Page 84 of Dagger’s Shield

He was in front of us before the last one fell.

“Where’s Rémy? He’s been gone an hour.”

“He’s taking care of something in the fermentation area,” I told him.

“You’re lying.”

I leaned in closer. “When your guests are gone, we’ll discuss this. Not before.”

He turned and made his way through the room, wishing everyone bonne année in a voice that told them to leave. Marthe and her staff had their coats in hand before they finished what was in their glasses.

Chantal caught Maëlle’s arm. “What is your father doing? What is happening?”

“I don’t know, Maman,” she said.

An hour later, the cuverie was dark and the five of us stood in the hall of the chateau.

“What is going on?” Bertrand barked. “I demand you tell me now.”

I took his arm. “Let’s go to your study, where we can talk.”

“Will no one tell me what’s happening?” Chantal pleaded.

Maëlle took her mother’s hands. “Everything, Maman. I promise. Not tonight. We need to speak with Papa first. Marthe—help my mother to bed.”

Chantal had been ill for months and awake for going on twenty hours. She let Marthe lead her upstairs, and the three of us went into the study.

The door was barely shut when Bertrand rounded on us. “I asked you a question. What did you⁠—”

“Sit down!” I ordered.

He jolted and took his chair.

“Tonight, the questions are ours,” Maëlle told him. “Starting with, how long have you known Aristide Géraud?”

“What?” He looked from her to me. “Maëlle⁠—”

“How long, Papa?”

“Nine years. Ten. What is this about⁠—”

“Who introduced you?”

“Rémy. He interned at Fontenay before—” He stopped and gripped the arms of the chair. “Enough. I will not be interrogated in my own study. You will tell me what’s going on, or I’ll not say another word.”

Maëlle took a step toward him, but I put my hand on her arm.

“I’ll start with who I am,” I said. “My name isn’t Rourke. It’s Killian Curran. I’m an intelligence officer with a private consortium.”

His mouth opened and closed.

“As am I,” Maëlle said with the raised chin I knew so well.

“What are you talking about? You run a travel business⁠—”

“I do not. Nothing you know about me is true. Nothing!” she spat at him.

“I…I don’t understand. The wedding⁠—”