hand fluttered helplessly over her breast. “How utterly modern of him, don’t you think, darling?”
“Have you any other details?”
The gold silk over one shoulder shifted. “That is all thus far.”
“I would hear more about this, Beth,” Tremayne told his wife. “Keep your bird seeded and chirping.”
The notion of a doctor treating a Darkyn patient almost made Lucan laugh. Cyprien was an idiot, and the surgeon was a dead woman. “Perhaps it would be prudent to choose someone else to serve as seigneur over the American
jardins
.” Even if Lucan’s old rival successfully obtained a new face, there was no guarantee he would keep it.
“It will be Michael.”
Jealousy twisted in Lucan’s gut, the only scar that refused to heal. “You still intend to give him the colonies? All of them?”
“States, my dear.” Elizabeth released one of her scathing, polite titters. “You should read the papers occasionally. They haven’t been the colonies for quite some time now.”
“I stand corrected.” He bowed again.
“You grovel so elegantly, Lucan. I’ve always admired that about you.” Elizabeth glided around him, allowing the hem of her skirt to come dangerously near his muddied boots. “Michael should appreciate your bootlicking.”
Lucan eyed her. At one point in his service to Tremayne, he had been quite besotted with Elizabeth. It was still something of a shock to glimpse the shallow, mean-spirited bitch lurking beneath her lovely exterior.
“Unless you wish to join me in bed, wife,” Richard said mildly, “you should go to yours.”
Elizabeth paled. “Yes, I think I will retire. Lucan, lovely to see you again.” She had to stand on her toes to whisk her lips over his cheek, but she made no move toward the seigneur. Indeed, she departed with the silence and speed of a servant.
That was all Elizabeth had ever been to her husband, so her viperous personality was somewhat understandable. Idly Lucan touched the cool spot her mouth had left behind.
“I want you out of Ireland by morning,” Tremayne said as soon as the doors closed. “Go to America and stay there until this business in Dublin dies down.”
Lucan would go, but he would not return. He was through being Richard’s errand boy. The United States was large and the Darkyn there still scattered. Michael Cyprien was not the leader Richard imagined him to be. “Any particular colony? State? Whatever they call them now?”
“Something in the South.”
His head jerked up. “You think Cyprien’s leech may fail.”
“I think perhaps she may succeed.”
Are you finally feeling threatened by your fledgling, Richard
? “I doubt it. Cyprien’s success rate has not been very promising of late.”
“Michael never makes the same mistake twice. Neither do I.” The seigneur moved partially into the light, and smiled a little. “You would do well to remember that, Lucan.”
The light, softened by hearth fire and night, tried to be kind to Richard Tremayne. As always, it failed unreservedly.
Sweat ran like tears down the sides of Lucan’s face, but he didn’t turn away. If this was the last time he would ever willingly be in Tremayne’s presence, he would not avoid those eyes, that face.
“I will, Master.”
----
Chapter Four
« ^ »
D r. Alexandra Keller made several demands that night. Some of them Michael Cyprien agreed to, others he refused. The two conditions she tried to insist on were the two most impossible for him to fulfill.
“I cannot travel to Chicago,” he told her, “and I cannot be admitted to a hospital. You must work here, privately.”
“Unless you’ve got a medical wing tucked away that I don’t know about,” she said, her tone snappish, “that’s not going to happen.”
“Tell Éliane what you need, and she will have it delivered.” He took a cigarette from the pack tucked in his robe pocket. The moment after Phillipe lit it for him, it was snatched out of his fingers. “You object to
“Have you any other details?”
The gold silk over one shoulder shifted. “That is all thus far.”
“I would hear more about this, Beth,” Tremayne told his wife. “Keep your bird seeded and chirping.”
The notion of a doctor treating a Darkyn patient almost made Lucan laugh. Cyprien was an idiot, and the surgeon was a dead woman. “Perhaps it would be prudent to choose someone else to serve as seigneur over the American
jardins
.” Even if Lucan’s old rival successfully obtained a new face, there was no guarantee he would keep it.
“It will be Michael.”
Jealousy twisted in Lucan’s gut, the only scar that refused to heal. “You still intend to give him the colonies? All of them?”
“States, my dear.” Elizabeth released one of her scathing, polite titters. “You should read the papers occasionally. They haven’t been the colonies for quite some time now.”
“I stand corrected.” He bowed again.
“You grovel so elegantly, Lucan. I’ve always admired that about you.” Elizabeth glided around him, allowing the hem of her skirt to come dangerously near his muddied boots. “Michael should appreciate your bootlicking.”
Lucan eyed her. At one point in his service to Tremayne, he had been quite besotted with Elizabeth. It was still something of a shock to glimpse the shallow, mean-spirited bitch lurking beneath her lovely exterior.
“Unless you wish to join me in bed, wife,” Richard said mildly, “you should go to yours.”
Elizabeth paled. “Yes, I think I will retire. Lucan, lovely to see you again.” She had to stand on her toes to whisk her lips over his cheek, but she made no move toward the seigneur. Indeed, she departed with the silence and speed of a servant.
That was all Elizabeth had ever been to her husband, so her viperous personality was somewhat understandable. Idly Lucan touched the cool spot her mouth had left behind.
“I want you out of Ireland by morning,” Tremayne said as soon as the doors closed. “Go to America and stay there until this business in Dublin dies down.”
Lucan would go, but he would not return. He was through being Richard’s errand boy. The United States was large and the Darkyn there still scattered. Michael Cyprien was not the leader Richard imagined him to be. “Any particular colony? State? Whatever they call them now?”
“Something in the South.”
His head jerked up. “You think Cyprien’s leech may fail.”
“I think perhaps she may succeed.”
Are you finally feeling threatened by your fledgling, Richard
? “I doubt it. Cyprien’s success rate has not been very promising of late.”
“Michael never makes the same mistake twice. Neither do I.” The seigneur moved partially into the light, and smiled a little. “You would do well to remember that, Lucan.”
The light, softened by hearth fire and night, tried to be kind to Richard Tremayne. As always, it failed unreservedly.
Sweat ran like tears down the sides of Lucan’s face, but he didn’t turn away. If this was the last time he would ever willingly be in Tremayne’s presence, he would not avoid those eyes, that face.
“I will, Master.”
----
Chapter Four
« ^ »
D r. Alexandra Keller made several demands that night. Some of them Michael Cyprien agreed to, others he refused. The two conditions she tried to insist on were the two most impossible for him to fulfill.
“I cannot travel to Chicago,” he told her, “and I cannot be admitted to a hospital. You must work here, privately.”
“Unless you’ve got a medical wing tucked away that I don’t know about,” she said, her tone snappish, “that’s not going to happen.”
“Tell Éliane what you need, and she will have it delivered.” He took a cigarette from the pack tucked in his robe pocket. The moment after Phillipe lit it for him, it was snatched out of his fingers. “You object to
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