
“Then…what’s your plan exactly? You say you’ve been here for weeks. What are you doing? Where have you even been staying?”
“Here and there,” Viktor said. “There’s an obscene amount of space in this house that’s not in use. The passages help keep us out of sight.”
“And what have you been doing all this time?” I stopped short, remembering the morning of Dauphine’s dinner party, the day Alex had proposed. “That was you,” I said, recalling the servant I’d seen through the window. The one I’d briefly thought was Alex. I turned to Julien. “Or you. You were pretending to be servants, wandering about the house.”
“We were just boys when we were sent away,” Julien said, neither confirming nor denying. “We wanted to reacquaint ourselves with the manor. With our family.”
“And Gerard and Dauphine truly haven’t seen you?” It seemed impossible that they had not.
“I refilled Mother’s champagne coupe three times that night and she never even blinked,” Viktor said, triumph evident in his voice. “The mind only sees what it wants to. And all that woman wanted was a full glass and a good party.”
“We’ve searched every inch of the manor, looking for answers,” Julien continued. “All but one place.”
Viktor’s mirth died away. “Father’s study. It’s always locked.”
“He wears the key around his neck,” I confirmed. “He’s never without it.”
“That’s where he’s storing the records.” Julien nodded. “I’m certain of it.”
“We’ve tried picking the lock,” Viktor admitted. “It’s impossible. Could…could you help us?”
“Get you into the study?” I clarified.