“I almost touched her,” Juliette repeated numbly.
Jean Marc drew Juliette away. “I think you’d better go back to the street and wait for me there.”
“Why?” Her gaze flew to his face and she answered her own question. “You think she’s been murdered.”
“A fountain isn’t the most ordinary place for a woman to die.” He turned toward the door.
“I’m going with you.” Juliette glanced back at the hair floating on the water and shuddered.
“No.” He lifted his arm and the light of the lantern stabbed into the shadows of the courtyard. “Where do the walks on either side of the house lead?”
“To the veranda at the rear of the house that overlooks the mountains and town. My grandfather liked to sup out there on occasion.”
Jean Marc tried the knob and the front door swung open. “If you won’t go back to the street, stay here. I don’t know what I’m going to discover.”
Her mother. He was afraid they’d find her mother dead, Juliette realized.
Jean Marc slipped quietly into the house and silently closed the door.
Juliette stared at the fountain. She couldn’t comprehend her sense of loss. She had disliked Marguerite intensely and yet the woman had been such an integral part of her childhood, it was as if a portion of her past had been stolen.
“Dear me, I can’t credit my good fortune.”
Juliette whirled to face the west side of the courtyard.
Dupree.
She couldn’t believe it. As fastidiously elegant as when she’d last seen him at the abbey, he was standing at the mouth of the walk and had clearly just come from the rear of the house. In one hand he carried a lantern and in the other a pistol. It was leveled at her heart.
He took a step forward and smiled at her. “Life is truly extraordinary, is it not? And here I thought my pleasure was at an end. Would you like to tell me how I come to find you here?”
Juliette didn’t answer.
“No, I’ll not stand for disobedience from you again, Citizeness Justice.”
“The marquise is my mother.”
“And you believe your loving mother wished to share her treasure with you?” He shook his head. “I’mafraid she changed her mind and gave the Wind Dancer to me instead.” He nodded at the oak chest in the shadows. “Indeed, she entreated me to rid her of it.”
“You lie.”
“Oh, no. She knelt on the floor at my feet and kissed my hand and begged me to take the Wind Dancer. She offered me her body and any service I wished her to perform if only I would take it. Naturally, I could not refuse her.” He smiled reminiscently. “I let her pleasure me many times.”
“You killed Marguerite.”
“Four days ago. I had no use for her.” He tilted his head. “Tell me, are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“I would not believe another woman would journey here unattended, but then you possess a boldness I’ve not found in other females. Your mother, too, showed unusual courage. Would you like to see her? She’s in the dining salon off the veranda.”
“Have I a choice?”
“No.” He motioned with the pistol. “Into the house.”
She gazed at him a moment, then turned and walked to the brass-bracketed front door and opened it. If she could keep Dupree talking, perhaps Jean Marc would hear and be warned.
“Why did you put Marguerite into the fountain?”
