‘Not even if you’re Achilles himself,’ Sophie said flatly, side-eyeing Lu Lu who’d been distracted by another Casanova with a dish of sweet cherries.
‘Ah but you would certainly be my Achilles’s heel!’ He grinned, lifting her fingers to his lips.
‘Appealing!’ Sophie replied with a good-natured smile. ‘Though I aspire to slightly more than being the back end of a foot, demi-god or not! Lu Lu,’ she hissed in the next breath, grasping her friend’s arm and dragging her away before she committed every faux pas known to polite society.
‘Non, non, ma chérie!’ Lu Lu protested, giggling, ‘I was just starting to have some fun!’
She paused to throw a last cherry at her willing accomplice, before Sophie pushed her up some wide, stone steps.
‘Achilles’s heel indeed,’ she muttered, before catching Lu Lu’s eye and starting to chuckle.
‘It is a compliment, ma cherie,’ Lu Lu replied, her eyes dancing, ‘and just the beginning I warrant!’
It was a good while later, after they’d toured many more impressive apartments brimming with drunken revellers, amorous couples and the occasional lost soul, that Sophie felt her spirits begin to fall. How she would find Sir Weston in a palace containing two thousand rooms and half of Paris– most of whom seemed intent on behaving as though they belonged within the pages of a forbidden novel– was a real concern. Briefly, she found herself wondering what Lord Rotherby would make of it, before collecting her thoughts.
‘He would enjoy it immensely of course,’ she said to herself, ignoring the ache within.
‘Pardon?’ Lu lu enquired, fluttering her silk fan at a new admirer.
‘Nothing.’ Sophie shook her head, determined not to get maudlin.
‘Oh ma chérie,’ Lu Lu exclaimed excitedly, ‘we should go to the Galerie des Glaces! It is supposed to be a wonder, especially at night, and we can see the fireworks from there too.’
Sophie smiled briefly at her excitable friend.
‘It sounds wonderful,’ she replied, retrieving Lu Lu’s fan from another passing admirer. ‘Let us go at once.’
Unfortunately, while the Hall of Mirrors felt like a very good place to look for Sir Weston, it seemed half of Versailles was on their way there too. Indeed, once they’d shaken off the attentions of an overly familiar musketeer, they only had to join the steady thrum of people moving through the palace to find themselves, finally, in the infamous Galerie des Glaces itself.
For a moment, Sophie stood amidst the blur of noise, letting her gaze run up and down the long walls of grand candle-lit mirrors, before travelling upwards to the impressive Sun King himself. The effect was truly magnificent, and she caught her breath, wishing Josephine was there to share the moment.
‘Il est incroyable, n’est ce pas?’ Lu Lu murmured, before making her way towards a new table laden with glasses and champagne.
Sophie nodded, trying to memorise every detail so she could capture its likeness one day. Unlike Phoebe, who’d always yearned for heroic adventure, Sophie had only ever dreamed of touring the galleries and museums of European cities. But if she lived out her life in Rouen, it was unlikely she would ever visit such places.
‘It is breathtaking, isn’t it?’ a languid tone offered, making Sophie start and spill her champagne. ‘Though I am caught by its meaning every time. What do you see,mademoiselle? Is itincroyableas Madame Dupres says,or do paintings offer some truth too?’
In a heartbeat, Sophie was back in The British Institution, only this time there was a dart burrowing straight into her chest. She caught her breath; she hadn’t expected to see him, and now all she could think was that it was the last time. She fought to collect her scattered thoughts, knowing Lord Rotherby’s discovery of her amidst the crush could put her entire plan in jeopardy, that it would be doubly hard to slip away with Sir Weston now.
‘I believe there is little truth here,’ she returned, ignoring the pounding in her ears. ‘It is impressive, but to me, the greater part is about … position and control.’
Clenching her fingers, she kept her gaze fixed on the painting, trying not to think about his faint cologne, or golden skin that somehow seemed to exude a warmth that wrapped itself around her whenever he was near. She had only words to persuade him to take his attentions elsewhere, and quickly, despite the confusion flooding her veins.
He moved then to face her and, although he was masked, she perceived the shadow in his eyes at once. The dart twisted, and instantly she wanted to tell him she didn’t mean it, that she knew he’d tried as much as any heartless rake was able. But instead she was silent, while everyone else receded, until they were quite alone in the vast and shimmering hall.
‘An excellent observation, Miss Fairfax,’ he said, his jaw tight. ‘Though I, for one, believepositionandcontrolcan sometimes mask?—’
He broke off, letting a poignant silence envelop them, as Sophie mapped every tiny muscle in his lower face, trying to commit them to memory.
‘My father would force me to watch while he slit the throats of animals he’d hunted. He drank, he gambled, he whored and he beat. Yet all this I overlooked, for the sake of our blood tie, until the night he killed my mother and unborn sister.’
He smiled as the roar of the room returned.
‘I do not intend to interrupt your evening,’ he said with a nod. ‘I only wanted to inform you I had a letter from your esteemed brother-in-law the Viscount Damerel today.’
Sophie felt a sudden coldness reach through her. She hadn’t anticipated her brother-in-law contacting Rotherby before he reached town.
‘He would like an urgent meeting, which is understandable, and I will attend of course.’ He broke off to stare at her. ‘In truth, how you manage to look quite so downcast wearing a mask of gold filigree is impressive,’ he added in a softer tone, ‘though I flatter myself it is the perfect match with your gown tonight. You really are quite breathtaking, Sophie.’
