Sophia's cup should have been full. Many of the ton's most eligible bachelors were vying jealously for her smiles; compliments upon her talent, her beauty, her charm, were showered upon her; less successful ladies cast her envious looks; hopeful mamas put up their lorgnettes and viewed her with disapprobation. But her triumph was hollow. At last, she excused herself, slipped away, and all but ran to the back stairs. Climbing to her room, her heart felt like lead. How cold he had seemed. Well, why not? She had let Bodwin trick her into what must have seemed a mockery of his kindness in buying her such a lovely gown—and she had ruined the man! But he'd known that at Cancrizans after the meeting, and his tenderness had been… so… She blinked away tears and hastened her steps. She must not forget what manner of man he was. She must not forget poor little Nancy…
She secured herself in her room and was about to indulge herself in a good cry when the door opened and a maid hurried in. Sophia turned quickly away, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.
"I seed ye come in here, m'lady, and seein's how it do be—"
She spun around with a shocked gasp, "Nancy!"
"Aye, Lady Sophia," the girl beamed. "Though I see ye've no need for me—ye look that beautiful!"
"But… how?" Sophia struggled to gather her wits. "I mean—I thought… Well, it must have been such a… ghastly experience!"
Nancy nodded, her face sobering. "That it were, ma'am! Proper scared I were. Not to say cross as crabs!"
It seemed an odd reaction, but Sophia held out her arms. "Poor child" After a second's hesitation, the girl came to be hugged, and Sophia stroked her soft hair and said comfortingly, "You need never be afraid again. I shall take care of you!"
Nancy looked at her wonderingly. "Ye be very good, m'lady. But—'tis over now, and no cause for'ee to look so dreary-eyed."
She seemed quite in spirits, and Sophia thought wretchedly, 'Oh, Camille! How could you abuse her when she is so innocent?' "You shall come back to Kent with me," she smiled, and added nobly, "You will not have to face shame alone!"
Nancy grinned. "Why, I doan't reckon it do be that bad, ma'am."
"You don't. Oh, my," said Sophia in failing accents. "You are… more worldly than I… had thought."
"Ar—now that I be! Very worldy! Why, I been to Paris, m'lady! Last spring—'fore Old Boney went on the rampage again, Miss Hilby taked me with her!" She nodded proudly. "I bean't no country pumpkin, Lady Sophia!"
There was little doubt but that the poor girl's intellect had become disordered. Fighting tears, Sophia murmured, "I am so relieved to find you looking well. And how very kind of Lord Bodwin to take you in."
"He bean't have taked me in, m'lady!" Indignation dawned in the blue eyes. "Not as how he hasn't tried. Very quick with his hands be his lordship! If Miss Hilby hadn't of asked me to come and help Lady Branden and the little Mamzelly, I'd— Oh! M'lady! Come'ee now—sit ye down! Oh, my gracious! Maybe'ee should put your pretty head 'twixt your knees. I see the natural do that to Mrs. Grimsby once when she come over queer with her fourth—right in the middle of the curate's sermon on sin!"
Sophia heard the words but dimly. She felt faint. Before her eyes was Camille, lying under that tree, so battered and bleeding… and she'd not even stayed to help him… She clutched at the girl's hand. "Why are you here? Miss Hilby did not send you!"
"But she did, ma'am. 'T'were that day as the Duke come so unexpected like. I own I were disappointed 'cause my Mum and Dad live outside of Cerne Abbas, and usually when we go to the Priory, Miss Hilby lets me slip home for a bit. I knowed once the Duke come as how I wouldn't be able to get away. Well, anyways, I likes to take a little walk afore dinner—always has if the weather be fine—so as soon as Miss Hilby goes down that afternoon, off I hops. I was by them trees along the road when a chaise come flying up, and there's me old carpet bag alongside o' the groom, and he's a'telling me to pop in, smart-like 'cause I'm to go to Bodwin Hall and take care of the Mamzelly and Lady Branden, who was a'coming the next day."
"But…" said Sophia dazedly, "Miss Hilby thought… we all thought… But—surely they had their maids at Bodwin Hall already?"
"Aye. That's what I thinked, too—though they're not the best I ever did see, ma'am… always making sheeps' eyes at the footmen and a sight too uppity—"
"Your father! What about your poor father?"
