by Clee, Adele
In an attempt to disguise the feeling of utter disappointment at not having Dane to herself, at not being able to leave her room and go to him for fear of being discovered, Sophie assumed the same confused expression as her brother and Annabel.
“Oh, I’m afraid you cannot leave,” Dane continued as though guessing their thoughts. “Dampierre has had a man watching this house for the last few days. He will have seen you enter.”
James thumped the arm of the chair with his fist and muttered something incoherent. “If I had known that …” he began.
“What? You would not have bothered knocking,” Dane interrupted with a smug grin. “I’m afraid it is a little late. Perhaps it’s time to discuss our options. But I should warn you, there is really only one logical solution to the problem.”
“I cannot give him the necklace,” James announced with a steely look in his eye.
Dane smiled. “I do not want you to give him the necklace and considering the fact I’m prepared to purchase it for … oh, at least double its market value, then that is clearly no longer an option.”
James frowned and pursed his lips. “Why would you do that?”
Dane did not reply immediately. “I was forced to part with all but one of my family’s heirlooms and so the necklace would be a welcome addition. Besides,” he shrugged, “I find it extremely pleasing to the eye.”
Sophie felt a sudden stab of resentment, for she knew what such a declaration truly meant. At some point in the future, she would be forced to see her necklace draped around his wife’s neck.
James’ lips curved into the beginnings of a smile, but he did not fully commit. “Then I shall look forward to hearing what you think it is worth,” he countered.
What! Sophie screamed silently. Why had neither of them stopped for a moment to consider how she might feel about it? It was one thing to give it to Dampierre in exchange for Annabel’s freedom — Sophie could live with that. But to sell it to Dane so he could start some new tradition with his new wife … well, she would have to do something about that. Perhaps she could steal it and persuade Dampierre to accept it.
As she sat in quiet contemplation, Sophie’s mischievous eyes drifted towards Dane and then to her brother, whose countenance, for some unknown reason, had suddenly altered, his expression darkening.
Dane’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I believe you have just realised there is only one option open to us,” he said confidently, his eyes fixed firmly on James. “And so the question we must answer now is … which one of us will kill the Comte de Dampierre.”
Chapter 24
Three pairs of wide eyes stared at Sebastian in disbelief.
“There is no other way,” he said, his tone merciless. “Even if you were to speak up and make a complaint, we cannot be sure those in office are trustworthy.”
He watched as James sank his head into his hands, knowing the truth in Sebastian’s words and knowing he was the one duty-bound to perform the wicked task. Sebastian would not let him do it, of course. He would find some way to extricate him from his obligation and carry out the task himself.
“But that’s not the only reason,” he continued. “As you rightly said, you cannot allow your wife to be drawn into such a scandal. Equally, we cannot stand aside and allow such a fate to befall another innocent woman.”
There was a moment of silence while they all appeared to consider his words.
“But … but you know what it will mean if we are caught,” James stammered.
“We will not hang if that’s what you’re implying,” Sebastian countered.
Sebastian’s words were met with a sharp intake of breath. He looked to the sofa, to Annabel, who was sitting with her hand plastered to her mouth, and to Sophie, who appeared to be listening intently and did not seem the least bit alarmed by his callous words.
Sophie would make an excellent marchioness, he thought. They would have strong sons and spirited daughters. The more, the merrier. He doubted he would be able to keep his hands off her once he had her all to himself.
“Besides, we will all have an alibi,” Sebastian added with a look of smug satisfaction. “Dampierre has been kind enough to provide us with the perfect opportunity.”
As his gaze met Sophie’s, she was looking back at him with some fascination. “You mean we are to attend the masquerade ball after all?” Her speech was slow and deliberate, almost seductive, stimulating the fine hairs on his nape and he was forced to divert his thoughts away from a more intimate direction and refocus on the task at hand.
“I have never been to a masquerade,” Annabel added dreamily. Obviously, it had not occurred to her that the whole reason for attending was to commit murder.
“Believe me, they are over-rated,” Sebastian replied with a lack of enthusiasm. “There is nothing remotely exciting about dancing with someone who has the hands of a temptress, only to discover at midnight they have the face of a duck.”
He walked over to the side table, poured himself a brandy, lifted an empty glass and gestured to James, who nodded.
Taking the drink, James drained the glass and handed it back to Sebastian. “If you’re serious about this, then I cannot allow the ladies to attend,” James said shaking his head and ignoring Annabel’s disgruntled sigh.
