Courting Miss Vallois (7 page)

It was the first Sophie had heard of it. ‘I don't know. Lady Longworth has made no mention of it.'

‘Oh, but you must come,' Miss Silverton implored. ‘An evening spent with Lady White is a treat unto itself. Robert and I are going. You and your brother really should join us.'

‘Lady Longworth may already have made other plans.'

‘Cancel them,' Mr Oberon said. ‘I guarantee you'll have a better time with us.'

Sophie glanced up into the man's impossibly beautiful face and found herself resenting both his high-handed assumption that she would naturally fall in with his plans and his belief that an outing of
his
choosing would be more enjoyable than one of Lavinia's. She almost hoped Lavinia
had
made other arrangements. ‘I shall enquire upon returning home, Mr Oberon. If we are free, I may mention it to Lady Longworth.'

‘I can ask no more than that. And now, I must be off. Like the god, Thunder grows impatient if forced to stand in one place too long.' As if to prove it, the stallion reared up, its powerful front legs slicing the air, his high, shrill whinny echoing through the park.

‘Easy, boy,' Mr Oberon said, bringing him back
under control. ‘Wouldn't want to alarm the ladies.' He touched the brim of his hat to Mr Silverton and his sister, then smiled affectionately at Sophie, his eyes lingering on her longer than was necessary or appropriate.

Sophie turned away. Odious man. What a shame that one so blessed in appearance should be so lacking in humility. For all his chilly reserve, she much preferred Robert Silverton's quiet manners to Mr Oberon's smug arrogance…

‘What are you thinking, Miss Vallois?' Mr Silverton enquired as the other man trotted away. ‘You suddenly look far too serious for such a lovely afternoon.'

‘Only that certain gentlemen have been given so much, yet appear to do so little good with it.'

‘Oh, but that's splendid!' Miss Silverton said, clapping her hands. ‘I do believe you have just given Monty a set-down and he would be devastated to hear it, knowing how taken he is with you.'

‘Nonsense, we are barely acquainted,' Sophie said, uncomfortably aware of Mr Silverton's gaze on her. ‘Besides, he is far too flamboyant for my liking.'

‘But he is rich,' Miss Silverton said. ‘And his country estate is said to rival Chatsworth for opulence. You could do much worse.'

‘Leave the poor girl alone, Jane,' her brother said. ‘Or she will regret having agreed to come out with us.'

‘She will not resent me for telling her the facts. The more she knows before having to make the decision, the better off she will be.'

‘The decision?' Sophie asked.

‘As to whom you will marry, of course. What other
decision of importance is there for a single lady of marriageable age?'

‘I can think of several,' Sophie said, less than pleased with the direction the conversation was taking. ‘Fortunately, the choice of a husband will not be one of them.'

Miss Silverton gave a soft laugh. ‘Do tell! Are you already engaged to a handsome young gentleman in Paris?'

‘I am not, nor have I any desire to be. I've already told Lord and Lady Longworth that I have no intention of marrying.'

The remark must have been more outrageous than Sophie thought. Miss Silverton's mouth fell open and her brother actually turned around on the seat to stare at her. ‘No intention of marrying?'

‘But…what will you do?' his sister asked. ‘Marriage is the only viable option to ladies of good birth.'

To ladies of good birth.
What would they say, Sophie wondered, if they knew the truth of hers? ‘I like to think there are many other things a lady might do. Fly over London in a hot-air balloon, for example. Or travel to Egypt on a camel to explore the pyramids. Float down the Amazon in a boat. When you think about it, the possibilities are endless.'

‘For a man, perhaps,' Mr Silverton observed. ‘Not for a woman.'

‘But do you not wish to fall in love, Miss Vallois?' Miss Silverton asked.

‘Not particularly.' Sophie thought about the men she had met in the course of her life. All of them had let her down in one way or another. ‘Only think how disastrous it would be to fall in love with someone like…Mr Oberon.'

‘I'm not sure a woman
can
fall in love with a man like that,' Mr Silverton said. ‘He will always be the more demanding of the couple, and if the lady is like the rest of her sex, she will be far more interested in
receiving
love than in giving it.'