Nancy looked at her uneasily. "My—father? I never did get to see him, to be sure, nor me Mum, bein's I spent the night under the hedge! That were the worst of it! Mr. Taylor took a 'short cut,' he says! Long way to Brummagem, more like! First the wheel come loose, then the team broke free while Mr. Taylor was a'fixing of it. And I must say as he was slow, was that there Mr. Taylor. My Ariel could've done it in jig time! I was fair froze, and the end of it was we had to walk all the way to a farm miles from nowhere, and Mr. Taylor comes and gets me when the chaise is repaired and the horses found. Only that be the following evening!"
"But—you sent word that your Papa was ill, and—"
"I never did! Why—that would be fair asking for me Dad to get struck down. If you'll excuse me for saying so, ma'am!"
"But—weren't Lady Branden and Mademoiselle Genevieve surprised to see you?"
Nancy considered this carefully. "Come to think on it, m'lady, they was a little put about at first. But when I explained, they didn't go into a taking. And next day, Mr. Taylor come with a message from Miss Hilby that I was to set here and wait 'til she come back. Though how she'll go on without me, I cannot think! No one but me knows how she likes her hair, especial when—"
"This—Mr. Taylor," Sophia intervened, "do you know him well?"
"Never do have seed him afore… he must be new." Wrinkling her brow, Nancy knelt beside Sophia's chair. "I bean't a clever maid, ma'am. But something do be wrong, I think. I'd take it kindly if ye'd tell me of it."
Sophia pressed a hand to her temple distractedly. "I cannot think. My head feels so stupid… The note! The note you sent to Ariel, telling him that Lord Damon had molested you in the wood! Didn't—"
Nancy gave a little shriek and, throwing both hands to her scarlet cheeks, cowered, crying, "Oh! What a drefful bad thing for ye to say! How could'ee think such wickedness of him? Or—of me! Oh… my… Lor'!" She grabbed up her apron, buried her face in it, and burst into tears.
Sophia gazed blankly at that bowed head. So he had been blameless, as he'd told Luke. She'd known somehow that he just couldn't be that kind of animal. But something was terribly wrong. Someone had written the note. Why? And why hadn't he explained when she'd all but begged him to deny it? Had he been affronted because she'd believed the filthy lie? Was that why he'd let her go on thinking…
"M'lady?" Damp fingers touched her wrist. Nancy, her eyes abrim, stared at her in terror. "You said… I sent a note… to Luke? Ma'am—I cannot write, but I never let him know that. I—didn't want him thinking I'd nought in me head but hair. Did—does Ariel think—?"
"Yes. I fear he did think it—"
"Oh, God! Oh, my God!" Nancy sprang to her feet in a frenzy. "Then Lord Damon do be dead! Or dying! I knowed the minute I seed ye so sorrowful as there be something wrong. But I never thought… Oh, how could he believe it? Lord Damon, who has always treated me so kind and good. And never put a naughty hand on me. Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"Hush, dear." Sophia went swiftly to the hysterical girl. "They fought be—"
"Fought! Oh, ma'am—Luke loved Lord Damon like he was his own brother! He knowed his lordship couldn't fight him back!"
"But he did, and quite well, really," said Sophia, pride overtaking her. "I—"
"Doan't ma'am," Nancy sobbed. "Doan't'ee tell me of it. I can't bear to hear! No man could never stand up to my Luke. Oh, poor Lord Damon… such a fine handsome man to be cut down so young…" She raised a tear-streaked face. "Be they after him, m'lady? Be the Runners after my Luke already? Oh, may God forgive me for teasing him! I should've married the dear soul long since. And now—it be too late! And I do so love him."
Nancy fell into her arms, and they wept together.
Chapter 20
Sophia paused on the last flight of stairs, her eyes searching the ballroom. She had summoned the housekeeper and placed Nancy in her reluctant care, requiring that the girl be conveyed to Cerne Abbas at once. Nancy, her swimming eyes bespeaking her gratitude, had mumbled a promise that she would take Ariel to the Priory as soon as she found him. Now, seized by a frightening sense of urgency, she looked in vain for Camille. A boulanger was in progress. Bodwin was Genevieve's partner—fortunately. She continued to the foot of the stairs, and at once several gentlemen started hopefully toward her. Foremost among them was Whitthurst, and she blessed him mentally for coming so swiftly to her side.
