‘I really don’t know,’ Antoine said coldly. ‘But we did not ask for your help and our situation is not so desperate that we are forced to come to you with our hands out. It was Sophie’s wish to see you again and I agreed to make the trip with her. A decision I am now beginning to regret!’ He abruptly got to his feet. ‘Now, if that is all you wish to say—’
‘It is not all I wish to say—!’
‘Nicholas, please!’ Lavinia said. ‘Antoine. N’ira pas faire vous s’asseoir et nous écouter jusqu’au bout.’
Her low, quiet voice seemed to inject a note of calm into the escalating tension and Sophie was relieved to see her brother sit back down. She knew this was difficult for him. Antoine was proud. Too proud to accept what he would only see as a handout, even from a man whose life he had saved. ‘Listen to what Nicholas has to say, Antoine,’ Sophie urged softly. ‘Then let common sense, rather than pride, dictate your answer.’
‘And please understand it was never our intention to offend you,’ Lavinia said.
‘Indeed it was not,’ Nicholas said gruffly. ‘My only desire was to try to make things better for you. I apologise if you see that as an intrusion into your lives, but the fact is I was worried about the two of you. Those were dangerous times and hardly a day went by I didn’t wonder what had become of you. I owe you my life, Antoine. Perhaps to a doctor that doesn’t mean very much, but to me—to us,’ Nicholas said, glancing at his wife, ‘it meant…everything.’
There was a poignant silence as Nicholas sat down and took Lavinia’s hand in his. Watching them together, Sophie knew he had spoken from the heart. Whether or not his plans for their future came to pass, his reasons for bringing them to England could not be faulted. They stemmed from a genuine desire to thank them for the most noble gesture one man could make towards another.
Sophie glanced at her brother and was relieved to see that he, too, was regretting his hastily spoken words. ‘You have nothing to apologise for, my lord. Sophie’s right. Sometimes a man’s pride gets in the way and prevents him from seeing what is truly before him.’
‘I fear we’ve all been guilty of that.’ Nicholas offered him an apologetic smile. ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.’
‘But pride can be a good thing too,’ Sophie said. ‘It gives us the courage to fight for what we believe in.’ She leaned over and touched her brother’s arm. ‘It enabled you to pursue your dream of becoming a doctor.’
‘Yes, it did,’ Nicholas agreed. ‘But a surgeon is not a doctor. And if your wish is still to become a doctor, I can help you. For all the right reasons.’
For a moment, Antoine was silent. There was a great deal at stake and Sophie knew her brother would not make a hasty decision. He would take time to think the matter through, weighing his options before giving them his answer. ‘And Sophie? What would you do for her?’
This time, it was Lavinia who answered. ‘It is our wish that Sophie stay here in London with us for a while. Not only so we can get to know her better, but so that we might introduce her to English society. It is our hope she will form lasting friendships with the young men and women to whom she is introduced.’
‘Naturally, we will provide her with all things necessary to a young lady entering society,’ Nicholas said. ‘A suitable wardrobe. A maid to attend to her needs. A carriage. Or if she prefers, a decent mare to trot around Hyde Park—’
‘Why?’
Antoine’s one-word question stopped Nicholas in his tracks. ‘Why?’ He looked at the younger man and frowned. ‘Is it not obvious?’
‘Not to me.’
But to Sophie, who had been listening with growing concern, the answer was suddenly all too clear. ‘I think, Antoine, that Nicholas and Lavinia wish me to find…a husband.’
‘A husband?’ Then, her brother’s eyes opened wide. ‘An English husband? C’est de la folie! Sophie has no intention of marrying an Englishman! She is perfectly capable of finding a husband in France!’
‘But what kind of man would he be?’ Lavinia asked. ‘The son of a boulanger? A shop assistant barely making enough to feed himself, let alone a wife and eventually a family.’
A flush darkened Antoine’s cheeks. ‘You assume too much, my lady.’
‘Do I? You forget that I’ve lived in France. I am well aware of the practicalities of life as they apply to a young woman in Sophie’s position and they are not without their limitations.’