Had he intended it as a slight? Sophie wondered. Or was he simply expressing his opinion that, on the whole, women tended to be the more selfish creatures? ‘I take leave to disagree with you, Mr Silverton. Women are capable of both giving and receiving love, oftimes at their own expense. A mother will always sacrifice much for her child, whereas a man will often take his pleasures at the expense of the family.'

He directed a glance over his shoulder. ‘Your remark leads me to believe that you do not hold men in high esteem.'

‘Only in as much as your remark leads me to believe that you hold women in contempt. Not all women are self-serving.'

‘Then you have the pleasure of knowing better women than I.'

Wondering if he was thinking of the woman who was to have been his wife, Sophie said, ‘Perhaps you expect too much of the ladies with whom you keep company.'

‘If honesty is too much to expect, then I must enter a guilty plea,' he said. ‘As for being single past my sister's expectations, she neglected to mention that our family circumstances have been such that neither of us has been free to mingle in society these past few years.'

‘Indeed we have not,' Miss Silverton said, a cloud settling on her pretty features. ‘First Michael was killed in France, then Papa died under the most tragic of circumstances, and not a twelvemonth later, we lost Mama
as well. How can anyone think of love when grief is so fresh upon the heart?'

‘Perhaps it is in the finding of love that the pain of grief eases,' Sophie said gently. ‘One cannot suffer from two such strong emotions at the same time.'

‘I wish that were the case, Miss Vallois,' Mr Silverton said. ‘But I have learned that a person
can
suffer more than one painful emotion at a time and feel them both with equal strength.'

‘Love cannot exist in the presence of hate, Mr Silverton,' she told him.

‘But hate can raise its ugly head when love is threatened or destroyed.' He turned to look at her, and for a moment, it was as though there were only the two of them. ‘Of that, Miss Vallois,' he said, ‘I am entirely certain.'

 

To Sophie's relief, the rest of the carriage ride proceeded with all felicity and it concluded with the parties being in relatively good spirits. Miss Silverton had begged Sophie to call her Jane, and said how much she was looking forward to seeing Sophie and her brother at Lady White's for cards that evening.

Fortunately, upon arriving home, Sophie discovered that no plans had been made for the evening, and when she put forward the idea of attending a soirée at Lady White's, Lavinia declared that she could not think of a more entertaining way to pass a few hours.

‘Lady White is, of course, the very
essence
of eccentricity,' Lavinia said, as the two sat in Sophie's bedroom going through her wardrobe to see what she might wear. ‘Her husband died six years ago and left her a very wealthy widow.' She pulled out two gowns and
laid them on the bed. ‘She must be in her mid-sixties now, but she still rides to hounds every year. Strange. I don't remember ordering this peacock-blue silk from Madame Delors.'

Sophie glanced up. ‘You didn't. I made it and brought it with me.'

‘You
made
this?' Lavinia took a closer look. ‘But…this is exquisite, Sophie. The gathering along here and the beadwork down the front is quite remarkable. And the fabric is exceptional—and very expensive.'

‘I know. A lady bought it for her daughter, but when the daughter didn't like it, the mother bought something else and told me I could keep the silk as payment. But if you'd rather me wear the muslin—'

‘No, no, the blue will look marvellous against your complexion,' Lavinia said, putting the cream gown aside. ‘Perhaps I
should
let you make your own gowns. This is every bit as good as what we get from Madame Delors, and unlike her, you really are French. However, getting back to Lady White, you should know that besides being unconventional, she is the very devil at cards. I have played with her countless times and have yet to win more than a dozen hands.'

‘Don't tell me she cheats?' Sophie said in delight.

‘Outrageously, but she does it so well it is nearly impossible to catch her at it. Is Antoine going with you?'

‘He told me he was.' Sophie's smile widened. He hadn't intended to—until he'd heard that Jane Silverton was also going to be there. Then he had suddenly changed his mind and agreed that a card party given by an eccentric hostess would make for a highly diverting evening. He might have missed the carriage ride, but it seemed the lady had intrigued him enough that he was
not about to miss a second opportunity to spend time with her.

