Page 20 of The Scandal of the Season (Fairfax Sisters #2)

Chapter Twenty

DENOUNCING ALL RAKES AND LIBERTINES

A few minutes later

S ophie watched the palace recede with a churn of new feelings: relief at having left the drunken crowds behind, but also a new and distinct unease. She stole a glance at her shadowy escort, seated opposite, and couldn’t help but compare Lord Rotherby’s warm chaise to his rather shabby and rattling affair, though she knew it was the least of her problems.

Briefly, she conjured an image of the two duellists silhouetted by the grand lanterns of Versailles, and closed her eyes, praying Horace was successful. She hadn’t asked them to defend her honour but couldn’t bear the thought of either being hurt either. The viscount was Phoebe’s whole world and Lord Rotherby was…

Swallowing, Sophie turned her gaze towards the inky night and finally freed every thought about him: his carefree kiss, his wild driving, his rueful laugh, his fever, his rescue from the rogues, and his unguarded moment in the Tuileries when he kissed her again. And then there was the moment tonight, in the Hall of Mirrors, before the scandalous reason he left London became apparent.

She released her breath, the memory of his intense eyes sending a swift dart of something from her chest to her toes, where it tingled in a very lonely way. He was unlike anyone she’d ever known and sometimes, he almost seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

‘We must escort Madame Dupres home swiftly,’ she murmured, surfacing from her thoughts. ‘It would be unfair to burden her with the consequences of our actions tonight, especially when she has been nothing but the kindest of hostesses.’

A new smile played around Sir Weston’s lips, and for the first time Sophie noticed just how thin they were.

‘Calm yourself my dear,’ he replied. ‘We really don’t have time for such a diversion, and I think we both know Madame Dupres’s lethargy has nothing to do with exhaustion or illness. Thankfully, she is not an unmarried debutante, like yourself, and will lend some respectability to the first leg of our journey. I will, of course, ensure she is put on a coach back to Paris as soon as we stop, and by that time, I suspect she will be happy to wish us well.’

Sophie stared as he spoke, aware he was changing the plan, and yet unable to deny his wisdom either. She already knew Phoebe waited at Madame Dupres’s residence, and a large part of her was guilty of wishing for Lu Lu’s company a little longer too. She swallowed uncomfortably and swung her gaze back to the murky night, wondering how she’d arrived at this point, leaving behind the world she knew just so no one else could be hurt.

‘Try not to worry, my dear,’ Sir Weston said suddenly, sliding across the coach seat until he was directly opposite her.

‘I am fully aware of the faro debacle that forced Rotherby to flee London, and I cannot abide dishonour of any kind. With luck, your esteemed brother-in-law will teach him a long-awaited lesson, and no one need ever speak his name again.’

His tone was so odd that a shiver slid down her spine. She already knew of their ready dislike of one another, but there was a new edge to his voice tonight, and he seemed most unlike himself. She gazed at his unsmiling countenance, etched by the moonlight into something harder. He’d never looked less like Rotherby, and the thought only worsened the ache within her chest.

‘What did happen in the faro game, Sir Weston?’ Sophie asked carefully, watching a shadow flicker across his face.

There was a brief silence before he replied. ‘Rotherby was on a winning spree until I realised his cards were marked. I called his bluff, and he didn’t like it.’ His smile gradually widened. ‘But marked cards are hard to deny, no matter how many well-connected friends one has at White’s. It was quite a moment, I can tell you, Rotherby was entirely exposed as a cheat, the one thing noblemen cannot abide! It is beyond all things dishonourable, and I believe he will find it very hard to return to London. Now, with any luck, Damerel will ensure the same is true of Paris.’

There was another silence while Sophie absorbed Sir Weston’s account. It was every bit as scandalous as she’d feared, and yet she was more unnerved by the crow in Weston’s voice than by his allegations. He was too delighted with Rotherby’s downfall, no matter the bad blood between them.

She shifted uncomfortably, recalling Rotherby’s wrath in L’Auberge Notre-Dame. It was so much more understandable now she knew Weston had been the one to expose him in London.

‘You are but a day away from safety,’ Sir Weston assured her suddenly, as though he realised he’d said too much. ‘I have instructed the driver to make all haste to Chartres, where we will break our journey.’

