The Sheik's Son

by Nicola Italia

  She had been focused on a couple at the far end of the room who were engaged in mild flirting. The woman was clad in a pale blue gown with a blue powdered wig, while her hand rested familiarly on the man’s orange silk-clad shoulder. The man did not seem at all concerned about the attention and seemed to enjoy it.

  Meanwhile, her father was seated with a group of men engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion, judging by their raised voices and hand gestures.

  When she heard the name Jean Inconnu, there was no mistake. The group was discussing her very own pamphlet.

  “I am pleased and I cannot wait to read it for myself,” Madame Necker added.

  “I’m sure you’ll agree wholeheartedly with the pamphlet, Mère,” Germaine leaned down and kissed her mother on both cheeks.

  “Bonsoir, chere,” she greeted her daughter.

  Germaine joined the group even as Sophie felt her heartbeat race. She always knew that there was a chance Monsieur Blanche would publish her pamphlet. In truth, her writings were sparked after her grandmother had angered her and pushed her again and again with the idea of marriage. Finally, she had taken pen to paper to vent. Now she sat in an esteemed Paris salon as those around her discussed her very pamphlet. It was beyond exhilarating.

  She was excited to hear more from these influential people and their thoughts on her words when another figure approached their group.

  This man was dressed in a purple velvet coat, cream-colored waistcoat and purple satin breeches. His hair was lightly powdered and clubbed with a black satin ribbon. He had a high forehead, dark eyebrows and viewed the younger women with interest. He held in his hand a glass of champagne.

  “I wanted to give my regards to our hostess,” the man said, eyeing Germaine and Sophie while nodding to the two men.

  Marmontel cast a sly glance to his friend La Harpe and was the first to speak to the man. “Good evening, Dorset.”

  Dorset spoke to him in turn and took Madame Necker’s hand and kissed the back of it.

  “Monsieur Le Duc,” she murmured and then introduced him to her daughter, whom he knew, and they exchanged pleasantries.

  “This is Sophie Gauvreau. She is new to our salon. Her father is Jean Pierre Gauvreau, a lawyer with the prestigious Ferme générale. Sophie, this is John Sackville, the Duke of Dorset,” Madame Necker said, introducing them.

  “Mademoiselle Gauvreau,” Dorset eyed the auburn beauty with obvious interest and kissed the back of her hand, though he seemed to release it with some reluctance.

  “Monsieur.” She pinkened at his familiar touch and glanced at her hostess and her daughter.

  The two women were speaking again of the pamphlet. Though she wanted to join in, the Duke seated himself next to Sophie and steered the conversation away from the mysterious pamphlet and began asking her questions about herself.

  Sophie was at first annoyed. She had been so excited to hear about her small, insignificant pamphlet from the lips of these well-known people. But the Duke was engaging and seemed intent of capturing her attention, so she allowed herself to be drawn in.

  He mentioned the word “cricket” and Sophie frowned. Cricket? She wondered what he was talking about.

  Madame Necker and Germaine smiled as the Duke began to speak of his only true love, the game of cricket.

  “My dear, you must join me for our next game. In fact, I insist.” Dorset was taken with Sophie’s beauty and made it clear he would enjoy seeing more of her.

  “Of course I would be delighted. I will need to ask my father,” she concluded.

  Dorset waved his hand. “I will invite your father as well; that is no obstacle.”

  Germaine joined in. “Do we also get an invitation?”

  Dorset seemed in a particularly friendly mood. “Of course, Germaine. You and your delightful mother add style and beauty to any gathering.”

  Germaine smiled at the compliment. “And that delicious secretary of yours? Will he be there?” she asked.

  “Fairfax? I imagine so.” He nodded.

  Germaine smiled at the thought of the sexy secretary. She had seen him at several of her mother’s salons and had always been giddy with anticipation. He was a handsome devil. “Please count me in.”

  Dorset smiled. “Excellent. It will be a merry day indeed.”

