Even Aurelia had known the score. And all his efforts to marry her, all his protestations about honour and reputation, had they been merely to ameliorate his own scandal? Or worse? Had he hoped to trap a wife before he became known as the most villainous lord abroad?
Sophie’s spiralling thoughts worsened by the second until she was quite convinced she’d been as ignorant as any debutante could be, despite every warning about his character. And how she could have ever had a shred of doubt about dear, kind Sir Weston, who’d only ever tried to help her, felt like an injustice of the highest order.
Swiftly, she hurried through the connecting apartments from the Hall of Mirrors, scanning every flickering shadow with fresh zeal. Masked faces loomed out of every corner, while drunken, cajoling voices attempted to sway her in her progress. Yet all she could think was to find Sir Weston and entreat him to stop the fight. Damerel’s arrival at Versailles could make him cry off their own assignation, but the thought of leaving the duellists to murder one another was unthinkable. Her chest pounded as she ran on, praying Sir Weston’s tall, quiet personage would set him apart from so many drunken revellers. Yet there were just too many rooms, and guests determined to slow her progress. Then, finally, just as she was retrieving her hand from a cavalier who seemed determined to misquote Byron, she spied a familiar dress.
‘Lu Lu?’ Sophie panted into the shadowy alcove, certain she would know her friend’s expensive silk anywhere. ‘Where have you been? I really need to tell you something?—’
‘Ma chérie!’ Lu Lu exclaimed, stumbling forward, her glossy hair dishevelled. ‘I am so happy to see you! But please… I must introduce one of my oldest friends who I had no idea would be at Versailles tonight. Isn’t it a happy coincidence?’
She flailed flamboyantly at her elegant companion who stepped forward in a duck-egg blue satin dress with matching mask, and a cloak suspiciously like the one in Madame Montmartre’s window.
Yet Sophie would know her china-doll eyes anywhere.
‘Aurelia!’ she exclaimed in shock, feeling the world tilt on its axis again.
Of course they might know one another– ladies of the ton always did. Sophie’s gaze swung between them as a wave of fresh questions flooded her thoughts.
Was this how Aurelia had known she would be at the Palais des Tuileries? Had she also known she was staying with Lu Lu when accusing her of enjoying ‘life as a courtesan’?
‘Ah, my least favourite Fairfax,’ Aurelia said, placing an arm around Lu Lu’s swaying form, ‘and you’ve had considerable competition too! As dearest Lu Lu and I were just saying,’ she continued, ‘if you’re going to play games on the marriage mart, you really should know your rakes from your libertines, otherwise you can end up lookingrathernotoriousyourself.’
Lu Lu blinked in a haze of semi-consciousness, as Sophie’s eyes narrowed, realising Aurelia was quite determined to ruin her, no matter the truth. And suddenly, she no longer cared.
‘In truth, I’d rather benotoriousthan a pitiful, vengeful creature without one ounce of self-respect!’ she hissed, snatching up a half-drunk glass of champagne and emptying it in Aurelia’s face.
Then she grabbed Lu Lu’s hand and pulled her away.
Sophie didn’t look back, the extent of Aurelia’s vengeance driving her pace and fuelling her search, until the rooms grew quieter and colder. Only then did she slow enough to take in the pitted walls and blackened gilt decor, lit by lone, flickering candles. It was an eerie sight, and briefly, she imagined Queen Marie-Antoinette running through, with a baying crowd at the gates. She shivered as a pair of burning torches came into sight, and was relieved to find they silhouetted an exit at last.
‘Have you seen Sir Weston tonight, Lu Lu?’ she said urgently as they stepped outside.
Swiftly, she scanned theCour d’Honneurcourtyard, which now looked as though it was lit by a thousand tiny stars that had fallen from the night sky. They shimmered to the faint strain of Mozart that rose from the gardens as she tried to catch her breath.
‘You really should know your rakes from your libertines, otherwise you can end up looking rather notorious yourself.’
Aurelia’s parting barb reached through her as she stared down at her friend, resting half-asleep against her shoulder.
‘And why Aurelia, of all people?’ Sophie added in a whisper, wondering if she’d been blind all along.
‘Were you looking for your… temptation?’ she hazarded.
‘Oui,’ Lu Lu slurred in a forlorn voice, ‘but I found a greatstupideinstead! Aurelia says not all gentlemen are made equally; some are more honourable than others. Thank heavensmes chériesdo not suffer with the same malady…’
Immediately, Sophie pictured Rotherby and Damerel, duelling in her honour at that very moment, and suppressed a rise of fresh fear. She could only hope Weston’s very good sense would send him outside, once he realised the challenge of identifying anyone inside the palace.
‘And you have become quite a favourite.’
Sophie gazed down at Lu Lu’s drooping form, and knew then that whatever friendship she shared with Aurelia, she’d not intended to be disloyal. And now it seemed she had been let down as well. A flare of protectiveness flew through her as she wondered if she could possibly be the worst friend, as well as the worst sister, in the world.
‘Miss Fairfax?’
Sophie started as a masked figure loomed towards them out of the shadows.
‘Sir Weston?’ she inquired incredulously, wondering if her stars could possibly have aligned at last. ‘Is that really you?’
‘It is, and I’m delighted you had the presence of mind to wait in the Cour d’honneur,’ he replied. ‘I was not expecting half of Paris to be here,’ he paused to frown, ‘as I was not expecting Madame Dupres to be with you. Is she quite well?’
Sophie thought rapidly. There was no way she could abandon Lu Lu, and every passing second could make the difference in the duel.
