Dauphine nodded. “Well…I suppose…there might be…difficulties, at first. What with Alexander’s injuries…I’m honestly not sure how it will go between you two.” Her finger circled the rim of the goblet. I’d never seen her so flustered.
If I made her uncomfortable enough, perhaps she’d switch to a more useful topic…
“Alex warned me it might not be possible to fully…consummate…our relationship.”
Dauphine’s cheeks burned. “Oh…I’d never considered that.”
“No?” I pressed. “I would have thought—”
She cleared her throat, then took another sip.
“We just hate to disappoint either of you.”
“Disappoint?” she echoed.
“We’d never have any children,” I said, sinking the dagger in. If she had known Gerard brought me to Chauntilalie for any other purpose than painting that portrait, this would be her greatest fear. “The Laurent line will end with Alex.”
“Oh.” Her face softened and she reached across the table to place her hand over mine.
“I know what a letdown that would be to you. To Gerard. And my sister has already written, expressing concern about all that.” The lie rolled easily from my lips.
A strange light flickered to life in her eyes. “Has she?”
I nodded. “She said it was the single most important task for any duchess—issuing the next heir.” Dauphine frowned and my heart hurt, knowing I’d opened up one of her old wounds. “I’d just hate for you or Gerard to think we weren’t taking our responsibilities seriously,” I said in a rush, trying to smooth it over.
She took a swallow of wine, musing over my words. “Verity. I’m touched you’re concerned about that…but you needn’t worry. If you want children, there are plenty of ways.”
I took a deep breath.
This was it.
She was about to spill all of Gerard’s secrets, implicating herself in the process.
“Are there?”
Dauphine nodded. “Of course.”
As if seeking fortification, she drained the last of the goblet before motioning to refill mine. When I waved her off, she poured the last of the bottle into her glass, filling it nearly to the brim.
“It’s a bit unconventional, but adoption is certainly an option.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise. “I would have thought that…that Gerard…would only want a true Laurent as heir.”
The room was silent for several terrible heartbeats.
Dauphine’s eyes darted toward the door, assuring herself we were alone. “What exactly do you know?”
“Know?” I echoed, trying to buy myself time as my insides scrambled. The ground beneath me felt impossibly treacherous, ready to give way with any wrong step. If I admitted to everything I knew and she’d been working on Gerard’s side, she’d go straight to him and they’d act before Julien and Viktor could ever get to the authorities. But if I played dumb, it was unlikely she’d freely volunteer any useful information.
I took a steadying sip of wine before remembering how sharp it was.
She pushed the bread basket forward, then took another sip herself.
I eyed her glass.
The wine had already loosened her behavior—she was all but slouching in her chair, ripping chunks of bread from the loaf, looking more like a peasant than the esteemed Duchess of Bloem.
Perhaps it might also loosen lips…
I took another swallow, just enough to nearly empty the glass—I couldn’t let my wits run wild from me—and pushed it to the center of the table, where she was sure to notice.
Ever a gracious hostess, Dauphine picked up the bottle before remembering it was empty. “We need more wine!” she called out, her voice growing loud enough to call for the barmaid. “More bread. More wine.”
Her tone was strained. Her skin was flushed and glistening with sweat.
“Are you feeling well?” I asked.
Dauphine’s head bobbed. “I’m fine. I’m actually feeling so…fine.”
I dabbed my napkin at the corner of my lips, hiding my smile.
My plan was already working.
The girl returned, an open bottle in one hand, another bread basket in the other.
Dauphine clapped like an excited child as her glass was refilled, then grabbed hold of the bottle and shooed the serving girl away. With an unsteady hand, she filled my goblet, drops of wine spilling onto the table like blood splatter.
I studied it, remembering the blood on Gerard’s apron the night of Constance’s murder.
How had I ever thought it was beet juice?
I pushed the extraneous thoughts from me but they bobbed persistently back, buoys at sea. No matter how I tried not to think of Gerard’s apron, of the dark lines of black and red staining his nails, I couldn’t force the images out of my mind.
I set the glass away, resolving to drink no more of it. The wine, for all its bite, was strong.
I wiped my upper lip, feeling a sheen of dampness across it. Despite the empty hearth, the room seemed overly warm.
“Perhaps we should get some water,” I mused, my tongue dry and sticky. “But…we don’t know her name. Dauphine…we don’t know the serving girl’s name!”
She stared at me, her face twisted in curious amusement. “Why would we need to?”
I blinked, my eyelids feeling heavy. It seemed terribly important to me that we did but I couldn’t express why. “For the water…or the wine. What if we need more wine?” I let out a short gasp. “Or bread?”
She laughed and it sounded like a snort, which made me laugh too. “Do you want to know a secret about being the duchess?” she asked, gesturing me close as though she was going to whisper in my ear. “When you’re duchess, you never have to remember anyone’s name. You just need to speak very loudly. More wine!” she shouted, showing me, and then broke into bawdy laughter.
I covered my mouth to catch my snickers, my thoughts circling loosely through my mind. There’d been something I’d been trying to get at, before all the talk of barmaids and wine. Something important…I brightened. “I think you were about to tell me something.”
Dauphine trailed her finger over the rim of her glass, making the crystal sing. “Was I?” She studied me thoughtfully. “You’re so pretty,” she confessed in a rush. “I can see why he wants you so badly.”
“Alex,” I said, my heart warming as I pictured him. The man I was going to marry. My Alex.
Dauphine’s smile dimmed. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“I’m not as pretty as you are,” I said, worried she needed some sort of assurance, some bit of bolstering. “You’re so strong and beautiful.”
She looked touched, running her hands over her dress. “You really think so?”
I nodded fervently. “And kind. You’ve both been so kind to me.”
Dauphine waved off my praise, swishing her hand as though swatting at a fly. “No. No. I could have been kinder.”
“No!” I gasped, my head swaying back and forth with vehemence. I wanted to take all of the warmth flooding through my chest, all of the affection and gratitude I felt, and give it to her. It felt vitally important that she knew how much I appreciated her. “You’ve done so much…bringing me here and helping me with…with everything.”