For that, Sophie decided she could put up with Robert Silverton's reserve, Mr Oberon's arrogance and the slight-of-hand dealings of their hostess for as long as was necessary.

L
ady White was, in all respects, an Original. Thin as a rail, she wore unrelieved black against which her snowy white hair appeared wonderfully dramatic. Her lips and cheeks were heavily rouged and she wore a heart-shaped patch next to her mouth. She was also draped in a king's ransom worth of diamonds and gold.

‘My husband always said jewellery was meant to be worn,' Lady White explained as she strolled arm in arm with Sophie and Antoine through the elegant rooms of her town house. ‘And at my age, I'm not sure how much longer I'll be around to show it off. Best do it now while I still have a skeleton to hang it on!'

Then she laughed. Not the delicate tittering of a society matron, but the full-bodied laugh of a woman who enjoyed life. Sophie liked her immensely.

‘Tell me, how is it I haven't seen you before, Miss Vallois?' Lady White asked. ‘You're far too beautiful to be missed. The young men can scarcely stop gawking at you.'

Sophie laughed, moved to wonder if she had been singled out for the lady's special brand of attention or if she spoke this bluntly to everyone. ‘Thank you, my lady, but my brother and I are only recently arrived in England.'

‘Ah, yes, to stay with the Longworths. Excellent family. I knew Nicholas as a boy. Devil of a lad. Always falling into some kind of scrape or another, but he turned out well enough. And dear Lavinia. Such a charming woman. You don't see love like theirs very often. It's all about money and land now. Women marry for social position and men to beget an heir. Oh, get away with you, Walter!' Lady White said when a gentleman ventured too close. ‘Miss Vallois isn't interested in you.'

As the crestfallen youth slunk away, Lady White whispered in Sophie's ear, ‘A second son with four unmarried sisters. Definitely not the type of suitor you wish to encourage. Unlike this fine strapping young man beside you.' Lady White raised her lorgnette and peered at Antoine through the lens. ‘Lud, but you're a fine-looking man. Why ain't you married?'

The question could have been offensive, but Antoine just laughed. ‘I have been involved in my studies, my lady.'

‘To be a doctor.'

‘Yes.'

‘Quite an occupation. Constantly surrounded by the sick and dying.' Lady White shuddered. ‘Haven't the stomach for it myself, but thank God there are those who do.' She stopped to touch the patch next to her mouth. ‘They don't train doctors the same way in France as they do here.'

‘I understand there are differences, yes.'

‘But the body's the same, is it not? Whether one finds oneself on this side of the Channel or the other.'

‘I've always thought so,' Antoine said with a straight face. ‘But not having examined any bodies on this side of the Channel, I cannot say for certain.'

Lady White stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. ‘By God, I like the cut of your jib. If I was forty years younger, I'd give these young fillies a run for their money. In fact, I still might.' She gave him an audacious wink. ‘Think about it, lad. I've money enough to keep us both in the style to which a handsome young buck like you should be accustomed.'

Sophie glanced at her brother, half-expecting to see him make a bolt for the door. Instead, he bowed and said, ‘You do me a considerable honour, Lady White, but I fear I must decline.'

‘Yes, I thought you might. The good ones always do. Still, I hope you'll play cards with me.' She rapped him on the chest with her fan. ‘I've a mind to find out if your wits are as sharp as your looks.'

‘I would be delighted.' Then, in a courtly gesture that was years out of date, Antoine took the lady's hand and raised it to his lips.
‘Je suis très heureux de faire votre connaisance, madame. Vous êtes une Originale.'

Lady White blinked, and then to Sophie's surprise, her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, you wretched boy. Now you've gone and made an old lady cry and I may never forgive you for that.' She drew a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. ‘But bless you for having had the kindness to say so.' She blew her nose, tucked her hankie behind her fan and then, with a smile
and another loud sniff, moved off to greet her other guests.

‘Goodness, Antoine, you may wish to think carefully before rejecting her offer,' Sophie whispered. ‘You would never have to work again if you agreed to become her—'

‘Thank you, Sophie, I think the less said about it, the better.' But clearly the idea of becoming the
cher ami
of such a woman was more than even Antoine could keep a straight face for, and after a moment, they both burst out laughing.

