Page 15 of The Scandal of the Season (Fairfax Sisters #2)

Chapter Fifteen

MADAME MARIE-LOUISA DUPRES

The following day

M adame Marie-Louisa Dupres was so very captivating that Sophie was a little suspicious at first. However, her suspicions were swiftly allayed by her very respectable Parisian maison , in a respectable Parisian arrondissement , and after a while even she had to accept that Rotherby seemed capable of conducting respectable female relationships.

‘Oh, la! My Dominic said you were too good for him, and I thought to myself, this cannot be true. No lady is too good for my Dominic. But now I see he did not lie at all, ma chérie . No wonder it has sent him careering all over France in, what is it you English call it? A spin?’

Sophie could think of several other choice words to describe Lord Rotherby’s behaviour but instead she only smiled at the alluring girl with thick ebony hair, lustrous skin and a vivacious laugh to match. To Sophie, she looked a beguiling, lost princess from one of Josephine’s heroic novels.

‘Now, we will be very best friends, n’est-ce pas ? And you can tell me about all your adventures, for I warrant there have been a few with my Dominic…’

A few more enquiries swiftly elicited the fact that Madame Marie-Louisa Dupres– or Lu Lu, as she preferred– was about as distant a relation to her precious Dominic as she could be without making a complete nonsense of the claim. She’d grown up on the outskirts of Paris, the only offspring of a distant second cousin, and been wed for six months before the dreaded smallpox had claimed her sickly, older husband.

‘However, it is not at all sad,’ she reassured Sophie, with a dazzling smile. ‘For now I am at liberty to attend as many parties and soirees as I please, without any provoking debutante rules.’

Sophie smiled politely, wondering if Lu Lu was drawing quite the right conclusion from her very short marriage, but had to applaud the spirit all the same.

More surprisingly however, it seemed as though Lu Lu was the closest thing Lord Rotherby had to a confidante, and knew their whole sorry tale already.

‘The problem is,’ Sophie confided, pirouetting in a rather fetching taffeta gown Lu Lu had persuaded her to try, ‘I know he has gone to look for that dreadful pastor but I cannot marry his lordship under any circumstances. I need help finding work as a modiste, or a seamstress? Lord knows, I’d probably settle for a governess just now!’

Sophie bit her lip, recalling her poor progress with mathematics, while Lu Lu regarded her incredulously.

‘Is it possible you do not wish to marry my dear Dominic?’ she whispered, her eyes as round as Aunt Higglestone’s precious china teacups.

Sophie swallowed. She’d avoided a direct question so far, yet there seemed to be little other way to convince his adoring relation.

‘I appreciate his lordship’s effort to rectify the situation,’ she replied carefully. ‘But I cannot imagine anything worse than for someone like his lordship to be tied to someone like me, because of one mistake. I have always been determined to make a love match, while his lordship intends never to marry at all. We are, quite simply, a recipe for disaster, and I believe tying our lives together will only exacerbate a situation that is already beyond retrieval.’

Her tone was hollow and her expression set, but she’d said it, and when she lifted her gaze Madame Dupres was smiling.

‘Ahh, but you must not worry, ma chérie !’ she gushed, squeezing Sophie’s hands. ‘We will fix this, and you know, l’amour can spring from the most curious and unexpected of places. Why, only yesterday I had a visit from an old English acquaintance who turned out to be quite the surprise! He was so very delightful and proper, he made all the French gentlemen of my acquaintance seem most uncivilised.’

Lu Lu paused to blush prettily and Sophie wondered if she could possibly be speaking of Sir Weston. He was, after all, the most properly mannered English gentleman of her acquaintance, and it would be no surprise if they knew of each other through Lord Rotherby.

‘And dear Dominic is so wild and wilful, but he can also be kind and good– as well as very determined once his mind is made up,’ she said, waggling a jewel-clad finger. ‘But, if you remain set against this marriage I will help you, after this week’s cercles at Le Palais des Tuileries, where all Paris will be in attendance! And please, no more talk of being a modiste or governess when this is Paris? Quelle horreur! I think we can set our sights a little higher than that! Indeed, you may not wish to marry my dear Dominic, but unless Paris learns of your situation you are quite safe with me– and that means there is no reason why we cannot find you another husband. Come, at the very least we will have a little fun, n’est ce pas ?’