  The duke moved away to join another group and Sophie was saddened when the conversation steered away from her pamphlet.

  Chapter 3

  Sophie could hardly contain herself on the carriage ride home. Her father and grandmother relayed trivial things that they had seen and heard at the salon, but she could only temper her excitement that the words she had written on a piece of paper were now on the lips of Parisians. She could barely stifle her pleasure.

  The next morning Marie handed her a note from Monsieur Blanche. He wrote to let her know that he had published her cousin’s pamphlet and that he had received a great response from it. He was very curious to know if her cousin had written anything else and if he could meet him in person to discuss additional pamphlets.

  Sophie thought long and hard about her response. She wasn’t sure if Monsieur Blanche knew the true identity of her “cousin” or if he indeed wanted to discuss further writings. In any case, she planned her next step carefully.

  She wrote a note back to the printer with an apology. Her cousin Jean had recently journeyed to England to visit family. She could certainly get in touch with him if he would like and ask him about any further writings. If he agreed, she would contact him.

  Once again, she asked Marie to deliver the letter and to wait for a reply if the printer wanted to send one with her.

  It was late in the afternoon when Marie returned with a response. The printer thanked her for her very kind note. If it was not a bother, he wrote, he would like to have further writings from her cousin. He mentioned that the pamphlet was well received and that several people had asked him about the true identity of the writer. He asked her to please assure her cousin his identity would remain “unknown.” He would wait to hear from her and would be pleased to receive his next pamphlet.

  Sophie tapped her toes in nervous energy as she re-read the note several times. She had not thought it possible that an esteemed Paris printer would be so enthusiastic about her writings. She had already formed several additional ideas to write about and now she could give free rein to them and elaborate as she had not done in her previous pamphlet.

  The next afternoon she received an invitation to tea from Madame Necker and her daughter Germaine for the following day. They kindly invited Sophie’s grandmother as well, which was the proper thing to do.

  She mentioned the invite to her grandmother that evening and Eugenie smiled.

  “Of course, my dear. Madame Necker is well regarded in Paris,” she remarked.

  Eugenie knew that Madame Necker was renowned for her salon and the literary circle that surrounded it. Though that didn’t interest Eugenie in the least, her name was well thought of and she knew her son would be pleased if she helped foster this relationship between the salonist and her granddaughter.

  Sophie was surprised that her grandmother agreed so readily. She had not thought it would be of interest to her but was happy to be wrong.

  ***

  Sophie spent that evening bent over her desk with quill pen in hand. She had only barely touched the surface of what she wanted to express in the first pamphlet. The first pamphlet seemed like silly child’s play compared to what she was about to write.

  This time, as her thoughts became words on the paper, she wanted a more intimate feeling so she addressed the pamphlet as a “letter to the people.” In doing so, she wanted them to understand and accept that her desires were for all of Paris and, indeed, all of France to come together. Sophie spoke about her love of the country, but also the need for change.

  She delved more into the need for women to have equality in all things. She brought up the natural world and the fact that animals comingled regardless of t
heir gender and that they cooperated in harmonious togetherness.

  She felt the quill pen pull on the paper as she scratched out one word and added another over it. She moved the wick lower in the oil lamp to lessen the flame as the night wore on.

  Finally, she heard the grandfather clock in the hallway downstairs chime one in the morning and she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She would finish in the morning. She was getting sleepy and wanted her pamphlet to sound fresh and exhilarating.

  ***

  Juliette had been surprised when Sebastian walked into the brothel and asked to speak to her. She didn’t know if Giselle had angered him in some way, but thought it unlucky. Sebastian was one of those men that kept to himself, didn’t make unusual demands of the girls and paid promptly.

  He was not known to be a troublemaker and held the esteemed position of secretary to the Duke of Dorset, the British ambassador to France. Though he was handsome and had his pick of women, he seemed to take one woman at a time and never became too entangled.

