Gardeaux looked like an affable politician, sleek, mature, beautifully well groomed in his green and gold Renaissance garb. He was smiling courteously down at his wife, ignoring the horde of influential people surrounding him. Charming. To look at him, Nell would never have guessed his mistress was just across the room … or that he was a child murderer. “What are you staring at?” Madame Dumoit hissed as she passed Nell. “We didn’t bring you here to stand in a corner and gawk. Move around. Show off Jacques’s gown.” “I’m sorry, Madame.” Nell set her glass of wine down on a passing waiter’s tray and moved into the throng. In her Renaissance gown she blended perfectly with the costumed crowd, and the crush was so thick, she would be lost in its midst in seconds and could escape back to obscurity. Twenty-five more minutes and Nicholas would be there. The room was too warm, the music deafening. Watch Gardeaux. Watch the child killer. How could he smile like that when he intended to kill Nicholas within the hour?