* * *

It appeared that on the question of fun, Madame Marie-Louisa Dupres would brook no dissent, and by the time the evening at the Royal Tuileries Palace arrived, and Sophie was bathed, corseted and dressed afresh in one of Lu Lu’s most fetching blush-pink satin gowns, she’d begun to think it might be just the tonic for lifting her spirits.

‘For I am still Miss Sophie Fairfax when all’s said and done,’ she reminded herself, as she pulled a ringlet free from her elaborate Psyche knot, and turned to inspect the effect.

For a moment she wondered what her sisters would think if they could see her now. She’d always been the one considered least likely to take any risks. Yet it seemed the universe had rather different ideas.

Sophie pulled a face in the looking-glass, resolving that she would not feel sorry for herself, come what may.

‘For this is a situation of your own making, after all,’ she admonished.

Briefly, she recalled her last conversation with Matilda, so certain she would be able to return before dawn. How could she have been so naive? Lord Rotherby had a reputation for being one of the worst rakes in all Georgian London. Why she had taken it upon herself to try and intercept Aurelia with so little consideration for her own reputation seemed a foolishness of gargantuan proportions. And now that same rake, with more secrets than anyone she’d ever known, demanded blind trust.

She closed her eyes and conjured his scowling noble face, eyelids sunk low and lips curling.

‘Above all things, I consider myself honourable, I do not lead or make false promises to ladies, any more than I accuse a gentleman unjustly… I exist in a space where no one gets hurt… You must accept my word that this is truth.’

Sophie exhaled. He’d left London society abruptly, had ignored her entreaties to let her take her chances, and treated Sir Weston abominably– so why did she feel so confused?

‘Ah, ma chérie, you know l’amour can spring from the most curious and unexpected of places.’

Lu Lu’s voice reached through her thoughts as she gazed into her own anxious eyes. It was true that he was likeable, in a careless, roguish kind of way, and also that he frustrated her beyond all things reasonable. But could there be anything else? Could she have hidden a partiality for Lord Dominic Rotherby, even from herself?

She caught her breath. The notion was almost ridiculous, and yet, hadn’t she indulged him from the start?

Carefully, she recalled their meeting at Almack’s, her rash wager, her behaviour in the maze and her reaction at the exhibition when Aurelia shared her plan. Then there was the moment he kissed her outside Rotherby House in the moonlight. She flushed to think of it, even now, but the warmth of his lips had somehow reached right through her, creating a feeling of such intense longing it had haunted her dreams ever since.

And finally, there was her decision to stay and nurse him when she should have abandoned him to his fate. She had told herself she was doing the right thing, the noble thing even, but was that the real reason? Or had there been something else at play?

Sophie swallowed, her heart beating a note of betrayal.

‘I do believe you’ve liked him more than you’ve admitted, right from the start,’ she accused her pale countenance. ‘Which is all the more reason he must never find out,’ she added, watching her lower lip wobble. For a heartless rake, who never intended to marry, could never return the same regard.’

And now there was Sir Weston.

‘This is not the first time I’ve known Lord Dominic Rotherby to act dishonourably. Do you trust me, Miss Fairfax?’

Sophie inhaled deeply. Why every gentleman of her small acquaintance seemed intent on asking her the same felt a little pointed, to say the least. She finished her toilette, and drew on the fur-trimmed pelisse and soft kid gloves Lu Lu had loaned her to finish her outfit. Their quality was far in excess of anything she possessed at home and she paused briefly to admire their velvet lining before collecting her thoughts.

In truth, it wasn’t so much that she trusted Sir Weston, as that she’d deceived herself about Lord Rotherby, and despite Lu Lu’s optimism, she had zero expectation of making a love match during her short stay. This left her with one real option, and it was with this thought uppermost in her mind that Sophie left for the Palais des Tuileries, determined to fulfil her plan, no matter what Lu Lu might think of it.

‘Look, ma chérie, c’est magnifique , is it not?’ Lu Lu whispered as her carriage drew up at the Royal and Imperial Palace on the right bank of the River Seine.

