Page 71 of Love Unraveled
—Shakespeare, “Sonnet 105”
Two days later,Sophia and Gaston weren’t any closer to figuring out who the fourth man could be. Sophia’s housekeeper had attempted to secure the invitation list under the pretense Countess Tessaro was planning a soiree and wanted to be sure to include many of the delightful people she’d conversed with at the rout. Lord Acherton’s housekeeper had not been forthcoming.
They’d listed as many as they could remember, but the truth was, it could be any one of them, or none of them. They had no way of knowing whether the man Lord Acherton had been waiting for had ever shown up. It was an entirely frustrating exercise.
“No, Cara, the other blue one.”
Cara ducked back into Sophia’s clothing room to grab the correct parasol. They had decided to continue with their plans to attend the races in Newmarket. Liverpool had been grateful for the warning and was now fully guarded. He would remain so until the other traitor was identified. Lord Acherton remained unaware his intentions were known, so they were optimistic he might lead them to the other man. It had been easy to discover he, too, was going to Newmarket.
The footmen arrived and gathered her trunk, and Cara scurried after them. Sophia trailed them down the stairs.
“I will take care of her.” Gaston sounded exasperated, and when she heard Raimondo’s rumbling response about Gaston’s lack of ability to protect a chicken in a henhouse, she knew why. She stepped into the library, expecting fisticuffs, but Gaston stood by the window, rubbing his forehead, and Raimondo stood nearby with arms crossed.
“Raimondo, you will do as I ask. We are in no danger, and I wish to enjoy the view. We will probably pass you on the road.” She had decided to treat her and Gaston to a post chaise. It was a much faster way to travel, and the view was less obstructed. And Sophia had always enjoyed watching the postilions astride the horses. She and Gaston might be working, but there was no reason they could not also have a little fun. Raimondo rattled on in rapid Italian about postilions not being able to protect her. She let him speak until it seemed there would be no end to it. “Basta!Enough!” she said, effectively cutting him off. “Besides, you can argue all you want. There is no room for you.”
Raimondo grunted and stomped from the room. She looked at Gaston, who was biting back a laugh.
“Keep it inside you, Gaston, for if he hears it, he will storm back in here and take his frustration with me out on you.”
He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “He’s growing on me,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I mean, he cares for you,ma chérie. I cannot begrudge that.”
“Good,” she said, leaning back so she could see his face. “He has been a loyal friend through the years. He will adjust. And hopefully, soon there will be no more of this business for him to worry too much about. He and Stefano will be able to garden until their hearts are content.”
They strolled to the window and watched as Raimondo climbed onto the box beside Charles and her coach left, taking Cara and Stephens along with their luggage.
Sophia presented her lips for a kiss, and Gaston obliged, slowly at first but deepening it until she was bursting with need. “The chaise will not be here for another hour,” she said, running her finger down his chest and lingering on the button of his trousers’ fall.
Gaston growled and scooped her up, carrying her out of the library. Harris stepped out into the hall, saw them, and stepped back into his room. Sophia laughed. Her poor staff had been treated to many unusual sights these past few weeks. At the top of the stairs, he set her on her feet and took siege of her mouth once again. When he finally surrendered, he looked around. “Eerily quiet without Raimondo banging around,” he said and grinned.
“I have given everyone two days off. Except for Harris.”
“A nice treat for them,” Gaston said, kissing her nose.
“I wish I could also give Harris his time, but I think, maybe, the house should not be empty right now, no? Just in case?”
“Agreed. We will make it up to him when we are through.”
“And we will make up for our lost time, a little at a time. Where were we?” She licked her lips, turned, and ran into the drawing room. She managed to make it into her boudoir before Gaston caught her around the waist and lifted her, spinning her around. She squealed, and he laughed, setting her on the bed. She rolled over, and he fell on top of her.
“Je t’aime,” she said and showed him the truth of that love with her body. She would never get enough of him. Ever.
Chapter Fifty-Two
From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step.
—Unknown
“Ido believeit was our quickest yet,” Gaston said, catching his breath, his heart still thumping from their shared release. “I promise tonight we will linger.”
Sophie rolled onto her side and smiled. “Quick is good. There is time for some food. A spice cake, maybe? You ring, and I will change my dress. Cara will not be happy with my wrinkles.” She laughed and wiggled off the bed.
Gaston watched Sophie disappear into the other room, before getting out of bed and pulling the cord. He was hungry too, but he was always hungry. Perhaps he should get Harris to throw some food in a basket for the ride. Including cakes. Sophie loved her sweets. He slipped back into his drawers and trousers, tucking his shirt back in and buttoning the fall. He brushed at his waistcoat. He didn’t look too worse for wear.
He wandered into the small drawing room and stared at the laneway that ran between Sophie’s house and the one next door. Nothing. Not even a stray cat. He walked over to the cord and pulled again. Harris was usually prompt. He must be up to something. Gaston pulled out his watch. They would need to leave soon. He glanced in the bedroom. Sophie was still out of sight, presumably dressing, so he decided to go downstairs and find Harris himself.
It was odd to stand at the top of the stairs and see no one scurrying about. There was always someone busy doing something. A noise sounded from the library.Ah, Harris found.Gaston went down the steps and opened the door, stopping abruptly, his heart pounding in his ears. The room was upended, with paintings torn off the walls and scattered on the floor. A man’s shoed foot stuck out from beyond the desk. Gaston stepped through the threshold, and seconds too late, he registered movement behind him. He spun around.
“You!” he said before crippling pain blurred his vision and he fell to the ground.
