Page 19 of The Scandal of the Season (Fairfax Sisters #2)

Chapter Nineteen

COMBAT AND DISHONOUR

Two minutes later

S ophie sprinted as only a debutante on the verge of becoming a murderess knows how.

‘I heard you had to skip London because of some damned faro nonsense… refused to believe any of it of course… and then you turn up here like the devil himself…’

‘Not content with ruining yourself, it seems you must also drag my innocent sister into your scandal! Have you no honour at all…?’

She scowled intently as her thoughts darkened. She’d always known Lord Rotherby was a rake, and that he was running from a scandal too, but to hear he was most likely a common cheat who’d skipped town felt far worse. A wave of intense disappointment flooded her veins, exacerbated by the viscount’s accusations. And if he was capable of acting dishonourably with gentlemen, of what was he capable with ladies? Had she really, despite all her protestations, fallen for a skilled libertine?

‘For while a libertine is a scoundrel, there is always a chance of redemption with a rake…’

Even Aurelia had known the score. And all his efforts to marry her, all his protestations about honour and reputation, had they been merely to ameliorate his own scandal? Or worse? Had he hoped to trap a wife before he became known as the most villainous lord abroad?

Sophie’s spiralling thoughts worsened by the second until she was quite convinced she’d been as ignorant as any debutante could be, despite every warning about his character. And how she could have ever had a shred of doubt about dear, kind Sir Weston, who’d only ever tried to help her, felt like an injustice of the highest order.

Swiftly, she hurried through the connecting apartments from the Hall of Mirrors, scanning every flickering shadow with fresh zeal. Masked faces loomed out of every corner, while drunken, cajoling voices attempted to sway her in her progress. Yet all she could think was to find Sir Weston and entreat him to stop the fight. Damerel’s arrival at Versailles could make him cry off their own assignation, but the thought of leaving the duellists to murder one another was unthinkable. Her chest pounded as she ran on, praying Sir Weston’s tall, quiet personage would set him apart from so many drunken revellers. Yet there were just too many rooms, and guests determined to slow her progress. Then, finally, just as she was retrieving her hand from a cavalier who seemed determined to misquote Byron, she spied a familiar dress.

‘Lu Lu?’ Sophie panted into the shadowy alcove, certain she would know her friend’s expensive silk anywhere. ‘Where have you been? I really need to tell you something?—’

‘ Ma chérie! ’ Lu Lu exclaimed, stumbling forward, her glossy hair dishevelled. ‘I am so happy to see you! But please… I must introduce one of my oldest friends who I had no idea would be at Versailles tonight. Isn’t it a happy coincidence?’

She flailed flamboyantly at her elegant companion who stepped forward in a duck-egg blue satin dress with matching mask, and a cloak suspiciously like the one in Madame Montmartre’s window.

Yet Sophie would know her china-doll eyes anywhere.

‘Aurelia!’ she exclaimed in shock, feeling the world tilt on its axis again.

Of course they might know one another– ladies of the ton always did. Sophie’s gaze swung between them as a wave of fresh questions flooded her thoughts.

Was this how Aurelia had known she would be at the Palais des Tuileries? Had she also known she was staying with Lu Lu when accusing her of enjoying ‘life as a courtesan’?

‘Ah, my least favourite Fairfax,’ Aurelia said, placing an arm around Lu Lu’s swaying form, ‘and you’ve had considerable competition too! As dearest Lu Lu and I were just saying,’ she continued, ‘if you’re going to play games on the marriage mart, you really should know your rakes from your libertines, otherwise you can end up looking rather notorious yourself.’

Lu Lu blinked in a haze of semi-consciousness, as Sophie’s eyes narrowed, realising Aurelia was quite determined to ruin her, no matter the truth. And suddenly, she no longer cared.

‘In truth, I’d rather be notorious than a pitiful, vengeful creature without one ounce of self-respect!’ she hissed, snatching up a half-drunk glass of champagne and emptying it in Aurelia’s face.

Then she grabbed Lu Lu’s hand and pulled her away.

Sophie didn’t look back, the extent of Aurelia’s vengeance driving her pace and fuelling her search, until the rooms grew quieter and colder. Only then did she slow enough to take in the pitted walls and blackened gilt decor, lit by lone, flickering candles. It was an eerie sight, and briefly, she imagined Queen Marie-Antoinette running through, with a baying crowd at the gates. She shivered as a pair of burning torches came into sight, and was relieved to find they silhouetted an exit at last.

‘Have you seen Sir Weston tonight, Lu Lu?’ she said urgently as they stepped outside.

Swiftly, she scanned the Cour d’Honneur courtyard, which now looked as though it was lit by a thousand tiny stars that had fallen from the night sky. They shimmered to the faint strain of Mozart that rose from the gardens as she tried to catch her breath.

‘You really should know your rakes from your libertines, otherwise you can end up looking rather notorious yourself.’

Aurelia’s parting barb reached through her as she stared down at her friend, resting half-asleep against her shoulder.

‘And why Aurelia, of all people?’ Sophie added in a whisper, wondering if she’d been blind all along.

‘Were you looking for your… temptation?’ she hazarded.

‘ Oui ,’ Lu Lu slurred in a forlorn voice, ‘but I found a great stupide instead! Aurelia says not all gentlemen are made equally; some are more honourable than others. Thank heavens mes chéries do not suffer with the same malady…’

Immediately, Sophie pictured Rotherby and Damerel, duelling in her honour at that very moment, and suppressed a rise of fresh fear. She could only hope Weston’s very good sense would send him outside, once he realised the challenge of identifying anyone inside the palace.