It was as though Sebastian had just received another blow to the stomach, a fatal wound to his masculine pride. In his opinion, Sophie was his responsibility. The thought of any other man, even her own brother, laying claim to her, controlling her …
The woman in question rose from her seat, walked over to the hearth to stand at his side. She folded her arms across her chest and the simple act of defiance caused his heart to swell.
“I’m afraid I must attend,” she began, her words short and clipped. “Dampierre has given specific instructions and he will know if I am not there. I believe I can distract him sufficiently in order to get the deed done.”
“It is not your choice to make,” James replied arrogantly.
Sebastian was suddenly relieved he was only a spectator in this bout. But he knew who he would put his money on.
Moving her hands to her hips, Sophie arched a brow. “I have entertained the Comte de Dampierre in your study,” she said fiercely. “I have stared into his lifeless eyes, felt his cold, clammy hands on my skin. I have felt the tip of his sword against my throat.”
Sebastian stiffened. “You did not tell me about that,” he whispered through clenched teeth. He wondered what else she had omitted to tell him.
“So,” she continued haughtily. “I think I have earned the right to decide what is best. It is my choice and mine alone.”
As James shot to his feet, the chair close to tipping over with the force, Sebastian could not decide if his tortured expression was due to anger or shame.
Stepping forward, Sebastian placed a hand on his friends arm. “Before you say anything more, there is something I wish to discuss with you. Shall we step outside?”
Sebastian stepped in between them and James tilted his head to glare at his sister, before allowing Sebastian to steer him from the room.
As soon as they stepped out into the hall and closed the drawing room door, James whirled around to confront Sebastian. “If you are going to berate me for the way I have treated my own sister then do not bother,” James admonished with an element of vehemence, which Sebastian suspected was not entirely aimed at him and stemmed from a feeling of guilt. “Nothing you could say could possibly make me feel worse than I do at this moment,” he added, shoving his hand through his hair.
In response, Sebastian simply said, “Good.”
“How the hell was I to know Dampierre would travel all the way to Brampton Hall?”
“She could have been killed,” Sebastian replied with a low growl. The thought caused a searing pain in his chest. “She could have been the one locked in the room of that brothel.” Although knowing Sophie, she would have rallied all the girls together and found a way to take down Dampierre.
>
“Do you think I don’t know that,” James spat as he paced back and forth. “But you saw for yourself, she is so damn stubborn.”
Sebastian grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him further down the hall. “She is not safe until we dispose of Dampierre,” he whispered.
James appeared distressed. “It is one thing to unwittingly place someone you care for in danger, but to do so knowingly — you cannot ask that of me.”
In any other circumstance, Sebastian would have agreed with him. The thought of placing Sophie in any danger felt like a knife to his heart. But he truly believed that while Dampierre was alive, both ladies were in grave danger.
“Do you not think I feel the same? I want to marry her, James.”
James scoffed. “After the way you have behaved I would not be satisfied anything less. I still have an overwhelming desire to rip you limb from limb. But as you rightly said, that would make me a hypocrite. Perhaps I should be grateful to you for taking her off my hands. I’m sure by now you know what it is you’re letting yourself in for.”
Sebastian considered his words. As a young girl, Sophie had been bothersome, annoying, and persistent in her methods to engage his attention. As a woman, he found her captivating, bewitching, utterly enthralling. She was constantly in his thoughts, in his dreams. From the moment she had tumbled from her horse and into his arms, he had not been able to keep his hands off her. Indeed, he appeared to be in a constant state of arousal.
“I’m in love with her,” he blurted almost choking on the words, as it suddenly occurred to him that a life without her was not worth living.
James patted him on the shoulder, his mouth curved into a smile that suggested a level of empathy. “Once you are married, perhaps we should start a new club. One for men who are hopelessly in love with their wives.”
Sebastian scoffed. “Somehow, I have the feeling it may take more than a declaration to secure your sister’s hand.”
“How you choose to go about it is your affair, but I would see a ring on her finger,” he arched a brow, “and soon.”
Sebastian nodded in acquiesce. “Now, as to this matter of the masquerade,” he stopped abruptly, noting the disapproving look on James’ face. “Please, just listen to what I have to say,” he appealed. “Ask yourself this. If you could go back to that night at Labelles, walk away and erase it from your memory, would you do so? Knowing the danger you have placed us all in … would you … would you change it?”