‘Let us speak plainly, Antoine,’ Nicholas said. ‘Sophie’s chances of making a good marriage where she is are extremely limited. For all your noble aspirations, a surgeon is little better than a tradesman and your sister will not benefit by the association. Here, we can offer her so much more. She will move in elevated circles; accompany us to soirées and balls held at some of the best houses in London. And when a gentleman does offer for her, as I have no doubt several will, he will have to meet my standards as far as wealth and station go, and seek your approval as the man who will be your brother-in-law.’
‘May I be permitted to say something?’ Sophie asked, torn between annoyance and amusement at the conversation going on around her.
‘But, of course, dear,’ Lavinia said quickly. ‘It is, after all, your future we’re talking about.’
‘Yes, it is. And while I appreciate what you’d like to do, I really have no wish to be married.’
She might as well have said she wanted to strap on paper wings and fly to the moon.
‘No wish to be married?’ Lavinia said. ‘But…every young lady wishes to be married, Sophie. It is the only respectable option open to a woman.’
‘Perhaps, but since Antoine and I left home I have seen much of relationships between men and women, and I am not convinced marriage is to my benefit. A man stands to gains much whereas a woman loses everything.’
‘Not if she marries the right man,’ Lavinia said.
‘But she will not know if he is the right man until after she’s married him,’ Sophie said. ‘And then it is too late. Besides, what gentleman of good family is going to want someone like me? A farmer’s daughter, from Bayencourt?’
‘Rubbish! You no more resemble a farmer’s daughter than I do a tinker!’ Nicholas said. ‘You are an astonishingly beautiful young woman who carries herself like a duchess, and who speaks the King’s English with a slight, albeit charming accent. I cannot think of any man who would not be proud to have you by his side.’
‘There, Sophie, did I not tell you?’ Antoine said. ‘If you gained nothing else from your employment with Mrs Grant-Ogilvy—’
‘Good Lord. Constance Grant-Ogilvy?’ Lavinia interrupted in surprise.
Sophie sucked in her breath. Mère de Dieu, she had begged Antoine not to mention that woman’s name. ‘Yes. Do you…know her?’
‘Not personally, but I understand she is a woman of high moral character and an absolute stickler for propriety. You could not have had a better teacher in the arts of being a lady.’
The moment passed—and Sophie breathed again. ‘Nevertheless, I am not a lady and I did not come to London looking for a husband.’ She turned to Nicholas. ‘I came to see you. And to meet Lavinia.’
‘Yes, well, why don’t we talk about all this in the morning?’ Nicholas said. ‘After you’ve had a chance to settle in.’ He glanced at his wife, seeking support. ‘What do you think, my dear?’
‘I think that’s a good idea,’ Lavinia said slowly, ‘but we probably owe Sophie an apology as well.’
Sophie blinked. ‘An apology?’
‘It was never our intention to make you uncomfortable, my dear. We simply thought that if you wished to be married, we might be able to provide you with a better opportunity to do so. However, if that is not the case, will you not at least stay and give us a chance to get to know you? We have both waited a long time to say thank you.’
Sophie began to smile. ‘And I have waited a long time to see Nicholas well again. But the final say must be Antoine’s. He has been as
much guardian as brother to me these past three years and I could not stay if he was not easy with the decision.’
‘Well, Antoine,’ Lavinia said, ‘what do you say?’
Antoine drew a deep breath. ‘En vérité, je ne sais pas. It seems…so much to ask. A great imposition on you both—’
‘Then let me tell you one more thing,’ Nicholas said quietly. ‘My memory of Sophie was of a child. A golden-haired angel who appeared to me through a nightmarish haze of darkness and pain. I really had no idea how old she was and in bringing her here now, I thought to give her whatever a child her age might like. But the young lady who stepped down from the carriage is not a little girl who hankers after sandcastles by the sea. She is beautiful young woman with a mind of her own, and more than anything, we would like to get to know her better. All you have to do is say yes.’
Antoine was quiet for a long time, longer than Sophie expected. To her, the question was straightforward, the answer, simple. ‘You have concerns about leaving me here, Antoine?’ she asked at length.
