Page 31 of A Sham Betrothal
“The marquis appears to be deeply in love with you, my dear. I cannot tell you how glad that makes me. I am determined to be well so I may assist in the wedding preparations.” She then continued to her room without waiting for an answer, which was fortunate because Sophie had none.
Basile, in love with me?That couldn’t be. How had she gotten herself into such a jumble of lies? Mary collected the tea tray and was passing by with it. At once, Sophie needed to leave the house or she would end up pacing the garden, and it was too small to hold her frustration.
“Mary, would you be able to accompany me again to the Tuileries? I wish to walk there.”
“Of course,” the maid answered. “I will put these away and be right with you.” Mary hurried into the kitchen and was heard to be washing the tea cups and saucers and placing them on their shelf.
Sophie regretted pulling Mary away from her other work, but she could not walk alone any more than she could stay here. She hoped Mary would understand her need for silence.
When they entered the Tuileries some twenty minutes later, Sophie at a nice brisk walk that Mary had no trouble keeping up with, she began to feel better. Mary was indeed understanding of her need for silence and left Sophie to her thoughts as she tried to sort through her tangle of feelings. She should blame Basile, she supposed. And she would—except that she enjoyed spending time with him and hated to think what would have happened if they’d never met.She would be going to parties where she knew no one. Or,no! She would be home nursing her grandmother with Sheldon coming by every day to add irritation to misery. She could only be grateful for the direction her stay in Paris had taken.
But then, it was becoming increasingly difficult to think through how they were to manage the end to their sham betrothal. She liked him very well—all too well, if she were going to be honest with herself. But she did not want to marry a man who had not courted her in earnest. A man who played the part convincingly but did not truly love her.
They rounded the large pond with a fountain placed in its center. On the side of the rounded path, marble statues were placed in between the leafy branches of trees and looked down upon her from their pedestals. The trickling of water in the fountain soothed.
A gentleman headed in her direction. As they were about to cross paths, he lifted his head and paused. “Miss Twisden?”
Sophie stopped as recognition dawned. “Mr. Arlington. A pleasure to meet you here.” She pulled her thoughts from the place that had no answers and focused on her countryman. “Do you walk here often?”
“I have started to of late. I like to come here to think.” Although a smile accompanied his words, it looked pained. She wondered if Zoé had anything to do with his unhappy look. “Would you like to walk with me a ways?” he asked.
Sophie nodded and turned in his direction as Mary followed at a distance.
“I must congratulate you on your betrothal,” he said. “It seems you will be remaining in France on a more permanent basis, will you not?”
It was Sophie’s turn to look pained. Another opportunityto lie, and she found she did not want to. But she couldn’t give up the act when they were working so hard to make it convincing. “I…believe that is the plan. It’s too early to tell.”
He peered at her more closely, his unpowdered dark hair catching the sun in its golden reflection. He was a handsome man, but his eyes seemed dull when compared toanotherset of eyes and his mouth was absent of the humor that revealed a quick wit.
“Is there trouble in your engagement?” As soon he had spoken the words, he warded off the imagined rebuke with his hands. “I do not mean to pry, but I couldn’t help but think that perhaps you are not sure of your choice, and that explains your hesitation.”
They walked on as Sophie thought how best to answer. “There is a bit of trouble between us, but I hope nothing too serious. I hope we may sort it out.”
There! Let him make of that what he would. Perhaps it would make the eventual end to their betrothal more believable if she were to hint now at some discord.
He continued to walk, lost in thought as he touched his cane to the ground with every other footstep. He wore the colors of court mourning, and the shades of gray did nothing to make him appear more lively. “I can certainly understand such a thing. When you attempt a love match with a woman—rather, witha personfrom a different culture, it is sure to raise misunderstandings. And sometimes those seem insurmountable. Perhaps they are.”
Sophie glanced at him, and when he didn’t elaborate, she said, “Forgive me for my impertinence, but I believe you have developed a friendship with Mademoiselle Sainte-Croix?”
He tossed her a look, his expression sober as he turnedto face forward. “I won’t pretend to misunderstand you, for it must be very obvious. I believe she has let you into her confidence?” Sophie nodded, and he went on. “I thought once that we might have a great partiality for each other, but I am beginning to fear I was wrong. I am coming to believe she has not even a heart to give away.”
Sophie walked on, tempted to urge him to be more extravagant in his pursuit, but holding herself back. What if she really did not know Zoé as she thought she did, and she encouraged Mr. Arlington to pursue her, only then to give him true cause for a broken heart? Sophie reflected on the wisest course of action for only a minute before deciding she couldn’t stay completely silent when she thought Zoé might be suffering too.
“I do know Mademoiselle Sainte-Croix a very little bit. And although I cannot know her well enough to speak with any sort of certainty, I will tell you what I have noticed. When she is with you, her face is alive. When she thinks you are looking, she is animated. But when you seem disapproving and move away, her expression grows dull.”
He lifted his head, as though the thought ballooned him with hope. “I should very much like to believe you.”
Sophie smiled and kept her eyes trained ahead. “I can only tell you what I’ve observed. From what I’ve heard her say, I cannot be convinced that her heart is completely untouched. And she does have a heart to give away, I believe,” she added, “for she accompanied Basile to my house to see how my grandmother fared. Then she returned to escort me to a soirée so I might have a chance for diversion during my stay in Paris. That is not the act of a woman who has no heart to give.”
Mr. Arlington breathed in deeply and glanced at her. “I suppose I might try again.”
“I suppose you might,” Sophie said, returning his smile. They both stopped and faced each other.
“I regret leaving you, but do you mind…?”
Sophie shook her head. “My maid is with me, and I wish to walk a little longer.”
“Very well, Miss Twisden.” He held out his hand and she placed hers in it.
