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He waved a hand toward a curtain at the back of the room, covertly signaling to the younger man to keep an eye on the two other customers. In silence Philippe allowed himself to be herded through the curtain and down a short hall. Belfleur halted at a door and retrieved a key from his pocket. Together they entered the small room that held the more valuable jewels.
Absently, Philippe crossed to study the necklaces that were laid out on the swath of black velvet. There was a delicate silver collar with diamond teardrops, a large square-cut ruby that was framed by tiny pearls and a pure amber pendant that dangled from a gold chain.
A small smile touched his lips as he was assaulted by the image of Raine lying on his bed draped in nothing more than the sparkling jewels.
Now that would be a sight worthy of a fortune.
There was the sound of a door shutting behind him and then the click of a lock. Philippe turned in time to discover Belfleur moving forward to slap him on the shoulder.
Although the man was attired in a tailored black jacket and crisp cravat, there was no mistaking the years he had spent on the streets as a common cutthroat. It was etched in his battered, scarred features and the shrewd hardness in his pale eyes.
“I had heard rumors you had made an appearance in Paris, but I could hardly believe them to be true. You usually have the sense to keep that ugly countenance of yours hidden.”
Philippe smiled. For all his rough, and some would claim illicit, habits Belfleur was a man who possessed an unwavering loyalty to those he counted as his friends.
“On this occasion it suited my purpose to travel openly.”
“Then this is not official business?”
“No, it is personal, but I hope that I can still count upon your assistance.”
“But, of course.” The shaggy brows lifted in surprise that Philippe would even pose the question. “You know that you have only to ask.”
“Thank you, old friend, I know how valuable your time is.”
Belfleur grimaced. “Not so valuable these days. To be blunt, I have grown bored with our political games. We seek to make changes only to discover that the greed and corruption remains no matter who sits upon the throne.”
Philippe gave his friend a pat on the shoulder. “It is always the way with power.”
“So it would seem.” Belfleur shook his head in disgust before he sucked in a deep breath. “Now, what can I do for you?”
In concise words, Philippe explained Jean-Pierre’s arrest and his futile chase for Seurat. He touched only lightly on his father’s part in Seurat’s crazed need for revenge. Despite Raine’s outrage, he felt no particular remorse for the man who was determined to ruin his family. Louis Gautier was without doubt a selfish, self-absorbed creature who would stoop to any level to achieve glory, but he was still his father and Philippe would do whatever necessary to protect him.
“A difficult task, but not impossible,” Belfleur said as Philippe finished. “I will call in my lads and discover if they have any information on this Seurat. It might be that they can tell us precisely where he resides.”
Philippe smiled sardonically. “With my current streak of luck it is not bloody likely.”
Belfleur shrugged with a Gallic wave of his hands. “We shall see. Is there anything else I can do?”
Philippe paused, his gaze shifting back to the elegant necklaces. The image of them resting against Raine’s ivory skin remained a potent force. So why battle it? Raine was surely born to be drenched in his jewels.
“Actually, I did not entirely lie about needing a gift,” he murmured.
“Ah.” Belfleur smiled, his shrewd eyes glinting as he calculated just how much money he could squeeze from his friend. “Is she beautiful?”
“Astonishingly, breathtakingly beautiful.”
The glint in the pale eyes brightened. “Then you will de-sire my most exclusive wares.” Belfleur moved to run a pudgy finger over the sparkling ruby. “Is there anything that catches your eye?”
“I will take them all.”
Belfleur gave a startled blink. “All?”
Philippe smiled. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.” With a swift, efficient motion Belfleur wrapped the necklaces in the large swath of black velvet before folding them into a neat package and laying them in a carved, satinwood box. “Mon Dieu, she must be quite a wench.”
Philippe’s smile disappeared as he regarded his companion with a cold, dangerous expression.
