by Clee, Adele
“You have had a lot to contend with these past few days and …” Charlotte paused and lowered her head to look into Sophie’s eyes. “When a woman gives herself to a man for the first time it can be an overwhelming experience. But it is of no consequence, you will marry him and all will be well.” She looked back over her shoulder and then turned to Sophie and whispered. “When I married Dudley, I was already carrying his child. Look how well that has turned out.”
Sophie was surprised by her confession, but there was a huge distinction between them. No one could mistake Dudley Spencer’s love for his wife. Dane, on the other hand, had said quite openly it was his duty to marry. Not once had he mentioned love as a deciding factor. Regardless of whatever it was she felt for him, she could never marry a man who did not love her above all else.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte, but I can never marry. I am too tempestuous, too irresponsible, and too stubborn to be someone’s wife or mother.” And what gentleman would want a wife like that, she added silently, certainly not a peer in need of an unblemished bloodline. “The truth is I like being Mr. Shandy on occasion. I like riding out with the wind in my hair and swimming in the lake in just my chemise.”
Charlotte smiled. “And you do not believe Sebastian would accept you doing such things? The fact you are sitting here in gentleman’s clothes is a testament to his unconventionality.”
“I did not give him much choice in the matter,” she snorted, remembering how angry he had been as he rode along Keepers Lane to find her sitting astride Argo in a pair of gentleman’s breeches. “I do not think he is as unconventional as he would have us believe. Besides, if Westlands is to thrive, he needs a more refined lady at his side. One who can inspire confidence in his tenants, one who will overlook his indiscretions.”
Charlotte looked puzzled. “I should think the years he has devoted to recouping the estates losses would inspire confidence in itself. Do the tenants know that if it wasn’t for Sebastian they would all be destitute?” Charlotte folded her arms across her chest in exasperation. “In his youth, I do not doubt he had his fair share of admirers. But during the last six years, he has devoted himself entirely to his estate. He has not had time to sleep let alone whore his way around Europe,” she cried.
Sophie did not want to dampen the woman’s admiration further. “Charlotte, please calm down. You must think of the baby.” Sophie placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “I understand he is a very dear friend to you …”
Charlotte grasped the hand at her shoulder tightly. “You do not understand. I could never repay Sebastian or Dudley for what they have done for me. Although at least with Dudley, I can show him how much I care.” Charlotte looked away into the distance, her green eyes full of pain. “One day I will tell you the story,” she whispered, “but for now it is enough for you to know that Sebastian is a selfless man, a man who risked his life rescuing me from a hell-hole in France. I shall never forget the moment when I looked up from my straw bed and saw his face, bloody and bruised, yet he still had a smile for me.”
Sophie was momentarily speechless.
Images flooded her mind: Charlotte lying on the floor in some rat-infested dungeon, her face smudged with dirt, her clothes ragged. Sebastian dressed in nothing but a pair of tight, buckskin breeches, carrying the helpless woman to safety as she clung on to his muscular, bronzed shoulders.
A war began to rage within, as an array of emotions scrambled for supremacy: jealousy, fear, and pride — each one challenging the other for the right to breach the walls of her heart. But as the images faded and the dust settled, she was left with one formidable emotion — love.
She loved him. She had always loved him. Charlotte had been correct in her observation.
Fear began to claw at her heart — if it was so obvious to Charlotte then perhaps it was obvious to Dane. Oh, what had she done? She had tasted the forbidden fruit, she had felt his lips on hers, had felt what it was like to be held in his arms. Now the memory of him would be all the more painful. She should leave. She should go home to Marchampton, move into the cottage and pretend he had never come back.
“Sophie, are you well?” Charlotte’s voice broke her reverie. “You look rather pale. Come let us return to the house. I think we are both in need of a distraction.”
