Page 9 of The Scandal of the Season (Fairfax Sisters #2)

Chapter Nine

TEACHING A RAKE A LESSON

Two days later

‘A n ambush of fearless Fairfaxes,’ Sophie muttered to herself, re-buttoning her stays and wishing she hadn’t had a second helping of baked custard at dinner. ‘Well, he was right about the latter part anyway.’

She glanced down at the hastily scrawled letter from Aurelia, and cursed in a way that would make even Phoebe look twice.

My dear Miss Fairfax,

I have heard through a reliable friend that there is movement afoot in a certain noble household, thus providing an opportunity for my plan. I will leave a letter for my parents and ask only that you maintain my confidence until tomorrow evening, when I will send word directly from Paris.

Do think of me at midnight tonight, headed for foreign shores, and the next time we meet you can address me as Lady R!

Until then, mon amie,

Lady Aurelia Carlisle

‘Pah! Headed for Rotherby’s shores, more like,’ Sophie muttered caustically, wriggling into the only muslin she could fasten with a hook.

It was well past ten, her aunt’s bourgeois lodgings were quiet, and she’d been deliberating her course of action since receiving the letter at breakfast.

That Lady Aurelia was delusional Sophie was now sure, and that Lord Rotherby was entirely capable of crushing her expectations was also beyond certain. The only question remaining was whether she should thrust her head in the sand, or admit she had the smallest window of opportunity to try and stop Aurelia from making the biggest mistake of her life.

She closed her eyes in frustration. The last thing she wanted was to take any more risks. Her chance meeting with Mrs Hendercott at The British Institution had already resulted in more restless nights than she cared to admit, but there was a chance she’d never forgive herself if she stood by while Aurelia ruined her life– especially for a cad like Rotherby. And so, despite every good reason to climb into bed and ignore the world, she’d begun dressing the moment the housemaid retired.

‘Which only goes to show that the possession of a conscience does not always work to one’s advantage,’ she added darkly.

‘You’re not running away, are you?’ a sleepy voice asked, ‘because you know how that worked out for Phoebe…’

‘Oh Matty, you scared me to half to death!’ Sophie chastised, spying her youngest sister standing just outside her door, holding a candle. ‘And why have you got Duke Wellington with you at this time of night? It’s long past both your bedtimes.’

‘Edward said I could borrow him– and besides, he’s half of my new circus act!’

‘Your new fire-breathing circus act?’ Sophie quizzed.

Matilda nodded as Sophie closed her eyes and muttered a short prayer.

‘Well, come in and close the door, lest you wake Josephine too,’ she urged. ‘And of course I’m not running away.’

She paused to consider what phrasing would attract the least suspicion.

‘I’m simply… helping a friend.’

Sophie eyed Matilda warily, well aware of her uncanny knack for reading her older sisters like open books.

‘I’ll be back well before breakfast, I promise,’ she added breezily. ‘But you could help me by hooking my dress and not saying anything to anyone?’

‘I could do that,’ Matilda replied, setting the toad down between Sophie’s cushions from where it proceeded to watch them with disgruntled suspicion.

‘ But only if you do something for me too.’

‘And what would that be?’ Sophie frowned, pulling on her indigo velvet gloves.

‘Find out what’s wrong with Josephine!’ Matilda complained.

‘She’s been such a bore since we left Knightswood, always gushing on and on about Sir Weston, and his perfect manners, and his perfect coat, that is just the right shade of green ,’ she mimicked, feigning her most convincing sick face. ‘I’m beginning to think her last lung spasm left her addled in the head!’

‘Matilda Fairfax!’ Sophie eyed her younger sister exasperatedly. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Josephine. She’s just growing up.’

‘Well, if growing up means writing for hours in your diary, and being cross for no reason at all, I'm sure I’d actually rather join the circus!’ Matilda fired back, throwing herself facedown on Sophie’s bed.