They were still chucking about it a few minutes later when Robert and Jane Silverton came over to join them. ‘What are you two having such a jolly time about?' Jane asked.

‘Lady White,' Sophie said. ‘You were right in saying she is a treat. She says what she thinks and worries about it later.'

‘I'm not so sure she does worry,' Mr Silverton said. ‘I don't think she cares a whit what anyone thinks.'

‘Well,
I
think she's marvellous,' Sophie said. ‘You have to admire a woman who has the courage to speak her mind.'

‘Even though society is likely to condemn her for doing so?'

Sophie slowly turned to look at him. As always, Mr Silverton was impeccably turned out. His double-breasted coat, cut square across the front and decorated with a row of gilt buttons, fit him to perfection. Beneath that, a fine cambric shirt clung to a broad chest and around his neck, a perfectly tied, perfectly white linen cravat. A powerful man, in the civilised clothes of a gentleman. Were his thoughts a reflection of the same?
‘It takes courage to fly in the face of convention, Mr Silverton,' Sophie said. ‘Especially in a society so rigid about what it will and will not allow.'

‘Are you saying French society is more lenient than English?'

‘No. I'm just saying that in general, women do not benefit from its strictures. The only women who possess any kind of freedom are those who are titled in their own right, independently wealthy or widowed. It seems very unfair.'

‘Well said, Miss Vallois,' Jane said with approval.

‘And you, Miss Silverton?' Antoine asked. ‘Do you mind being criticised?'

‘One always minds to a certain degree, but fortunately, I am not as closely scrutinised as others. My affliction absents me from the rest of the pack.'

Antoine glanced at the cane in her hand. ‘How did you come by your injury?'

‘An unfortunate childhood accident. A badly broken foot even more badly set.'

‘But it does not prevent you from getting about.'

‘Nothing could do that,' she told him. ‘I am most determined when I set my mind to something.'

‘I can vouch for that,' Mr Silverton said. ‘Shall we play cards?'

Sophie wasn't sure how it happened, but a few minutes later, she found herself at a whist table, partnered with Robert Silverton against Lady White and a young lady by the name of Miss Penelope Green. Antoine and Jane had moved away to play vingt-et-un at another table.

‘I hope your brother is skilled at cards, Miss Vallois,'
Mr Silverton said as the hand was dealt. ‘My sister is a Captain Sharp of the female variety.'

‘Antoine plays well enough,' Sophie said, picking up her cards. ‘It is my skills as a partner you may find lacking.'

‘Nothing to it, my dear.' Lady White raised her arm, causing a battery of bracelets to jangle. ‘You simply try to take as many tricks as you can by remembering which cards have already been played. That's why I like this game. It requires the use of one's brain. I'm not sure you young whelps know how to do that.'

Sophie said nothing, but when she raised her eyes and met Mr Silverton's over the top of her cards, she saw that he was grinning broadly. ‘I shall endeavour to do my best, Lady White.'

‘You'll have to if you expect to escape this table unscathed.' Lady White turned up a card. ‘Hearts are trump. Your lead, Mr Silverton.'

 

Over the course of the evening, Robert learned quite a few things about Miss Sophie Vallois. He learned that while she was blessed with beauty and refinement, she also had a lively sense of humour and a tendency towards speaking her mind. He learned that when she was silent, it was not because she could think of nothing to say, but because she preferred to weigh her words before offering them up for public discussion. She never forced herself into a conversation, but when asked a question, responded with wit and intelligence. In short, it was hard to find anything to criticise about the lady, yet he still found himself maintaining a distance.

‘Are you enjoying your time in London, Miss Val
lois?' he asked after Lady White and Miss Green had excused themselves to partake of refreshments.

‘I am. It is, of course, very different to the life Antoine and I lead in France.'

Assuming she referred to the customs and language of the two countries, Robert said, ‘Have you always lived in Paris?'

‘Only for the last two years. Before that I lived near Bayencourt.'

‘I'm not familiar with the town.'

‘It's a small village in the north of France. My father was born there.'

