by Clee, Adele
“You must have read my mind,” she replied placing the teacup back on the saucer. “I must admit, I have been feeling a little guilty for … well,” she blushed, “for placing my own needs above those of my brother.”
“We must be discreet,” he began. But he knew she had misunderstood when her cheeks flushed dark crimson. “I mean, we must be judicious in our inquiries, not in our …” he waved his hand back and forth between them rather than embarrass her further. “There was nothing we could have done last night. Besides, James is more than capable of taking care of himself.”
She appeared to consider his comment. “You’re right about James,” she said. “But I still don’t understand why he’s involved with Dampierre.”
Sebastian swallowed a piece of ham and placed his cutlery on his plate. “I suspect it has something to do with Annabel.”
Sophie looked at him blankly.
“Annabel,” he repeated, “the girl who accompanied James when he gave me the necklace.” He reached across the table for the coffee pot and poured another cup.
“I thought you said you didn’t know her,” she replied shaking her head and holding up her hand when he offered to pour her a cup.
He smiled to himself for there was a hint of jealousy in her tone. “I don’t know her,” he reiterated. “When James stopped my carriage, he called out to her. Then last night, Antoinette told me that a girl by the name of Annabel had run away from Labelles.”
“Annabel’s a prostitute?”
“Well, this is where it all gets rather interesting.” He paused while Mrs. Cox removed some of the plates and took them out to the kitchen. “Antoinette said that Annabel was a servant, not a prostitute. She said the girl had been at Labelles for a little over a week. Apparently, she was not supposed to leave her room but had somehow ended up serving drinks downstairs.”
A deep frown marred her brow. “Do you think James helped her to run away?”
“Most definitely,” he nodded. Although why he would risk his life for a servant girl was another matter.
“How very heroic of him,” she sighed clasping her hands to her bosom. “He can be extremely gallant when he has a mind to.”
“Indeed,” Sebastian replied with a hint of sarcasm. He was so gallant he had left his sister to fend for herself in his absence. “There was talk that a gentleman had offered Madame Labelle a rather large sum of money in exchange for the girl.”
“It could not have been James. He does not have that sort of money. Not when —” She paused briefly and then sighed. “He did not offer money, did he? You think he offered our mother’s necklace.”
“I’m afraid it is the only thing that makes sense,” Sebastian said. She looked down into her lap and Sebastian stretched across the table and lifted her chin. “He must have felt it was necessary,” he said softly in an attempt to soothe her. The way he felt at the moment, he would give everything he owned just to see her smile.
“It is not the money,” she said slowly. “James will find another way to secure the funds he needs.” She sighed once more. “My mother adored the necklace. But some things are more important than jewels, more important than money.”
He sat back in his chair. He wanted to tell her she was naïve. He knew what it was like to watch those he was responsible for, suffer from cold, illness, and hunger. In such circumstances, nothing was more important than money.
Lost in thought, she nibbled on a piece of cold toast. “The Comte de Dampierre, do you know where he fits into this?”
Sebastian shook his head. “No, Antoinette refused to discuss it. She said she had not told me anything I could not have found out from someone else. But she would say nothing against Madame Labelle or anyone else associated with her. She said she has no intention of ending up as Haymarket ware.”
“Perhaps he is a patron. Now I come to think of it, Dampierre did say that James had offered to exchange the necklace for something of value. If James offered the necklace in exchange for Annabel, then that means Dampierre is somehow involved with Madame Labelle.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t know why, but Madame Labelle does not seem the sort of woman to become entangled with a man like Dampierre.”
Now she did sound extremely naïve. He had suspected the connection but was waiting for proof. “I have asked Dudley Spencer to look into it,” he replied. “I must call round today and see if he has made any progress.”
“Will Mrs. Spencer be at home?” she asked. “I should love to make her acquaintance.”
He glanced across at her, admiring the way the simple ivory dress hugged her figure. “It would mean dressing as Mr. Shandy,” he sighed, a little disgruntled she would be changing into gentleman’s attire.
“Why so glum?” she asked, presenting him with a rather seductive smile. “You’ve always seemed so fond of my breeches.”
An image of her at Rockingham Pool flashed through his mind. He was just thinking of offering to help her squeeze into the said garment when Mrs. Cox entered and spoilt his little daydream.
“There’s a letter been delivered for you, miss,” Mrs. Cox said stepping around the table to hand it to Sophie.
“For me?” Sophie asked apprehensively. She took the letter and studied the script. “It is addressed to Miss Beaufort. Do you think it might be from James?” She hugged it to her chest, oblivious to the threat such a letter posed.
“Might I suggest you open it,” Sebastian replied with some trepidation. Whoever sent the letter was aware of her identity and that she was staying in a house with an unmarried gentleman.
Sophie tore open the seal and her eyes drifted down to the bottom of the page. “It’s from Madame Labelle,” she said, looking up with a puzzled expression and Sebastian resisted the urge to rip it from her hand. She continued reading and then glanced up at him. “She insists I meet with her this afternoon. She insists it is a matter of life or death.”
Chapter 18
Sophie noticed Dudley Spencer glance at his wife, Charlotte, who looked up from pouring tea and acknowledged his raised brow with a sly smirk.
