Page 24 of A Sham Betrothal
“Do you mean that despite everything youhaveaccepted Sheldon?” Mrs. Twisden struggled to turn to look at her, so Sophie dropped her arm and met her regard. She sat on the bed and took her grandmother’s hand.
“It is not Sheldon.” She smiled, or rather struggled to smile. “It is the marquis. Monsieur Gervain. The man who brought us Jeannot.”
Mrs. Twisden’s expression was confused until she connected Basile with his nurse and then her confusion turned to amazement. “The marquis? But…you hardly know him! How did you manage to…to catch his interest?”
“I can scarcely say,” Sophie said, blushing from embarrassment and chagrin at deceiving her grandmother. Borrowing a line from Zoé, she said, “I believe it must have been love at first sight between us.”
“Well, well.” Her grandmother absorbed that. Then, after a short reflection, she smiled suddenly. “I own that I am sorry for Sheldon, for he must be experiencing some disappointment, but I can only rejoice for you, my dear. How did it come about?”
Sophie thought back to their meeting outside of Stohrer. “I believe there was an understanding between usas soon as we met that allowed us to reach an agreement so quickly.” What she said was so close to the truth that her heart pained her at the idea that this was not a true betrothal. “But I do not want for you to be overly excited, Grandmama. I wished to tell you, but not to focus on it at present. I would like to have you recover fully.”
“And then we may plan the nuptials,” her grandmother said with a smile. “Iamrather tired.”
“Yes, then we may plan the nuptials,” Sophie repeated, the ache in her heart taking on greater proportions. “Let me remove this pillow so you may sleep more comfortably.
She did so and kissed her grandmother’s forehead before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind her. She would do anything to spare her grandmother worry, even if it meant shielding her from the truth. She had to make sure the engagement was believable, and only when her grandmother was fully recuperated and ready to return home would they go about enacting the break of their sham agreement.
Chapter 11
Basile strolled into the Procope café where he found Grégoire and Armand sitting over coffee and brandy. On his way to their table, M. Necker raised his hand in greeting from where he sat nearby with thephilosophesbefore calling out to him.
“You are the talk of the town,mon chermarquis. You’ve managed to draw the queen’s eye, despite the royal period of mourning, and relieve its monotony with your engagement.”
Basile did not quite know how to respond to such…was it praise? He was not given to flowery speech, though it was almost a requirement of the court. He nodded his head in thanks, then took the chair at his friends’ table.
“Monsieur Necker is right,” Armand said. “We have been hounded with questions from everyone who knows us to be your intimates. What is your objective with this whole affair? I know you had no marital intentions a week ago. Do you mean to marry her in earnest?”
Grégoire sipped his brandy, murmuring wickedly, “Itold him you had succumbed at last, although perhaps less to love than a desire to flee La Bordenave.”
“But I cannot see how you can announce a betrothal publicly and not go through with it,” Armand continued in an urgent undertone. “I will not believe it of you.”
Basile lifted his hand to signal a waiter for coffee. “Tell us of your own courtship, Armand. Mine carries so little interest.”
Armand creased his brow at the change of subject, but a smile played about his lips. “I have gained an audience with Vivienne’s older brother, and he seems pleased by the match, although we have yet to discuss contracts.”
“Allow me to congratulate you.” Basile reached for the sugar and placed a lump in the cup of coffee that was set before him.
“It seems we are to wish you happy at last,” Grégoire added.
“To think that she would notice me.” Armand smiled again dreamily, a man clearly smitten. Grégoire told him he was much too modest.
Basile opened his mouth to ask Grégoire if he had sold his hunter, but Armand would not be put off from his earlier interrogation. “However, let us not detract from your engagement. Why did you do it?”
Basile stirred the sugar, contemplating his answer. “It was in both of our best interests to declare a false engagement, for it allowed me to shake off the widow and her to be spared the unwelcome attention of the Englishman, Cholmsley. Trust me, the lady has no intentions of holding me to it,” he replied with a confidence he was far from feeling.
“As to La Bordenave,” Armand said, “she has been asking many questions regarding your supposed meetingand how your understanding came to be. I do not comprehend how a woman can be so persistent when all hope is lost.” He pulled out a box of his snuff and offered it to Grégoire, then Basile. “I believe I answered her questions well, but it was not an easy matter. I repeated that you had known each other in England. That is not true, is it?”
The café was loud and no one nearby paid them any attention, so Basile did not fear answering. He shook his head. “Our little arrangement is merely a means to bring relief to both of us in certain quarters. There will be no harm in ending it when the time comes.”
“Not even when the queen is anxious to follow your betrothal and see you wed?” Grégoire asked,sotto voce.
“Not even then. She shall console me on our divergent paths and turn her attention elsewhere,” Basile answered hopefully, but the conversation was growing uncomfortable as it forced a truth he would rather not face. Extricating himself from the betrothal might prove more difficult than he’d imagined now that more people were becoming involved.
Another truth slinked into his consciousness that was difficult to face. A part of him wondered if he wished to be freed.
The Duc d’Orleans entered the café and the proprietor set down a tray he was wiping to come and greet him with a bow. “Monsieur, you will perhaps wish to come with me. There is a gentleman who has been asking after you particularly.”
“A creditor?” the duke asked.
