Certainly, he would have courted her properly and then proposed to her with her family’s blessing. In the moments they shared leading up to their wedding, they would have stolen kisses and held hands when no one was looking. He would have married her in September when the leaves were turning, once the stormy season had finally broken into peaceful weather.

Remi in a wedding gown.

And the wedding night...

He shivered. Had he stayed, he could have been her first—and last—everything. He looked down at the Leith then, suddenly feeling as cold as the other man’s corpse. Ben gave his head a quick shake, banishing the thought. Remi’s friend was beneath his scalpel and he was busy thinking about her body in wicked ways. “Forgive me,” Ben muttered quietly under his breath. He owed the man his respect in death, at least.

Thoughts cleansed of Remi, Ben opened Leith’s ribs with his tools and a forceful pull, wincing when they cracked. He was jealous of a man who’d been murdered. He felt awful for even thinking such trivial things. Remi had been lucky. She’d had someone other than Elise to lean on.

A noticeable silence surrounded them until Jacques coughed, bringing Ben back to the present.

“What are you searching for?” he asked.

“Lesions in the lung tissue.” Ben removed both organs and transferred them to an empty surface to examine them. “Even if the original report said they’d found water in his lungs, there would be markings on the tissue. Thankfully, the body hasn’t decayed enough that I won’t be able to see them.”

Jacques nodded, waiting patiently as Ben worked.

“I was right. They’re clean,” he finally announced.

“So he didn’t drown,” Jacques stated plainly.

“No he didn’t,” Ben said, stepping back from the body. Leith’s body was handled just as poorly, and purposefully, as his father’s. It couldn’t be a coincidence. “The doctor lied about it entirely.”

Jacques clicked his tongue. “Paid off, I think.”

“By who?” Ben’s shoulders sank. “Lamotte? Marchand? Remi’s uncle?”

“Could be all of them.”

It was merely conjecture. Ben couldn’t do anything yet, even with his notes and observations. Even if the doctor was a negligent fool, he wasn’t wrong about Ben’s standing. He had no certification outside of hearsay and he couldn’t exactly admit that he’d conducted a posthumous examination on the body.

He needed to come up with a solution, and fast.

REMI

Remi licked her lips. She could taste…fire.

She inhaled and smoke burned her lungs. She coughed, terror seizing her as she jolted back to consciousness. She didn’t recognize the room, but in the roaring fire, everything was indiscernible. She only felt the sensation of being trapped, like a moth caught in the flame.

Where is the door?

She tried to spin around, but her feet would not move.

A window! What about a window?

The flames grew hotter, licking up her feet to her waist, racing along her arms. She was melting into the floor, losing herself to the uncontrolled fury of the fire. Remi’s eyes flashed back and forth until a face surfaced from the blaze, reaching a hand out for her to take. She grasped it with her own and pulled with as much strength as she could muster, but found that she could not be moved.

“Save yourself.”

The visage in the firestorm stepped forward, crowned in flames from head to toe. Pink skin bubbled and charred before her eyes as Lamotte’s smile faltered. His eyes bled from the empty holes in his head, his skin melting away from bone.

“Save yourself,” he said again, his arm burning up in her hand.

She screamed, losing her grip on him as she fell backward. The inferno swallowed her, and just as the heat reached its peak, Remi’s eyes burst open.

Sweat dripped down her brow. Her body was covered in a thin sheen of it, her blanket soaked and her hair sticky. She sat up, chest heaving with each panicked breath. Another nightmare, another phantom disrupting her peace. Lamotte had certainly caused a great deal of anguish in town. Remi held him accountable for the nightmare.

“Madame?” A voice called to her from the other side of the door. “We have a problem.”

Is that Jacques? Whatever could he want? Remi wondered as she shifted herself to sit. “Come in.”

Two bodies tumbled through into her room, one of them being Sylvie, followed by Jacques. Her maid was in tears and Ben’s footman wore a grim expression.

“Sylvie?” Remi asked, startled as the young woman fell to her knees. She bowed her head, shaking with unsuppressed sobs. “What’s going on?”

Jacques crossed his arms. “She’s a thief, Madame. I caught her rifling through Monsieur’s desk in his study.”

Remi’s eyes widened. “What? Sylvie, is that true?”

The young woman broke into tears, sobbing louder with each breath she took. It was an awful, agonizing sound. Her pain, her frustration—Remi could feel it all. Pulling the blankets aside, she went to Sylvie’s side to comfort her, but Sylvie pushed her away. Jacques moved to intercept her, but Remi held up a hand to stop him.

“Sylvie, I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.” Remi tried.

“I’m so sorry, Madame,” Sylvie sobbed, wiping at her face with her sleeves. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.”

Remi stilled, sharing a quick look with Jacques. He appeared just as confused as she felt.

“I don’t understand. What have you done?”

Sylvie looked at her through swollen eyes. “Too much, I’ve done too much! But they told me I had to do it. They told me if I didn’t—if I told you, they would do much worse things. I shouldn’t have believed them, Madame. I shouldn’t have.”

“Who?” Remi felt a chill and crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “Who told you to do what?”

“Stealing, Madame! Delivering those awful letters.” Sylvie sobbed. “I didn’t want to, but they threatened to hurt me, or you, if I didn’t!”

Remi tensed. “You delivered those letters?”

“What have you stolen?” Jacques asked, his jaw ticking with anger.

Remi wondered the same, though she assumed it was her belongings, like the locket.

Sylvie looked like a wounded foal, her large, wet eyes bouncing between them. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.”

“Sylvie, listen,” Remi started, cautious as she spoke. “If you tell us who threatened you, we can fetch the gens d’armes and send word to your family. We can help you.”

Her eyes grew impossibly wide, lips quivering. “I can’t, Madame. I can’t!”

Both Jacques and Remi reached for her, hoping to calm her, but Sylvie screamed, “I can’t!”