‘Miss Fairfax reminds me so much of myself at the same age, yet this world does not know what to do with women of our mould, does it, Sophie?’
Sophie shook her head speechlessly, feeling as though she’d agree with anything this marvellous lady might say just now.
‘Clearly, in besmirching her name, you each bear a responsibility to clear it.’ She eyed Rotherby and Weston with derision. ‘And yet, I feel certain that between us, Damerel and I could concoct a tale plausible enough for the world to swallow, should she desire it… which brings us back to you, Miss Fairfax. You have confided in me without shame or embellishment, and in return for your honesty, I offer you a choice.
‘You may choose Rotherby, if you desire it, though I struggle to find a heartfelt recommendation just now, or you can tour the galleries and fashion exhibitions of Europe with me until such time that you deign to give him a second chance… with your ridiculous brother-in-law’s blessing of course.’
At this further condemnation, Viscount Damerel sunk his chin into the folds of his cravat.
‘I am sure I have lived long enough to lend us both sufficient respectability while we put about an alternate narrative: that your sister the Viscountess was delayed in Europe while you were travelling to stay with her, and Rotherby gallantly offered to escort you to his aunt, an old family friend, with Madame Marie-Louisa Dupres in attendance. Above all, there need be no talk of marriage, unless you wish it.’
‘But Tante Elizabeth,’ Rotherby protested, a little flushed, ‘Damerel and I duelled at Versailles. Any number of the ton will assume it was a matter of honour concerning Miss Fairfax.’
At this, Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, her eyes glinting.
‘And you would be the first gentlemen to create a drama becauseyourhonour had suffered? Though you are correct in assuming that in thinking only of yourselves you have created further problems for the young lady you protest to care for so very much!’
Sophie stole a glance at Lord Rotherby’s ruffled profile, feeling as though she’d been living in a darkened room these past few weeks.
Could he really have lost his heart, just like she had, at the start?
‘You are fortunate indeed that my reputation is such that no one will dare say there was ever a different story!’ Elizabeth said in a steely tone.
‘We ladies of the ton are makers and breakers of reputation with a few well-chosen words, and it wouldn’t be the first scandal to bemouldedinto something else– that part you must leave to me. Yet I will say I am disappointed, for I may have thrice your years, but I have a thousand times more sense in my little finger, than you gentlemen have all together!
‘Now then, Miss Fairfax, the time has come. What do you choose?’
Silently, Sophie swung her gaze from a pale Lord Rotherby to a glowering Sir Weston, a sheepish Viscount Damerel, and finally back to Elizabeth’s sharp, inquisitorial expression.
She lowered her eyes and drew a breath to speak, just as a low voice intervened.
‘May I speak, Miss Fairfax?’ Lord Rotherby asked urgently.
She glanced up and nodded faintly.
‘I wish to say that I’m sorry…’
‘No please, let me say this,’ he entreated as Sophie tried to pause him.
‘We both know that you would not be here if it were not for my wager that night in Almacks. I was arrogant and unfair on a young lady in her first season, and if I could go back now and change them, I would,’ he paused to exhale, running his fingers through his unruly hair. ‘You must understand thatlovehas always seemed aweaknessto me, something that rarely results in anything but unhappiness. It hurt everyone I knew when I was growing up, and I vowed never to be that vulnerable with anyone. I told myself that if I believed I had no heart, I could exist in a space where no one got hurt … but what I did not understand was that we are never the authors of love, but rather the pages upon which it must be written?—
He broke off to take a few unsteady breaths, and when he spoke again, his voice was shaking.
‘Marry me, Miss Fairfax… because I have never been in less doubt that I do, indeed, possess a very real heart– and it burns and yearns for you, most furiously.’
Sir Weston groaned audibly and the viscount flicked some imaginary dust from his sleeve while Sophie stared, stilled by a raw vulnerability where once there was only detachment. His face was so close to hers, his scent enveloping her, making her ache so intensely that she felt it reach through every limb.
‘Touching though this display of sentimentality is—’ Sir Weston began.
‘I don’t recall anyone giving you permission to speak!’ Elizabeth said gloweringly, cutting him off. ‘In fact, I believe you forswore the right toanythingwhen you treated Miss Fairfax to a display of your less than gallant colours on the journey to Chartres. You’ll be lucky if I don’t share that particular tale with every respectable family on both sides of the Channel, if only to ensure no female ever has to put up with your insidious attentions ever again!’
It was Sir Weston’s turn to pale, as both Rotherby and Damerel turned back to him, scowling.
‘Which is not another invitation to behave like schoolboys!’ Elizabeth exclaimed, before levelling a softer gaze on Sophie. ‘Come, child, you’ve heard what my tiresome nephew has to say, and you need not worry that either your brother or the viscount will bring any view to the matter. You have me now, and few spar with Tante Elizabeth and emerge unscathed. So, what is it to be?’
Sophie inhaled raggedly, the events of the past twenty-four hours beginning to take their toll, and yet somehow making more sense than anything had in a long while.
‘You owe me no apology,’ she replied directly, looking at Lord Rotherby. ‘I was the one who took it upon myself to prove I was right when in fact… neither of us were.’ She paused to swallow, ‘And you are correct when you say that we are not the authors of love, for it can be neither controlled nor denied when it is but a hope. You see, your wager has actually taught me a great deal.’ She glanced at Sir Weston, who looked up hopefully. ‘Including thetruenature of a scoundrel!’