Sophie smiled thoughtfully at her wilful younger sister, recalling Josephine’s mood in Hyde Park. She hadn’t realised the extent of her infatuation, and clearly needed to give it some thought, but it would have to wait for now.

‘I promise I’ll talk to her,’ she said placatingly, turning her attention to the button fastenings on her gloves.

‘Now, hook me up, old lady, and we might even visit the real circus soon– but only if you give Duke Wellington the weekend off. He doesn’t look entirely comfortable with the idea of being the first fire-breathing toad!’

* * *

‘The last time we conversed he said I’d adore Paris which was clearly an invitation, so I’ve made up my mind.’

Sophie hurried from her hackney cab and along the quiet Mayfair street with Aurelia’s grand plan ringing in her ears. She was already beginning to have second thoughts and wondering if she shouldn’t have just left her to ruin her life, instead of her own precious new kid boots. And yet, the idea of turning back sent the oddest flare through her veins too, despite it making perfectly good sense.

She scowled as she pulled her cloak tighter and quickened her pace. A midnight rendezvous was certainly not as glamorous as it sounded; there were shadows looming out of every corner, and muddy puddles that seemed impossible to avoid no matter how one tried. She could only hope that Aurelia’s delusion would not affect her usual, terrible time-keeping, and that Lord Rotherby would be on his way before she even arrived. She wasn’t even certain she would know his residence, despite a sketchy knowledge of Grosvenor Square. She would just have to trust Aurelia’s description of Rotherby House as ‘one of the grandest in all Mayfair’.

Fortunately, it was accurate enough, and within minutes an impressive facade and marble steps loomed up, together with a gleaming coach emblazoned with his lordship’s arms. Sophie exhaled as she slowed, peering through the misted moonlight, praying Aurelia had been misinformed about Lord Rotherby’s intended journey. Any fragile hopes were swiftly dashed, however, by the sight of luggage strapped to the top of the chaise, and a tall, unmistakable nobleman loitering beside his groom. She shrank back, cursing her new heeled kid boots as he turned in her direction, and suddenly aware she was quite alone, in Mayfair, at midnight.

‘Is that you, my love?’ he called in a new tone she’d not heard before.

Sophie froze. She’d planned to wait in the shadows, to intercept Aurelia if she happened to arrive on time – most definitely not confront him directly.

And now this. She’d heard Lord Rotherby be sardonic, playful and even quizzical before, but never like… a lover. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat as she realised he was actually expecting someone, and a shadow of doubt flew through her mind.

He hadn’t seemed that enamoured with Mrs Haxby. Could he be leaving with someone new? Or perhaps he was expecting Aurelia after all?

Her blood ran cold for a second, before she recalled his barely concealed animosity at the exhibition, as well as his own self-imposed rules. Lord Rotherby was undoubtedly a rake and a scoundrel, but running off with a debutante just didn’t fit.

‘You have come. I had begun to wonder,’ he said with a chuckle, striding forwards to catch her up and plant a warm kiss on her lips.

For a second, Sophie gasped in complete shock, a multitude of feelings coursing her veins. She’d never been kissed in such a way before, and the sensation was both scandalous and something else she didn’t even want to begin to identify. She inhaled raggedly and willed her thumping heart to slow. Of course he would have expectations if he was expecting a lady-companion– the question was how to manage them while convincing him to leave.

Briefly, Harriet’s advice about notorious rake reached through her thoughts. She flushed and pulled her cloak hood forwards, more convinced than ever that she was doing Aurelia the biggest favour of her life.

‘You wouldn’t wish me to appear too eager, my lord,’ she said, in her best attempt at a coquettish tone.

He laughed as he slid his arm around her, and began walking towards the chaise, while she tried not to tense every muscle she possessed. His warm proximity was most disconcerting, yet he seemed much too distracted to notice anything at all, which for some reason irritated Sophie intensely.

