The Sheik's Son (20 page)

It was a week before the ball when she realized her pamphlet had been published, and she learned of it from a most unusual source.

Her grandmother had been out calling upon her friends and had returned with a crumpled-up piece of paper.

“What is that?” Sophie asked as she sat in the salon window seat reading.

“Rubbish. Absolute rubbish.” Eugenie crushed the paper even more and left it on the desktop.

Sophie smiled and heard her grandmother mount the stairs to her room. Sophie left her book overturned and went to the desk. She smoothed the paper out and read the words “Equality for All.”

She went on to read the words she almost knew by heart and felt her own thump inside her chest. Her words were upon the printed page but this time she had taken the next step. She was writing about equality for all, the lavish spending of the court and the lower classes starving while the greedy king dined on pheasant.

“Rubbish.” Her grandmother had rejoined her and nodded as Sophie excused herself.

My god
, she thought. What had she done? She noticed her hands were shaking and snatched up her book to calm herself.

***

Dorset watched as Sebastian opened one letter after another and moved to look out over the green park across the street from their office.

“I think these French are absolutely insane,” Dorset muttered.

Sebastian hid a smile. Though he was not overly fond of the French, he found their music, food and women to be extremely enjoyable.

“What now?”

“You think these French would be open to ideas and beliefs, yet I can tell you that is not the case.” Dorset shook his head.

“What ideas and beliefs?” he asked as he sliced open another letter.

“The ideas of freedom and equality.”

Sebastian smiled. “I didn’t realize you supported the Americans. Isn’t that treasonous?”

“Don’t be absurd. The American upstarts were bound to rebel. Who can control a people an ocean away?” Dorset said sternly.

Sebastian couldn’t argue with that.

“No, this is different. These French want equality. They want the excess of their king to cease and a true ruling government,” Dorset said.

“Who has said this?” Sebastian said quietly.

“Some pamphlet I’ve just read being passed around.”

“A pamphlet?”

“Yes. And now I’ve heard some idiot inspector wants the writer found and interrogated,” he said.

“Do you have the pamphlet?” Sebastian asked.

“No, but everyone in Paris is reading it. What a strange country,” he snorted, still gazing out the window.

Sebastian shook his head. She wouldn’t have done it. Surely she would not have gone ahead and written about what he had expressly called revolutionary.

Sebastian thought for several long minutes, staring at the duke’s back, and closed his eyes. Of course she would have. He knew her enough to realize that of course she would have educated herself, become intrigued with the new information and written about it.
Damn her
.

***

The Paris police force was formed in 1667 and was overseen by a lieutenant general of police. The current lieutenant was Louis Thiroux de Crosne, who had been in the position since 1785. Underneath the lieutenant were various police commissioners, and each commissioner was assigned police inspectors. Paris was divided into numerous districts and each commissioner was in charge of one.

Inspector Vennard was assigned to the district under Commissioner Tondreau. When he had received his latest assignment, he had not expected it nor wanted it. A treasonous pamphlet was circulating Paris and he was tasked with finding the writer. He had not been particularly pleased; the assignment seemed boring, and at best, chasing some overzealous intellectual would not win him any accolades.

But the more he pondered his assignment, the more he realized it might be the key to what he had been craving for so many years. For there was only one thing that Vennard truly wanted—and that was power.

***

Sophie nibbled on the end of her quill pen. She had heard comments about the pamphlet from several people that day and none of them were good.

Her father called the piece “revolutionary trash” while Lizette’s father called it “garbage.” She didn’t take much stock in her grandmother’s opinion, but added the word “rubbish” to her mental list. She was suddenly very worried about the pamphlet and began a letter to Monsieur Blanche, asking him to print no more copies of it, but then stopped herself.

She should be more circumspect. Despite her reluctance, she knew in retrospect that she should have given the pamphlet to Sebastian to read before sending it to the printers. She had been rash and excited at the new information and had wanted to write her thoughts and emotions on paper. But she should have waited.