  So when he asked for her, Juliette thought there might be some special party that he wanted several girls to attend. Instead, he had come to her small salon on the ground floor in the large three-story townhouse and taken her into his arms.

  She had at first been shocked and then stunned. She had felt his hands on her face and his kiss had been deep and searching. She felt herself awaken and then he had taken her swiftly on the couch in front of the fire.

  Juliette had not expected this of him. The only time they had coupled before had been very brief and had not been repeated. She felt that he was a man that she could fall in love with and she didn’t want to. She wanted to remain aloof and distant, and it was for this reason that she did not bed the men in the brothel.

  In the past there had been lovers and she had always made certain that there was not to be any mention of love or commitment. Her brothel was everything to her and that was enough.

  She had fallen deeply in love once before and a daughter had been the result. The daughter was educated at a nearby convent and Juliette was content to never repeat the situation with another man.

  But now Juliette was worried. Sebastian was a handsome man with a quiet intelligence that she admired. He was not the braggart type and she knew he was admired by men and women alike. If this liaison was to continue, she would make certain that no serious attachments would be allowed.

  In the meantime, she would allow him the use of her body. She enjoyed lovemaking and he was a skilled lover.

  ”Why me?” she asked quietly in the dark. She had turned on her side to see him lying on his back.

  Their second coupling of the evening had been long and drawn-out. She had climaxed several times and now they both lay together in bed, naked and exhausted amidst the bedclothes.

  “You’re a lovely woman, Juliette,” he said, staring at the ceiling and then turning his head to look at her.

  “Thank you.”

  “I think you and I will suit,” he explained.

  Juliette waited to hear more.

  “I can’t have any entanglements. I need a woman who understands this,” he spoke quietly.

  “And I do.” Juliette knew that Giselle was young and pretty but also clingy. That would not do for a man like Sebastian.

  “Then nothing more need be said,” he concluded.

  “I’ll speak to Giselle,” she offered.

  His hand moved along her curves, settling onto her upper thigh. She moved onto her back and he was moving on top of her, pressing into her.

  “Bash,” she murmured into his ear as he filled her completely.

  ***

  Sophie woke to the sounds of the house stirring. She heard the maid moving along the corridor and she jumped out of bed. She pulled her long auburn hair up and then secured it with two large mother-of-pearl combs.

  Once that was done, she seated herself at her writing desk to complete the pamphlet. She remembered where she had left off the evening before and immediately picked up from there.

  She felt the satisfaction of the quill pen scratching along the linen paper as her thoughts formed into words.

  Later in the morning, she summoned Marie to her. Marie was a little older than herself but not flippant and silly as some maids could be. She kept to herself and didn’t gossip, and Sophie knew she could trust her. She handed the folded pages to her and gave similar instructions as before. She was to deliver these papers to Monsieur Blanche and wait to see if he had any orders to return to her.

  Marie knew that this pamphlet was to have been written by a “cousin” and she would offer no additional words on the matter to the printer. The man nodded and left her young mistress to perform her errand.

  Sophie wanted to look her best for tea that afternoon with Madame Necker, Germaine and her grandmother. She chose a caramel-colored silk dress with a square neckline and elbow-length sleeves. The full skirt was draped in front and pulled back to reveal a cream-colored petticoat with swirls. She wore a delicate pearl necklace and her ivory-colored silk shoes with a square heel.

  Her grandmother was wearing a lavender gown of similar style with her hair powdered in the old style. She wore several rings on her hands and a necklace. She enjoyed her jewelry and loved showing it off.

  Eugenie quietly eyed her granddaughter standing in the hallway with her small beaded purse before she declared, “Bon.”

  Sophie stared back at the older woman. “As you picked out the color and the style, I can’t imagine what would be wrong with it,” Sophie tartly replied.

  The carriage ride was brief and they were soon at Madame Necker’s home, descending from the steps of the carriage. They were ushered into a beautiful room decorated in blue and gold.

