The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress Read online

Paris, Kingdom of France

  “Did you notice they only had one guard on the gate?”

  Sir Marcus glanced at his sergeant as they waited for his cousin’s husband, Lord Charles de Rohan, to meet with them. “Perhaps it’s because we took out four of their men.”

  Simon chuckled. “Perhaps.”

  “And this is Paris, after all. If one can’t be safe here, where can one?”

  Simon grunted. “True, I suppose. I guess I’m just used to the Holy Land where a Saracen blade awaits you at every turn.”

  Marcus sighed. “I do miss it.”

  Simon laughed. “I as well. Though farming has its perks.”

  Marcus’ eyebrows rose and he turned toward his friend. “Oh?”

  “Yes. I can’t think of a single one at the moment, but I’m sure it does.”

  Marcus smiled, turning toward the footsteps coming down the hall. “I’m sure you’ll think of one at some point.” He smiled and bowed as the lord of the manor entered. “Lord Charles, I am Sir Marcus de Rancourt, and this is my sergeant, Simon Chastain. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

  The man eyed Marcus from head to toe, no doubt the Templar surcoat giving him pause, and probably the only reason they had been permitted an audience without an explanation. “Of course. What business do you have with me?”

  “It concerns your wife, Lady Joanne.”

  Charles’ eyes widened. “My wife? What of her?”

  “She came to me earlier today, seeking protection from men under your employ. Apparently, she is accused of adultery.”

  Charles’ eyes flared and his cheeks reddened. “The woman is not accused, she is guilty!”

  “She swears she is innocent.”

  Charles waved his hand, dismissing the words. “I know her to be a liar. The letter was clear. I know the man she is accused of being involved with, and he has no honor or shame, and I have been assured there are witnesses, and proof will be forthcoming. If she were innocent, why would I have received such a letter?”

  Marcus bowed slightly. “If everything in the letter were true, I would agree, but I have spoken to your wife, and I find her to be sincere. I believe in order for justice to be served, we must determine the truth.”

  “I know the truth!”

  “Based upon facts that may be in dispute.” Marcus raised a hand slightly, cutting off the tirade about to erupt from their host. “I propose this. I am a Templar, and my word is my bond. I will find out the truth, whatever it may be, and once I know what is happening, I will inform you first.”

  The man paused, staring at Marcus. He pursed his lips then drew a deep breath. “Even if that truth reveals my wife is an adulteress?”

  “Yes. And in exchange, you promise to leave your wife alone until the truth is discovered. Agreed?”

  Charles paced for a moment, scratching his chin, then spun toward Marcus. “Agreed.”

  Marcus smiled. “Thank you, sir. Now, may I ask, who is she accused of having an affair with?”

  “Sir Denys de Montfort. The man is a member of the King’s Court, and a constant thorn in too many sides. He’s exactly the sort to conduct such an unholy undertaking. A constant womanizer, in my opinion.”

  “And where may we find him?”

  “His home is not far from here. I will give you directions.”

  “Very well. One more thing.”

  Charles exhaled loudly. “What?”

  “Your wife’s chambermaid, Beatrice. What have you done to her?”

  Charles’ eyebrows rose. “She is locked in her room, under guard until I decide her fate.”

  “Did you lay hands on her?”

  “None more than was necessary to gain the truth.”

  Marcus frowned, leaning slightly closer to Charles. “I will trust you not to molest her any further until we determine what has taken place here today.” Marcus detected a slight tremble in Charles’ lip.

  “You have my word.”

  5

  De Montfort Residence

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  “That is no one’s business but my own and Lady Joanne’s.”

  Marcus regarded Sir Denys de Montfort. He was a handsome man, at least in Marcus’ inexpert opinion. Young, perhaps mid-twenties, and easily a decade junior to Lady Joanne. Marcus found him slightly arrogant in their brief interaction so far, as if he were above the consequences of such accusations.

