Courting Miss Vallois Page 6

  Grateful for the opportunity to escape, Sophie dropped a quick curtsy. ‘Mr Oberon.’ Then, raising her chin, and goaded by some mischievous impulse she would no doubt regret later, she looked at the gentleman standing quietly beside him and said, ‘Please tell your sister that my brother and I look forward to joining you tomorrow afternoon, Mr Silverton. If the invitation is still open.’

  His expression didn’t change, but Sophie heard the quiet edge of mockery in his voice. ‘It is, and I shall be pleased to tell her of your acceptance.’

  Sophie smiled as she tucked her arm in Lavinia’s. ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’

  ‘Ladies.’ Oberon barely waited until they were out of hearing before exclaiming, ‘Until tomorrow? What was that all about?’

  ‘Jane has invited Miss Vallois and her brother to come driving with us,’ Robert said distantly.

  ‘And she agreed?’

  ‘Why would she not? By your own words, I am thoughtful, considerate and steady as a rock.’

  ‘I was only trying to flatter you.’

  ‘By making me sound like the trusted family dog?’

  ‘Nothing of the sort. I simply wanted her to know that you and I are very different.’

  ‘I believe she worked that one out on her own,’ Robert drawled, but Oberon wasn’t listening. He was following Sophie’s progress across the room like a hungry lion following a sprightly gazelle.

  ‘By God, she’s exquisite,’ he murmured. ‘Those eyes. That hair. And that complexion! As pink as rose petals and as smooth as alabaster. Imagine her lying naked in your bed, Silver. Imagine the softness of her skin as you run your hand slowly over her throat, and then lower.’ He briefly closed his eyes and made a sound deep in his throat. Seconds later, his eyes snapped open. ‘I must know who she is. Where does she come from, and why is she here?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Robert said. ‘Is it not enough that she is a good friend of Lord and Lady Longworth’s?’

  ‘No. The French are as stuffy as the English when it comes to matters of class. And a well-brought-up French girl would have no need of a London Season.’

  The same thought had occurred to Robert, but he had no intention of giving Oberon the satisfaction of agreeing with him. ‘If you don’t think she’s well born, why trouble yourself to make enquiries?’

  ‘Because I would hate to miss the opportunity of getting to know her if her birth is all it should be,’ Oberon said. ‘Look at her, man! When did you last see beauty like that? Observe the elegance of her carriage, the unconscious grace with which she carries herself. Who knows? She may well be the daughter of a French count.’

  ‘You could ask Lady Longworth.’

  ‘I could, but if the Longworths are using her extraordinary beauty as a means of capturing a wealthy husband, the truth may be revealed only after the vows are spoken. She may be an heiress—or an actress, which means I’m better off making my own enquiries.’

  ‘Which means what? You strap Miss Vallois to the rack and turn the screws until she tells you what you want to know?’

  Oberon laughed. ‘Really, Silver, my methods are far more civilised. You see, in every person’s life, there are secrets. And there are always people who know those secrets. It is simply a matter of finding the right people and asking them the right questions.’

  ‘And if they suffer from the antiquated notion of loyalty or friendship?’

  ‘Then they must be encouraged to share what they know.’ Oberon smiled, but to Robert’s way of thinking, it was a singularly unpleasant thing. ‘Next to torture, I’ve always found money to be the most effective way of eliciting the truth.’

  Oberon walked away and Robert made no attempt to stop him. The man was like a dog with a bone. Once he sank his teeth into something, he wouldn’t let go until there was nothing left to hold on to. Such was the case with Miss Vallois. Oberon had decided she was of interest to him and he would leave no stone unturned until he knew everything there was to know about her.

  A daunting prospect for anyone, let alone a young woman newly arrived in London and looking to make a successful marriage. For her sake, Robert hoped there was nothing in her past that would preclude that from happening.

  By the time the evening came to an end, Sophie was convinced the English were indefatigable. Though it was well past two in the morning, Lavinia and Nicholas were still chatting enthusiastically about the people to whom they had spoken, and about the delight those people had expressed at having been introduced to the charming brother and sister from France.