‘Chartres?’ Sophie exclaimed sharply. ‘But what of putting Lu Lu on a coach? And why Chartres? Surely we can choose another stop on the way to Rouen?’

‘Sophie,’ Weston said cajolingly, dropping his voice. He smiled ingratiatingly and leaned forwards, trapping her hands between his. ‘Come, come. Chartres is the only town on this road for miles, and you must see sense now. We are travelling together overnight and your reputation is already beyond repair– I can offer you complete protection as my wife and no one will ask any questions because I am far too well respected for that.’

Sophie stared as though caught in the wake of a very bad dream.

‘I’ve already taken the precaution of writing to the pastor to explain you’re an orphan from a respectable background,’ he continued with a perfunctory smile, ‘and on that note, Madame Dupres might actually serve some useful purpose.’ He paused, a distinct gleam of triumph in his eyes. ‘I do believe this story will be enough to appease even the most cautious of natures, though we may need to persuade him of our natural affection too…’

A strange shudder reached through her as his smile widened. Lord Rotherby’s proximity had never felt so intrusive.

‘You said our hearts are not engaged, Sophie,’ he continued in a lower voice, ‘but I beg to differ. I have always held a torch for you, ever since our first meeting. Don’t you recall my defence of you at the archery party? And my daffodils? Your express appreciation of them at the exhibition only served to encourage my belief that, one day, you might return my regard too.’

Dazedly, Sophie recalled the exhibition and how she’d only mentioned his flowers to make a point to Lord Rotherby.

‘In truth, I have long been aware of your many qualities and will consider myself the most fortunate of gentlemen when I can call you my wife.’

Then, before she could collect her scattered thoughts, he leant forwards and pulled her into a sudden embrace.

At first, Sophie was too shocked to do anything but let his lips press against hers, to feel his arms tighten around her and inhale his sickly-sweet scent. Then, with a surge of horror, she tried to recoil, only to find his embrace tighter than any Lord Rotherby had bestowed upon her, and his lips quite intent on leaving their mark.

‘I never allowed myself to believe I might stand a chance in London,’ he whispered, as his hand pushed inside her cloak.

‘Sir Weston!’ Sophie protested, struggling furiously.

‘Especially since Rotherby's interest was as plain as a pikestaff.’

‘Sir Weston!’ she hissed again, making Lu Lu stir on the seat beside her.

‘And I was in torment,’ he continued, deaf to her entreaties, ‘until I saw you in L’Auberge Notre-Dame when I realised just how much you needed my help, and that your protests about marrying for love were all that your good breeding and manners would allow. Why else would you have asked me to escort you? But now you can relax, my dear, because I have everything planned and I hope this will be all the evidence you need that my heart is very much engaged.’

He tailed off then to caress her earlobe in a way that conjured images of the bulging-eyed Duke Wellington, while his fingers began fumbling with her bodice. Her stomach lurched as the true horror of her predicament struck her. Not only had she entirely misjudged Sir Weston’s character, but he seemed wholly intent on compromising her virtue too. Never once had Lord Rotherby insulted her so throughout the entire course of their entanglement, while Weston now appeared to be the biggest scoundrel of them all.

This thought was all the extra strength she needed and, with a valiant effort, she yanked an arm free and reached up to cuff Sir Weston’s face. He recoiled instantly, nursing his afflicted cheek which looked satisfyingly rosy in the gloom.

‘Sir Weston!’ she threw furiously. ‘Compose yourself! We are not married and, quite frankly, after the behaviour of all the gentlemen of my acquaintance this evening, I have no wish to be!’

Muttering a curse that would make Fred stare, she reached down and grasped her friend, who’d somehow managed to slide onto the floor. Yet Lu Lu only snorted and mumbled something incoherent before starting to snore again, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding beside her.

‘I believed better things of you, Sir Weston,’ Sophie continued accusingly. ‘You led me to believe…’ She faltered, hardly able to say the words that seemed so foolish and na?ve now.

Why hadn’t she questioned his ready friendship? Why had she been so na?ve as to assume Sir Weston would be the human embodiment of his damned coats?

Yet, he was already moving, catching her hand and pressing his lips against it, sending rivulets of revulsion through her veins.

