Page 69 of Love Unraveled
Bentley nodded at them as they approached. “Countess.” He bowed and whisked an imaginary kiss over her gloved hand. “A sight for sore eyes,” he said, straightening up, a smile playing on his lips. “Lord Stratton. An unexpected pleasure to see you both here.” He looked from one to the other. “A little subterfuge going on, I assume?”
Sophia’s breath stalled. Bentley could not possibly be aware of what she was truly doing there. He burst into laughter, shaking his head.
“You should see your faces.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “I know Monsieur Durand is entirely taken with you. I also know he has abruptly moved from his rooms to an unknown location. Coincidence? I think not. Stratton’s a bit like throwing a ball for this pack of wolves to chase. A masterful move.”
Heat rose to her face, but relief washed over her body. He assumed she was using Stratton to hide her true relationship. “And you, Bentley? You are busy upsetting the host?”
“I’m what?”
Bentley looked genuinely confused. Sophia wondered if the man ever held a thought for more than a few seconds. She looked pointedly in the direction Lord Acherton had gone.
“Oh, Acherton,” he said, frowning. “A small gentleman’s quarrel. He owes me on a few bets. I can never pin him down for payment. Seems I’m not going to tonight either.”
“You still chasing the horses, then?” Stratton asked.
“When I can outrun the women, sir,” Bentley said.
Sophia rolled her eyes, while Stratton chuckled and clapped him on the back. “You never change, son, you never change.”
“I have had enough for tonight. Take me home, please.” Sophia directed the command at Stratton.
“A certain Frenchman is upstairs.” Bentley shrugged when she scowled at him. “I thought you might be interested.”
“Perhaps you should not think so much, Bentley,” she said and was instantly contrite when his face fell. She was tired and frustrated she had not managed to gather enough information to be of value. It was not Bentley’s fault.
“I will see you in Newmarket,” she said. “You can advise me what horses to bet on.”
“It would be my pleasure,” he said, his optimistic expression returned.
“He means well,” Stratton said as they made their way to the front of the town house. “He was equally boisterous as a young lad, always putting his foot in his mouth.”
“He is much different from Walford and Thornwood, no? They are serious, and he is…” She could not find the word. “Empty,” she said, although it was not exactly what she meant. Thinking in three languages made her head ache sometimes.
Stratton contemplated her words before answering. “No, not empty. Lighthearted, perhaps, but not empty.”
They waited in the foyer, making idle conversation with people coming and going. The footman announced the arrival of her carriage, and they stepped outside. The Duke of Salinger had his foot on the first step, one of his lackey friends directly behind him. Sophia lifted her chin and continued down the stairs. The duke glared at her and Stratton.
“Excuse me,” Sophia said, smiling benevolently at him.
He scanned her top to bottom. “There is no excuse for you,” he said, a sneer twisting his face.
Stratton stiffened, and she squeezed his arm, much like she did with Raimondo when his anger rose.
“If you would move, we could be on our way and you could enjoy this lovely rout…” She spoke slowly and carefully as though she was speaking to a small child. “…with your little friend.” She looked past the duke’s shoulder at Lord Drake. The man should be flirting with women at balls or playing cards at the club instead of trailing an old man like the duke. She raised a regal eyebrow at him, and he had the decency to become instantly interested in his feet.
Of course, it had the intended effect on the duke, his nostrils flaring, his face growing darker in the dim light.
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. And a whore by any other name would still be—”
“Raimondo!” Sophia snapped, and turned quickly to Stratton. “Stratton!” she barked. She would not have either of them assault a duke. Not in public. She looked directly at the duke. “You are not worthy of anyone, Your Grace. Not even a whore.”
The duke looked ready to dive at her but hesitated as he registered Raimondo’s towering presence. He stepped aside, and Sophia and Stratton walked past him without another glance. It was difficult to comprehend why she had ever considered the man. It would seem Gaston had saved her twice in her lifetime. She would have to thank him properly when he returned home. She could hardly wait.
Chapter Fifty
God the tyrant’s hope confound!
To this great cause of Freedom drink, my friends,