‘No, not really,’ Antoine said finally. ‘I admit, it wasn’t what I had in mind, but as Nicholas pointed out, I have neither the financial wherewithal nor the social connections to make life better for you. And given that I would like to see you married—’
‘Antoine—!’
‘Soyez patient, Sophie. You and I have had this conversation before. I too believe that marriage is the only respectable occupation for a woman, and your chances of making a good marriage here are far better than they would be in France. As to marrying an Englishman…well, that decision must be yours. But if you would like to stay with Nicholas and Lavinia, I won’t stand in your way.’
‘Please stay with us, Sophie,’ Lavinia said. ‘It would make us both so very happy.’
Sophie looked at the three people in the room and realised that for the second time in three years, her life was about to change—but this time it would be a change for the better. In the company of Nicholas and Lavinia, she would be able to explore London and all it had to offer. She would have access to good books and fine music, perhaps have conversations about subjects that had always been of interest to her. And if her time in London culminated with a proposal of marriage, she could always say no. But the chance to get to know these two dear people might never come again.
‘Yes, I would like to stay,’ Sophie said firmly. ‘And, if possible, I would like Antoine to stay as well.’
‘Sophie! C’est trop demandez!’
‘No, it’s not too much to ask at all,’ Lavinia said quickly. ‘We simply thought you would be anxious to return to France.’
‘Which, of course, I must or Monsieur Larocque will look for someone to take my place.’
‘But surely a few more days won’t make that much of a difference,’ Nicholas said. ‘There are people here who would like to meet you. Friends, who know what you did and who would be proud to make your acquaintance.’
‘Why not stay with us for a week?’ Lavinia suggested. ‘Nicholas and I will be attending a ball tomorrow evening and we would be delighted to have you come with us. It will be the perfect opportunity to introduce you and Sophie to society.’
Antoine frowned. ‘If I stay, it will not be with a view to entering English society.’
‘Then come for the sport,’ Nicholas said. ‘Lord Bruxton plays an excellent game of billiards. I can promise you some stiff competition if you’re up for it.’
‘Antoine is actually quite good,’ Sophie said, knowing her brother would always downplay his abilities. ‘Monsieur Larocque often invites him to play.’ She got up and crossed to his side. ‘Please say you will stay, Antoine. It will give you a chance to practise your game before you play Monsieur Larocque again. And I would enjoy seeing les dames anglaises swooning over you.’
Antoine snorted. ‘They will surely have more sense than that. But, if it will make you happy, I will stay—but only for a week. Then I must go back.’
It was good enough for Sophie. She didn’t care if it was Nicholas’s persuasiveness or her own pleas that had finally convinced her brother to change his mind. All that mattered was that he was to stay in London for a week—and that she was to stay for at least a month. After such an auspicious start, how could she look upon this as anything but the possible start of a new and memorable chapter in both their lives?
Robert Silverton was not in a good mood as the carriage made its way from Portman Square to Mayfair. Not only because he had no desire to spend an evening being given the cold shoulder by a large number of the three hundred guests Lady Bruxton would have surely invited to her petite soirée, but because of what he had heard at his club just that afternoon.
It seemed that despite having told Montague Oberon he had no intention of participating in his ridiculous wager, the man had gone ahead and set it up regardless. Now he and several of Oberon’s more disreputable friends were engaged in a race to establish the most beautiful woman in London as their mistress.
‘I shouldn’t worry about it,’ said his sister, Jane, from the seat opposite. ‘You need only strike your name from the book and in a few days it will all be forgotten. It seems a silly thing upon which to wager.’
‘It is, but Oberon lives to gamble and when the topic of—’ Robert shot her a wry glance ‘—that is, when talk veered in that direction, he couldn’t resist putting forward this preposterous wager.’
He watched her lips compress, knew she wanted to laugh. ‘You needn’t pussyfoot around the subject with me, Robert, I am well aware that most men keep mistresses. What do you think those old tabbies talk about while they are watching their young charges pirouette about the ballrooms of society?’