Sophie helped Charlotte to her feet and slipped her arm through hers. They had entered the garden as relative strangers and they would leave as trusted confidants. Sophie would have liked nothing more than to remain friends. But she could not bear to hear stories about Dane, and Charlotte spoke about him with such affection it would probably break her heart. Perhaps when she had settled into the cottage, she would write to her.
“I am so glad we have had the chance to speak privately.” Charlotte turned and smiled warmly at her. “If my experiences have taught me anything these past few years, it is that life is like the weather – unpredictable. When it is dark and miserable, we must have hope. But when it is warm and sunny, we must rejoice. We must embrace it and trust that its memory will sustain us when the rain comes again.”
“How philosophical of you,” Sophie replied feeling a little better than she had a few moments before.
“Well, Dudley did not just marry me for my money,” she giggled. “Now, let us go inside, treat ourselves to a slice of cake and see if we can find a way for you to meet your Madame Labelle.”
Chapter 19
After some gentle persuasion and Dudley Spencer’s promise to help devise a plan, they all agreed that the meeting with Madame Labelle should go ahead.
The discussion lasted no more than twenty minutes, but it had been the most awkward twenty minutes of Sophie’s life. She had barely acknowledged Dane throughout the whole exchange, believing that if she appeared aloof she would be able to disguise her true feelings.
She had never stopped loving him.
The thought left her feeling exposed and vulnerable and her stomach did little flips every time she thought of it. The carriage ride home had been just as challenging. Dane had mistaken her stony silence for anxiety and so spent the rest of the journey trying to convince her he would risk his life to protect her — which only made her heart race all the more.
The opportunity to spend time upstairs with Amy had been a welcome relief.
With her arms folded firmly across her chest, Sophie stood with her back to the bedroom window as she examined Dane’s maid. “I know the coat is a little on the large side. But if you would just straighten your back, it would not look so bad.”
Amy offered a weak smile, revealing her reluctance to participate in their charade. “I don’t know how you do it, miss,” she said shrugging her shoulders as though she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. “I can hardly breathe with this thing wrapped around my neck.” She tugged at the ends of the neatly tied cravat and Sophie rushed over, patted her hands away and pushed the ends down inside the waistcoat.
“The more you think about it, the worse it will be,” Sophie replied placing her hand on Amy’s arm to offer some comfort. Sophie had worn breeches many times whilst roaming around in the countryside, but had also struggled with the feeling of being slowly suffocated by a cravat.
Amy turned her head and sniffed the shoulder of the coat. “Does this thing smell musty to you?” she asked, her nose wrinkled to the size of a button.
Sophie bowed her head and inhaled before jerking back sharply. It smelt like a wet dog. “It’s just a little damp,” she reassured, wondering where Dane had found it. “Let me find something to mask the smell.” Sophie wandered over to the dressing table, removed a few dried lavender stalks from the vase and crushed the heads in her hands. “There that should do the trick,” she said, smoothing her hands over the coat in the hope the scent would linger long enough to placate Amy. “Now, do you remember what it is you must do?”
Amy nodded. “I’m to wait in the square until Haines brings your madame.”
Sophie nodded. “You must sit with her for at least ten minutes and
then —”
“But what am I supposed to say to her,” Amy blurted, forgetting it was rude to interrupt and in other houses, maids had been dismissed for far less.
Sophie’s mouth curved into a mischievous grin. “You are going to have the mistress of a brothel at your disposal. I am sure you will think of something.” She had a few questions she would not mind asking herself.
Amy went a little red in the face. “I don’t expect she’d know much about affairs of the heart, what with her being in a different sort of business. Besides, Mrs. Cox says you can always tell when a gentleman’s interested in a lady.”
Sophie struggled with the idea of Mrs. Cox being so knowledgeable when it came to gentlemen. “Really?” she mused, her interest piqued. “And how does one know when a gentleman is interested?”
“Well, Mrs. Cox says that men like order. They usually have a routine and the Devil himself couldn’t change it, even if he had a mind to. She says you can always tell if a gentleman is interested as they start doing things they wouldn’t normally do.”
