“Kill me?” Louis didn’t know whether to be angry or anxious, or whether to roll her to her back and show her just what she would have missed out on if she’d gone through with her apparent mission. Perhaps Sebastian was right after all when he warned that Solange was dangerous.
She bit her lip and glanced up at him. Louis didn’t have to be a genius to see that she was attempting to seduce her way into easing his negative reaction to her statement. He was a little surprised that it worked so well.
“I thought you were Lafarge’s son,” she explained. “I saw you in his company in Abidjan all those years ago. And my informant at the Moulin Rouge confirmed that you were Lafarge’s love child.”
“Your informant? At the Moulin Rouge?” He was certain he looked like the biggest fool alive as he shook his head and attempted to take in what she was saying.
Solange reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “I can see now that Madame Boucher had incorrect information, and that what I saw all those years ago was not what I thought I saw.”
“It certainly was not,” Louis said, then let out a breath and softened his tone as he went on with, “Though I suppose I can see how you had the wrong impression.” He paused, studying her expression and finding no artifice there. She was being completely honest with him. “Your Madame Boucher gave you incorrect information, but I am well aware that the rumors still persist.”
A sudden, endearing smile came to Solange’s face, making her look far younger than she had before. “I am grateful that you’re so understanding,” she said. “Many men in your position wouldn’t take the news well.”
“The news that you were trying to kill me,” he said, his lips pulling into a smirk. He glanced to their joined hands on the rumpled sheets. After the night she’d given him, for better or worse, he was willing to believe anything good about her and discard the bad.
“My aim was to avenge the destruction of my family the same way Lafarge destroyed them. I wanted to eliminate his family and make him feel their loss. Only Lafarge never married or had children of his own. At least, legitimate children. You are the only one I was able to trace, and it turns out that you aren’t even his at all.”
Louis’s brow knit in thought. “I don’t believe you would have gone through with it.”
“Oh, I would have,” she insisted.
Louis studied her expression, the seriousness in her eyes. He shifted uncomfortably, turning the movement into an effort to lean back against the pillows and the headboard. He drew her into his arms, cradling her there and enjoying the way her skin felt against his.
“I’m glad you didn’t succeed,” he said. “That would have been an utter waste.”
She hummed in agreement, but didn’t make any further comment as she nestled her head against his shoulder.
“My plans for Lafarge weren’t quite so grand,” he went on. “I intended to get back what he stole from my mother, then to do whatever possible to discredit and ruin him.”
Solange lifted her head to stare at him. “What did he take from your mother?”
“A brooch,” Louis confessed. “A very old brooch with diamonds and pearls. It has been in the family since Tudor times.”
She blinked. “That’s it? A brooch?”
Louis pushed a hand through his disheveled hair and let out a sigh. “It’s the fact that he has it that bothers me. He tormented and victimized my mother for years. She took her own life because of him.”
Solange tensed against him. “I’m so sorry.”
He glanced at her, struck by the wild juxtaposition of old, bitter feelings and the pure comfort and enjoyment of holding her. “I need to get it back,” he said. “As a symbol of redemption if nothing else. Then you can kill Lafarge all you want.”
She smiled weakly. “I have an uneasy feeling that I am no longer capable of murder. Not even of Lafarge. Too many things have changed.” She punctuated her statement by spreading her hand across his chest and toying with his chest hair.
“So what do we do now?” he asked after enjoying her touch for a few seconds. “I refuse to let the whole matter drop just because I’ve found something sweeter to occupy my time.”
“I refuse to let it drop as well.” Solange straightened, staring into his eyes with determination. “Lafarge will pay for all he’s done. To both of us and to everyone else we do not even know about.”
Louis agreed completely, but as the two of them sat there, not a thing came to mind that felt like a quick solution. He shook his head and moved to the edge of the bed to stand.
“We’re back at square one when it comes to Lafarge,” he said, walking to his washstand, well aware of Solange eyeing him appreciatively. “But at least we won’t fall into the trap of chasing false leads and working at cross purposes now.”
“We will have much more of a chance of succeeding if we work together,” she agreed, climbing out of bed and following him.
Louis nearly jumped out of his skin as she brushed her fingers down his naked back as he wet a washcloth in the basin. Her touch made him want to forget everything else but going back to bed.
“Are you shocked by my wickedness?” she asked, her eyes flashing with challenge as she gazed up at him.
“I’ve always liked wicked women,” he answered.
He let the washcloth drop into the basin and turned to embrace her, tugging her close. She fit so well against him. Her lips met his eagerly as he bent to kiss her, and she circled her arms around him welcomingly. It was sheer madness that he could feel so content and so attached to a woman whom he’d only known for a day, a woman who had tried to kill him, but they had so much in common. After one night, he didn’t want to let her go.
He had to let go, however. Aside from the stirrings he could hear through the walls that indicated other guests were rising, one of the palace’s maids attempted to enter the room to carry out her duties and knocked impatiently when she found the door locked. Louis told the woman to come back later, but it was a sure sign that he and Solange couldn’t linger, as much as they might have wanted to.
They washed and dressed, left his room and parted ways briefly so that she could return to her room to change clothes. But within fifteen minutes, they met up again at the top of the grand staircase, descending to breakfast together.
“Lafarge spends most of his time at the offices of Les Ragots,” Solange said as they went downstairs. “His living quarters are in the same building, on higher floors.”
“Are they?” Louis was encouraged by that bit of information. It meant that they were more likely to be able to trap Lafarge in one place.
“He has made many enemies with his gossip rag,” Solange went on as they reached the front hall, “so he is selective in the social events he attends. He rarely goes out in company, except to pass time and spend money at the Moulin Rouge.”
“That has been the only place I’ve been able to waylay him,” Louis said, rubbing his chin. And it had been hard enough arranging a meeting with the man there.
“I believe that if we are going to strike him, it will need to be in his home.” Solange lowered her voice as the McGovern twins came out of a side parlor, arms linked, and made their way a few yards in front of him and Solange into the breakfast room.