‘How prettily they dance?’
‘Not for a moment. They gossip about which gentlemen are having affairs, and about which married ladies are in love with other women’s husbands. How do you think I found out about Lady Andrews and Jeremy West?’
‘Yes, I did wonder about that,’ Robert murmured. ‘But it is hardly the kind of information an unmarried lady should be privy to.’
‘Oh, my dear Robert, you have no idea how much scandalous information I am privy to. It is one of the highlights of my sad little life. But seriously, you must stop worrying about me all the time. You’ve done little else since Mama died and it really isn’t fair. You should be out there looking for a wife.’
‘Need I remind you that I was briefly engaged to Lady Mary Kelsey?’ Robert said. ‘And that as a result, my name has now been struck from the list of eligible bachelors.’
‘Then why are we going to Lady Bruxton’s tonight?’
‘Because you still need to be exposed to good society and Lady Bruxton was kind enough to invite us both, despite my shoddy reputation.’
Jane wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t care what anyone says, you were right to break off your engagement. Life would have been very unpleasant for both of us had you gone ahead and married Lady Mary. I know she didn’t like me.’ She was silent for a moment, but when she spoke again, there was a delightful wickedness in her voice. ‘I’ll wager Mr Oberon would never consider me in the running for the most beautiful ladybird in London.’
‘I should damn well hope not! Apart from your being a respectable young woman, I cannot imagine you married to a man like Oberon.’
‘Why not? When his father dies, Monty becomes a very rich young man. The list of ladies wishing to be his wife or his mistress will stretch long, of that you can be sure.’
‘And I pity every one of them,’ Robert said, suddenly reminded of the French girl he’d seen at the Black Swan Inn. A girl whose beautiful face lingered in the shadows of his mind. He hadn’t seen her or her brother again after taking his leave of them that night, but he hadn’t forgotten her—and neither had Oberon. He’d talked about nothing else the entire way back to London.
‘Well, let’s hope there will be a few new faces at Lady Bruxton’s tonight,’ Jane said. ‘Otherwise, I shall be forced to marry a blind ma
n who falls in love with the sound of my voice and does not mind that I hobble on the way to the drawing room.’
‘You will marry a man who loves you despite the fact you hobble,’ Robert informed her with amusement. ‘And I have every confidence this will be the year you find him.’
‘Goodness, such unwavering belief in my ability.’
‘Do you not share it?’
‘I would like to, but I fear Tykhe has chosen to bestow her favours elsewhere.’
‘Then we shall seek our own good fortune,’ Robert said boldly. ‘Thumb our noses at the Fates.’
‘Oh, no, we must never do that,’ Jane said, laughing. ‘Unless we wish to bring their wrath down upon our heads.’
‘Nothing of the sort,’ Robert said. ‘But we have endured more than our fair share of bad luck, Jane. It is time the gods smiled favourably upon us for a change.’
Sophie recognised him the moment he walked into the room. Though he was far more elegantly attired than on the occasion of their first meeting, there was no mistaking the confidence in his stride or his ruggedly handsome features. He stood tall and proud, his dark hair gleaming in the candlelight, and though several women turned to look at him as he passed, his warmest smile was reserved for the young woman at his side. A slender lady wearing green and who walked with a cane in her hand. ‘I know that gentleman,’ Sophie said.
Lavinia’s dark brows rose in surprise. ‘Which one?’
‘The tall one who just came in. Silverton, I believe his name is.’
‘Yes. Robert Silverton. And that is his sister, Jane. Where do you know him from?’
‘The Black Swan Inn. He and another gentleman were there the evening we landed.’
Sophie had purposely made no mention of the events that had taken place at the inn. Nicholas would have been furious that his arrangements had fallen through, and Lavinia would have been horrified at the thought of a lovers’ quarrel erupting into gunfire in the courtyard. But with Mr Silverton in the room and the prospect of an encounter likely, Sophie thought it best to mention that the two of them had spoken. ‘I would not have thought them brother and sister. The resemblance is not strong.’
Courting Miss Vallois Page 4