‘And your mother?'

‘In Provence.' Miss Vallois smiled. ‘Mama always said she would never move to the north, but when she met my father, that was that. I went to Provence with her when I was ten and liked it very much. The lavender fields were beautiful.'

Robert nodded, picturing a young girl running through the lush purple fields. He imagined a slender figure in a white dress, with silver-blond hair flying out behind and laughter ringing across the fields. It made for an engaging scene. ‘You speak English exceptionally well for someone who's never been outside France,' he observed.

‘I was employed for some time by an English lady who hired me to teach French to her daughters. In turn, I was tutored in English with particular emphasis on pronunciation and diction. I was forbidden to roll my r's, drop my h's, or say
zat
instead of that. The lady was something of a…' She looked to him for help. ‘A
termagant
?'

‘A termagant.' Robert smiled. ‘Yes, it is the same in
both languages.' So, she had been a governess. That, he supposed, explained her polished manners and her refined way of speaking. ‘I would venture to say if their French is half as good as your English, you did an exceptional job.'

Miss Vallois wrinkled her nose. ‘I fear I did not. The eldest daughter was not interested in learning the language and took pains to tell me so on a regular basis. But the younger one was very sweet and more than made up for her sister's deficiencies.' She looked at him with renewed interest. ‘Have you ever been to France, Mr Silverton?'

The question stabbed at his heart. ‘Briefly. I held a commission in the cavalry, but sold it when my eldest brother was killed.'

‘Yes, I'm so sorry. I cannot imagine what that must have been like,' Miss Vallois said. ‘If I were to lose Antoine, it would be like losing a part of myself. I don't know that I would ever feel whole again.'

Robert stared at her, aware that in a few simple sentences, she had summed up exactly how he'd felt at the time of Michael's death. He'd been shattered, his world cast into darkness by the death of the one person he'd been closer to than anyone else. ‘There are still times I don't feel whole. Even now, when I walk into a room, I expect to see Michael there. To be able to walk up to him and laugh over some amusing and totally inconsequential event.'

‘Were you close growing up?'

‘Inseparable. He was only two years older than me so we shared many of the same interests. He taught me how to ride and he was there when I took my first bad spill in the field.' Robert's mouth twisted. ‘It was my
first time hunting and, caught up in the excitement, I tried to take a gate at full tilt. I don't remember hitting the ground, but I remember Michael picking me up and carrying me back to the house. He called for the surgeon and stayed with me while my arm was set.'

‘That must have been painful.'

‘It was, but it hurt a great deal less than my father's indifference.' Robert tried to keep the resentment from his voice. ‘
He
was more concerned about my horse. Said I could have ruined a prime bit of blood. I wanted to lash out, but Michael put his hand on my good arm and said it wasn't worth it. Told me I'd only regret it in the morning. And, as always, he was right.' Robert stopped, swallowing hard. ‘I never expected Michael to die in the war. When the letter came informing us that he'd been killed, I thought it must be a mistake. I didn't want to believe it. To me he was…indestructible.'

‘I don't think we ever really believe that someone we love will fall. I suppose that's the best part of the human spirit,' Miss Vallois said. ‘The unshakeable belief that the worst will never happen to us or to those we care about. I sometimes wonder if we would venture into the unknown at all if we did not hold that belief true.'

‘Indeed. We are fragile in body, yet indomitable in spirit,' Robert murmured. ‘And how fortunate that is the case.'

He hadn't expected her to reach out. But when he felt the gentle pressure of her hand on his arm and looked up to see compassion in the depths of those remarkable blue eyes, he knew the sympathy she offered wasn't feigned. Whatever she thought about him as a person was secondary to her need to offer reassurance and warmth. He found that strangely comforting.

‘Ah, Silver, thought I'd find you here,' Oberon said, blundering in and destroying the mood. ‘And Miss Vallois. I'm so pleased you decided to heed my advice and come.'

‘Mr Oberon.' The lady slowly withdrew her hand. Robert was surprised at how keenly he felt its loss. ‘As it turned out, Lady Longworth had not made other plans and agreed that it would make for a pleasant evening.'