Page 14 of A Sham Betrothal
Sophie breathed in through her nose as she smoothedthe carmine-colored ribbon she had already pulled free from the skirt. “It was kind of you to send the dressmaker, but quite unnecessary. I would have done so as soon as I had the chance.”
“Yes, but in arranging it, I was able to have the bills sent directly to me rather than have them go through your grandmother, who is ill.” He swiveled on his chair and looked behind him. “Perhaps Mary might bring us some tea.”
“Sheldon.” She stared at him in shock. “You should not be paying my dressmaker’s bills, even temporarily. It is most improper.”
He brought his attention back to her in surprise. “My dear, I am payingallof your bills. I thought you knew that. Your grandmother would not have been able to afford this trip or those gowns she commissioned for both of you before we left England had it not been for me.”
Sophie felt the blood drain from her face and managed to choke out the words, “I did not know it.” How in the world was she to pay him back? She would certainly need to if he were to be convinced they had no future.
He crossed one leg over the other. “Well, now you do. And you see why I had assumed an engagement between us was imminent.”
She could only stare back at him mutely. How could her grandmother do this to her? Sophie had known how badly her grandmother wished to visit Paris, but to allow herself to be beholden to Sheldon Cholmsley like this? And she could not even discuss the matter with her grandmother now when she was so very ill.
“I was not privy to the information and would have objected most adamantly had I known,” she said at last. “Iwill return the gowns.” She would just have to wear those already in her possession.
“You cannot. Such a thing is not done, and you do need the mourning attire to be presentable in society. Mrs. Pertrand told me as much.” He looked at her carefully. “You must not worry. We need not discuss the engagement at present. There will be time for that.”
Any arguments she put forth now would only be wasted breath. Sophie did not know how she managed to continue a conversation when she was in such a state of upset. She managed to rid the house of its unwelcome visitor minutes before Basile’s nurse arrived by claiming she had several items that needed mending. He seized on that disclosure by reminding her that she would have nothing so taxing to do as mending when she was married to him. It took everything in her not to whip the cocked hat out of Mary’s hands and throw it at his head.
Madame Jeannot proved to be a gentle, reassuring presence. She spoke no English, but that did not stop her from endearing herself to Mary. Using gestures, she showed that she considered Mary to have authority over how the kitchen was run and would put all of her own efforts into tending to Mrs. Twisden. Sophie was exceedingly grateful to have her, for theycouldcommunicate, and she quite trusted the homemade remedies Jeannot had brought to alleviate her grandmother’s suffering.
The nurse began by replacing her grandmother’s pillow with one she had brought from the marquis’s house, stuffed fat with goose down. She gently lifted Mrs. Twisden from behind and placed the more comfortable pillow underneath her head which eased her breathing. She approved of the lavender that Sophie had collected and even displayed a salve that contained some of it. This, sherubbed on Mrs. Twisden’s chest and back that caused a hacking cough, but which seemed to allow her to sleep more peacefully.
After only a half day with Jeannot in the household, Sophie was inspired to take both of the nurse’s hands in her own with a warm look of gratitude. “Merci!”
Jeannot brushed it off with a laugh and urged Sophie to go for a walk, which she decided to heed and called for Mary to accompany her.
Outside in the bright light that reflected off the beige stones of the buildings, they walked over to the short wall near the Seine and stood watching the river flow by. The sun had long since reached its zenith and was streaming through the streets on the opposite side of the river. Its rays danced on the ripples of water as a breeze lifted Sophie’s curls. Her gaze focused dreamily on the boats that drifted by on the river’s current. Some held bales of hay and others, produce. On others were the rustling of livestock. She turned to face right and spotted the tall spires of the great Notre Dame cathedral behind some of the buildings on the Île de la Cité.
A touch on her elbow yanked her out of her reverie and caused her to spin in alarm. Instead of finding some impertinent stranger who had dared to accost her, she came face to face with those compelling eyes of Basile Gervain.
“Mademoiselle Sophie,” he said, smiling, as he bowed before her. “It is good to see you out of doors.”
She recovered her composure and was able to smile in return. “Well, it is only because you had the goodness to send your nurse, who in two hours has already become indispensable to us.”
She was learning to guard her heart whenever she was in Basile’s presence. He was much too handsome andentirely out of her sphere. She well knew the danger of falling for him. But resisting him was hard when they met unexpectedly, and he looked at her as though hecaredabout her.
He held out an arm in invitation to slip hers into it, and they began to walk in the direction of Notre Dame. “Jeannot isun trésor, is she not?”
“The very best treasure,” she replied with sincerity.
They walked quietly for a space, with the clip-clop of horses’ hooves to their right, and the cries from sailors below as they greeted each other on the water or maneuvered to avoid collision. Mary walked several paces behind them.
Sophie turned to him suddenly. “It just occurred to me how odd it is we should meet by chance this way. Paris is not a small city.”
She could see his eyes crinkle from her vantage point. “The city is much more intimate than you imagine, Sophie. One is forever bumping into friends here—and,hélas, into those one would rather not meet.”
She digested this as he added, “But I live just there on that street.” He pointed ahead to the next side street that cut across to the Seine. “So you see, I am not so very far from you.”
“How fortunate,” she replied lightly, then could think of nothing further to add. She found herself oddly tongue-tied. This was not like her and she wondered if it had anything to do with all the time she had spent indoors with her grandmother. It must have dulled her wits.
“Has Mr. Cholmsley been providing you the comfort of a fellow countryman? He lives next door to you, I remember, for I had an invitation sent there from Madame Dubigny.”
“He does indeed live next door.” Sophie twisted her lips wryly, thinking with plunging insides of their recent conversation. “Though I cannot say he brings me much comfort. He would like to marry me despite my repeated assurances that we should not suit.”
“I hope he has not been pressing his advantage unfairly while your grandmother is unwell.” Basile slowed his steps when she did not answer him right away.
She darted a glance at him and chose full honesty. How she needed a friend. “He is pressing his advantage, but I fear that he has had cause to do so.”
