Page 15 of A Sham Betrothal
“Ah. So your affectionsareengaged,” he replied after a slight pause, his voice hard.
“No,” she replied with a bitter laugh. “They are most certainly not and are not likely to be. But I discovered that, unbeknownst to me, my grandmother has allowed Sheldon to pay not only for our stay in Paris but even such things as the bills incurred at the mantua-maker’s.” She looked at him, willing him to understand. “It is intolerable. Of course he will expect something in return. And now I cannot even task my grandmother with it. She is too unwell.”
Basile was silent as they walked, and she began to fear he was disgusted by her. To be so impoverished. To be something of a kept woman, although it was through no choice of her own.
“It seems there is only one thing to it. You will have to fall head over heels in love with an eligible man—and quickly.”
She met this sally with a feeble grin. “Oh, why certainly. Such a thing may be had at the snap of one’s fingers.”
“In all seriousness,” he went on. “He cannot pressure you into a union you do not wish for.”
“He is confident that I do notknow what I want and that I will come to discover it when he has presented his case for marriage in several different ways.” She allowed her voice to drip with irony to relieve some of her annoyance.
“I know men like that,” Basile said. “They are seldom convinced they might be wrong. They are never a pleasure to be around.” Sophie laughed, and he paused, pulling her to a stop. “I have not asked you where you wished to go.”
“I was merely taking air. But I suppose I should turn back toward my home.” She gave him a look. “Even though I do trust Jeannot entirely.”
Basile directed his steps down the street where he’d said he lived. They would be walking a full square to bring her back to her house.
“When will you do more than just take air?” he asked her. “Have you plans to reenter the social scene again? I am sure it is what your grandmother would wish.”
“Odd you should say that,” she replied. “Itiswhat my grandmother wishes. She told me so, but with her in a state of such weakness I fear to heed her.”
“In that case, I will have an invitation sent for Madame Beauchamp’s dinner tomorrow night. And really, I think you will be pleasing your grandmother by attending. I can have Zoé’s mother include you in their party so that you will be accompanied.”
“It is kind of you,” Sophie said slowly. “I would like it, if it should not trouble Madame Sainte-Croix. I…am not sure it is the right thing to do, despite my grandmother telling me to go. What if something should happen to her whilst I am out on a pleasure jaunt?”
“You will ask Jeannot to tell you if she has any fears that your grandmother might take a turn for the worse. She has skill with healing, and I think she will know if there is causefor concern.” Basile pointed on the opposite side of the street a little farther ahead. “That is my house.”
It was a grand structure whose façade took up a good portion of the street. The building was made of limestone and there was an iron gate in its center. As they drew abreast, she looked through the opening where she was afforded a view of the courtyard and garden. The house was a pleasing, welcoming edifice. Grand and yet built in simple lines with elegant paned windows set in even rows.
“Beautiful.” She turned to look at him. “Your family has owned it for generations, I imagine?”
He nodded, and she bit her lip as a thought occurred. What had they in common? Why, nothing. She had to ask him—had to know. When she brought her eyes to rest on his handsome bearing, he was looking at her curiously.
“Why inheaven’sname are you acting the friend to me when I am so clearly beneath you in station? Your family, your title…everything is centuries old. Does it not turn your head at times?” She laughed, attempting to cover up the embarrassment over her impetuous but honest words.
He continued to study her, and it only made her face grow warm until she needed to turn forward again to escape his gaze.
“I am accustomed to my station, so I suppose I don’t heed it,” he answered at last. “I’m not grateful for it—not as I should be. I am more grateful for my family seat in the Champagne region. In truth, I am the last of four brothers and it is only the fickle hand of Fate that chose me as marquis.”
His lips tightened, and he moved on without saying more, leading her to the end of the street and turning right to bring her back to the humbler lodgings that were temporarily her own. So, he had not wished to inherit histitle then. This was news to her. Despite her sympathy for his position, it had also not escaped her notice that he had not answered her question.
They spoke only of benign observations as they walked and she considered the moment for honesty to have passed. However, when they reached the front of her house, he stopped and faced her.
“As for your first question.” He leaned in until she was pinned underneath his very direct regard. “I befriended you initially on a whim to enliven my stay here while I am forced to be in Paris. But you must not think I regret the acquaintance, for I do not. You do not bore me.”
“Heavens,” she said, in possession of herself again at this sobering reminder. “You overwhelm me with your compliments, sir.”
He laughed. “You think it poor praise, Sophie, but believe me when I say there are few people indeed of whom I can say the same.”
Sophie acknowledged this with a nod, for what could she say in return? It was clear he had not lost his heart to her, and she would do well not to be a fool and lose hers to him.
Chapter 7
Basile left Sophie at her door, conscious of his clumsy attempt to add distance to their relationship by speaking of whims—and conscious also of the inexplicable regret that came when he walked on alone. All rational thought dictated he keep her at arm’s length, thus shielding her from false promises. Yet, the irrational beat of his heart did not care to create distance, not when the unexpected glimpse of her staring out over the city of Paris caused his feet to stop dead in their tracks. The sight had naturally led him to offer her his arm so she might stroll with him, and that had brought him as much pleasure as he could hope for. He could think of far worse fates.
He would not go home just yet. Not before he had sorted through the puzzling feelings that surfaced whenever he was around Sophie. He headed back toward the Seine and retraced the same steps, this time continuing on to the small island from which sprang the Notre Dame. His thoughts were elusive, and he did not attempt to tame them until he came to stand in front of the centuries-old edifice. There, he lifted his eyes to the slim vertical archesthat rose up to the heavens, with the three portals carved with Biblical figures that included the last judgment. Above the central portal was a magnificent rose window that could only be described as a wonder considering when it had been built.