"You look like the devil, Chicky," he said quietly, drawing her away.
Accustomed to such brotherly admonishments, she asked if he'd seen Damon.
"Went off with Vaille just a minute or two ago. One of the anterooms, I think. Sophia! Wait—you must not—"
But she was already hurrying into the side hall, eluding the friends and acquaintances who sought to detain her. The occupants of the first room, locked in a passionate embrace, were not even aware of her having opened and closed the door. The lady in the next room let out a shriek that betrayed her uneasy conscience, and there was not need for any enquiry. The third door opened onto a double room in the outer chamber of which stood a pale and frightened Charlotte Hilby. The closed connecting door betrayed the presence of an extremely vexed gentleman beyond it. Recognizing Vaille's voice at its most acid, Sophia hurried to clasp Charlotte's outstretched hands.
"… moved heaven and earth," Vaille was saying, "to get you to Oxford where you might have learned how a British gentleman behaves! Since I did not do so, I can now only rely upon whatever the French have bred into you. Which, I might add, seems precious little! Be silent, sir! Nor dare to interrupt me again! You know how dear to me are your Mother's possessions. Instead of selling these—" A small clatter was heard. "Why in the name of God did you not come to me and explain that you felt beholden to repay your investors? Oh, do not look so shocked. I have ways of discovering such things."
"So… I see." Damon sounded breathless.
"And that," Vaille rasped, "is no answer!"
Charlotte drew Sophia to a love seat and they sat together, holding one another's hands, each heart beating very fast. In a remote fashion Sophia realised how incongruous it was that she should cling to this woman she had often felt impelled to scratch. A woman she now knew she would fight tooth and nail to prevent winning Camille. Yet, at this moment, the only thing that mattered was that he was in great trouble, and that each of them loved him.
"Since I have no intention of accepting your terms, sir," Damon responded coolly, "I felt I could not approach you in the matter."
"Indeed! And would prefer to be cut off entirely, I take it!" Receiving no audible reply, the Duke went on in a voice that made Sophia's heart ache. "Am I then…so repulsive to you?"
There was a pause, after which Damon reiterated in a flat, unemotional tone, "I cannot accept your offer, sir."
Charlotte gave a little whimper. Sophia moaned a faint
"Why does Camille persist in antagonizing him?"
"In that case," Vaille said harshly, "I must insist upon a prior claim to the rest of your Mother's jewels. They mean a great deal to me, at least. But you will not be out of pocket. I will purchase them from you."
Sophia winced, and Miss Hilby whispered a reproachful "Oh, Philip!"
Damon's response was markedly uneven. "I sold… them all, sir."
"You… what? The rubies, also? Now if I do not discover and recover 'em speedily, by God, you'll rue the day!" That whiplash of a voice was stilled, and then Vaille resumed, in a purring tone Sophia found even more terrifying. "But I forget to whom I speak. Damon—oblige me by removing your jacket."
"Dear heaven!" Miss Hilby was on her feet, her face white as death.
Sophia thought wretchedly, 'She knows… and still she loves him.'
The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes. Damon's reply was calm. "May I ask why, your grace?"
"You may not." And after a few more nerve-wracking seconds, "Thank you. It grieves me to disturb so impressive a shirt, but—roll up your left sleeve, if you please."
Miss Hilby gave a sob. Sophia was shaking, dreading what must follow.
"That will not be necessary," Damon said slowly. "I was a member of Cobra. My code name was Scorpion."
"Dear God!" The Duke's voice was hoarse. "How I prayed it was a lie! For five hundred years, not one major blemish on our family name. No madness, no cowardice, no deformities, and, above all—no disgrace! And now… For Christ's sake—how can you stand there and say nothing? Look at me, sir! Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. Did you join willingly? Or were you forced into it? Blackmailed? Tricked?" That pained voice broke, and, on a near sob, the proud Vaille gasped, "Only tell me and I'll believe you."
"I joined… willingly."