‘Well, not here at any rate,’ he replied in a tone that made her itch to box his ears. ‘But let us not delay, my love,’ he continued in the next breath, ‘for I am keen to be away and happy I have provided everything for your comfort, as I promised. Let me show you; it’s all waiting inside the coach.’

‘Thank you for your effort, my Lord,’ she replied, clenching her teeth, ‘however, what I actually came to say is that I cannot?—’

‘Thunder an’ turf!’ he cursed suddenly, making Sophie’s ears redden. ‘We appear to have company, so we really must away this instant. There is no time to be lost!’

With a lurch, she followed the direction of his gaze to spy a hazy figure at the bottom of the street, hurrying towards them. Instantly, she knew it to be Aurelia, and her hopeful plan suddenly seemed the most flawed of any she’d ever made. She gritted her teeth, knowing Aurelia’s appearance jeopardised everything, and she had just seconds to make a decision. There was no way she could explain everything to Lord Rotherby in so short an amount of time, and a public scene with Aurelia would be disastrous! As far as she could see, she had but one option left.

Swiftly, she turned and climbed into the chaise, telling herself she would share her identity and ask to be set down as soon as they were clear of Mayfair. Lord Rotherby was many things, but a kidnapper he certainly was not.

‘We will talk, my love,’ he promised in a rush, ‘just not here. I look forward to joining you properly in Dover, when our real adventure will begin!’

Then he slammed the door shut and strode towards the front of the chaise.

For a second, Sophie could only stare at the dark leather interior of the door. How could she divulge her identity, and demand to be set down, if he wasn’t travelling inside the chaise with her? Her answer was a muffled shout, before the whole equipage lurched forwards into the night.

Instantly her numb limbs flushed with life and, seizing the door handle, she forced it open, only to find the street flying past at such a rattle-pace she could barely close it again. Then she turned and started banging on the solid wood frame, shouting for the chaise to stop. But whether it was the luxurious interior muffling the sound, or the noise of the racing wheels over the cobblestones, her appeal went unheeded.

Finally, she sank down against the seat, cold fear swirling, as the enormity of her situation began to materialise. So much for avoiding scandal! She’d done nothing but court it since coming to London, and for what good reason?

To show a rake she was more worldly than she actually was?

To show a debutante she was right about a scoundrel?

What had she actually achieved, except to prove herself to be the most na?ve debutante who’d ever entered the marriage mart at all?

‘I look forward to joining you properly when we reach Dover.’

Sophie swallowed, trying to order her thoughts, as his parting words struck a cold toll through her. Aurelia had said he was intended for France, but his mention of Dover made everything very real. It was also some seven hours from London, which meant it was imperative she got out as soon as possible. Rapidly, she tried to recall her knowledge of coaching inn stops along the London road, certain Thomas and Fred had mentioned a few. But quite how far along they were– or how far Lord Rotherby would drive before stopping– was a mystery.

She clenched her fists in the folds of her muslin skirt, reminding herself he would have to stop for her comfort, if not his own. The thought was her only consolation. Travelling as far as Dover would not only take her some significant distance from Aunt Higglestone and the rest of her siblings, it would also mean being in Lord Rotherby’s company for an entire night, unaccompanied . No one would believe her virtue to be intact after such a duration, especially given Lord Rotherby’s reputation. She would be as good as ruined! Her aunt would have an apoplexy; Thomas would try to force Rotherby into marriage; Phoebe would think she’d taken leave of her senses; Josephine would suffer another lung spasm; Matilda would likely run away and join an actual circus, while Aurelia…

For a full minute, Sophie’s mind turned cartwheels, imagining all the ways Aurelia would wreak her revenge, if she did not find a way out of her current situation.

She stared out at the shadowy night. The main roads with which she was familiar had disappeared and she could see only the occasional cluster of buildings and long stretches of countryside. Clearly Lord Rotherby had chosen a lesser-known route from London, and briefly she recalled his unsettled air at Hyde Park.