‘And I do believe King Louis XVIII is in residence at the moment– though everyone says he has much to do since Napoleon’s you know what ,’ she added in a hushed tone.

Sophie nodded, recalling Matilda’s painstaking reenactment of the defeat and exile of little Boney over the library atlas, using the bulging-eyed Duke Wellington as the advancing British army.

‘It’s very beautiful,’ Sophie replied thoughtfully, gazing out of the window.

It was no lie. Despite the revolution and subsequent ‘Terror’, the palace and its gardens were amongst the finest she’d ever seen. Not only did the imposing building appear to stretch on endlessly into the night, the formal Italian gardens, illuminated by a hundred flickering lanterns, were a truly mesmerising sight.

‘ Oui , springtime at Les Tuileries is very special,’ Lu Lu said, sighing happily. ‘It is, how you English say… merveilleux, oui ? Perfect for a little dalliance perhaps?’

She raised her eyebrows mischievously as Sophie suppressed a smile, wondering exactly how she could expect to have a dalliance when most of her old life hung by a thread.

‘Are you sure no one I know will be there?’ she asked again, a little anxiously.

‘Ah, ma chérie ,’ Lu Lu replied with a wry smile, ‘ cercles at Le Palais des Tuileries are purely for the Parisian haute ton to outshine one another. And this fortunate fact means you and I will be of absolutely no interest at all.’

* * *

A few minutes at the Tuileries Palace was more than enough to convince Sophie that Lu Lu’s assurances were well founded, for not only was there a sea of Parisian ton, they seemed much more interested in seeking acquaintances and approval from within their own circle, than in meeting anyone outside it.

Sophie stared in wonder as she gazed around at the grand formal ballroom, flickering softly with more candelabras and gilt-edged mirrors then she could count. It was an enchanting and mesmerising sight that she would have cherished in any other circumstance. Yet Parisian society also had an edge that made London seem almost staid by comparison.

‘They call it the Bonaparte effect,’ Lu Lu whispered, beside her. ‘No one is quite comfortable knowing he lived here, and yet this palace holds so many good memories too.’

Sophie watched as Lu Lu nodded her feathered head at a circle of exquisitely dressed ladies across the room.

‘If you would you just excuse me for two minutes, ma chérie ? I find I need to powder my nose.’

Before she had time to respond, Lu Lu had swept away in her rustling lavender silk, leaving Sophie to feel the absence of her sisters more acutely than ever.

She took a deep breath and made her way to a nearby table where a surly footman misunderstood her request for lemonade, and presented her with a tall glass of champagne. Far too polite to refuse, Sophie thanked the haughty steward before making her way to the back of the room. It was just as she was enjoying her first tentative sips of the sparkling wine, and considering that perhaps the Parisian ton weren’t quite so terrifying after all, that a faint English tone reached her ears.

‘Why I keep underestimating bourgeois bumpkins, I’ll never know.’

The sudden acerbic tone caused Sophie to pause mid-sip, while all the hairs on the back of her neck slowly strained to attention.

It couldn’t be, could it?

‘And this may be Paris, but any one of tonight’s patrons would be difficult if they knew the truth.’

A dull flush began to reach across Sophie’s cheeks as she listened, praying she was mistaken.

‘Of course, it only takes one reliable soul to share the news, and the whole pack of cards comes tumbling down.’

There was a brief titter then which only confirmed all of Sophie’s worst fears, as she shrank back into the shadows looking for something, or someone, to hide behind. But it was already too late as two elegant ladies came to a standstill in front of her, one of whom was instantly dismissed. Slowly, Sophie lifted her eyes to meet Aurelia’s penetrating gaze, never more conscious of the moment outside Rotherby House, when she’d glimpsed her figure hurrying through the cold midnight mist.

‘But how very fortuitous,’ Aurelia greeted in a glittering tone. ‘I do believe it is the infamous Miss Sophie Fairfax herself. I say, Miss Fairfax, how are you? Do tell all, for you are quite the talk of London. Are you being treated well? There must be some reward, for Dominic is very generous, or so his reputation goes…’

She paused to titter again as Sophie cast a frantic gaze around the room, feeling caught in the slew of a nightmare.

