Chapter Thirteen #2
She rose and took a step in that direction.
Only one step. She was stopped by a hand on her arm.
Céleste attempted to turn and look but couldn’t twist enough.
Bursts of candlelight obscured what little she could see.
She was yanked forcefully into the dark alcove, being held from behind in an ironclad grip.
“Release me,” she said firmly, attempting to keep her fear from her voice.
“I have a message for your brother, Mlle Fortier.” The voice was raspy, quiet, but somehow echoed in every corner of her mind.
“I have two brothers,” she said.
“Do not attempt to be clever. You are in no position to test me.” Her arm was pulled sharply sideways, sending a twinge of pain to her shoulder.
“Tell Jean-Francois that he has played games long enough.” The voice, though kept low, held a familiar note.
Too vague for identifying, but she knew she had heard it before.
“Tell him I will play these games no longer.”
“Who should I tell him—”
The assailant tightened his grip and pulled her arm harder. She gasped a little at the unexpected surge of pain.
“Tell him his schemes end or I will begin recouping my losses one Fortier at a time.”
“I will tell him,” she said.
But his grip didn’t loosen. “It seems to me”—the man continued in a tone of having only just thought of something—“he doesn’t believe I am in earnest.” She felt his breath reach her neck. “Perhaps he needs a demonstration of how serious I truly am.”
Fear tiptoed over her. His sincerity could not be doubted, nor his willingness to follow through on whatever dastardly thing had occurred to him.
“I will tell Jean-Francois that you are in earnest.” Indeed, she would have rushed directly to that brother if her assailant would only let go, and if only she could see well enough to spot him.
“Perhaps delivering the message is not the role you would play most effectively.” His sinister voice sent shivers through her. “You could so easily serve as the proof of it.”
“Céleste?” That was Lucas. And he didn’t sound very far away.
Though she felt certain the man holding fast to her would hurt her if she cried out, she knew he would do far worse if she wasn’t able to escape. And Lucas was her best chance at managing it.
“Over here!” she called out, desperately hoping Lucas was as close as he sounded and could reach her before she was dragged away.
A man’s silhouette appeared in the opening to the alcove in the very next instant. Was it Lucas? A random passerby? If she could see even a little better, she would know if her salvation or a potential addition to the danger had just arrived.
The unidentified man behind her muttered a curse that Céleste had never heard in a ballroom. Her arm was released, and he ran—not past her but deeper into the alcove that was, apparently, actually a corridor.
In almost the same moment, the silhouette stepped close enough for her to realize it was indeed Lucas. “Who was that? What happened?”
“The man Jean-Francois is extorting, with new threats for the Fortier family.”
“Blast it.” Lucas set a hand gently on the back of her arm and led her from the dark passage back into the ballroom and the countless blinding rays of light. “We have been looking for you. Henri saw you sitting here a moment ago, then you were gone.”
“That man grabbed me and tried to pull me from the ballroom entirely.”
Just as they reached Julia and Nicolette, Henri did as well.
“Someone tried to abduct Céleste,” Lucas said. “I saw him run off.”
They all looked at her, wide-eyed and clearly worried. “He spoke of the extortion and of getting revenge. I think he was—I think he intended to hurt me.”
“We need to get you out of this ballroom,” Nicolette said.
“We need to get you out of Paris,” Henri added.
They all walked with her, everyone watching the crowd as they went.
“Any idea who he was?” Nicolette asked.
“I had thought earlier that the victim of Jean-Francois’s extortion might have been M. D’Aubert—the son, not the father. But he had only just left me in the chair. I don’t think he would have had time to circle back and place himself in that corridor.”
“Likely not,” Henri said.
“And Pierre Léandre is here tonight. But he and Jean-Francois did not interact the way two people who were involved in a menacing cat-and-mouse game would.” Her heart was still pounding, and worry crept uncomfortably over her skin, but she felt braver now that she wasn’t alone.
“Whoever he was, his manner of speaking was that of the upper class, though he was likely disguising his voice.”
“But you never saw his face?” Henri pressed.
Céleste shook her head. She might not have been able to make out his features anyway, even if she had glimpsed his face, thanks to the blazes of light obscuring his appearance.
“Where is Aldric?” she asked, then immediately castigated herself. Yes, she would have felt safer with him there, but it was a foolish inclination to lean on him as much as she instinctively would have.
“He chose not to attend tonight,” Henri said. “He’s been a little withdrawn since Versailles.”
Any further discussion of Aldric was cut off as they stepped out of the ballroom and found Jean-Francois and Marguerite.
“We need to leave,” Nicolette said to them.
“Absolutely not,” Jean-Francois said.
“You do not control my comings and goings,” Henri said.
“But I control hers.” He thrust his chin in Céleste’s direction. She was to once again be a weapon he used to control Henri.
“I was nearly dragged from this ball by a man who knowingly inflicted physical pain upon me while threatening my person.” She held Jean-Francois’s gaze. “In the midst of this, he spoke of you.”
Jean-Francois actually looked a little worried.
“He told me to inform you that he is tired of the game you are playing. Extorting him may have been tolerated up until now, but it won’t be any longer. He says he will begin recouping the losses you have inflicted on him and will do so ‘one Fortier at a time.’”
Henri looked truly horrified. Marguerite appeared ready to flee.
But Jean-Francois only grew more defiant. “I don’t believe you. You simply wish to undermine me again, working to make me look like a fool when compared to my younger brother.”
“I saw the assailant,” Lucas said. “He was indeed holding your sister against her will, and there was legitimate pain in her expression. Are you choosing to call me a liar?”
Jean-Francois looked tempted to do precisely that.
“We are leaving this ball,” Henri said to everyone except his brother. “We will all stay at Jean-Francois’s house tonight as a guard against any additional assailants while we determine what is to be done next.”
“It is my house,” Jean-Francois said. “You do not get to decide when or if you are welcome there.”
“My sister’s life has been threatened. I will do whatever I must to protect her.”
Céleste had never heard Henri speak in quite so unyielding and demanding tones.
“We aren’t leaving,” their older brother said. “I have worked too hard to just throw away all I have gained.”
“Do what you think best.” Henri set his arm around Céleste and led her, flanked by the rest of their group, out to the waiting carriage.
The house would be guarded. She would be safe.
One Fortier at a time. The sinister words hadn’t stopped repeating in her mind. She had made a narrow escape. Whichever member of the family was targeted next might not be so fortunate.