  “Are you aware that Lord Charles knows of your transgressions, and is demanding satisfaction?”

  Sir Denys shrugged, dismissing the question with a wave of his hand. “Why should I care what that imbecile wants? Let him produce his proof if it exists.”

  “Lady Joanne claims she is innocent, and that no such affair has taken place.”

  Denys paused, his jaw dropping slightly. He grunted. “Nonsense. If that were true, it was merely to protect me. She loves me, and we have been, shall we say, intimate. There is no denying her feelings.”

  Marcus splayed his hands. “I can only tell you what she herself has told me. She claims to have never been unfaithful, in mind or body, and that this entire notion of her having an affair is false. And, frankly, I believe her.”

  Denys tossed his head back and laughed. “And what would you know of love, a Templar knight who is sworn to celibacy, and has probably never bedded a woman, let alone felt the love and joy in one’s heart at having met the one woman in the world who can truly make you glad to be alive.”

  Marcus bowed slightly. “I will concede that you understand the affairs of the flesh and heart far better than I ever will, however, you are aware that you could face serious consequences if you are found guilty of such an affair?”

  Denys’ smile slowly dissipated. “Yes, I am aware of this, and it weighs heavily on my heart. We have kept our affair in strict confidence, yet should word come out, there is little I can do except embrace it.”

  “Despite what it will do to Lady Joanne, who proclaims her innocence? Wouldn’t it be better for her if you would simply back up her story and also claim there had been no affair? That this letter is false?”

  “But didn’t you state that the letter claimed there were witnesses and that proof would follow? Surely once what has been promised is produced, there will be no denying it by her or myself. And should that occur, wouldn’t it be better to declare our love for each other, rather than let those of the Court believe it was merely some tawdry affair of the flesh?”

  Marcus sighed. The man was right in everything he said, though he feared the consequences would ultimately be the same. The King’s Court would care nothing of why the affair had taken place, merely that it had. Lady Joanne would be imprisoned, and Sir Denys perhaps put to death.

  It was yet another reason he was happy to have taken the vow of celibacy decades ago.

  The affairs of the heart too often led to sin.

  “I doubt they will be swayed by your commitment to each other, Sir Denys.”

  Denys frowned at him then quickly headed from the room. “Come with me, I would show you something.”

  Marcus exchanged a look with Simon, who had stood silently to the side the entire time, mostly shaking his head in disbelief. They followed the proud adulterer down a hall then into a large room, well lit by lamps and a roaring fire.

  Denys motioned toward a large portrait showing him standing along the River Seine, a woman at his side, staring up at him lovingly, her hand on his chest. “Is this not proof of my love?”

  Marcus stared at the large painting, the quality exceptional, the likeness of Denys striking, and the woman at his side equally beautiful. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “I had it commissioned from an artist I have been patron to for several years now. Lady Joanne has no idea I’ve had it made. My friend met her on two occasions, and was able to sketch her surreptitiously without her knowing, then used those sketches to create this incredible likeness. I intend to give it to her tonight when we meet, as a gift, a declaration of my
love for her.”

  Marcus approached the painting, staring at the woman. “Do you consider this a good likeness?”

  “As if she were in the room with me now.”

  Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. She is as accurate as I.”

  Marcus nodded slowly, staring at Denys then the painting, the resemblance between him and the likeness in the portrait remarkably accurate, the artist undoubtedly a talent. He beckoned Simon who stared at it as well for a moment, then shook his head. Marcus turned to Denys. “I’m not sure how to say this, Sir Denys, but this isn’t Lady Joanne.”

  Denys stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I met her today, and this is not my cousin.”

  Denys’ eyes narrowed then he laughed. “Then whomever you met is an imposter.”

  Marcus sighed. “Sir, I think someone is an imposter here, but I doubt it is the woman I met. I can see no possible reason for a woman to seek me out, claim to be someone she is not, and deny an affair that the real Lady Joanne was having.”