“I see,” Sophie said with a teasing smile. “You mean like Haines suddenly eating lunch in the kitchen instead of taking it out to the mews.”
Amy blushed again. “Well, I suppose,” she shrugged. “Or like his lordship letting you stay here without a chaperone. Mrs. Cox said that ladies don’t usually stay overnight. His lordship always escorts them home in the early hours.” She stopped abruptly and put her fingers over her lips. No doubt aware that her tongue had run away with itself and such comments were not to be repeated outside the kitchen.
There was an uncomfortable silence as Sophie tried desperately to maintain a passive expression. It was no business of hers who Dane entertained. So why did she feel so angry, so disappointed, so humiliated? When she had questioned his need for two townhouses in London, he’d told her he used the one in Red Lion Square for business. It had not occurred to her that business meant clandestine meetings with his mistresses.
“You should not be discussing his lordship’s affairs,” Sophie said, her tone far too severe. “Or mine for that matter.” She took a deep breath to settle her pounding heart and began fussing with Amy’s cravat in a bid to focus on anything other than the women who’d shared Dane’s bed. “Now,” she continued, taking a step back in order to study her protégé. “Do you have your pocket watch?”
Amy fiddled around in her pocket, casting Sophie a satisfied smile when she managed to pull the watch out without dropping it.
“Wait with Madame Labelle for ten minutes. Then direct her to the carriage and Haines will transport her to Leicester Square,” Sophie instructed. “I shall be waiting near the gate at the east entrance.”
“What shall I do once she’s gone?” Amy asked as she chewed on her fingernail like a girl half her age.
“You must wait for Haines to return and he will bring you home.” There was no need for the girl to worry. Haines would not want to leave her alone for too long. The man would probably thrust his bare hand in a brazier to ensure her safety. Sophie reached for Amy’s hands and held them in hers. “Are you ready?”
Amy took a deep breath. “Yes, miss,” she nodded, still looking rather sheepish.
Dane and Haines were waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Sophie and Amy sauntered down, dressed like two young dandies about town. Dane paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back, whilst Haines stood in the corner like a disgruntled bear.
On hearing the soft patter of footsteps, they both looked up and although Sophie tried her utmost to avoid Dane’s gaze, her eyes were drawn to his by a compulsion she could not control.
The more time she spent in his company, the more she was able to determine his mood. Even with his mask firmly in place, she was aware of every unconscious movement, the restless flexing of his fingers, the straightening of his cravat, the conceited curl of his lips she’d so often mistaken for vanity, but which she now knew he used to disguise the true nature of his feelings. Just when she felt she was beginning to understand the man, she discovered yet another reason to question his character.
In truth, he posed the perfect contradiction.
He had assumed responsibility for her, put his own plans aside to assist her, and even risked his own life to save Charlotte. Then, like the flip of a coin, he revealed another side of himself. The side that cavorted with women, the side capable of showing complete disregard for his people and his estate. It was all rather perplexing. How could she despise him yet at the same time love him with an overwhelming passion?
When they reached the bottom stair, Sophie guided Amy forward. “May I present Mr. Shandy’s counterpart, Mr. Dunstable,” she announced, choosing to sound jovial. Both men looked as though someone had just died.
Amy sniggered at the introduction, but Haines and Dane assumed a restrained silence. Haines struggled to raise his gaze from the floor. While Dane held his jaw so rigid, he looked as though he was about to murder someone with his bare hands.
“Miss Beaufort,” Dane said, “may I have a moment.” Moving to slip his hand around her back, he drew her further along the hall, away from prying eyes and ears. The warmth radiating from his palm made her legs tremble and her heart skip a beat. “I believe it would be best if I were to meet with Madame Labelle,” he whispered. “I am sure she would have no objection and —”
“She has not asked to meet with you,” Sophie interrupted, feeling a little annoyed at the way he tried to control every situation. She would not be manipulated like one of his mistresses. “She specifically asked to meet with me. The sooner we verify what happened to James at Labelles, the closer we shall be to finding out where he’s gone.” And the sooner I can go home and try to forget about you, she added silently. “Besides, I need to confirm she has a connection to Dampierre and I doubt she would talk to you about such things.”