The tension in the air was palpable.
Dane raked his fingers through his hair. “Please, Dudley,” he said with an exasperated sigh, “would you explain to Miss Beaufort that it would be nothing short of madness to meet with this woman.”
Mr. Spencer sat back in the chair and steepled his fingers. “But were you not the one who escorted Miss Beaufort to Labelles? You obviously had no problem leaving her alone with the woman,” he replied with a shrug as though challenging his friend to defy his reasoning.
“Thank you, Mr. Spencer,” Sophie said triumphantly, grateful someone could see there was an element of logic to her decision.
As Dudley Spencer had found no current record of the Comte de Dampierre, the previous comte having passed away without issue over three hundred years ago, then Madame Labelle was the only person who could shed any light on the matter.
Indeed, Dudley had discovered that Labelles was owned by an investment company. The company also held the deeds to an assortment of warehouses in Wapping and a trade ship called Le Pionnier.
Dane shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “That is entirely different,” he said with an air of arrogance. “For one, Madame Labelle was not aware of her connection to Beaufort. And at the time, she was in the guise of Mr. Shandy.”
Mr. Spencer glanced in Sophie’s direction, his gaze drifting slowly over her attire with some amusement. “Indeed.” He paused for a moment and turned his attention back to Dane. “What is it you are afraid of?” he challenged, cutting straight to the point.
The words seemed to strike Dane like a whip. “You more than anyone should know the answer to that.” He glanced across at Charlotte. “I fear Miss Beaufort would be placing herself at risk. One girl has already been held against her will and Madame Labelle had knowledge of it.”
“While I understand your sentiment,” Dudley replied, glancing once more at Sophie’s attire. “I believe Mis
s Beaufort is more than capable of taking care of herself. Besides, it may be her only chance of discovering what happened to her brother.”
“And tell me, would you afford your wife the same courtesy?” Dane said fiercely.
Mr. Spencer smiled and said with assured ease, “But Miss Beaufort is not your wife.”
A look passed between the two gentlemen, suggesting the conversation was at an end. Mr. Spencer had been deliberately provoking and Sophie could not help but wonder if the physical connection that existed between herself and Dane was apparent to others.
“More tea?” Charlotte asked, offering some distraction from the hard stare Dane directed at his friend.
Sophie obliged, grateful to have something else on which to focus. For although she had no intention of ever becoming Dane’s wife, Dudley’s remark stirred vivid memories of their passionate liaison, memories that caused her pulse to race and her breath to quicken. Now she knew why gentlemen found it necessary to loosen their cravats when emotions ran high. As she sat there sipping tea, she tried in vain to think of something, anything other than the deep sense of longing the memory evoked.
She gazed across at Charlotte, the perfect image of domestic respectability. Expecting her first child at Christmas, she was radiant, charming, and graceful. Most importantly, she was in love with her husband. Sophie had noticed the discreet glances she secretively stole. She noticed the way he looked back with a profound tenderness, as though she was the most precious thing in the world to him.
“I believe I am in need of some air,” Charlotte said with a smile, holding the arms of the chair to stand. While both gentlemen also stood, Mr. Spencer offered his assistance by placing his hand at the small of her back and guiding her to her feet. “Would you care to join me, Miss Beaufort? Or am I supposed to call you Mr. Shandy?”
Sophie placed her cup on the table and stood. “I would love nothing more.”
As she turned to leave, Dane touched her lightly on the elbow and bent down so his mouth brushed against her ear. “I would prefer if you would walk in the garden and not out in the square,” he whispered.
“Of course,” she consented with a small nod of the head. Had he asked her the same question a few days ago, she would have told him to go to the devil. Indeed, had his request involved hindering her progress in finding James, she would have said exactly that. In agreeing to this request, she hoped he would understand she was not opposed to everything he suggested.
As Sophie stepped out into the hall, Charlotte’s maid came scuttling down the stairs carrying a fur-trimmed shawl, which she placed around Charlotte’s shoulders.
“We shall not be too long,” Charlotte began. “I believe they have some making up to do.” She laughed as she gestured to the drawing room where the low, rumbling tones suggested the gentlemen were already deep in conversation.
Sophie could not help but be intrigued by their relationship. “Are they always so … so direct with one another?”
Charlotte glanced affectionately towards the closed door. “Perhaps not in company, but the freedom with which they speak stems from a bond forged during their travels abroad. It was a dangerous time.” Her eyes widened to add intrigue to her words. “Who best to turn to for advice than a man you know would die for you,” she said slipping her arm through Sophie’s and leading her out into the garden.
The rectangular shaped garden was what one expected from a townhouse in a more affluent area. It was formal in design, with three flowerbeds placed along the central axis, all edged in neatly trimmed box and smaller beds lining the outer walls. The design would be even more spectacular when viewed from an upper window, Sophie thought, as they stepped out onto the gravel path that wound around the central beds in a figure of eight.
“You do not mind if I take your arm?” Charlotte asked. “I have been prone to bouts of dizziness and Dudley is such a worrier.”