She exhaled shakily.

Had his dark eyes been contemplating this midnight escape back then? What had occurred to prompt such a flight?

Warily, she eyed the expensive-looking boxes on the opposite seat.

‘I am keen to be away and happy I have provided everything for your comfort, as I promised.’

With a burst of fresh purpose, she reached across the swaying coach to the first dress box and pulled it onto her knees. If her only option was to catch the stage or mail coach back to London, she’d likely benefit from a few extra layers. Resolutely, she pulled off the box lid and stared briefly at the folded material within, before realisation dawned. She reached out to touch the expensive silk in wonder. She’d never seen such fine material before and briefly she imagined Lord Rotherby selecting the flimsy undergarments, together with the thoughts that might have run through his mind.

Had he pictured his companion wearing them? Removing them perhaps?

She flushed scarlet, confused by the myriad emotions coursing through her veins. She had nothing but contempt for Lord Rotherby, so why did the thought of him picking out such items fascinate her so? Swiftly, she reached for the next box, and then the next until she’d opened every box and discovered nothing but stays, stockings, petticoats and the type of scandalous nightwear that only endorsed Lord Rotherby’s view on ladies’ clothing.

Finally, she paused to stare at the most expensive and impractical pile of clothing she’d ever seen. No wonder Lord Rotherby had attended the exhibition; he was quite the fashion connoisseur already! A wave of fiery determination engulfed her. She would not let such a cad ruin everything. She had to make a plan. Furiously, she cast her eye around the inside of the chaise for anything that could serve as a makeshift weapon. She might not be Phoebe, but she was still a Fairfax!

Seconds later, her eyes alighted upon two sleek leather pockets stitched to the inside of the padded doors. They looked suspiciously like Thomas’s pistol holders, and with a lurch across the seat, Sophie thrust her hand into the first. Triumphantly, she withdrew a small silver pistol which, on closer inspection, turned out to be a deadly Webster flintlock, and pulled back the muzzle. Yet to her intense disappointment, the pistol was completely empty, and the pocket likewise.

Scowling, she pushed the pistol back into its holder and slid over to the second pocket before inserting her hand again. This time, she withdrew a small silver crossbow, inset with a row of gleaming mother of pearl. It was a very pretty little weapon, fashioned with considerable skill.

‘But do you actually work?’ she whispered, noticing the small quiver of darts attached to its slim shaft.

Carefully, she eased a sharp dart from its holding place and turned it over between her fingers, her mind flooding with the times she’d confiscated similar contraptions from her brothers. She might not be willing to jump into a duel with a highwayman, but she could certainly wield such a weapon if needed.

Anxiously, she sat back and pulled a fur throw over her knees, unable to help admiring its quality– Lord Rotherby might be all manner of rogues, but he certainly didn’t compromise on style or comfort. Then her thoughts wandered to Aurelia, and to whether she’d returned home by now, furious her big plan had gone awry. She felt a pang of guilt, despite everything.

‘Yet I’m certain you’ll never thank me,’ she muttered to herself, resting her head back against the seat.

It had to be near one in the morning, which meant she had less than two hours to board a public coach back, if she was to have any chance of returning to her bedchamber before breakfast. It was tight, but he would have to stop at some point, and if there was any difficulty in parting ways, she would simply threaten him with the crossbow.

Convinced she had a plan that would work, Sophie allowed herself to relax a little. His lordship really did drive at breakneck speed, but there was something about the pace that was oddly lulling and, under any other circumstances, she could allow herself to get very comfortable indeed. She yawned and pulled the throw further up, even though there were no draughts at all in his well-sprung chaise and she already felt quite cosy. No matter how well-intentioned, she’d acted impulsively– she could see that now– and thoroughly deserved the scolding she had no doubt was coming when she relayed the whole affair to Phoebe.

But she was also just as capable as her sister of taking care of herself, and she would make it back that same night, if it was the very last thing she did.