Page 17 of A Sham Betrothal
“Bonsoir, Basile.”
As Claudia curtsied, the wide skirts of her gown forced Sophie to step backwards. His mind calculating rapidly, he bit back a protest to see her treated that way when she was the superior of the two women. Sophie’s affronted look went as quickly as it came, and she schooled her features. She did not so much as look at Basile, and it seemed to him as though she accepted the indignity. It was time to put an end to La Bordenave’s pretensions.
“Good evening, Madame Bordenave. What a most propitious meeting, for I am able to introduce you to myfiancée, Mademoiselle Sophie Twisden.”
Taking full advantage of Claudia’s shocked attention fixed on him, he caught Sophie’s eyes and tried to read her reaction to his impetuous announcement. He allowed his face to reveal nothing, but his eyes compelled her to accept his falsehood. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was that he could be free of Claudia’s constant presence and Sophie might dispense with her unpleasant suitor. He would worry about the rest later.
Sophie’s color heightened, but her face did not express any more of what she was feeling than his. She held his gaze, seeming to weigh the meaning of his false proposal. Somehow he knew, dangerous though it was, that she would not hold him to it. It was a dastardly thing to do, he knew, but he trusted her to understand why he had done it. He made a vow to himself that she would not suffer from it.
“Is that so?” Claudia’s voice hardened as she turned to stare at Sophie.
Sophie pulled her eyes from Basile and turned up the corners of her lips.
“Yes, Basile and I are betrothed, although it has not been publicly announced before now. I had thought we decided to wait until Grandmama was better before announcing it, did we not,chéri?” She looked at him sweetly and he could hear the faintest edge to her voice. It was only because he was coming to know her that he could hear it at all.
Basile knew what was required of him, and he brushed past Claudia and held Sophie’s hand, bringing it to his lips.
“Forgive me,mon amour. In my ardor, I was too eager to share our good news with the world. But, of course, I should have waited until your grandmother was well enough.”
“Betrothed! You and Miss Twisden?” Claudia exclaimed in a ringing voice as her incredulous stare rolled from Sophie to him. Basile could not understand why she’d spoken in English until several of the party turned her way, including the bug-eyed stare of Mr. Cholmsley. The room began to hum as the women whipped open their fans to spread the news.
“Sophie,” Mr. Cholmsley thundered, moving toward her at once. “What is this woman saying? You must correct her.”
Sophie looked up at her compatriot with a smile that could not have been more convincing. “Please wish us happy, Sheldon. The marquis and I have reached an agreement.”
Mr. Cholmsley seemed lost for words, but he stood in front of her and begged that she explain herself, which she did in a low voice that Basile had trouble catching over the hum of the masses. His every attention was on her.
“Sheldon, leave it, I beg of you,” she said. “I havealready told you there is no hope for a match between us. And now you will understand why.”
Claudia, not wishing to have her message lost for the remaining crowd, added in French for good measure, “I declare, I almost thought you would never marry, Basile. I suppose the need for an heir must cause one to make hasty steps in that direction.”
She spotted Armand advancing, his eyes on Basile, and pounced. “Monsieur de Galladier, you are a most intimate friend of the marquis. You must tell me all about theircoup de foudre!”
She took his arm and whisked him away but not before Basile heard Armand say, “Madame, you have guessed the matter. It was indeed love at first sight.”
Basile sent a questioning glance at Grégoire, who answered. “You may be sure he will know how to handle her.” He leaned in to murmur the rest. “He is only naïve when it comes to his own affections. He knows who La Bordenave is.”
Grégoire glanced at Sophie, who seemed to look anywhere but at them, then dipped his chin to Basile to murmur, “I shall leave you to your oh-so-charmante fiancée.”
Amidst the whispers, Basile tucked Sophie’s hand into his arm, and she walked at his side with her head held high. He led her through the open doors of the terrace to the stone balustrade that looked over the garden at the back of the house. Now outdoors, he gulped at the fresh air. There were steps that led down to the garden, which had couples taking a turn in the rectangular stretch of grass. Other couples sat more discreetly on the stone benches in verdant arches.
“You must think I have gone mad,” he began. The nightair was cool and perfumed with flowers and freshly cut grass. “Allow me to explain?—”
“It is possible I have already guessed all.” Sophie breathed in and lifted her gaze to the sky, which was particularly clear and showed a host of stars across its expanse. “I understand that this is not a true betrothal, but that you did it for your own purposes—and perhaps for me in that way you have of playing harmless games.”
Basile could not answer this. It certainly did not put him in the best light, but he did not deserve better.
They walked on, crossing underneath one of the arched trellises that had fragrant blooming roses intertwined from one side to the other. “In all honesty, you have saved me from the most unwelcome attentions of Sheldon Cholmsley. And I can only suspect that your motives in proposing were for similar reasons.”
“It is just so,” Basile replied, glancing at her from the side and trying to read her expression. He could only make out her profile lightly in the moonlight, but he could detect her scent and admired the soft skin of her hand when he placed his over it. Walking next to her brought him pleasure, despite his unease over his impulsive announcement. “Now that I have given my word, however, I engage to honor my commitment.”
“No, no.” Sophie pulled him to a stop, and he could barely discern the furrow in her brow. “I shall not hold you to it. I understood the spontaneous manner in which you announced it. I have no wish to force you to honor a commitment you made under such circumstances. I assure you, I did not look for your proposal.”
Basile smiled to himself, prey to relief that she would free him of his engagement so rashly given and piqued despite himself that she was so adamant in rejecting hisoffer. He allowed silence to reign again as he considered his words. It was a bit late for that, but he would move more cautiously.
“Well, I shall not force you into a marriage that was not of your choosing, simply by having announced the match publicly. But here is what I think on the matter. Before you return to London, you might choose to announce that you have come to the realization you prefer to unite yourself with a man from your own country. Hopefully after M. Cholmsley has either left or set his attention on someone else.” He smiled at her and gave a light tug on her arm. “You are therefore obliged to regretfully withdraw your promise. I engage to be suitably devastated but declare myself perfectly in line with your reasons. Nothing shall impinge upon your honor.”
From what he could glimpse of her expression in the dark, Sophie did not look entirely convinced at the ease of his proposed rupture. But when she turned to him, her tone betrayed no hesitation. “I think that will answer very well. And in the meantime, I may enjoy my stay in Paris without being persecuted by proprietary men.”