  Sophie was pleased the evening had gone so well, but her feelings of excitement had long since given way to exhaustion. The noise of so many people, the sights and sounds of a grand ball, the necessity of constantly having to be on one’s guard to say the right thing, were tiring in the extreme, to say nothing of the difficulties involved in keeping everyone’s titles and positions straight. What a confusing jumble of lords and ladies the English aristocracy was!

  Then there was the always-disturbing behaviour of one Mr Robert Silverton…

  ‘I think you’ll sleep well tonight,’ Lavinia said as they climbed the stairs to their rooms. ‘I’ll have Jeanette bring you a cup of chocolate in the morning.’

  ‘Thank you, Lavinia.’ Sophie was so weary she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. ‘If left alone, I fear I may sleep until noon.’

  ‘In that case, I shall have a breakfast tray sent up as well.’

  Thankfully, Jeanette was waiting to help her undress and after the magnificent gown was removed and carefully hung in the closet, Sophie sat down at the dressing table and gazed longingly at the bed. ‘I don’t suppose I could go to bed without having my hair brushed?’

  Jeanette pursed her lips. ‘Her ladyship wouldn’t like it, miss. She’s very particular about that sort of thing.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure she is.’ Sophie sighed as she turned to face the glass. As the maid took the pins from her hair and it came tumbling down around her shoulders, Sophie closed her eyes and let her mind drift back over the events of the evening. Ironically, she found herself thinking about Robert Silverton. Why, she couldn’t imagine. The man had made no secret of the fact he didn’t like her, yet she was finding it exceedingly difficult to put him from her thoughts. She had followed his progress around the room, watching as he had stopped to speak with people he knew. The young ladies had been careful to keep their distance, but several of the older ones had smiled in a way that led Sophie to believe he was still very attractive to women open to une dalliance.

  ‘Sophie, are you awake?’ Lavinia called from the other side of the door.

  ‘Yes.’ Sophie opened her eyes, glad to have something to think about other than Robert Silverton. ‘Come in, Lavinia.’

  Lavinia did, looking wonderfully exotic and far too wide awake in a dressing robe of deep crimson silk trimmed with layers of snowy white lace. Her long dark hair was caught in a loose knot at the nape of her neck and there was a definite twinkle in her eyes. ‘Thank you, Jeanette. That will be all.’

  The maid put down the silver-handled brush, bobbed a curtsy and left. Lavinia waited for the door to close before settling herself on the edge of the bed and gazing at Sophie’s reflection in the glass. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t wait until breakfast to hear what you thought of your first ball. And to tell you how proud Nicholas and I were of you this evening. I’m sure we will see your name in the society pages tomorrow.’

  Sophie turned on the upholstered seat and her mouth lifted in a smile. ‘I hope they neglect to mention that I addressed the Countess of Doncaster’s eldest daughter as Lady Doncaster.’

  Lavinia dismissed it with a wave. ‘You apologised so sweetly even Lady Doncaster couldn’t take offence. But we could spend some time with Debrett’s tomorrow, if you like.’

  ‘Or we could just avoid attending any more grand balls. But I did enjoy myself this evening, Lavinia, and I think Antoine did too.’

  ‘Good, be
cause I noticed several young ladies watching him,’ Lavinia commented. ‘Miss Margaret Quilling couldn’t take her eyes from him.’

  ‘Which one was she?’

  ‘The tall girl in white. Quite pretty, with blond hair dressed with feathers and pearls.’

  Sophie nodded, remembering the ensemble rather than the lady. It had been of white tulle over satin with a rather unusual band of satin crescents forming a wide border around the bottom. The sleeves had been short and edged with a smaller band of crescents. ‘Yes, I remember. She complimented me on my gown and asked if I’d had it made in Paris.’

  ‘Really? I must pass that on to Madame Delors. She will be delighted to know that her gowns are being praised by such illustrious members of society.’ Lavinia got up and wandered across to the window. ‘Does the room please you, Sophie? I thought you might prefer one facing the square.’

  ‘The room is perfect,’ Sophie said, glancing around the spacious chamber. A huge four-poster bed was draped in lavender velvet, with the bedspread and pillows being of a lighter hue. A wardrobe stood against the opposite wall and a writing table was nestled under a window framed by delicate white curtains. ‘My mother would have loved it. Lavender was always her favourite colour.’