  Denys’ shoulders sagged slightly, most of the pride in his posture now gone, confusion on his face. “You’re right, of course. That does make little sense.”

  Marcus lowered his voice, taking on a more gentle tone. “I think, sir, something more is going on here than either of us realizes.”

  Denys collapsed into a nearby chair. “I-I agree. But why? What did—?” He threw his arms against the sides of the chair. “I’m so confused!”

  “Yes, sir, as am I, but we must find out the truth. My cousin’s life is at stake, as is her marriage, the honor of her husband, and frankly, sir, your life as well.”

  Denys’ eyes widened. “Why, you’re right! If what you say is true, and this woman isn’t Lady Joanne, then I am being accused of a crime I only thought I was committing, not one I have actually committed. I could die for nothing!”

  Marcus ignored the selfishness of the declaration. “You said you were going to give her the portrait tonight. Does that mean you had plans to meet her?”

  “Yes. I’m supposed to see her shortly.”

  “Then I suggest you keep that meeting.”

  Denys leaped to his feet, color returning to his cheeks as rage blazed in his eyes. “I agree! I will get the truth out of her, for sure!”

  Marcus shook his head, waving his hands. “No, let us do that. You will meet with her, pretend all is well, then we will take her into our custody, and determine what she is playing at.”

  6

  Rue St. Denis

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  “If that fool doesn’t calm down, he’ll give himself away.”

  Marcus nodded at Simon’s observation. Sir Denys was pacing impatiently back and forth beside his carriage, his rapid, angry turns certainly not those of a man eager to meet with his illicit lover. “It’s too late now. We can’t risk going and telling him to settle down. We’ll just have to pray that when she does appear, he can maintain control, at least for a few moments.”

  Simon grunted. “I can’t believe we are trying to catch a woman having an affair. How far we’ve fallen.”

  Marcus chuckled. “I agree I never would have pictured us in such a situation, though I’m disheartened to hear you feel it’s a fall.”

  Simon sighed. “Perhaps I chose my words poorly. It’s just I thought I would die with my brothers, fighting the enemies of God, not trying to determine who is sleeping with whom, in the back alleys of Paris.”

  Marcus stifled an outright laugh. “I share your feelings, I assure you. But think of it this way. What did we swear to do? We swore to fight for our Lord Jesus Christ, and defend His ministry. What more honorable task is there than trying to protect an innocent woman, who has done nothing wrong, from a horrible fate? We’ve already determined that she is most likely innocent, and now we have a chance to prove it, and quite possibly save her life.”

  Simon nodded. “Well, when you put it that way, I feel like a heel.”

  “Speaking of ungodly smells.”

  Simon leaned in and sniffed. “Good thing we both had baths before we left, otherwise we might never have gained entry into such lofty estates.”

  “It was a good thought of Isabelle’s.”

  “I think she was simply hoping for a look at your attractive calves.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Are we back to this? That woman does not like me, and even if she did, there’s nothing that could come of it.”

  “You haven’t thought of leaving the Order, now that we can no longer serve it as we had before?”

  “Not for a moment. You?”

  “I serve at your side.”

  Marcus turned to him. “And were I to die?”

  Simon frowned. “I’m not sure. I suppose I could return to the Holy Land to die on the battlefield, though with each passing year, I turn more into a liability than an asset.” He looked at Marcus. “Are you planning on dying soon?”

  Marcus eyed him. “If I survive this conversation, then no.”

  Simon shrugged. “You’re making it difficult to make future plans. That being said, should something happen to you, those children will still need a provider, and I would consider it my duty to fulfill that role.”

  Marcus smiled. “You’re a good man, Simon Chastain. A very good man.”

  “I am a saint. But I make no promises that should you pass, I won’t renounce my vow of celibacy, and win the heart of the beautiful Isabelle.”

  Marcus chuckled. “And you would have my blessing, my good friend, though I have a feeling she might put up quite the fight. Have you seen yourself? Your face is scarred like a desert oasis gone dry.”