Vaille groaned. "You cannot have… enjoyed it. Give me that, at least."
Damon said haltingly, "I—thoroughly… enjoyed—"
Tormented, Vaille uttered an inarticulate cry. There was the distinct sound of a loud slap.
Sophia was on her feet now, her hands pressed to her mouth. Charlotte rushed to fling open the door. Vaille, his expression a mask of anguish, stood with one hand swung back for the return blow. Damon, very erect, watched him unflinchingly, though his face was almost the colour of his shirt.
"Philip!" Charlotte implored. "For the love of God!"
The Duke's blazing eyes shot to her. Somehow he was able to restrain that upraised hand. The thin fingers clenched, then lowered.
The quivering silence held until the Duke's flushed cheeks paled, his tumultuous breathing quieted, and the rageful grief faded from his eyes. He took up Damon's jacket and tossed it to him. "You—sir," he said with low-voiced contempt, "are no son of mine! If it was in my power to cut you out of the succession, I would do so. You have left me only one thing for which to be grateful… that my beloved wife did not live to see this day! For her sake, I shall see to it that you are provided with an allowance. Sufficient to live without shame. Outwardly, at least. Should we meet in a public place, I shall thank you to refrain from addressing me!" His voice failed him a little as he saw the flinch that his son was unable to repress, but he ended remorselessly, "It will be better for us both, my Lord Damon, do I not set eyes upon you again."
The Marquis stood silent and unmoving. His hands clenched until the nails bit into his palms, but the white, drawn face, the suffering in those blue eyes, were more than he could bear, and his head went down. He felt the movement of the air and closed his eyes as the Duke strode past him.
Charlotte, grasping Vaille's arm with a heroism that awed Sophia, pleaded, "Do not go! Philip, I beg of you. Do not let such terrible words lie between you! Oh, Philip… please…"
Vaille detached her hand and swept on. Tears beading her lashes, she turned from proud and stately Duke to shattered Marquis. "I'll try to talk to him," she promised chokingly. She put a hand on his arm, but he did not move. "Don't worry, Camille. I'll try to make him see reason."
Damon whispered something, and she gave a little sob and ran down the hall.
Sophia's knees were jelly, and she sat down once more, waiting. Damon's shoulders sagged, but for a minute or two he made no other movement. At last, as though he sensed her presence, he turned to her. His eyes were dulled, and he looked exhausted. The mark his father's hand had left was glowing on his face beneath the powder, and she was reminded of the first time she had slapped him, never dreaming what the future he
ld. He ran a hand through his hair in the familiar gesture of exasperation and muttered, "If you heard it all, ma'am, why do you stay?"
"Because I must talk to you." She was surprised that she could speak so steadily.
"Not now," he said wearily.
She walked swiftly forward, blocking the doorway as he shrugged into his jacket. His eyes moved past her, and from the empty room behind her, a man coughed discreetly. Sophia stepped aside, and a footman, gazing at a point some inches above the Marquis's telltale face, intoned a sepulchral "A note for your lordship. By special messenger." He handed Damon a folded paper, bowed in acknowledgment of the crisp thanks, and took himself off, his eyes sliding sideways for just long enough to register the name and rank of the lady involved.
"Well, now we're properly in the soup," Damon muttered, breaking the seal. "Between my face, your presence, and the fact I was putting my jacket on when that dolt—"
Sophia's gasp was echoed by the Marquis as he read the letter, crushed the paper, and stood glaring down at his clenched hand. "Where's Ridgley?" he demanded. "Here— yes?"
"No." Taken aback by the fierce light in his eyes, she said, "He went to Devon to try and reason with Mr. Prendergast. As my agent."
He took a pace toward her, those dark brows downdrawn in a heavy scowl. "Alone? Wasn't Hartwell with him?"
"Amory? Why—no. Lord Ridgley went with Major Henderson."
"Buzzy Henderson?" he asked keenly. "Of the Seventh?"
"Yes. He was staying here, but his wife is increasing, and he became worried and decided not to remain for the ball. He lives in Torquay. They journey together."
He stared at her for another long moment, then started for the door.
"I must talk to you!" she cried.
"I haven't the time, ma'am. Stand aside, if you please."
Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 04] - Love's Duet Page 24