  Madame Necker joined them shortly and, dressed in a peach silk gown, she greeted them warmly.

  “My dear Sophie, Madame Gauvreau,” she spoke to each woman kissing them on both cheeks. “Please sit.” She indicated a small couch covered in cream damask.

  A beautiful Limoges tea set was placed before them on a low table and Suzanne poured out three cups, asking her guests if they would like milk and sugar. The teacups were painted purple with yellow flowers and a gold handle. Each cup had a matching saucer and the large pot was decorated the same. Eugenie asked for milk and Sophie declined both.

  “My daughter had an engagement this morning that slipped her mind. Hopefully she will join us shortly,” Madame Necker explained, handing the first teacup and saucer to Eugenie, who placed it gently before her.

  She handed another cup and saucer to Sophie and took the third for herself.

  The maid entered the room again, carrying a large tray. From the tray she placed before the three ladies a plate filled with freshly baked scones, a dish of clotted cream, a dish of lemon curd, and three small plates, as well as linen napkins and knives.

  “Please,” Madame Necker said, indicating the scones.

  The scones were warm and Sophie placed one on a plate, slicing it in half and putting cream and lemon curd onto the baked item. She placed the napkin on her lap and bit into the warm scone. It was heavenly.

  “I understand Monsieur Necker and my son are colleagues,” Eugenie began.

  Though she understood her son held a position of esteem with the Ferme générale, she did not understand the intricacies of it and did not care to. Unlike her educated granddaughter, Eugenie preferred to remain ignorant and allow men, with what she considered their superior brains, to run France.

  “Yes, that is so, Madame Gauvreau. My husband, as director general of finance, would be in contact with your son at the Ferme générale.”

  Eugenie smiled at this thought. “Jacques and Jean Pierre are a great comfort to us, no?” she said as she took a warm scone.

  Sophie finished her first scone and wished her grandmother would not pry.

  Though Jacques benefitted greatly from his wife being a leading salonist in Paris, he also disliked the bluestocking authors she supported. It
caused a rift between the couple, who saw things quite differently.

  Though Madame Necker’s name was well known among the salons as an intellectual, she had founded a hospital in Paris called the Necker Hospital. Sophie knew that she was a woman who was devoted to those around her and was a stimulating influence. Sophie’s only wish was that she had been invited to tea alone. Perhaps then she might have turned the conversation back to her pamphlet.

  Young, vivacious Germaine came into the room at that moment and kissed her mother on both cheeks, apologizing for her tardiness.

  “It’s quite all right, my dear. We were just getting acquainted,” Madame Necker said to her daughter, pouring the fourth cup of tea as Germaine settled next to her mother on the couch.

  “What were you talking about?” Germaine inquired of the small group. “Were you talking about that pamphlet?”

  Eugenie blinked in complete ignorance while Madame Necker shook her head. “No. We were speaking of your father and Sophie’s father.”

  Germaine waved a hand at the group. “Oh, bother them. A pamphlet written about women’s rights by a woman is much more interesting.”

  Germaine was young but she was educated as her mother had seen fit and her mind was quick and bright.

  “I thought you of all people would enjoy the pamphlet, Mère. Your salon is full of such intellectuals.”

  “Well, we still don’t know for certain if the pamphlet was indeed written by a woman,” Madame Necker said as she sipped her tea.

  “Of course we do. Jean Unknown and women’s rights? It is the work of a woman,” Germaine said firmly.

  Eugenie was confused by the conversation. “What pamphlet is this?”

  “One that everyone is talking about,” Madame Necker explained to the older woman.

  “It’s about women’s rights and we think a woman wrote it,” Germaine said, smiling happily.

  Eugenie sniffed. “How disgraceful.”

  Germaine’s face fell. “Why is that?”

  “My dear, women’s rights already exist. They have the sphere of the home and of the family. Everything else is the province of men,” Eugenie said.