The Consequences of Champagne and Murder

Chapter Seven - All I Want is to Brood in Peace

“I don’t give a damn if Étienne already confessed,” I huffed. “We’re getting him released.” 

I shoved myself into the carriage, stomping over to the cerulean velvet seats. Clumps of mud crumbled off my shoes and scattered across the ground like chocolate cake crumbs. I stomped on those, too, grinding the dirt into the carriage floors. Étienne could be silent and secretive all he wished, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if he really had killed the coachman after all. I didn’t care if helping him put my own safety at risk. I refused to let him die. 

Neither Renée nor Madeleine responded to my outburst. The second I told Renée about Étienne’s death sentence, she’d gone silent, walking to the carriage with her head tipped up to the starlit sky. And Madeleine looked as if she wished to be absolutely anywhere but here. 

“It won’t be too difficult,” I continued, ignoring the silence. “Paris society is full of raging idiots who will believe what they hear no matter what. If we simply convince them the prison governor thinks Étienne is innocent. . . Ah! I know.” I banged my fist into my palm. “I shall pretend to be the governor and tell everyone Étienne didn’t kill the coachman after all. I can find a ratty wig and a pair of high breeches and powder my face so I look like a wrinkled old man. Or we can pretend to be ghosts and scare the governor into letting Étienne go.” I turned to my sister. “You know where Henri keeps all the white sheets, do you not? If we take those—wait, are you crying?” 

Renée was, in fact, crying. 

Her face was buried in an embroidered kerchief, her body facing the window. But her shoulders shook, and the pink edges of her kerchief blew in and out whenever she sucked in a breath. 

Suddenly, I wasn’t scared anymore. I was furious. 

How dare Étienne keep the truth from us? How dare he think it all right to die and leave Renée and me alone? He’d always been there no matter what—the moment either of us were in need of comfort or care or love. Renée, Étienne, and I were family. No, we were closer than family. We’d found a way to make it so the biting remarks from nobility and the neglect from our parents and the things that made us different from everyone else didn’t matter. We’d found a way to create our own little world, where nothing and no one could hurt us. How could Étienne not think that was important anymore?

I wasn’t only going to get Étienne released to save his life; I was going to get him released so he’d be forced to apologize for being the goddamn worst. 

By the time we arrived at our home in Le Marais, I was so angry about the whole ordeal, I practically flew out of the carriage and ran to the gardens without so much as a goodbye to Madeleine. Not the most gentlemanly thing I’d ever done, but I knew Madeleine would be far more successful at calming Renée, and I needed time alone to think. 

I was in the gardens, with my head buried in my knees, when a branch snapped in the hedgerow at my side. I lifted my head and peered into the darkness, so caught up in my despair, I forgot to be frightened. At least, until a branch snapped again. I leapt up, equal parts terrified and annoyed.

I turned, preparing to flee just as a figure jumped out of the hedges and tackled me to the ground. 

All the air in my lungs escaped in a single breath, my hands flying up to cover my face. While I wasn’t the strongest of gentlemen, I wasn’t the frailest, either. I could tell the man pinning me down was much smaller than I, and judging by the pressure of his hands around my shoulders, weaker as well. I took this as a sign I could overpower him. Without a second thought, I slammed my knee into his crotch.

The bastard didn’t budge. The grip around my shoulders tightened, and he leaned over, placing more weight on my thighs to keep me trapped. Then he turned his head, and a long curl of hair tumbled across his shoulder, brushing against my cheek.