Page 33 of Love Unraveled
“Sophie,” he said, his voice a warning. “We are not back to that game, are we?”
Admittedly, Sophia was somewhat miffed by his rebuff, but she truly was not available. Lord Stratton wanted to speak with her alone and had arranged to join her this evening for dinner. It would not be a conversation Gaston could be privy to.
“I play no game. I have plans, and you are not a part of them.” She flapped her hand as he tried to interrupt. “I have held to my end of the deal. We have seen each other. Spent time together. And”—she softened her voice—“I have enjoyed it very much.”
The stiffness seeped from Gaston’s stance, and he smiled, the appeasement she’d hoped for attained.
“I did too.” He held out his hand, and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “Tomorrow?”
“Entirely yours.”
They walked through the house, back to the main entrance. He took his hat from Harris and leaned in, brushing each of her cheeks with a kiss before donning it. “À demain, Sophie.”
“Until tomorrow,” she echoed.
Sophia strolled into the library and watched Gaston through the window. He paused on the street as though deciding which way to go. It had not crossed her mind to offer him her carriage, although it might be just as well. She did not much care about gossip, but for now, she did not wish to invite it either. She would like to know where she stood with Gaston before the tongues began to wag. Although, after last night, they’d probably already begun.
Gaston must have sensed her presence. He looked up and smiled. She smiled and gave a small wave. He tipped his hat and turned to the right. She watched until he was out of sight. The room seemed oddly empty. Sophia walked to the table and traced its edge until she was standing by the chair Gaston had been sitting in.
The other half of a sheet of foolscap rested on the table, a pencil beside it. Gaston sketching flowers. She didn’t remember him being interested in such things when they were young. He’d been more rough and tumble, more likely to climb a tree than draw one. She ran a finger over the paper, detecting a slight line. His piece of paper must have sat on this one. She was curious to see if he had any talent.
She sat on the chair and lightly brushed the graphite back and forth across the page. There was more than one line. Sophia frowned as she continued. There was nothing flowerlike about the lines. When she was finished, she brought the picture to the window to better see it. While it was difficult to fully discern many details, it was clear it was a map.
Sophia retrieved her glasses from the wooden box on the desk, returned to the table, and penciled across the areas she was certain were words. If they were words, they were obscured, even with her glasses on. However, there was no mistaking anX. She grabbed the quill and traced the lines with ink to better see the map. Rivers, hillsides, roads. But where? And why? Why would Gaston sit in her library and draw a map?
She studied it but could make no sense of it. It could be anywhere. Sophia should simply ask Gaston, but something was off. Why would he say he was sketching flowers? Why not tell her he was working on a map? Was Gaston up to something? Was that why he’d reunited with her? Did he know she helped the English?
Mon Dieu! Sophia stiffened as a possibility dawned. Could Gaston be a spy too? And if it were true, the bigger question would be, Whose side was he on?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Believe nothing you hear, and only one-half that you see.
—Edgar Allan Poe, “The System of Dr. Tarr and Prof. Fether”
“Now she’s asleek beauty, don’t you think?” Bentley asked, his eyes continuing to follow the filly as it walked by them.
“Another year and she’ll be a fine specimen,” Gaston said agreeably, although he had little interest in racing horses. He did, however, have a great interest in the patrons at Tattersall’s. He’d returned to his rooms after a long conversation with Liverpool, enhancing the simple map he’d brought as Liverpool took notes, to find Bentley on his way out. His invitation to join him to look at horseflesh seemed the perfect opportunity to continue in his search for Liverpool’s traitor.
“You may be right. I’d enjoy watching her through her paces,” Bentley said, turning to Gaston and grinning, “but I find I am exceedingly parched. Join me in the subscription room for a drink, Durand?”
Gaston could not have planned it more purposefully. They pushed through the crowd of men and into the building. The large room, although alive and boisterous, was not as crushing as outside. The room would fill when the demonstrations of horses for auction were finished. The men would all pour in and talk about fortunes won and lost and money yet to be played. Gaston and Bentley settled near the corner with a port each.
“Bloody good timing, you coming back as I was going out.” Bentley took a sip of his porter.
“And why do you say that?”
Gaston did not warm to men easily, and Bentley was almost too perfect to warm to at all. He was dressed impeccably with a cache of blond curls dancing on the edge of his too-high collar. Although tall and broad-shouldered, he seemed more porcelain doll than man. But he was amiable and an easy connection to the world Gaston needed to infiltrate.
“Why? Because I’m bursting to know how you managed to leave the Bennets’ ball last night…with Countess Tessaro.”
“How would you know that?” Gaston was genuinely surprised the news had traveled so quickly, for surely Bentley was only recently out of his bed.
“I was there,” Bentley said. “Later, of course. Missed all the excitement, if the buzzing bees in the room were any indication. Matrons flitting one to the other, frenetically waving their fans in front of their faces as though the rest of the room could not tell they were gossiping. And the duke.” Bentley guffawed. “A more rankled man I’ve never seen.”
“I don’t know the man,” Gaston said with a shrug, sidestepping the question about leaving with Sophie. “I would doubt he would find a lowly man like me a threat.”
“I beg to differ. He cornered me and drilled me as though I was a criminal. Or a spy.”