She set the quill pen aside. She would wait until everything had died down. After the ball she would see how she felt then, but for now, she would write no more.

***

Madame Necker read the pamphlet and admired it greatly. She had come to suspect Sophie was Jean Inconnu and she was deeply proud of her. She had become convinced at the chateau when she witnessed Sophie defend her position against the intellectual men.

It was gratifying for her to see Sophie was learning and growing to understand the underlying issues affecting France. But she was also treading a dangerous path, and Madame Necker knew she must speak to Sophie at the upcoming ball. She had made her point with the pamphlet and now people were talking, but for her own safety, she must cease writing.

***

Sebastian clenched his teeth in anger. Sophie was trying to get herself killed; that was the only logical outcome he could imagine. He had read the pamphlet several times, and factually it was correct and he could not fault it. But that she had placed these items on paper and had it printed was beyond anything he could imagine.

Dorset had brought it to his attention that the inspector in the district was looking for the printer to find the writer. He knew that the pamphlet was gaining attention and people were talking about it. Her words were on their lips and the attention she was generating was for the people in a time when Paris was becoming more unstable. The authorities would want her to cease writing. He didn’t think they would do anything to her, but he was not sure of anything anymore.

He would see her at the upcoming ball and talk to her. Sophie must see reason.

Chapter 16

Sophie and Luc strolled next to each other in the Jardin des Tuileries while Eugenie followed at a respectable distance as chaperone. The Jardin had been a royal garden until author Charles Perrault of
Sleeping Beauty
requested it be opened to the public. It was the first royal garden to do so.

The date of her ball was growing near and Sophie was excited for it, but she was also in a state of great concern. She knew more and more people were talking about the pamphlet and those in her circle of acquaintances did not agree at all with her writings. They thought it to be the writings of a bourgeoisie who had no understanding of the true workings of government and the monarchy.

Then, late one evening, she heard her father with a colleague discussing the pamphlet over a glass of brandy. It was the first time she learned that there was an inspector in the district tasked with finding the identity of the printer. Once the printer was found, they would find the writer.

The conversation did nothing to quiet her thoughts and she was concerned about being discovered. How many printers were in Paris? How long before they found Monsieur Blanche? She was certain he would be tracked down in a short amount of time. But all he would be able to say was that the pamphlets were written by a Jean Inconnu and the go-between was a maid named Marie. Certainly there must be a thousand maids in Paris named Marie, so she felt relatively safe.

“So I decided to enjoy myself on a Grand Tour,” Luc was saying as they walked together.

Sophie held her parasol casually as she looked about the park. She glanced over her shoulder and saw her grandmother at a polite distance, carrying her own parasol and watching the couple discretely.

Sophie wore a linen gown of blue and white stripes with a square neckline and elbow-length sleeves. Her grandmother was dressed in a similar gown of royal blue with pink embroidery along the scooped neckline. Sophie studied Luc from the corner of her eye and noticed the cream-colored silk coat, waistcoat and breeches adorned with silver embroidery and cream hose. His shoes bore silver buckles and he cut a resplendent figure.

“I shall travel to Geneva and then on to Turin.” He sniffed and smiled disdainfully as an elderly couple passed them in the opposite direction.

Sophie nodded and thought his elaborate dress more befitted her friend Lizette than a man. She had never really bothered to notice male attire before she had met Sebastian, but when she looked over the satin dress of Luc, she thought of Sebastian’s woolen coat and breeches. He always seemed so masculine and radiated a sensuality that was most becoming.

“I will also visit Florence to study the Renaissance paintings and Roman sculptures,” Luc said with a sense of superiority.

“Indeed,” she murmured in response.

He nodded in agreement. “Yes. I’m quite looking forward to it, and of course, my father will pay for the entire journey.”

Sophie had been entirely willing to have her father and grandmother search for a male of the right age to consider as marriage potential. But so far, it hadn’t gone well: her father’s colleague was still in love with his deceased wife and young Luc seemed to be in love with himself.

