Page 50 of Love Unraveled
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Catherine said, getting to her feet. “It is my fault we arrived unannounced.”
“Sit,bella.” Sophia turned to Jocelyne. “It is a simple request.” Her tone left no room for argument. It was not like Jocelyne to turn her away, and today it would not do at all. She needed to find a moment to talk with Jocelyne privately.
The quick flare of Jocelyne’s nostrils was the only sign she was not pleased with the interruption or the command. She smiled at Catherine. “Non, non, I am happy you have come once again. What is it you need?”
“We are leaving London soon, and since the baby, I am finding my dresses a little snug, here.” Catherine drew a line across her breasts with a finger. “I would like one or two new ones.”
“Ah, I see. I will send Grace in to measure, and you will tell Lucia what fabric you like,oui?”
“Wonderful,” Catherine said. “I truly appreciate it.”
“Pas de problème,” Jocelyne said, then turned and left the room without another glance at Sophia.
“It is lovely of Madame Moreau to take this on unexpectedly,” Catherine said.
While Elizabeth agreed with Catherine, Sophia was not so impressed. Jocelyne owed her shop and standing in society to Sophia, and Sophia asked for little in return. She should have been quickly accommodating. Sophia smiled at her friends, hiding her irritation. Grace entered and began her measurements, while Elizabeth shuffled through fashion plates. Sophia took the opportunity to slip out.
She tapped lightly on the door of the other salon. Jocelyne opened it a fraction and frowned at Sophia.
“Pas maintenant,” Jocelyne whispered.
“Oui, now.”
“I am working.” Jocelyne glanced over her shoulder. Sophia could hear a woman’s voice followed by another woman’s laugh but could not see who they were. “Je travaille,” Jocelyne repeated slowly and emphatically in French, and Sophia stepped back as she registered Jocelyne’s meaning.
“What time do you finish?” Sophia asked, all annoyance instantly dissipating. Like Sophia, Jocelyne was a good listener. She passed on any information that might help their cause on the continent. It was surprising how much women knew and how freely they talked as they sipped sherry and chose gowns.
“Today I can close at six o’clock.”
“I will return. We must talk.” Sophia did not wait for Jocelyne’s answer. She turned and strolled back into the small salon. Her friends looked at her questioningly.
“I tried to find some fabric for a new dress, but there is too much in the back room, and I am too tired.” She sighed melodramatically and sat on the settee beside Elizabeth. “Some lemonade, please,” she said to Grace as she finished scratching down measurements.
Sophia looked forward to the evening. An unexpected reunion and, with a little luck, some much-needed information. She had been lax lately, and it would be rewarding to have a contribution for the effort. She looked at her friends, so at ease and without worry, without the knowledge she had misled them. She longed to end her facade. The sooner this war ended, the better for everyone. Including her.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness.
—Shakespeare,The Two Gentlemen of Verona
“Ido notunderstand your secrecy, but I sense your excitement. And it is titillating.” Gaston sat on the opposite bench and watched Sophia from under his lashes, a smile dancing at the corner of his lips. He had arrived promptly at six, and Sophia had been waiting for him in the entrance. With him resplendent in a navy-blue jacket with an intricately embroidered waistcoat, buff breeches, and a crisp cravat highlighting his rich skin, she could have devoured him on the spot. She still could.
“You look ravishing, by the way,” Gaston added. “Although I suspect you are more than aware of it and have heard many wax eloquently about your beauty over the years.”
Sophia waved his comment away. “Flattery easily falls from the lips of people who want something.” She tilted her head, contemplating him. “What is it you want, Gaston?”
He didn’t answer her right away. The clopping of the horses, the rumble of the wheels, and the myriad of muffled sounds from the street filled the carriage as he studied her. Her skin prickled in response as his gaze softened and grew appreciative.
“You, Sophie. I want you.”
Sophia could not hold back her smile. It was what she wanted to hear.
“And you, Sophie. What is it you want?”
The carriage rattled to a stop, saving her from answering. She did not question what she wanted, but she was unsure as to whether to hand him the power such knowledge would bring. Raimondo swung open the door, and Gaston leaped out, preempting Raimondo from assisting her from the carriage. Sophia laughed at the two of them, at Gaston’s triumphant expression and Raimondo’s disgruntled one.
