Page 81 of Love Unraveled
Gaston grunted in response, and Bentley chuckled. They trailed the footmen into the manse, and Sophia gave the maids instruction, including an order for food. She led the three of them into the drawing room. She did not need to ask them if they would like a drink. She poured full glasses of cognac and served the men, grabbed her own, and sat on the sofa. Gaston sat beside her, and Bentley took the cozy armchair across from them. He sighed when he took his first sip, then set the glass on the side table.
“I assume you have a few questions?” Bentley raised an eyebrow, and a smile tugged at his mouth.
It was so normal and so entirely Bentley that Sophia laughed. And once she’d started, she couldn’t stop. She laughed so hard tears rose, and once those overflowed, she couldn’t stop crying. Gaston put his arm around her and pulled her to his chest, rubbing her back. It didn’t matter how it had all come to pass. Gaston was alive. He was here. He was home.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Speak briefly then;
For we are peremptory to dispatch
This viperous traitor.
—Shakespeare,Coriolanus
When Sophie calmed,Gaston released his snug hold on her. He handed her his handkerchief, and she wiped her face, her fresh tears helping to remove some of the blood from her skin. Her beautiful face was lined with fatigue.
“Let’s leave it until the morning,ma chérie. You should bathe and go to bed.”
“Non,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I will not sleep. Cannot. Not yet.”
Gaston looked at Bentley. He’d thought the man a shallow dandy. This turn of events had undone that image, but his role in it remained perplexing. Gaston waved his glass at him in invitation.
Bentley shook his head. “I suspect the countess is more interested in your part of the story than mine. Tell your tale. I’ll fill in any missing details.”
Gaston held Bentley’s good-natured gaze for a moment and decided not to argue. The man had saved Sophie. And, while Gaston’s stomach flip-flopped when he thought of how easily the shot could have gone wrong, he would be eternally grateful.
“After you and the duke left, Drake lost his surety. I could tell he was not a man who would kill easily. So I began to probe. To question him. Hoping to find a way to get him to turn on the duke. I was thoroughly trussed and could not get out of my binds, and I was worried I would pass out from the exertion of trying.”
Sophie touched his head gently. “Oh,mon amour,” she said, tears glazing her eyes again. He took her hand, kissed it, and set it on her lap.
“C’est correct, Sophie. It is fine.” In truth, it ached, but it did not matter now that she sat safely beside him. “Besides, nothing further happened. Your lake houseguest showed up.”
“This I do not understand.” Sophie scrunched her nose.
“Apparently, he had been suspicious of Drake for some time and had been following him. He—”
“But Laurence had gone to the continent? Stratton told me so,” Sophie interrupted him, directing her question at Bentley.
“It was his intention, although he did not share his true reason with his father. He didn’t want to alarm him unnecessarily. They are both incredibly fond of you, you know?”
Sophie nodded. “I still do not follow. Why was he going to the continent?”
“Mostly to find out more about this strange man who’d suddenly appeared in your life. A man who made you inordinately tense. Laurence reached out to some people he knew, and”—Bentley raised his glass toward Gaston—“he fit the description of a Frenchman who frequented the ports at Dunkirk and Gravelines.” He looked back to Sophie. “Laurence was certain there was more going on than you realized, and he was determined to ensure you were safe. But he had a meeting with the Prime Minister before departing and was satisfied with what he learned so aborted his plans to head to the continent.” He waved his glass at Gaston and grinned. “Continue.”
Gaston stared at Bentley, legs casually crossed, sitting relaxed as though this was simply a normal visit. After all that had happened these past few days, the man could still present the air of a dandy.
“Gaston?” Sophie prompted.
Gaston shook his head and tried to refocus. “Stratton—”
“Let’s stick with calling him by his Christian name, shall we? To preserve his identity should we ever be overheard. There are many Laurences, not so many Strattons. Do go on.” Bentley waved his hand at Gaston.
“Laurence,” Gaston said, retrieving the thoughts that had scattered with Bentley’s interruption, “had watched Harris let Drake in and was waiting for him to come back out of your town house when the ducal carriage suddenly came out of the laneway. He couldn’t see who was in it, as the windows were shuttered, but he sensed something was wrong. And when the postilions showed up with the post chaise and their knocking was ignored, he knew for sure something was off. He had the good sense to intercept them and ask them to wait. We could never have gotten here as quickly as we did had he not. Those men rode the horses like the devil himself was on their tails. My teeth are still rattling from the jostling in the post chaise.” Laurence had not wanted witnesses to whatever lay ahead, so they’d left the two exhausted postilions behind at a nearby coaching house and continued on alone with fresh horses.
“Dieu merci.” Sophie touched his hand.
“Oui, thank God.” He took a sip of the cognac, his mind racing through all that had happened the past two days, quickly sorting through what Sophie needed to know right now. “And I was correct about Drake. He was not meant for the role of villain. It was easy to get him to share all he knew.”
