Page 17 of Sinfully Daring

“Yes, the underworld. Criminals, love. Every vice, every wicked thing that happens in that city happens under the watchful gaze of Le Loup Noir de Paris. The Black Wolf, they call him, and he answers only to the comte.”

The room felt hazy and unreal, her painful grip on the chair the only thing anchoring Evie to reality. “So this Wolf person is a criminal, that does not mean—”

“Yes. It does,” her father said, his voice implacable. “And God knows I did some things in my time, love, but I was never a criminal, and I certainly never took a man’s life.”

Evie gasped, looking up. No. No, not Louis. Not gentle, kind, Louis. She would not believe it. Evie shook her head, her throat too tight to deny the words, to defend Louis as she wanted to.

Her father crouched down before her and carefully released her hands from the chair, rubbing them gently between his own.

“I’m so sorry, my darling girl. I would never willingly hurt you, or cause you a moment’s distress, but I must protect you from making a mistake you might regret for the rest of your days. He is beautiful, and he has been kind to you. Believe me, I understand all too well why he is drawn to you, too. Your sweetness and innocence fascinates him. When one has led a life in the darkness, one does long for the light, and that is you, love. Understand me when I tell you, I do not believe he is evil or malicious, but I do believe his life is one of darkness and danger. He will drag you into that world, Evie, even if he does not mean to, and that is not what you want. That will not make you happy.”

Evie could only swallow, too numb with shock to react at all.

“We all know what kind of life you have dreamed of, for you’ve told us often enough. You want a quiet life surrounded by people who love you, your friends and family. A loving home and a large family and everything safe and familiar. It is what you have always wanted, is it not?”

Evie nodded, unable to deny it. She did not wish to deny it, for that was exactly the life she had dreamed of.

Her father held her gaze. “He cannot give you that. Perhaps he wishes to, perhaps he even believes he can, but he has blood on his hands, love, and that leaves a stain a man cannot wash away.”

“B-Blood?” Evie repeated, wondering if she might be sick.

Her father nodded. “I do not tell you this to frighten you, love. You know you are safe here, that I will always protect you no matter what?”

Jerkily, Evie nodded.

“From what I can discover, he has been implicated in the deaths of three men, one of them de Vere’s father. Perhaps he had good reason, Evie, but it does not change the fact that he has killed, more than once. Any witnesses to these crimes were too afraid to speak out against them, but there seems little doubt Villen was responsible. Certainly my men discovered enough to convince them the Comte de Villen is a very dangerous man.”

Evie’s breath came in odd little gasps as she tried to reconcile the man he described with her Louis. She ought to be appalled, she told herself. She ought to be terrified, yet the voice in her head only told her that if Louis had truly killed someone, he would have had a reason. Perhaps he’d had no choice, perhaps he’d been defending himself, but even if that were not the case, she knew she would not condemn him. Evie knew him, she knew his heart. Whilst she had always known there was darkness lurking there, for she had sensed it from the start, she knew too that he would protect her from it. She was safe with him. Perhaps others were not, but she was. Not that she would ever say those words to her father, no matter how she wished to defend Louis.

Evie could see the fear and worry in her papa’s eyes, the desperate desire to keep her safe, and she understood why he did what he did. She knew he would never understand that she was safe with Louis, no matter what. Though it broke her heart, she knew too that he would never let her marry Louis, even if she decided she wished to, and she could not marry without her parents’ approval, for that would hurt them so badly. Tears swam in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” her father said, and his voice was unsteady now. “Truly, I would cut my own heart out before I would cause you pain, but a little pain now is surely better than living a life that would not only make you unhappy, but might even put you in danger? Evie?”

He looked so wretched and full of regret for having hurt her that she could not be angry with him. He was only doing his best to keep her safe, even if the results were going to be unbearable.

She nodded again, for what else could she do? She had no words to explain the truth, even if the tightness in her throat would let her speak them. If she tried, she would weep and that would only break Papa’s heart a little further and he was carrying guilt enough as it was. He would never see Louis as she saw him, and she would certainly never convince Papa they were only friends after what had happened at Fort William. It would be a lie, and Evie had never been able to lie successfully, not that she’d ever needed or wanted to before. But if she could not get away with a little fib about how much she’d spent on books, a lie about Louis being only a friend was quite beyond her, because it was no longer true.

“You will not speak to him anymore, Evie. I am not asking you to cut him in public. You will, of course, be polite if he approaches you, but you will not seek him out, you will not converse with him, or dance with him. You will not encourage this friendship. For his sake, as much as your own, you must do everything to put an end to any further interaction, or I will do so myself. If I must take you away again, I will do it. Please, don’t make me do that, love.”

Evie’s mind raced. She had no talent for deception or intrigue, but she understood if she argued the point, Papa would have cause to distrust her. That she could not have, for she had no intention of losing Louis’ friendship entirely. What that meant, she did not know, but she could not simply cut him from her life any more than she could cut out of her heart. She loved him. Irrespective of whether she wished to marry him, he had been her dearest friend and confidant for years, and now… and now she was going to break down if she did not get out of this room. Belatedly, she realised she still had not answered.

“I understand,” she said carefully, for she would not agree to her father’s commands and then break her promise, but she did understand them, even if she had every intention of disregarding them. “May I go now?”

Thankfully, Papa could see she was on the verge of tears and nodded, so Evie got to her feet and was immediately enfolded in his strong arms. It was impossible not to cry then, and she sobbed into his waistcoat.

“Forgive me, my darling Evie. I swear I am sorry for it.”

She nodded without looking up and then pushed out of his arms and ran for the door, needing nothing but to escape, so that she might break her heart in private.

Chapter 5

Monsieur Boucher,

What you ask is impossible. My likeness is plastered over walls and windows the length and breadth of the city. I hardly dare leave my rat-infested rooms. I have lost everything, and you think to blackmail me into giving more? What more have I left? If I must be your damned puppet, then so be it, but not for nothing. You’ll pay me as agreed, or perhaps the pretty comte you are so fascinated with will do better with the information I have about you?

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr Graham Franklin to Monsieur Etienne Boucher.

3rd July 1842, Mrs Palmer’s Summer Ball, Piccadilly, London.