‘And you have become quite a favourite.’

Sophie gazed down at Lu Lu’s drooping form, and knew then that whatever friendship she shared with Aurelia, she’d not intended to be disloyal. And now it seemed she had been let down as well. A flare of protectiveness flew through her as she wondered if she could possibly be the worst friend, as well as the worst sister, in the world.

‘Miss Fairfax?’

Sophie started as a masked figure loomed towards them out of the shadows.

‘Sir Weston?’ she inquired incredulously, wondering if her stars could possibly have aligned at last. ‘Is that really you?’

‘It is, and I’m delighted you had the presence of mind to wait in the Cour d’honneur,’ he replied. ‘I was not expecting half of Paris to be here,’ he paused to frown, ‘as I was not expecting Madame Dupres to be with you. Is she quite well?’

Sophie thought rapidly. There was no way she could abandon Lu Lu, and every passing second could make the difference in the duel.

‘She is fatigued, and not well at all,’ Sophie replied, hoping he was too proper to consider the possibility of a noblewoman being drunk.

‘I see,’ he said with a swift nod. ‘We will escort her away then. I have also brought a carriage as promised, with supplies,’ he continued, as though midnight flights from the Palace of Versailles were the most commonplace occurrence. ‘And, as far as I know, Rotherby’s pastor still waits in Chartres. I believe it would be fairly simple to persuade him of our attachment, if you have reconsidered at all? I concede our hearts are not engaged, Miss Fairfax, but I’m certain that with friendship and time, they could be.’

Sophie inhaled deeply, briefly wondering how one gentleman could be so selfless, while others so stubborn they would rather endanger their own lives than concede, and yet there was no more time left.

‘I thank you for your kindness Sir Weston, truly, but I have not changed my mind and there is an urgent matter?—’

‘ Le combat! Le combat !’

Sophie felt the colour drain from her face as the faint shouting interrupted them. Swiftly, she glanced across to one of the entrances of the palace, which had spilled open to reveal two swordsmen silhouetted in flickering torchlight. Crowds of drunken guests had followed them, drowning out the musicians with their slurred carousing, while harassed footmen attempted to retrieve their ice buckets of champagne in vain.

For a second she could only stare, aghast, as the clashing of steel filled the night air. Rotherby was on the attack, his high brow creased in concentration, while Damerel was deftly parrying every thrust thrown his way. Then Damerel feinted a high attack before switching to a lunge that narrowly missed Rotherby’s thigh, while the watching crowd groaned. Sophie caught her breath and tried to control her thumping chest, though she was conscious of Sir Weston’s watchful gaze too.

‘I would say your brother-in-law has this matter well in hand,’ Sir Weston offered calmly, ‘and it is time for us to take our leave, Miss Fairfax.’

‘But, we can’t leave just yet!’ Sophie protested, her voice betraying her fear.

He frowned as she gathered her skirts in her hand.

‘This is all my fault!’ she added guiltily, ‘and while I am certain they are thinking of their own honour before mine– they do seem quite determined to keep going until one of them is murdered too! Please Sir Weston, we have to stop them!’

‘On the contrary, Sophie,’ Sir Weston replied unexpectedly, his hand closing over her gloved wrist. ‘Much as I commend your instincts, their duel has actually created the perfect opportunity for our exit. The distraction will ensure our head start, and by the time they realise we’re gone, we’ll be halfway to Rouen– which is best for everyone, isn’t it?’ He paused to smile faintly. ‘And besides, there is also your friend Madame Dupres to consider for she does, indeed, look most unwell.’

Sophie glanced down at Sir Weston’s hand, as his use of her first name echoed around her head. She blinked. Sir Weston was her trusted friend, and any lapse in formality had to be attributed to the situation.

‘Miss Sophie?’

She glanced up, suddenly so grateful to see Horace’s familiar figure emerge from the darkness, swinging his gaze between her and the duel in the grand Versailles courtyard.

‘What ’appened, miss?’ he asked with his usual disgruntled expression. ‘Why’s the guvnor lookin’ fit to murder the fancy gent?’

Sophie thought rapidly, realising Rotherby’s fiercely loyal groom could be her last hope.

‘I believe it may have something to do with a game of faro , Horace?’ she replied urgently.

Horace’s expression hardened, as Sir Weston looked on intently.

‘Does it now. Well, I hope the guvnor trounces him good’n proper then, for he deserves it!’ Horace said.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Sophie agreed swiftly, ‘though I think perhaps if he were my guvnor, I might try to stop the duel?’

‘Stop it, miss?’ Horace replied in horror. ‘But it’s a matter of honour, miss! You must know his lordship won’t thank me for getting in the way.’

‘I do know,’ Sophie frowned anxiously, ‘but the viscount’s skill should not be underestimated, and his lordship is a little worse for wear, which hardly makes it fair, given his recent injury…’

Horace’s eyes darkened, before he nodded.

‘Aye, t’is hardly fair miss,’ he growled. ’Right you are, leave it with me miss!’ Then he turned and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Sophie to meet Sir Weston’s curious gaze.

‘The viscount is my brother-in-law, and I’ve no wish to add murderess to my list of crimes,’ she offered, a flush creeping into her cheeks.

Sir Weston nodded as he helped Lu Lu to her feet.

‘But of course, Miss Fairfax,’ he replied, ‘I wouldn’t imagine anything else.’