‘I led you to believe that we were friends?’ he quizzed, his eyes gleaming. ‘We are about to be wed my dear, we need not be friends. You must not worry so much. Our fates are entwined now, and neither of us can do anything but marry after this night’s work– I just wish I could see Rotherby’s face when he hears the news!’

He laughed then and reclined, regarding her in a way that made Sophie realise this wasn’t about her at all. It was all about Rotherby; it always had been. She clenched her fists, wondering how she could ever have got it so wrong. She’d trusted him at a time when she’d trusted no one else, and he’d deceived her in the worst way possible– yet, dwelling would not do now.

Her thoughts rattled furiously as she assessed her new choices. She could raise the alarm once they reached Chartres, but who would take her word over the very proper Sir Weston? And he was right about one thing: even the Parisian ton would struggle to overlook a debutante spending two nights with two different gentlemen and failing to marry at least one of them!

She stared at his gloating expression, berating herself, and yet knowing there was something missing still. Her thoughts hardened.

‘What exactly do you have against Lord Rotherby?’ she demanded.

Sir Weston regarded her with a piercing gaze.

‘Why do you wish to know?’ he countered. ‘I was under the impression that Lord Rotherby had insulted you beyond forgiveness, that he’d ruined your chances of making a respectable marriage, and that you’d shot him in self-defence.’ Sophie scowled as he paraphrased her confidences. ‘Don’t worry,’ he added with a smirk. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve wondered if you protested a little too much, but it matters not one jot to me, my dear, for I’m the one who will shortly be calling myself husband.’

‘You presume too much, sir!’ She hissed, suddenly recalling the crossbow Lord Rotherby had given her, secreted inside her cloak pocket. ‘I never courted Lord Rotherby’s attentions, any more than he has sought mine.’ His dark eyes, shadowed in hurt, reached through her thoughts and she faltered briefly. ‘And my departure from Versailles was my decision alone. But now, sir, what of my question? Why is it you and Rotherby detest each other so?’

Sophie crossed her fingers within the folds of her skirt, praying his desire to blacken Rotherby’s name would loosen his tongue.

‘Rotherby believes his own reputation,’ he said scathingly.

‘But that’s not it, is it?’ she replied sceptically, watching his expression intently. ‘There is something else, something that runs deeper.’

She returned his stare, knowing she’d hit a nerve.

‘Clever little Miss Fairfax. You really are quite perceptive, aren’t you?’ His mocking tone made her itch to slap him again. ‘Yes, you can definitely say there’s something else. But that sordid tale is not suitable for your delicate sensibilities. Console yourself with the thought that marriage to me will result in much less scandal for the Fairfax name, than marriage to a Rotherby! At least it will by the time I’m through with him,’ he added caustically.

Sophie stared, chilled by the threat in his voice. What could prompt one man to wish the downfall of another in such a way?

‘How did you know Rotherby was cheating?’ she pressed, and even though it was dark, his expression changed immediately.

‘His winning streak was too consistent,’ he said, his eyes gleaming. ‘It made me suspicious and so I watched him. It quickly became evident he was using marked cards, and all those playing agreed the marks were plain to see. I may have been the one to notice, but Rotherby brought shame on himself by lying and cheating. There is no greater dishonour among noblemen, and he would have used you to buffer his scandal.’

Sophie frowned. Weston’s heated accusation creating fresh doubts in her mind.

‘But why would he need to cheat?’ she challenged. ‘He’s rich enough already… surely the idea of his cheating is nonsensical!’

Sir Weston shrugged. ‘Rotherby may be rich, but his arrogance and conceit make him believe he can treat the world and everyone in it as he wishes– just like his father before him.’

There was a tense silence while Sophie stared, rapidly recalling everything Lord Rotherby had ever shared about his childhood.

‘You knew his father?’ she asked lightly, hardly daring to breathe.

‘I did,’ he replied caustically, ‘and let’s just say the apple never falls far?—’

But the rest of his words were lost as a shrill cry split the night, prompting the horses to rear violently. Sophie gasped, reaching for Lu Lu as Weston thumped the coach roof, before she realised something had changed.

‘Lu Lu?’ she whispered furiously.