Page 23 of The Scandal of the Season (Fairfax Sisters #2)
Chapter Twenty-Three
ONE CONSUMMATE ACTRESS
Several pot-holes later
S ophie very swiftly realised that the hideously overgrown road to Rouen was only partly responsible for her misery. That the greater part of her despondency stemmed from the realisation that, while leaving her sister behind was one of the hardest things she had ever done, facing her would have been even worse.
‘ Actrice? ’ a small boy with bright copper hair enquired.
She nodded faintly, drawing her cloak tighter around her muddied gown and bedraggled hair. He’d clearly spied her precious gold filigree mask which still hung around her neck on a cream ribbon and assumed she’d come from a stage. And in a way, she had.
She hadn’t been herself from the moment she’d crossed paths with Lord Rotherby. Phoebe had tried to warn her, but she’d ignored her and not because she wanted to win the wager, or even because she was aware she liked him. It was so much bigger than that. She’d wanted to prove Lord Rotherby wrong in the most fundamental way possible: she’d wanted him to fall in love with her.
And she’d wanted him to do this, in spite of his protest that he didn’t possess a heart.
The more she thought on it, the clearer it all became. It had started at Almack’s when she’d accepted his wager, and then every decision she’d made since– attending the exhibition, interfering with Aurelia’s plans, staying to nurse him, defending her freedom so fiercely– had all been back-lit by the vain hope that, at some point, he would realise he was entirely wrong about love.
She swallowed. It was the ultimate deception– and now, with a trail of murderous duels, lecherous libertines, fiery modistes and broken-hearted sisters behind her, she was the one learning the lesson. She’d been as guilty of trying to control love, as Rotherby was of denying it. And instead of falling for her, she’d lost everything– while she didn’t even know if he lived or died.
Dominic’s moss-green eyes swam before hers, and the burning inside her intensified until they were back in the vast, shimmering hall and its hundreds of mirrors, facing one another.
‘Though I, for one, believe position and control can sometimes mask…’
Had he been about to declare himself, or prove he was the dishonourable libertine the world believed him to be? She would never know.
Sophie stared out at the passing French countryside, at the fields of violets interspersed with early cowslips and lily of the valley. Occasionally, there were copses of budding magnolia and cherry trees, and the early spring blossom made her long for Knightswood, with its haze of bluebells dancing in the light.
It was by no means certain she would ever see it again, and while the thought was bleaker than any other, she also knew there was no turning back now. As it stood, it would still take all Thomas’s scheming, as well as Phoebe’s connections, to ensure Josephine and Matilda received respectable offers. All while she watched from a provincial French town, wondering how she managed to fall so far in just a few short weeks.
It was with this dismal turn of mind that she at last arrived in Dreux, a small town with medieval influences and a large gothic church that one of her companions called L’église Saint-Pierre. It had such a quaint atmosphere, compared with Versailles and Chartres, that Sophie felt almost relieved as she followed the coach party into a small, respectable inn. She had no coin, just one thing left in her possession to trade for food and lodgings until she made the last leg of her journey to Rouen.
Reluctantly, Sophie removed the Versailles mask Lord Rotherby had given her, and approached the antiquated reservations desk where a ruddy-faced landlord rubbed his hands and beamed.
‘ Et bienvenue, mademoiselle ,’ he boomed, his breath reeking of red wine and garlic.
‘What can Le Lion D’or do for you? Your maid is bringing your bags, non ? My ostlers can be a little lazy I know…’
He looked towards the open doorway, and Sophie felt a rush of chagrin. He’d glimpsed her gown and assumed her to be a member of the haute ton come to grace his establishment, when nothing could be further from the truth. She took a breath and willed her French good enough to reserve a bedchamber and a small meal, as she placed the mask on the desk.
‘I have lost my purse, but I intend to sell this gold filigree mask to pay for my board,’ she said quietly. ‘If you are happy with this arrangement, I will recompense you handsomely in return.’
Sophie waited, the pain of parting with Lord Rotherby’s precious gift far outweighing any shame she felt at begging for a room.
But it was the landlord’s wife who came bustling forward.
‘ Non, non, non! ’ she blustered vehemently, pushing her husband out of the way. ‘No maid, no money, no room. Le Lion D’or is not for the likes of you. If you have no francs, there is a boarding house for girls like you who will take payment in kind … that way!’
Sophie swallowed, feeling all the colour drain from her face as the landlady sneered and pointed back out into the street. Never had she been spoken to in such a way, and yet she suspected it was just a taste of what was to come now that she was truly on her own.
‘Please, my name is Fairfax,’ she rushed in English. ‘And I need only a small room to refresh?—’
‘ Non! Le Lion D’or is a respectable establishment, not for girls of your ?—’
‘Excuse my interruption, Madame Bernard,’ came a querulous voice from the shadows. ‘But it isn’t often that I hear my own tongue spoken in these parts, and I wonder if I might be of assistance?
‘ Mais, m-madame …’ the landlady stammered.
‘You agree? Excellent!’ the voice declared smoothly.
Sophie flushed as a stooped figure emerged from the dark corridor. Her years were advanced, but she had a pair of shrewd grey eyes, while her high-waisted dress and draped muslin skirt were stylish, but dated. Sophie lowered her gaze and pulled her domino tighter around her. She had no doubt she was a lady of quality, and waited for her inevitable condemnation once she spied her own bedraggled person.
Instead, there was only silence while the lady perused her figure, before turning back to the landlady.
‘But what a mercy you didn’t send this young lady elsewhere, Madame Bernard,’ she said authoritatively. ‘For I know her very respectable family, and they would be most disappointed were you not to provide hospitality as you would to one of your own.’
‘ Mais, madame , I cannot…’ Madame Bernard began in a scandalised whisper.
‘But of course, madame!’ the landlord exclaimed, overriding his horrified wife, ‘any friend of yours is a friend of ours. Won’t you follow me, mademoiselle? We have a most pleasant bedchamber for you upstairs. It is small but warm, with a freshly made bed,’ he continued. ‘And after you have freshened up, perhaps you would care to come downstairs for some light refreshment?’
‘She will take a tray in her room and enjoy a good rest before she joins me in my private parlour this evening,’ the unknown lady stated firmly. ‘And I will stand surety for her bill, so there is no need to hurry into town yet, mademoiselle. After all, you’ll not get a fair price for a Versailles mask in Dreux , as I’m sure my friends here will testify.’
The landlord and landlady nodded in unison, though Sophie was sure it was through gritted teeth.
‘ Bon, bon… et maintenant, if mademoiselle would follow me?’ The landlord invited, beckoning her forwards.
Sophie knew she owed everything to her mysterious benefactor, but was too exhausted to do more than smile wanly before forcing her legs up the rickety wooden risers. And when the landlord opened a door at the end of a narrow landing, she found a bedchamber just as he’d described– small, snug and clean.
She turned to thank him, but he’d already departed to make way for a young maid with a tray bearing soup, crusty bread and thick slices of ham. It looked heavenly and with a grateful smile, she took the tray to the window, before enjoying the best meal she’d had for some time. Then she took off her muddied gown, crawled between the freshly made bedsheets, and finally fell into a deep and exhausted sleep.