The Seducer by Madeline Hunter

Jeanette cannot answer.”
    The second act began then. Its flamboyance distracted her. The beautiful music flowed into her in an emotional torrent. With experience, she suspected she would not react so completely, but this was her first time and she possessed no defenses against the stirring assault on her senses.
    She almost forgot about the man sitting to her right. She might have done so completely if he had forgotten about her too. But he watched her periodically. She could feel him do so.
    “What questions?” The low query came well into the last scene.
    She kept her gaze on the stage. “Since you ask, I have been wondering about something all night. This afternoon you said that Margot had been parading me as a potential mistress. For what purpose are you parading me, m’sieur?”
             
    No, she wasn’t ignorant, despite all those years at that school. She was too smart for that.
    She took it all in, seeing clearly despite the blinding brilliance. Her delight was childish, but her assessments very mature. Behind her glittering eyes he could see her mind fitting everything in its place and absorbing the realities flickering beneath the candlelight.
    That made it harder. Ignorance would have thoroughly discouraged him. He could have pretended she was still a schoolgirl, for all intents and purposes. But the worldly understanding gave her a woman’s presence and provided a foil to her innocence that proved dangerously provocative.
    Perhaps he had sensed it that day at the school. His instincts must have told him. It was why she was so perfect for the role.
    It appeared that she might be too perceptive, however.
For what purpose are you parading me?
    As he escorted her out, he realized that the answer to her question was not the one that he thought to be true.
    He had enjoyed the evening more than he could remember doing in the past. Even the company of a favored Margot, as Diane so neatly referred to mistresses, had never pleased him as much.
    He was not just parading her for her education, to provide a bit of polish and to put her at ease with wealth and high society. He was doing so because he was delighted to have her company and to be seen by her side. The world might think of them as cousins, but he knew they were not. He was incredibly proud of her, and had reacted to other men’s responses to her in a way that was immediate and personal. And possessive.
    This was not how it was supposed to be. He contemplated that as they left the theater to await the carriage.
    A crowd filled the area. Not only the attendees milled around, but also city dwellers who came to gawk at the coaches and gowns. Some of the latter shouted insults at the many foreign men exiting the theater, often with Parisian women on their arms. The top reaches of French society had survived the war fairly intact, but the common people of Paris still felt the deprivations and resented the occupying conquerors.
    He guided Diane to the edge of the crowd as he saw his carriage inching down the line toward them.
    “Sanclare.”
The furious word, snarled like a curse, pierced the noise. Daniel swerved as a ragged, bearded, fiery-eyed man lunged through the crowd.
    Instincts shouting, Daniel grabbed Diane to shield her from the danger. Someone jostled her out of his grasp and she stumbled right into the attacker. The assailant swept her aside and kept coming, snarling the word again.
    A knife rose. Daniel grabbed the arching arm and swung his fist with all his strength. The knife clattered to the ground as the madman doubled over. Daniel kicked the weapon away.
    It happened so quickly that others nearby had only reacted with dumb astonishment. Now pandemonium broke loose in the crowd. A circle of onlookers formed around Diane. Ignoring the internal voice that warned him to hold on to his attacker, Daniel pushed through the bodies and dropped to his knee beside her.
    She was badly shaken and breathless with shock. A streak of horror froze