  Simon rubbed a hand over his face. “It adds character, does it not?”

  “It adds something.” Marcus held up a hand. “Wait, I see someone.”

  He peered into the darkness, the only light from the full moon. A shadow moved quickly toward the carriage, and Denys spun to meet it. The figure, slight enough to be a woman, stretched out her arms and grabbed her lover, Denys thankfully staying in character and returning the embrace. Words were exchanged, unheard from their position, but with Denys now holding her, Marcus strode quickly forward, followed by Simon, who kept to the shadows to take up a position behind her.

  The woman spotted Marcus and she gasped, pulling away from Denys, who held her tightly as she struggled against him. Marcus held up a hand.

  “M’Lady, there really is no point in trying to run.” He motioned behind her at Simon, now in position. “You cannot get away.”

  “What is this? What is the meaning of this?” She stared up at Denys. “Please, my love, what are you doing?”

  “You dare call me that, after everything you have done?”

  Her jaw dropped. “I don’t understand? What do you mean? You know I love you, with all my heart! Do you-do you not love me any longer?”

  She seemed genuinely distressed, and if she were not the Lady Joanne, she was playing her part exceptionally well. Well enough that Marcus had a twinge of doubt. Could the woman on his farm be the imposter, and not this one? She matched the portrait exactly, the artist having proven his skill, and the woman was dressed as he would expect a lady of fine standing to be, even her hair and carriage unquestionably proper.

  He decided to ask the question directly. “You claim to be Lady Joanne?”

  “Claim? What kind of question is that? Of course I’m Lady Joanne. Now please, explain to me what is going on here! This is an outrage!”

  Marcus folded his arms. “Today I met my cousin, Lady Joanne. She was not you.”

  “Then you met a liar.” She tore herself away from Denys, though remained standing in front of his carriage. “I find your questions offensive, and this treatment unacceptable and undignified. I demand you let me go so I can return to my husband. Clearly this was a mistake, and I wish this entire business to end.” A tear rolled down her cheek, her reactions still precis
ely as he would expect.

  “So, you still claim to be Lady Joanne?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Marcus sighed. “Very well. Then I can see only one way to settle the matter.”

  7

  De Rohan Residence

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  Lord Charles de Rohan entered the room they had been shown to, his robes and disheveled appearance suggesting he had been asleep some time, and was not pleased at having been woken. It was probably wise that Marcus had insisted Sir Denys return to his residence.

  Charles might have run him through on sight.

  “What business do you have that requires you to wake me at such an hour?”

  Marcus bowed, as did Simon. “I apologize, sir, but I was confident you would want to hear what we have discovered.”

  Charles stared at him for a moment, then at their female companion. “Who is this?”

  “She claims to be your wife, sir.”

  Charles’ eyes widened and he laughed. “Ridiculous! She doesn’t look at all like my wife. This is but a child.” He drew a dagger from under his robes and pressed it against the woman’s neck before Marcus could stop him. “Tell me why you have done this, now, and I may let you live.”

  The woman glared at him defiantly, though as the dagger pressed harder against her throat, her will broke and her shoulders slumped. “Oh, what’s the point now?”

  Marcus exchanged a surprised look with Simon, the woman’s voice changing from that of a lady, to one of the lower classes, her entire demeanor different. It even surprised Charles, as he stepped back, withdrawing his blade.

  Marcus put himself between the two to prevent any other such altercation. “What is your real name?”

  “Melanie Girard.”

  “Very well, Miss Girard, please explain yourself.”

  “I was paid to pretend to be her, you know. A bit of a lark, I guess.”

  “Paid by whom?”

  “I don’t know. It was good money, though, and he never treated me poorly. I thought it was some sort of prank, you know, that eventually he’d reveal the truth to Denys, but it kept getting more serious, and before I knew it, we were, you know, biblical.”