Page 6 of A Sham Betrothal
She proceeded to do exactly as she’d promised, and Basile watched Charles’s stare follow her as she flitted from one man to another, using every art of coquetry she possessed. If he was reading the man correctly, Zoé was not playing the game of flirtation in a way most suited to hertarget.
He turned his eyes back to Sophie who had been brought into conversation by the wife of one of the ambassador’s staff. By now, Cholmsley had made his way to her side and was forcing both women to listen with polite interest. Ah, it looked like another rescue was in order, and why not? It was the only interesting thing he could find to do in a city that bored him dreadfully. As Marquis de Verdelle, he was obliged to stay in Paris for some months and show his royal support along with the othernoblesseandcourtisans. But—que diantre!—it was what he liked least of all. He was never meant to be the marquis.
That one might lose an eldest brother to a childhood illness was a thing to be deplored but perfectly understandable, and one hardly recalled his face to mind for it was so long ago. That the next brother in line might depart this world by attempting a swim in an unfamiliar pond while under the influence of a bottle or two of Bordeaux was certainly a shocking thing that must send the entire family into a spiral of grief. But that the third in line must sink in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in a most unfittingly named ship,Felicity, while returning to take up the family mantle was to suffer too cruelly under Fate’s hand.
He was never meant to be the marquis.
“Claudia Bordenave has returned to Paris at last and is here.” Grégoire came to stand at Basile’s side, careful not to look at the woman in question. He knew the danger of it.
Basile hid his scowl but was not able to temper the mixture of anger and longing that rose up in him and which irritated him with its potency. He had been fooled by Claudia once. She was like wolfsbane. Beautiful in appearance but with roots that were poisonous. As a young man on the town, he had been seduced by her beauty, too naïve to see it went no deeper than what one could see. She was afavorite of Madame Du Barry, the former king’s mistress, and under her guidance Claudia soon broke their engagement to marry more advantageously.
While he’d been heartbroken when she had withdrawn her affection to marry a wealthy man who was older than her father, he soon came to realize his lucky escape. She had been no more faithful to her husband or her vows than she had been to Basile. And now she had been pursuing him relentlessly ever since her widowhood aligned with his succession to the title.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sudden shift in her profile and her deliberate steps forward. Claudia was petite and possessed the most elegant figure he had ever seen with a tiny, nipped waist, and a generous bosom that was set to advantage by revealing much of it. Underneath her rich chestnut locks that were always powdered fashionably white she possessed beguiling almond-shaped eyes and full, pouting lips. She was fully conscious of her assets and never shy about bringing them into close proximity of gentlemen who might admire them.
“Mon cherBasile. How good it is to see you in Paris again.”
“Madame Bordenave.” Basile offered her a polite bow and turned back to Grégoire to take up their engrossing conversation which they’d had no time to begin.
“You are determined to snub me,” she said. “But we are old friends, are we not? You cannot think I am so easily discouraged.” Her lighthearted laugh seemed designed to let him know how little she cared that he remained aloof. Basile would have to be more obvious.
“As such old friends, we hardly need stand on ceremony. Therefore, I am sure you will not expect me to dog your footsteps all night. I should not dream of chasing awayyour suitors.” Basile gave her a bland smile and turned his back on her.
“I see the English Miss Sophie has come after all.” Grégoire pronounced Miss likemeesas he nodded in that direction.
“Of course she has,” Basile replied, still aware of Claudia’s presence at his side and eager to cut short any further attempts on her part. He slipped his arm through Grégoire’s and led him away as though in search of refreshments, his eyes on Sophie. She looked patently bored, a feeling he himself could not bear. “But I fear I may be called upon to intervene. ’Tis a tragedy that she should have to suffer the man’s conversation for lack of protectors. The sight offends.”
“I shall not deter you, then. So long as I shall not be called upon to take her place with the English gentleman.” Grégoire gave the ghost of a smile and moved away from Basile, easily joining another group of soberly clad courtiers who were the latest to receive the queen’s favor and who were no doubt there to bring her the latest gossip.
Basile made his decision and moved forward. He reached the two out of three brightly dressed guests in the whole room and held out his arm to Sophie.
“You must permit me to present you to Madame Lengard. She is another such hostess as Madame Dubigny who entertains all of Paris. I thought to procure an invitation for you to attend her event on Thursday.”
Sophie’s bright, expressive eyes met his for a moment and she turned her attention to her companion, who was frowning. Basile could see hesitation in her eyes, but she was already moving over to take his arm. He threw out a salve to the man’s dignity.
“I shall, of course, request that Madame Lengardprovide you with an invitation as well,monsieur.” He bowed to Mr. Cholmsley and carried away his partner without any compunction over leaving him alone in a crowd of people he scarcely knew and whose language he did not speak.
“You must have a keen eye for my anguish, for you have rescued me again.” Sophie sent him a warm look of gratitude that one might almost mistake for admiration to one less cool-headed than he. Armand would have already been planning another trip to theboutique du bijoutierfor a brooch.
“I cannot help but do so, for I am a man who upholds the law.” He led her neatly into a space near the wall where there were fewer people to interrupt theirtête-à-tête.
“The law?” She smiled at him, the tiny frown lines between her eyes betraying her confusion.
“’Tis a crime that someone as charming as you should be forced to listen to anhomme sans intérêtsuch as he.”
She laughed. “’Tis true, he is not the most interesting of men. I can scarcely conceal my yawns when I am with him. It is most ill-bred of me, for”—she lifted her forefinger as though instructing—“a lady should make the most uninteresting companion feel as though his conversation were enlightening.”
“Who says such a thing? Do you?” Basile kept her arm in his and allowed himself to stand as near to her as he liked. It did no one any harm, for he knew the rules in Paris were not the same as in London. Besides, she smelled of oranges. It was the most refreshing scent in a room full of cloves and patchouli liberally applied to mask the less pleasant odors.
“I do not. ’Twas my governess, who had many such maxims. I can quote them all.”
She glanced at him smiling and pulled away a fractionwhen their eyes met. As for Basile, he had not expected the clip to his chest when he met her gaze and could understand why she had pulled away. It was a foreign sensation to be so instantly attracted to a lady and not an emotion he was ready to devote much thought to.
“I believe you might leave your governess’s maxims aside while in Paris, particularly when suffering under the attention of an overly interested admirer. Here we prefer to say as Molière taught us: ‘If this be your way to love, I beg you will hate me.’”
Sophie laughed, then raised her fingers to her lips and choked it back. Several people turned their way, including Madame Filbert, whose attention he was careful to avoid as she had two daughters she wished to marry off. Her eyes glittered with interest at the sight of him, and he nodded before pivoting slightly with Sophie so she was not in direct view.
Sophie’s eyes smiled, Basile decided, even as her lips resumed their natural position. She was too vibrant a woman to be chained to a man such as the peacock.