  ‘It must have been hard for you to leave her.’

  ‘I didn’t get the chance.’ Sophie’s eyes misted as they always did when she thought of the gentle woman who had raised her as best she could, despite the frequent bouts of debilitating illness. ‘She died four years ago.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’

  ‘That’s all right. She passed peacefully in her sleep.’

  Lavinia’s face softened. ‘And your father? Do you miss him?’

  Sophie felt a return of the old disappointment, followed by the inevitable feelings of guilt. ‘I wish I could say I did, but after Mama died, Papa became a very difficult man. He grew bitter and argumentative. Always looking for fault. When he found out what Antoine and I had done, he made it very clear we were not welcome in his house.’

  ‘Gracious! How did he find out?’

  ‘There was talk of it in the village,’ Sophie said, unwilling to say more. ‘When Papa heard, he accused Antoine of being sympathetic to the English cause and of disgracing the Vallois name. He said he was never to show his face in Bayencourt again!’

  ‘How cruel!’

  ‘It was, but Antoine and Papa never really got on. By the next morning, we were gone.’

  ‘But why did you go with him, Sophie? You were so young. Surely Antoine would have preferred that you stay behind.’

  ‘Of course, but how could I stay when it was my fault he had to leave?’

  ‘Your fault?’

  ‘I was the one who asked him to help Nicholas.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, you must never reproach yourself for that,’ Lavinia said. ‘You should be proud that you cared enough about the life of a stranger that you would try to help him.’

  ‘He would have died if I hadn’t,’ Sophie said, remembering the extent of Nicholas’s injuries when she had found him lying at the side of the road. ‘But I was actually more worried about him after he left. With no memory of what had happened to him, I was afraid the man who’d shot him might still be out there waiting for him.’

  ‘He was,’ Lavinia said quietly. ‘Thankfully, Nicholas was able to track him down and bring him to justice before he was able to harm anyone else. But you were very brave to do what you did. And to leave home like that.’

  ‘It was hard in the beginning,’ Sophie admitted. ‘We were afraid one of our neighbours might have alerted the authorities, so after we left Bayencourt, we kept to the back roads and were careful not to draw attention to ourselves. We slept in barns, ate when and where we could. Once we reached Paris, it was easy to lose ourselves in the crowds. Eventually, Antoine managed to find accommodation for us over a small shop, and after working at a number of jobs, he was offered an apprenticeship with Monsieur Larocque.’

  ‘How did you come to be employed by Mrs Grant-Ogilvy?’ Lavinia asked.

  Sophie’s stomach clenched, the way it always did when that name was mentioned. ‘I made a gown for the daughter of one of her friends. I remember sitting for hours at a time, handstitching hundreds of tiny beads to the bodice. When Mrs Grant-Ogilvy saw it, she asked to meet the girl who had done the work. As it happens, she was also looking for someone to teach her daughters how to speak French, so I was hired to do both.’

  ‘How long were you with her?’

  ‘Just over a year. I left just before her eldest daughter married.’ Sophie decided to keep her other reason for leaving to herself. She had no desire to talk about Eldon. Eldon, with his grasping hands and hot liquored breath…

  ‘Well, it was certainly a valuable association for you,’ Lavinia said. ‘It explains how you came to speak English so well and to carry yourself with such grace. I’m quite sure you will be married before the end of the Season.’

  Mon Dieu, that word again. ‘Lavinia, I meant what I said about not wishing to find a husband,’ Sophie said slowly. ‘I know this may sound strange, but I would like to open a shop.’

  ‘A shop? You mean…you wish to be in trade?’

  The look of abject horror on Lavinia’s face made Sophie laugh. ‘Oh, Lavinia, it’s not that bad. I’m a very good seamstress and I have a definite talent for design. I want to make clothes for ladies who can’t afford the expensive ateliers of Paris.’

  ‘But if you were married, you wouldn’t need to work,’ Lavinia pointed out. ‘You would be able to lead the life of a lady and you would have the respect of society—’

  ‘But not the independence,’ Sophie said. ‘I would be subject to my husband’s whims. Forever at his beck and call, with nothing to call my own. That is not how I wish to live my life.’