‘Certainly, that gown is much finer than anything you wore in London, and your earrings too… Though you should take care you don’t catch a chill. I hear springtime in Paris can be quite short-lived !’

There was a painful silence while Sophie stared into Lady Aurelia’s glacial blue eyes, wondering how to begin.

‘Sophie?’ Aurelia persisted icily. ‘Whatever is the matter? Did you think no one else could cross the Channel? The Carlisles have plenty of old friends in Paris, and it wasn’t hard to persuade my mother to take a trip– once I realised your departure coincided with Lord Rotherby’s.’ She paused to let her eyes sweep over Sophie’s becoming Psyche knot hairstyle with its pale pink ostrich feather Lu Lu had insisted she add, just before they left.

‘You know, you look well, my dear, but I worry for your future. You must ask Dominic to help you when he grows a little… fatigued? These bachelors can be so unreliable, but I’m sure he has plenty of gentlemen friends who would take you on– in Austria or Italy perhaps. Anyway, I’d love to stay and talk longer, only Mother is here too, and very keen I don’t associate with… well, I’m sure you understand?’

‘Aurelia, you must know I am not what you suggest!’ Sophie countered finally, unable to believe she’d ever compromised herself for a girl who didn’t even understand the concept of friendship. ‘I did not intend to run away with Lord Rotherby, and I most certainly have not become his mistress !’ She paused to glance around. ‘You insult me to suggest such a thing!’

‘ I insult you?’ Aurelia returned, her eyes flashing with fury. ‘I took you into my confidence, and you stole my plan and husband for yourself! Not the first time for a Fairfax either. What is it, some kind of family sport?’

‘He was not your husband! And he had no intention of offering marriage under any circumstances,’ Sophie continued in a low yet furious voice, aware of the curious faces starting to turn their way. ‘I was actually trying to help you, and unless you wish the whole of Paris to know about your big plan, I suggest we continue this conversation outside.’

‘Fine!’ Aurelia snapped.

The lantern-lit gardens of Les Tuileries looked even more magical now, wrapped in the long reach of the inky night sky. Yet all Sophie could think about was the burning injustice of it all. She knew assumptions would be made amongst the English ton, that there was a chance the whispers might follow her to Paris, but to hear such allegations directly, and from the person she’d sought to help, was beyond everything.

‘Let me be clear,’ she ground out, as soon as they were alone. ‘I was not seeking to take anything that was yours, but rather to try and dissuade you from your plan. I certainly never intended to accompany Lord Rotherby who, I hasten to add, always planned to take Mrs Haxby anyway, and I am only here because he thought I was she!’ She paused to draw breath, while Aurelia scowled even harder. ‘And he may be a nobleman,’ Sophie continued heatedly, ‘but that is all he is– he is most certainly not any sort of gentleman!’

She gritted her teeth as the oddest feeling of remorse seeped through her. He was a heartless rake who’d teased her from the outset and rubbished all her attempts to fix her situation– including throwing the kind Sir Weston out onto the street at L’Auberge Notre-Dame– but he’d also tried to shelter her from total ruin too.

She swallowed as his shadowed face reached through her tangled thoughts, trying to explain why he hadn’t simply let her go . How could anyone exist in a space where no one got hurt?

Aurelia’s eyes flashed as they forged further into the gardens, their twinkling surroundings a stark contrast to their heated exchange.

‘I hear your excuses,’ Aurelia scorned, ‘but I also watched your face every time you were in Rotherby’s company. You were besotted with him, and I have only your word he intended to take Mrs Haxby! I said my mother would have made sure I became Lady Rotherby if he failed to act honourably, so there was no good reason for you to interfere. Well, I’m sure I wish you well in your new… endeavours, while I satisfy myself with assuring your relatives, and all the ton, that you are enjoying life as a courtesan very well indeed!’

At this point, Aurelia picked up her puce silk skirts and swept away, while Sophie could only look on in despair. Her continued stay with Lu Lu was entirely dependent on her story remaining in London– and even then she’d told herself there could be a thousand respectable reasons for a debutante to disappear for a while– but Aurelia’s determination to destroy her reputation would ensure she could never return to England.

And it was all her own fault.

