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"Did Edouard know Miranda was underage when he eloped with her, Miss de Lasserre?"
"Of course not."
"Did he know her mother and stepfather were wealthy?"
Amalie shot to her feet. "What sort of question is that? What would her family's money matter to Edouard? He has plenty of money of his own." She picked up a poker and stabbed viciously at the burning logs until sparks flew into the air. "You cannot imagine the guilt I feel, sir. If only I had warned him! She was no good, that girl. Everyone knew it."
"What did they know?"
"That she was wild. A common tramp."
"How did everyone know? Did Miranda boast about her behavior?"
"She didn't have to. Just to look at her was enough. All that hair. Those eyes. Besides, there was talk. Girls at Miss Cooper's knew girls at other schools she'd attended. She'd been expelled from dozens of places before she came to us." Amalie turned towards him, her expression fierce. "If Miranda's in trouble now, it's no more than she deserves."
"Trouble?" Conor stood up, his eyes on hers. "Why would you think she was in trouble?"
"Well, she will be, won't she, after you've written your article?"
"Would you like that? For Miranda to be in some sort of trouble?"
Amalie de Lasserre stared at Conor, her breathing labored. Then she went to the door.
"I have work to do, Mr. O'Neil. And I have told you all I can."
"You've told me very little."
"I tried to make it clear that I didn't know much. If you expected more, that's your problem." She held out her hand. "Please pay me what you owe me and leave."
"Just one last question, Miss de Lasserre. Do you live out here all by yourself?"
"I do."
"And how do you support yourself?"
"That is two questions, Mr. O'Neil, but I will give you the answer. My family is rich. As rich as Miranda Beckman's, I assure you." She smiled coldly. "I live here because I prefer my own company to anyone else's, and because my family will not support the charity I began some years ago."
"Charity?"
"Yes. A fund for abused farm animals."
Conor dug the remaining euros from his pocket and dumped them into her palm.
"That's very decent of you," he said.
Amalie smiled again. "Animals are innocent creatures that deserve our help and generosity, Mr. O'Neil. Humans are the only evil in this world."
The door shut in Conor's face. Moments later, he was on his way back to Paris.
* * *
Edouard De Lasserre lived on a quiet, tree-lined street in a neighborhood that whispered of wealth, antiquity and proper bloodlines. Depending on your point of view, his home was either gloomy or magnificent. Conor couldn't help thinking it was the kind of place a family of vampires would have loved.
He'd phoned earlier, so he was expected. A servant bowed him in, then led him through a series of dark rooms crowded with antiques and smelling of beeswax. They reached a long gallery hung with tapestries and battle flags. Brightly polished suits of armor were mounted in each corner.
He had examined the tapestries and the flags in minute detail by the time de Lasserre finally put in an appearance in the doorway at one end of the gallery.
"Monsieur O'Neil?"
