Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [96]
“Of course not!” he protested. “Come, come, let me show you to your chambers.” He snapped his fingers for a servant. “Have his lordship’s things brought.”
Well, of course he feared I was a spy. I’d watched the suspicion emerge when I’d blunted the edge of his greed with the comment about his cousin. It was bound to emerge sooner or later, so best to get it out of the way. And people were predictable. Confronted with the very suspicion in the forefront of their thoughts, they’ll deny it almost every time, even though it’s written on their faces.
And the ironic thing was that I hadn’t exactly lied. I was in Ptolemy Solon’s service for this mission. But even among those members of the Unseen Guild in Carthage who knew of her ladyship’s existence, I doubted anyone would suspect that the Wise Ape of Cythera was sufficiently besotted to risk such a dangerous venture as I was undertaking; and moreover, that her ladyship would implore him to risk it on behalf of the son who’d recently sought to have her slain.
I couldn’t fathom it myself.
A gentle god, indeed. Mayhap not.
I followed Maharbal to a pleasant suite of rooms, complete with a pert little serving maid to attend me. She eyed me with interest, not particularly caring if I was a spy. I winked at her and wondered how close-knit the web of intrigue that bound Carthage’s servants and slaves was. To wit, if I bedded the chambermaid in Carthage’s most fashionable inn, would this bit of gossip find its way to the princess’ household staff? And did they gossip with their young D’Angeline mistress?
Mayhap, mayhap not.
Best to be circumspect. As her ladyship had said, just be safe.
It was growing late in the day. I had the chambermaid show me to the inn’s modest bath, declining with regret her offer of assistance. The evening air held just a touch of coolness. I luxuriated in the warm waters, washing the salt grime from the long sea voyage off my skin, unbraiding and washing my hair, letting it float on the surface of the water. When I climbed out of the pool, clad in naught but my ruby eardrops, there were a handful of peeping gazes. I stood beside the pool, shaking water out of my hair.
“See anything you like, ladies?” I called.
Most of them giggled and scattered. My chambermaid came forward, blushing, to proffer a linen robe.
“If my lordship wishes . . .” she whispered.
“He does.” I lifted her chin with two fingers. “But I have duties to attend to, my peach, and I am weary from my journey.” I kissed her lips, feeling them part beneath mine. “Another day, mayhap.”
The chambermaid trembled a little. “Do you promise?”
I smiled into her eyes and lied. “Of course I do.”
Later, the words haunted me. Unfulfilled desire made me restless. I tossed and turned on my sheets, which were not so fine as those in her ladyship’s household. I should have bedded the chambermaid. After all, who would find that odd? Like as not, it was odder that I’d refused. After all, I wasn’t meant to be coming to Carthage with the intent of seducing the Dauphine. Not so far as the world knew, not so far as she knew. There was no reason I shouldn’t bed a willing girl. It might even have had more impact if the princess knew, later, that I’d eschewed all others, ostensibly in love with her. On the other hand, if I established myself as a rake, whatever dragons Astegal had left guarding his household would hardly be inclined to allow me access to his wife.
Gods, this was more complicated than I’d reckoned.
Why did the lie trouble me?
Because, I decided, it wasn’t worthy of her ladyship. Despite all the vitriol leveled at her, she lied very seldom, and only to a purpose. And she never made false promises. She maintained her own unfathomable standards of integrity. And although she did not demand that of her people, it irritated me that I