Suddenly, the faint yet joyful waltz of the violins was more than her jangled nerves could bear and, picking up her gown, she hurried through an arbour of orange blossom, before plunging along a garden trail. Then she ran until the only sound was the hum of a lone bee among some tulips, when she finally allowed herself to sink down on a stone bench. Breathing unsteadily, she reached up to fix her loosened curls, while trying not to give in to the swirl of panic inside.

She’d told herself she could find a way, that she could be heroic like Phoebe, but the harsh reality was that she’d created a scandal that Aurelia would never let the ton forget. Her life, as she knew it, was over and worst of all, she’d brought deep shame on the Fairfax name. Sophie dropped her head into her hands, and for the first time since leaving Dover, felt truly and horribly alone.

‘I am always surprised by the Tuileries,’ a low voice murmured quietly. ‘It is a veritable treasure trove of hidden delights, though I must admit, you are my first debutante. I do hope you’re not seeking more rogues, Miss Fairfax, for I thought we’d exhausted them as a source of new friends?’

Sophie caught her breath somewhere between a laugh and a sob, quite aware that if Lord Rotherby learned of her current despair, he might use it to accelerate his own plan.

‘And in truth,’ he continued, ‘when Lu Lu suggested an evening at Les Tuileries , I thought a little music and dancing might be of interest to a newly betrothed young lady– entertain her even? Either way, I certainly didn’t expect to find her quite alone in these beautiful gardens, which leads me to wonder whether it is Lu Lu’s company, or your intrepid curiosity, which is to blame?’

Sophie drew a steadying breath, never more grateful for the cover of darkness for her blotched face.

‘Madame Dupres is not responsible for my current situation, my lord,’ she replied with a catch in her voice, ‘and we both know I am not your betrothed!’

Exhaling softly, Lord Rotherby closed the gap and sank down on the stone seat beside her. Sophie stiffened, aware of a thousand competing feelings, but mostly of the strange air about his person tonight. He seemed thoughtful in a way she’d not seen before, and it softened all his movements.

‘Are you avoiding company?’ he asked.

Briefly, she glanced at his midnight blue coat, a colour which contrasted vibrantly with his mossy eyes and dark locks swept back à la Brutus , while his spotless pantaloons and gleaming Hessians only accentuated his long limbs. Yet it was his distracted face, silhouetted in the half-light, that really stole her attention, taking her back to the night he kissed her. Sophie swallowed. He really was the most carelessly beautiful man she’d ever known.

‘Tell me,’ he pondered aloud, ‘what sends a fearless Fairfax out into these lonely gardens, when I would have thought she might benefit from being seen tonight, especially looking as radiant as she does?’ Sophie glanced up swiftly, but there was only sincerity in his expression. ‘Lu Lu shared with me her plan to find you an alternative husband as I ‘wasn’t to your taste’,’ he added with a faint smile, ‘but I’m not entirely certain you’ll find one in the rhododendron bushes. Furthermore, I’m not sure my presence will add the right note of… brotherly guardianship.’

Sophie smiled wanly. He couldn’t be any less someone’s brotherly guardian.

‘You know, the whole world will be a kinder place again if you would but take my name.’

The words were uttered so gently that the garden seemed to still momentarily. Sophie clenched her fingers, steeling herself not to soften towards the melodic persuasion in his voice, to recall that he was a skilled rake, and that someone without a heart could never be trusted with hers.

And yet there was such a curious ache in her chest that she could hardly meet his gaze.

‘I know this is not what you planned,’ he added, laying a hand over hers and sending a jolt through her cold limbs. ‘It isn’t what I planned either, but I believe we can make sense of this mess, and it will be vastly better than an existence eked out in some quiet backwater of Paris.’

‘But why?’ Sophie replied. ‘Why, when you have made it your life’s work to avoid this precise situation? You may feel a degree of responsibility, but I made the decision to intervene the night you left London. You owe me nothing.’

He paused as a shadow flitted across his face, and his eyes fixed on the mid-distance.

‘When I was a small boy,’ he replied after a beat, ‘my father would force me to watch while he slit the throats of the animals he’d hunted. Then he would hang them and go inside and beat my mother.’

