A few minutes later
Sophie watched the palace recede with a churn of new feelings: relief at having left the drunken crowds behind, but also a new and distinct unease. She stole a glance at her shadowy escort, seated opposite, and couldn’t help but compare Lord Rotherby’s warm chaise to his rather shabby and rattling affair, though she knew it was the least of her problems.
Briefly, she conjured an image of the two duellists silhouetted by the grand lanterns of Versailles, and closed her eyes, praying Horace was successful. She hadn’t asked them to defend her honour but couldn’t bear the thought of either being hurt either. The viscount was Phoebe’s whole world and Lord Rotherby was…
Swallowing, Sophie turned her gaze towards the inky night and finally freed every thought about him: his carefree kiss, his wild driving, his rueful laugh, his fever, his rescue from the rogues, and his unguarded moment in the Tuileries when he kissed her again. And then there was the moment tonight, in the Hall of Mirrors, before the scandalous reason he left London became apparent.
She released her breath, the memory of his intense eyes sending a swift dart ofsomethingfrom her chest to her toes, where it tingled in a very lonely way. He was unlike anyone she’d ever known and sometimes, he almost seemed to know her better than she knew herself.
‘We must escort Madame Dupres home swiftly,’ she murmured, surfacing from her thoughts. ‘It would be unfair to burden her with the consequences of our actions tonight, especially when she has been nothing but the kindest of hostesses.’
A new smile played around Sir Weston’s lips, and for the first time Sophie noticed just how thin they were.
‘Calm yourself my dear,’ he replied. ‘We really don’t have time for such a diversion, and I think we both know Madame Dupres’s lethargy has nothing to do with exhaustion or illness. Thankfully, she is not an unmarried debutante, like yourself, and will lend some respectability to the first leg of our journey. I will, of course, ensure she is put on a coach back to Paris as soon as we stop, and by that time, I suspect she will be happy to wish us well.’
Sophie stared as he spoke, aware he was changing the plan, and yet unable to deny his wisdom either. She already knew Phoebe waited at Madame Dupres’s residence, and a large part of her was guilty of wishing for Lu Lu’s company a little longer too. She swallowed uncomfortably and swung her gaze back to the murky night, wondering how she’d arrived at this point, leaving behind the world she knew just so no one else could be hurt.
‘Try not to worry, my dear,’ Sir Weston said suddenly, sliding across the coach seat until he was directly opposite her.
‘I am fully aware of the faro debacle that forced Rotherby to flee London, and I cannot abide dishonour of any kind. With luck, your esteemed brother-in-law will teach him a long-awaited lesson, and no one need ever speak his name again.’
His tone was so odd that a shiver slid down her spine. She already knew of their ready dislike of one another, but there was a new edge to his voice tonight, and he seemed most unlike himself. She gazed at his unsmiling countenance, etched by the moonlight into something harder. He’d never looked less like Rotherby, and the thought only worsened the ache within her chest.
‘Whatdidhappen in the faro game, Sir Weston?’ Sophie asked carefully, watching a shadow flicker across his face.
There was a brief silence before he replied. ‘Rotherby was on a winning spree until I realised his cards were marked. I called his bluff, and he didn’t like it.’ His smile gradually widened. ‘But marked cards are hard to deny, no matterhow many well-connected friends one has at White’s. It was quite a moment, I can tell you, Rotherby was entirely exposed as a cheat, the one thing noblemen cannot abide! It is beyond all things dishonourable, and I believe he will find it very hard to return to London. Now, with any luck, Damerel will ensure the same is true of Paris.’
There was another silence while Sophie absorbed Sir Weston’s account. It was every bit as scandalous as she’d feared, and yet she was more unnerved by the crow in Weston’s voice than by his allegations. He was too delighted with Rotherby’s downfall, no matter the bad blood between them.
She shifted uncomfortably, recalling Rotherby’s wrath in L’Auberge Notre-Dame. It was so much more understandable now she knew Weston had been the one to expose him in London.
‘You are but a day away from safety,’ Sir Weston assured her suddenly, as though he realised he’d said too much. ‘I have instructed the driver to make all haste to Chartres, where we will break our journey.’
‘Chartres?’ Sophie exclaimed sharply. ‘But what of putting Lu Lu on a coach? And why Chartres? Surely we can choose another stop on the way to Rouen?’
‘Sophie,’ Weston said cajolingly, dropping his voice. He smiled ingratiatingly and leaned forwards, trapping her hands between his. ‘Come, come. Chartres is the only town on this road for miles, and you must see sense now. We are travelling togetherovernightand your reputation is already beyond repair– I can offer you complete protection as my wife and no one will ask any questions because I am far too well respected for that.’
Sophie stared as though caught in the wake of a very bad dream.
‘I’ve already taken the precaution of writing to the pastor to explain you’re an orphan from a respectable background,’ he continued with a perfunctory smile, ‘and on that note, Madame Dupres might actually serve some useful purpose.’ He paused, a distinct gleam of triumph in his eyes. ‘I do believe this story will be enough to appease even the most cautious of natures, though we may need to persuade him of our natural affection too…’
A strange shudder reached through her as his smile widened. Lord Rotherby’s proximity had never felt so intrusive.
‘You said our hearts are not engaged, Sophie,’ he continued in a lower voice, ‘but I beg to differ. I have always held a torch for you, ever since our first meeting. Don’t you recall my defence of you at the archery party? And my daffodils? Your express appreciation of them at the exhibition only served to encourage my belief that, one day, you might return my regard too.’
Dazedly, Sophie recalled the exhibition and how she’d only mentioned his flowers to make a point to Lord Rotherby.
‘In truth, I have long been aware of your many qualities and will consider myself the most fortunate of gentlemen when I can call you my wife.’
Then, before she could collect her scattered thoughts, he leant forwards and pulled her into a sudden embrace.
At first, Sophie was too shocked to do anything but let his lips press against hers, to feel his arms tighten around her and inhale his sickly-sweet scent. Then, with a surge of horror, she tried to recoil, only to find his embrace tighter than any Lord Rotherby had bestowed upon her, and his lips quite intent on leaving their mark.
‘I never allowed myself to believe I might stand a chance in London,’ he whispered, as his hand pushed inside her cloak.
‘Sir Weston!’ Sophie protested, struggling furiously.
‘Especially since Rotherby's interest was as plain as a pikestaff.’