“And you believe she will talk to Mr. Shandy,” he sneered. “If Dampierre is a partner in the investment company that owns Labelles, then he owns her, too. Her loyalties lie with him. Don’t be fooled by her friendly overtures. She has been schooled in the art of deception.” He leaned forward and said somewhat brutally, “It is simple, Dampierre wants the necklace as compensation for the girl and he will use you to get it.”
He had a way of making her feel like a fool, just like he had six years ago. Sophie took a step back and straightened her coat. “Well, we will not know for certain unless I meet with Madame Labelle.”
Some thirty minutes later, Sophie entered the square on the east side and sauntered up and down the gravel path. She had already tipped her hat to two young ladies, who had blushed and sniggered at each other as she passed. She had even stopped to admire a baby, being pushed in a perambulator by his nurse. Which was probably not something a young gentleman was prone to do, but the baby had been so adorable Sophie had found it impossible to resist. She wondered what Dane was thinking as he watched her from the window of number eight: a rather grand townhouse owned by a merchant who was apparently indebted to the Marquess of Danesfield and who had seemed most pleased to have a gentleman of such prominence use his home.
Distracted by the baby, she had not noticed Dane’s unmarked carriage draw up alongside the square. Nor had she noticed its passenger alight until the tip of a vibrant green ostrich feather almost tickled her nose.
“What a beautiful baby,” Madame Labelle said as she linked arms with Sophie and stared into the perambulator.
After complementing the nurse, who still seemed slightly shocked that such respected personage should disregard propriety and converse with her in public, they moved along the path as though they had just nipped out for a leisurely stroll.
Sophie turned to see Madame Labelle. Dressed in a poison-green muslin dress, coupled with a black-cherry Spencer and matching pillar-box hat, she was so exquisitely dressed she could have passed for the daughter of a duke.
“Did you have an interesting time with Amy?” Sophie said, wondering if the maid had pl
ucked up the courage to ask any questions.
“Was that her name? What a darling. She was so shy I could hardly get a word out of her.” She paused and inhaled deeply. “I’m pleased to say, your coat smells so much better than your girl’s coat. I could not decide if it smelt of dog with a hint of lavender or the other way around.”
Sophie offered her a weak smile. “I’m sorry you were obliged to sit with Amy, but you know the danger I am placing myself in just by meeting with you today.”
Madame Labelle raised a brow. “I take it you are not referring to your scrupulous reputation, Mr. Shandy.”
“No,” Sophie replied rather bluntly, for as much as she liked Madame Labelle there was no doubt she was involved in these iniquitous events. “I am referring to your connection to the Comte de Dampierre.”
It was as though the mere mention of Dampierre caused Madame Labelle to turn to stone. Her body became stiff and rigid; her carefree countenance replaced with a cold, stern disposition. She stopped and turned to face Sophie, the vivacious sparkle in her eyes now diminished to a spiritless stare.
“You must not trifle with him,” she pleaded. “You do not know what he is capable of.”
Sophie could hardly believe she was talking to the same woman, for her eyes were alight with pure terror. What had Dampierre done to her to reduce her to such a state? Sophie had witnessed his attempts at intimidation: the ice-cold stare and the razor-sharp blade.
“If he is as fearsome as you say, then why are you still at Labelles? What is he to you, your partner … your lover?”
“He is neither,” Madame Labelle whispered as she looked away, her face flushed with shame. “He owns Labelles and he owns me.”
There was a moment of silence while Sophie contemplated the significance of her words. To be at the mercy of a man like that, well, it did not bear thinking about.
“Have you not thought of running away?” Sophie implored.
