‘Well, I think that’s a bit strong,’ he muttered indignantly.
Sophie took a deep breath, now certain Lu Lu’s loyalty had never been in question.
‘Aurelia, you know, even if you can’t admit it, that I never set out tostealanyone,’ she said in a low tone. ‘And I am quite aware that your plan to spread rumours about mylifewill be all the harder if it risks the reputation of yourbeloved friend.’
At this Aurelia stared sullenly, yet Sophie knew that her pursuit showed a chink in her armour; that there was hope for her too.
‘And really,ma chérie,I am only here because the greatstupidethought I added respectability to his folly,’ Lu Lu said with great solemnity, ‘which is altogethertrès drôle,is it not?’
‘Hurry, boy!’ A sudden pompous tone filtered along the corridor, halting Aurelia’s response. ‘I have averyimportant meeting about averyurgent matter, and as I am already two minutes late, I must make haste.’
Feeling as though this morning couldn’t possibly get any worse, Sophie shot a glance at Sir Weston, who was reclining in his seat with the air of one very satisfied with himself. A wave of suspicion arose within her– and then she just knew. She scowled intently at his horribly smug expression. Of all the hotels in all the provincial towns in France, they had to break their fast in the same one in which Sir Weston had arranged to meet the pastor!
A thousand conflicting thoughts hurtled through Sophie’s head, but uppermost in her mind was the fact that she now needed to defend herself to the infamous English pastor in a muddied Versailles gown and domino, amidst the oddest array of company. Cursing beneath her breath, she did her very best to shake out her flattened curls and crumpled skirt. She might be the most disgraced debutante ever to walk the earth, but she was determined to look respectable enough for the pastor to listen to her, and not Sir Weston.
Yet the moment the door opened, her brief flicker of hope guttered, for from the slick of his oiled hair to the silk tassel of his Hessian boots, stood a greater stuffed peacock she had ever to set eyes upon.
‘Ahem,’ he cleared his throat noisily. ‘I am looking for Sir George Weston, but feel I may have been brought to the wrong room. Pray excuse my intrusion into your’—his supercilious gaze swept the room, taking in the varied array of persons and their even more varied array of bedraggled clothing—‘gathering,’ he concluded disparagingly.
He prepared to withdraw, just as Sir Weston got to his feet.
‘I am the gentleman you seek,’ he confirmed with one of his most proper bows, ‘and I thank you for being so prompt, sir.’
‘The lady I am betrothed to wed is that one– not the one wielding a dagger.’ He gestured at Sophie smugly. ‘You see, dearest, didn’t I say the pastor could be counted upon?’
Sophie glowered as the pastor ran his gaze slowly over Sir Weston’s crumpled coat, dangling Versailles mask and half-eaten pastry, before drawing a visible breath.
‘Your letter,’ he enunciated very deliberately, ‘stated that you were quiet, respectable persons, wishful of a quiet, respectable wedding, however’—he swung his gaze between them with the look of someone who’d stumbled across a water closet that hadn’t been emptied for several weeks—‘I see nothing remotely quietorrespectable here. Your manner, sir, is presumptuous, there are crumbs about your person, and your company is very much less than’—he cast a deprecatory glance around the room before wrinkling his nose in distaste—‘honourable.’
‘Vous avez raison, monsieur,’ the coach driver nodded traitorously through a mouthful of warm bread, ‘c’est vrai. The English lady, she seized my coach.’
Sophie looked at her feet as the pastor blanched and swung his condescending gaze back to her.
‘Seized?’ he pronounced awfully, looking her up and down, ‘And now I know I have wasted my time entirely! I do not perform marriage ceremonies for persons of dubiousquality, and I certainly don’t dally in low company. Does no one in this party have any sense of propriety?’
At this, the ladies gasped.
‘Monsieur, that is an insult too far!’ Madame Montmartre exclaimed, shaking out her silk-lined velvet cloak to its fullest advantage. ‘I have the privilege of dressing most of the ladies present and not only are they very respectable, they know, unlike you, to avoidgreen puce under all circumstances! I can assure you, not all my customers are so insightful.’
She turned to smile at the ladies in question, well satisfied with herself.
‘And you are?’ the pastor enquired, reminding Sophie of a beleaguered trout.
‘Madame Montmartre, Parisian modiste at your service,’ she replied, sweeping a haughty bow.
‘A modiste? Dressed like a revolutionary?’ the pastor accused, his eyes narrowing.
‘Bah!’ she said dangerously, ‘better a revolutionary than a stuffed English peacock!’
Sophie took a deep breath, feeling her every crease and displaced curl flood with a curious kind of exhaustion. Quite aside from being a murderess, she’d travelled all night, hadn’t bathed in hours, had suffered the attentions of lecherous libertines, and then been subjected to Aurelia’s accusations before this poppycock of a pastor had appeared. She should be furious– and she would be– if it weren’t for the fact that his pompous nature had also provided her with an opportunity.She glanced at Sir Weston, inspiration brewing. Perhaps this would prove easier than she first thought.
‘This is clearly a meeting place for vagrants and vagabonds,’ the pastor continued, ‘and you should be ashamed of yourself, sir, for luring a man of the cloth into such company. I will remove myself before my reputation is tarnished beyond redemption.’
‘You really should,’ Sophie agreed swiftly, feeling Aurelia’s stare. ‘It is well known that I have a penchant for befriending rakes, rogues and everyone in between, sir. And there is no telling what damage you may do– to your heavenly reputation, as well as your earthly one– simply by being in this room with us. It is certainly for the best that you remove your esteemed personage while you still can?—’
‘Mais non, ma chérie,’ Lu Lu interrupted, ‘you aretreshonourable!’
‘Do not listen to her, sir,’ Sir Weston protested. ‘Miss Fairfax is all things?—’