  ‘But you are so very beautiful, Sophie,’ Lavinia said, trying to make her understand. ‘You saw how popular you were tonight.’

  ‘What I saw were ladies far more accomplished than myself dancing with gentlemen of wealth and breeding in a world familiar to them both. That isn’t my world, Lavinia. And no gentleman of good family is going to bother with an unsophisticated French girl like me.’

  ‘Let me tell you something, Sophia Chantal Vallois,’ Lavinia said quietly. ‘The young lady I’ve come to know is not in the least unsophisticated. She is a beautiful young woman who is going to make a lot of men fall in love with her, and when she finds the right man, she is going to find out that being loved by him is the sweetest pleasure of all.’

  Sophie’s mouth twisted. ‘I will tell you if it happens.’

  ‘You won’t have to.’ Lavinia stood up, her face breaking into a smile. ‘Your face will say it all.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘So, did you meet anyone at Lady Bruxton’s ball with whom you would like to further an acquaintance?’ Robert asked his sister as he turned the landau towards Eaton Place the following afternoon.

  Jane, who was looking exceedingly stylish in a deep maroon gown with a new cream-and-maroon bonnet, pulled a face. ‘Not a one—and please do not suggest I encourage Mr Hemmings. He is surely the most tiresome man on earth.’

  ‘What about Sir Bartholomew Grout?’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Robert. Even wearing spectacles, the man is constantly tripping over his own feet. I need someone sturdier than that lest we both find ourselves on the ground half the time. And though I spoke to him for almost ten minutes, he did not smile at me once!’

  ‘A most grievous offence, I’m sure,’ Robert said as he drew up before the Longworths’ town house.

  ‘It was to me,’ Jane said. ‘And I suspect it would be to you as well.’

  ‘Thankfully, I’m not keeping a list of anyone’s good or bad points at the moment.’

  ‘Well, you should. That way when the right lady comes along, you will be prepared.’

  Robert secured the reins. ‘Fine. When she appears, I shall be sure to make a note of
how many times she makes me smile.’

  ‘Odious man!’ Jane said, though she was quick to laugh. ‘Perhaps you are better off with a mistress. I don’t suppose it matters how many times she makes you smile, since smiling is not the purpose of the association.’

  It was an outrageous remark for an unmarried girl to make even to her older brother, but to be made within hearing of a gentleman with whom she had no acquaintance at all was as grievous a social error as a young lady could commit. Robert glanced at the darkly handsome gentleman standing at the bottom of the steps and realised his sister had just committed an unforgivable faux-pas in front of Antoine Vallois.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Jane said, clearly not sure whether to laugh or to beg an apology. ‘That was extremely bad timing. I hope, sir, that you will forgive my unfortunate choice of words. My poor brother is used to such outbursts, but I fear the general public is not.’

  The gentleman walked slowly towards the carriage. ‘Perhaps I should claim not to have heard the remark, mademoiselle. That would, I expect, be the more gentlemanly thing to do.’ He looked at Robert and nodded. ‘We meet again, Mr Silverton.’

  ‘Mr Vallois,’ Robert said, his voice clipped. ‘Allow me to introduce my sister, Jane. And while I should offer an apology for what she just said, I doubt she would thank me for doing so.’

  ‘I most certainly would not,’ Jane said tartly. ‘Pray do not fear that I am always so outspoken, Mr Vallois, but Robert and I were discussing the importance of a smile in the early stages of courtship. I took leave to disagree with him in the way brothers and sisters so often do.’

  The gentleman inclined his head. ‘I understand perfectly. I’m sure Sophie has often despaired of me in such a way.’

  ‘I have never despaired of you, Antoine. If anything, it is the other way around.’

  Drawn by the sound of her voice, Robert glanced up to see Miss Vallois standing in the doorway. She looked radiant in a pale blue gown, her silvery blond hair tucked up under a fetching straw bonnet, her blue eyes bright with anticipation. She looked as fresh and as appealing as spring itself, but with a sensuality that seemed strangely at odds with her innocence. Robert found it a very disturbing combination. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Vallois.’