A Gentleman's Prerogative (Unedited Version)

Chapter 8

Count Durand walked back into the ballroom. He stopped and made small talk with a few gentlemen along the way, all while scanning the room for woman whose services he needed.

After enduring several tedious minutes of their droll political debating, he finally caught sight of her. He would have to act fast before he lost her again. "Would you gentlemen excuse me, " he said, executing a half bow, and quickly striding away.

He had to manuaver his way through the throng of people. The ballroom was a crush, as the English would say. As if being crushed by revolting, sweaty bodies was a good thing, he snarled. One would think that the upper class would at least cleanse themselves. Instead half the women smelled like french whores, and the men smelled as if they just recently fucked them. As he advanced he couldn't help but knock a few elbows in the process. It certainly wasn't well done of him, and he recieved a few pointed looks, however he didn't particularly care at the moment. He was a Count, and most wouldn't dare to confront him.
Besides, he was not about to lose everything due to a few ruffled feathers.

The embarrassment, should he not make his announcement tonight would be worse than being accused of bad manners. The stigma of being jilted in favor of an Irish commoner would be unbearable. His peers would speculate as to why, and once they realized he had empty pockets the gossip would ruin him. The thought of ruination only increased his anger, propelling him closer to his destination.

Almost there, just a few more steps, he said to himself triumphantly. when he was finally able to make eye contact, he all but dared her to move. His mood was so foul, he would kill her if she did. She must have read his silent warning correctly, as she nodded her head in compliance, and stayed where she was.

Unsurprisingly she was alone, standing next to a potted plant off to the side of the room. Hiding in plain sight as always, it was her way. The lady was most uncharacteristic for a member of the demimonde. Most, if not all, liked to be the center of attention. They were generally social butterflies. They existed on the fringes of high society, and could often be found hanging from some gentleman's arm, flirting outrageously. It was this quiet, refined trait that had captured his attention in the first place. She was discreet, which allowed him to enjoy her charms, while maintaining his privacy.

"To what do I owe this pleasue, mon cher comte?"

"Madame," he said, taking her hand and placing a kiss upon it. "May I say you look exquisite tonight."

"You may, however I sincerely doubt you risked being seen in my company to compliment my appearance. What do you seek?"

"I've come to offer you a proposal of sorts. If you should accept, and succeed, then I shall assist you with that little matter you discussed with me last week."

She eyed him questioningly "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't, but you have nothing to lose. If I keep my word, you have everything to gain. What will it be?"

Chen Li studied the counts face and body language. She learned a long time ago how to read ones facial expressions and demeanor. The counts eyes were steady, and his body was relaxed. If he were lying he wouldn't be able to look at her directly and his body would be rigid. He was sincere, for now. However, she knew him well enough to know that he couldn't be trusted. His voice never wavered, though it was a little higher than normal. He was panicking. She could smell the desperation on him, and his brow was beginning to sweat. He was definately more anxious than usual. No, she wouldn't trust him, but that really didn't concern her. He was right, she had nothing to lose. If he did assist her, it was freedom she would gain. She would help him, and then he would help her. If he went back on his word, she would kill him.

"What do you wish me to do?"

"Do you still carry that vile with you?"

"The little brown one?" She asked redundently, with a wicked smile.

"Yes, as you well know." He answered with annoyance. Then he leaned closer and whispered, "This is what I wish for you to do...."

After he was finished telling her his plan, he looked around for his intended target. His eyes narrowed in on her. She was on the otherside of the dance floor speaking with her mother. He turned back to Chen Li. "Can you manage it?"

"I shall see to it. Be prepared for my signal, I will need at least an hour to arrange things."

"Very well, but no longer, or it will be too late. Oh, and Chen Li," he said as he reached out and grabbed her by the arm. His strong grip pinching her soft skin. "Do not fail me."

Chen Li, turned back towards him. Looking down at her arm, her eyes traveled to where he held it, all the way up to his face. The look she gave him was leathal.

Thoroughly frightened, he quickly let go and took a step back. A slow, venomous smile appeared on her face as she leaned in, just inches from his face. "I never fail cheri, however if you ever touch me again, I will not hesitate to slit your throat." Then as if nothing untoward had happened, she turned and walked away.

Durand watched as she made her way through the crowded room. Then he removed his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped the perspiration his brow.

His hands were shaking, though he couldn't tell if it was from his anxiousness or her threat. He had forgotten how dangerous the woman could be. He would help her though, because regardless of how she performed, it would get her as far away from Paris as possible. The lady wasn't one to be trifled with, of that he was certain. He had witnessed firsthand the things she was capable of, and what she did to those who crossed her.