yet. Madame de Couriac and her husband were below in the street, talking rapidly and quietly.
Arguing? Perhaps he'd finally put his foot down.
"I have tried!" the woman exclaimed.
"Not hard enough. I saw his interest."
"What do you want me to do? Go to his room naked?"
"If it serves the king, yes."
The woman made a hissing noise. "He is not that sort of man, Jean-Louis. He must do the asking."
"Then make him ask."
A sudden menace in the man's voice made Diana lean out far enough to see. He had his wife's arm in what looked like a cruel grasp and she was staring up at him, angry but afraid. "I don't know - " She broke off a cry. He must have tightened that grip. "I'll try!"
He let her go, casting a quick look around. He didn't look up, but Diana ducked back anyway.
What were they up to? Why would the man be so desperate to have his wife become Lord Rothgar's mistress? For money? A threat to tell the world if not paid? She shook her head. She couldn't imagine the marquess caring about that.
But then she sucked in a breath. For blood? If Monsieur de Couriac came upon his wife in the marquess's bed, he could force a duel over it. She knew Lord Rothgar was a formidable swordsman, but there must be better in the world. Elf had mentioned some concern that the previous duel had been an attempt to kill her brother.
Was this another?
With a more skillful swordsman?
Heart pounding, she peered out again, but the French couple had gone.
Chapter 11
"Clara," Diana said. "Go to Lord Rothgar's room and say that I wish to speak with him."
As she waited, she tried to think how to phrase her delicate warning, but in moments Clara returned. "He's not in at the moment, milady."
Already at an assignation? No, there hadn't been time. How inconsiderate of him, however, to leave the inn. "Go back and say that I must speak to him as soon as he returns."
Clara hurried out and Diana went over that conversation again. Had de Couriac said something about serving the king? Perdition. She couldn't quite remember. She thought so.
Perhaps it wasn't attempted assassination, but espionage. All those documents. Some were doubtless sensitive, perhaps even secret. Perhaps Madame de Couriac was meant to steal them.
A less dangerous plan than murder, but still the marquess should be warned. And he, plague take him, was out.
This fine and comfortable room in the best inn was beginning to feel like a prison. When Clara returned, Diana demanded a light cloak and the attendance of her footman, and escaped to enjoy the evening. People did notice her, but it wasn't unbearable.
She was alert for sight of the French couple or the marquess, and it was the latter she saw first, taking farewell of a man who looked like a country lawyer. She hurried over, but conscious of the windows of the inn above their heads, she said, "I request a moment of your time, my lord."
"I lay a hundred, a thousand at your command, dear lady."
Rolling her eyes at this courtly manner, she turned to stroll down the street, until they were far enough from the inn. "I overheard the de Couriacs speaking, my lord."
"And?"
She glanced up, embarrassed by the implication of what she was about to say. "He seemed to be urging her to... to make advances to you."
"The lady did seem a little bold."
"And perhaps dangerous?" she pointed out, wanting to poke him. Were all men so oblivious when a pretty woman made sheep's eyes at them?
"All women are dangerous, Lady Arradale, as we have already established."
"I am not likely to get you killed."
"I wish I could be sure of that. But," he continued, "why do you think Madame de Couriac's charms fatal?"
Her fears began to seem overblown. "For no reason except their urgency. I think he mentioned something about service to the king. Could they be spies? Have an eye to your papers? Or am I foolish to think them up to no good?"
"Not foolish, no." He turned them back toward the inn. "Thank you for the warning. I will take care of it."
Despite that, he was disregarding the more serious danger. "What if the plan is to force a duel, my lord? To murder you."
His eyes met hers. "I am hard to kill."
"But not impossible! I heard of the duel you fought in London. If anyone plans such mischief, they have a measure of your skill now."
"You think Monsieur