She didn’t know she was weeping as one memory slipped into another. The tears came quietly, in the dark. Closing her eyes, she nearly slept.

“Listen to me.” The whisper disturbed her. Brie shook her head. If it was a memory, she didn’t want it. But the whisper came again. “It has to be tonight.”

“And I tell you it feels wrong.”

Not a memory, Brie realized dimly, but still a memory. The voices were there, now, coming through the dark. Through the windows, she realized, that opened up onto the terrace. But she’d heard them before. Her tears dried. She’d heard them before in the dark. This time she recognized them.

Had she been so blind? So stupid? Brie sat up slowly, careful not to make a sound. Yes, she remembered, and she recognized. Her memory was back, but it didn’t hurt any longer; it didn’t frighten. It enraged.

“We’ll follow the plan exactly. Once we have her out, you take her back to the cottage. We use a stronger drug and keep her tied. There’ll be no guard to make a fatal mistake. At one o’clock exactly, a message will be delivered to the prince. There, in the ballroom, he’ll know his daughter’s been taken again. And he’ll know what he has to pay to get her back.”

“Deboque.”

“And five million francs.”

“You and your money.” The voice was low and disgusted and too close. Brie gauged the distance to the door and knew she had to wait. “The money means nothing.”

“I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing Armand had to pay it. After all these years and all this time, I’ll have some restitution.”

“Revenge.” The correction was mild. “And revenge should never be emotional. You’d have been wiser to assassinate him.”

“It’s been more satisfying to watch him suffer. Just do your part and do it well, or Deboque remains in prison.”

“I’ll do my part. We’ll both have what we want.”

They hate each other, Brie realized. Why hadn’t she seen it before? It was so clear now, but even tonight, she’d spoken to both of them and suspected nothing.

She sat very still and listened. But there was nothing more than the sound of footsteps receding along the stone. They’d used her and her father. Used her while pretending concern and even affection. She wouldn’t be used any longer.

Still, she moved quietly as she crossed the room. She’d find her father and denounce them both. They wouldn’t take her again. She twisted the knob and opened the door. And found she wasn’t alone.

“Oh, Your Highness.” A bit flustered, Janet stepped back and curtsied. “I had no idea you were here. There were some papers—”

“I thought I told you there’d be no more work tonight.”

“Yes, Your Highness, but I—”

“Step aside.”

It was the tone that gave her away, cold and clear with passion boiling beneath. Janet didn’t hesitate. From her simple black bag, she took out a small, efficient gun. Brie didn’t even have time to react.