“Ah,
mademoiselle
, do you mind? I see some friends that I would like to acknowledge.” He asked permission to leave her side.

“Of course.” Sophie watched Luc leave to join three young men and she came to stand next to her grandmother.

“He seems quite animated,” Eugenie remarked.

“Yes. Quite.” Sophie watched the men chuckle at a distance.

Eugenie caught the tone in Sophie’s voice. “Most men are entirely too selfish, my dear. Your father is not such a man. But many are.”

“I suppose they are. But does that mean I must settle?” She shaded her eyes with her parasol.

Eugenie sighed. “What on earth do you want, Sophie? You want to discuss Plato with your husband?”

“No,
Grand-mère
. But neither do I want a simpering boy who talks only of himself and dresses like a dandy.”

“Mademoiselle Gauvreau.”

She heard the voice and turned.

It took Sophie a moment to take in the handsome man and his sister. She smiled and addressed each. “Monsieur Fairfax. Mademoiselle Fairfax.” She nodded to Sebastian and his sister Leila.

Sebastian in turn nodded to Sophie and her grandmother, who remembered both siblings from the time spent at the chateau.

Leila looked lovely in a lilac-colored gown while Sebastian was dressed in chocolate-hued breeches and a merlot coat.

“I saw you from a distance and wanted to wish you both a good afternoon,” he said smoothly while taking up Luc’s place beside Sophie. They strolled the lane with Leila and Eugenie trailing behind them.

Sebastian looked over at Sophie and wanted to bring up the pamphlet but didn’t want to upset her or her grandmother, whom he was certain knew nothing about it.

“Sophie?”

“Yes?” She turned her face to his and he stopped. He would speak with her later when there was no audience to overhear. He would find a time at the ball to make her see reason.

“Thank you for the invitation to the ball. Leila and I are both looking forward to it,” he told her instead.

“Of course. I hope it will be a success.”

“It will be,” he assured her.

Leila caught up to the couple and reminded him of an engagement they had and he nodded.

“Until the ball,
mademoiselle. Madame
.” He nodded to both Sophie and Eugenie before they left.

“Such a handsome man,” Eugenie remarked, and Sophie watched as the brother and sister moved away.

“Yes, he is.”

When Luc re-joined them, Sophie felt as though she had lost a diamond and claimed a topaz.

“Where were we?” he asked.

***

Lizette picked up another lemon cookie and held it in her plump hand before devouring it. She watched as Sophie moved about the room restlessly. She stood next to the chair, then walked to the small couch, and finally stood next to the large windows that overlooked the street below. Sophie knew about the pamphlet and its outcome and that most people in their circle were not amused.

Lizette sipped the warm tea and then licked her lips. Another cookie would not harm her appetite. She picked it up and bit into the sweet pastry covered in powdered sugar. It was a delicious blend of sweet and tart.

“Sophie. Are you joining me? Or am I to watch you pace the room like a caged tiger?” she teased.

“Of course not. Forgive me.” Sophie moved away from the window and sat across from her friend.

“Sophie. What is it? Is it the pamphlet? It will die down. You’ve told me so yourself.”

Sophie nodded. “It’s true.” But what if she had crossed the line, she wondered. What if this time, she had made a mistake that could not be undone? She had berated herself for being rash, and this time she truly meant it.

“Sophie. It’s just a pamphlet,” Lizette said, shrugging as she reached for her teacup, and in those words, Sophie knew her dear friend did not understand.

Lizette was not educated and could not comprehend the power of words, as Sophie had begun to realize. It was in that moment that Sophie knew one thing with clear certainty: she would not stop writing. She could not. In fact, her next pamphlet would be even more bold.

The things she was learning and writing about must be relayed to the people of Paris and France. As she was educating herself, so she would educate them.

“Yes. You’re right. It’s just a pamphlet,” she said softly to appease her friend.

***