Sophie stilled as he spoke entirely without emotion, as though describing the colour of his boots.

‘She was everything good and kind,’ he continued. ‘At night she would read stories until I fell asleep, just so I wouldn’t lie awake, thinking about him. And she never complained, but he was, in every way, a father and a husband to be despised. He drank, he gambled, he whored and he beat. There was nothing redeemable about him whatsoever. Yet all this I overlooked, for the sake of our blood tie, until the night he killed my mother and unborn sister.’

Sophie stared in shock, knowing she had gone as pale as the blossom at her feet.

‘He… killed them?’ she whispered so faintly even she could hardly hear her own words.

‘He beat my mother repeatedly when she was with child, so she barely had strength enough for herself, let alone an unborn baby,’ he went on, his profile unflinching. ‘Which meant when she came to her labour, she was far too weak… so yes, he killed them.’

He broke off then and exhaled roughly, while Sophie felt as though she’d been allowed a glimpse through a dark veil.

‘I swore that night never to marry, or to allow a Rotherby to harm anyone else. I would exist in a space where no one got hurt, and that is precisely what I’ve done. Except this situation will hurt you, if I don’t act.’

He looked at her then, his velvet eyes sending the oddest flare through her veins. He was only a breath away, his scent stirring an impulse that started behind his eyes, and reached right through to the tip of her toes, an impulse to do something extremely foolhardy. She inhaled shakily as a nightjar churred nearby, yet was conscious of such sudden longing that she didn’t stop his fingers tracing a gentle path to her face. And when his thumb brushed gently over her lips, she only gazed back with absolute certainty that whatever he wanted, she wanted it too, so that when he leaned closer, and let his lips graze over hers, she was conscious only of yearning regret when he paused.

She exhaled raggedly, locked in his gaze, their lips a fraction apart. Then his arm slid around her, pulling her tight against him so his lips could return with a burning heat, and she kissed him back until her head spun. It was a kiss so unlike his last– hungry and intimate– the kind of kiss that existed only in dreams, and for one intoxicating moment she let herself envisage a whole life with this impossible man, until the memories began to reach through.

‘Even the strongest of attachments rarely last a lifetime… no one broke my heart, I would have to possess one in the first place… It will be a mariage de convenanc e only…’

With a huge, forcible effort she thrust him away, and tried to assemble her scattered wits.

‘Aurelia may delight in telling the ton I’m your courtesan,’ she forced out, ‘but I am still a Fairfax– and a debutante too!’ Lord Rotherby drew back as she stood up. ‘This situation has stolen so much from me: my reputation, my self-worth, my family,’ she continued, avoiding his gaze. ‘If I marry you now, it will take the only thing I have left: the freedom to bestow my heart where I choose! I am not some debt to honour, Lord Rotherby. And I have yet to learn of one reason why I should marry someone who is running from scandal himself.’

There was a tense silence, before Lord Rotherby stood up too.

‘I’ve told you all I can,’ he replied tersely. ‘I left London to clear my name, but that has nothing to do with this situation. And I would far rather you accepted my offer freely, but if you are set on pursuing a path of self-destruction, I will have no choice but to insist! In truth, if Lady Aurelia is here, as you suggest, then the matter is even more urgent than I thought. You should not be seen in my company again until we have made our vows. Fortunately, my time away was fruitful, and I have made some progress in locating an English pastor. I intend to ask him to marry us before the week’s end, and would thank you to accept this, Miss Fairfax, as a fait accompli. Now, I suggest we return to the Grand Salon before we are missed.’

He proffered his arm then as though escorting debutantes through the moonlit Tuileries gardens was the most normal thing in the world, all traces of their recent entanglement as distant as the music from the Salon.

Sophie stared, trying not to give in to the violent feelings coursing through her veins.

She took a deep breath.

‘Lady Aurelia is indeed here, and would be more than happy to oblige you in your pursuit of a marriage, if you are so inclined,’ she returned coldly. ‘But I believe I have made myself quite clear: we are not suited and my path will be chosen freely. I intend to be gone before the week’s end, and I would thank you to accept this, Lord Rotherby, as a fait accompli !’

Then she picked up her skirts and made her way back to the palace quite alone.