“I am more than happy to be of assistance,” Sophie said a little too formally. She stopped abruptly. “Oh dear, I fear I sound more like Mr. Shandy every day. Of course I don’t mind,” she rephrased with a grin.
Charlotte was silent for a moment and then took a deep breath. “May we be candid with one another, Miss Beaufort?”
“Please, you must call me Sophie,” she replied, eager to further their acquaintance. It was the least she could do after all the wonderful clothes she had been given.
“Sophie,” Charlotte corrected. “It must be wonderful to be able to discuss anything and know you may trust the answer you receive.” Charlotte gave Sophie’s arm a little squeeze. “I do not see why the gentlemen should be the only ones afforded such a luxury.”
“I agree,” Sophie nodded, regaining her composure. “You may be candid with me, Mrs. Spencer.”
“You are doing your Mr. Shandy thing again,” Charlotte said with a chuckle, “and please call me Charlotte.”
Sophie chuckled, too. “If the gentlemen have forged their friendship through danger, then perhaps we shall forge ours through laughter.”
Although Sophie doubted there was anything dangerous about spending years on a grand tour in the company of loose women. If Dudley Spencer had spent time abroad with Dane, then perhaps he did not want Charlotte to know he’d assisted the marquess in pursuit of pleasure while his estate went to rot.
As they reached the bottom of the garden, they sat down on a stone bench with armrests in the shape of swans.
“I believe Sebastian is in love with you,” Charlotte announced in a rather matter of fact tone.
“What?” Sophie jumped to her feet so fast anyone would have thought she’d just sat on a bee. When she agreed to talk candidly, this was not the sort of topic she had in mind.
“Please, sit down,” Charlotte said in a calm tone as she patted the seat next to her. “I did not mean to frighten you. I just wondered if you knew and now it is obvious you do not.”
Sophie sat back down on the bench and sighed. “There are many ways to make one laugh, Charlotte, without resorting to the ridiculous.”
“There is nothing ridiculous about love.” Charlotte took Sophie’s hand in hers, perhaps to prevent her from jumping up again. “And you certainly love him.” She gripped Sophie’s hand a little tighter. “There it is said,” she shrugged. She turned and looked around the garden as though that was the end of the matter.
“Now I know you are being ridiculous,” Sophie protested. “I do not even like him that much.” Well, that was a lie. She liked him a great deal and could not deny she was attracted to him in a physical sense. However, while she had changed her opinion of him over the last few days, she could not forgive him for the way he had shirked his responsibilities.
“Oh, look, over there on the bird bath.” Charlotte pointed to two robins that had just flown down and were balancing quite precariously on the edge. “I have heard it said that robins are symbolic of new beginnings.” With a sparkle in her eyes, she placed her hands over her stomach. “Well, I suppose a baby is a new beginning and falling in love always heralds a new beginning. Do you think our little robins are also in love?”
“I am not in love with him and I do not —”
“I do not believe you,” Charlotte interrupted with a wave of her hand. “One doth protest far too much.”
“I will not deny he holds a certain fascination,” Sophie began determined to be as candid as possible in order to prove her point. “But I could not possibly love a man who whored his way around Europe while his tenants were left to rot in squalor.” Sophie regretted the words as soon as they had left her lips. She did not want to cast aspersions on Dudley Spencer’s character or cause Charlotte any distress, particularly in her fragile condition.
“Who told you that?” Charlotte snapped.
“Told me what?” Sophie did not have the heart to repeat it again.
“Who told you Sebastian whored his way around Europe?” Charlotte sounded annoyed. “Because they most certainly are not talking about the man who is sitting in there
,” she shouted, her face a little flush as she stabbed her finger towards the house.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie cried. “The last thing I wanted to do was cause you any distress. In the village, it’s common knowledge the marquess used money from his estate to fund a rather unconventional grand tour. The tenants have been suffering for years as a consequence.”
Charlotte stared at her with a look of utter disbelief. “My dear,” she began in a much more composed manner. “Are you telling me you believed these lies, you believed Sebastian was capable of such selfishness, such cruelty and yet you still consented to be his mistress?” Charlotte suddenly clapped her hands in joy. “Oh, you are definitely in love with him.”
Sophie did not know which charge to dispute first. The fact Charlotte believed the villagers of Marchampton were liars or the fact she believed Sophie was Dane’s mistress.
“You’re letting your emotions run away with you,” Sophie said respectfully, as though they had been friends for years and could say anything to one another. “I know we agreed to be honest, but perhaps it is best to restrict our topics to things of a less personal nature.” Sophie could feel the heat rising to her face and bowed her head as realisation dawned.
She was, essentially, Dane’s mistress.
To respectable society, her loss of innocence also meant the loss of her reputation and as such, she would be deemed unsuitable company for any lady, including Charlotte Spencer. But that was not what saddened her.
Suddenly, the tears began to fall.
“Oh, please to do not cry.” Charlotte took both of Sophie’s hands in hers. “It is my fault for pushing you on the matter. I should have respected your privacy. It is just that Sebastian is so very dear to me and …”
“Forgive me, I am just being silly.” Sophie sniffed as she dabbed the corner of her eye with the pad of her finger. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she said. “It is not like me at all.”