James looked down at the floor as he considered the question. He glanced up at Sebastian, and with a deep sigh whispered, “No, I would not change a damn thing.”
Sebastian placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Then let us retire to the drawing room so I may tell you my plan.”
The following evening they were back in the drawing room, waiting for Sophie to dress for the masquerade. This time, James sat next to Annabel on the sofa, his arm draped around her shoulder, relating stories of Sophie’s childhood infatuation with Sebastian.
“She used to hide behind the curtain, just to hear his voice,” James chuckled. “You knew when she was there, for there was always one large eye peeking through the gap. But now look at him,” James continued, waving a hand in Sebastian’s direction. “It appears the roles are reversed and it is my poor friend who paces the floor, pining like a puppy.”
“I am not pining. I am simply eager to see what costume Dampierre wishes her to wear,” he countered. Although he could not deny that his mouth was dry with anticipation. A whole day had passed since he had last held her in his arms and both his mind and his body seemed to be persecuting him for the fact. “The design will reveal much in terms of Dampierre’s intentions and I must impress the memory into my mind. So I may find her if we are separated in the crush,” he added, pleased he could find a plausible reason to explain the desperate longing that consumed him and was obviously apparent to others.
“I hope you’re not expecting her to be able to find you,” James mocked, scanning his attire. “Half of the guests will be wearing the same black tricorn and domino.”
Sebastian sighed. That was the idea. He needed to be able to move about unnoticed. He wondered if Dampierre had considered that fact when he had chosen Sophie’s costume. Sophie had refused to let him see it, even when he had explained the practicality of his request.
“I believe you’ll look rather dangerous with your mask on,” Annabel said with a blush. “If I were wearing jewels, I might throw them at you for fear of my life.”
Sebastian shook his head at their joviality. Had they forgotten the purpose of the evening? Perhaps it was their way of dealing with anxiety, for James had been agitated when Sebastian had told him he must stay at home with Annabel. If they were discovered at the masquerade and their story revealed, then their guilt would be assumed.
“Speaking of jewels,” James said in a more serious tone, “I presume Sophie is wearing the necklace.”
“It is necessary in order to fool …”
As the drawing room door opened, all conversation ceased.
In walked what could only be described as an ethereal vision from a bygone era. James and Sebastian stood, their mouths hanging open in awe. Sebastian hardly recognised her.
Against the white powdered wig, which was woven with gold thread, her face was as pale as porcelain, enhancing the fullness of her rosy pink lips. The gown of red and gold taffeta was heavily boned. The deep, plunging neckline pushed up her breasts so they appeared as soft creamy-white mounds, so deliciously tempting that he could not take his eyes off them.
“Well, how do I look?” she asked, her eyes alight with excitement as she gave a little twirl and held the mask to her face.
Sebastian was afraid to speak for fear his voice would expose the depth of his arousal. Dampierre was not a stupid man. Sophie would be like a bright beacon in the crowd.
“You look so beautiful,” Annabel said clapping her hands in delight. “You look as though you should live in the palace of Versailles, with courtiers waving fans and bowing at your feet.”
Sophie met Sebastian’s gaze and she smiled. “Would you mind fastening this for me?” she asked holding out the necklace.
As she walked over to him, he held out his hand, hoping she would not notice the slight tremble in his fingers. She turned around, her long, elegant neck just inches from his lips and as he leaned forward to drape the necklace around her throat, his mouth brushed against her ear.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered as he imagined his hand wandering lower, dipping down into the front of her bodice to skim the soft flesh, to take the peak between his fingers and rub until she begged for relief. Her hand came up to her throat to hold the necklace in place and he took pleasure in the knowledge that her fingers were shaking, too.
With the clasp fastened, she moved to walk away, but he pulled her to his side, the fall of her gown disguising the hard length straining against his breeches.
James stood, walked over to his sister and kissed her on the cheek. “You look wonderful,” he said, his eyes flitting over her gown before settling on the ruby necklace. “I remember our mother wearing this,” he said, his words soft and tender, “but it looks even more spectacular on you. It seems to glisten more brightly and the rubies appear to be a richer shade of red. It is as though it was made for you.”
Sophie reached up and placed her hand on her brother’s cheek. “Thank you,” she muttered softly. There was a moment when she stared into her brother’s eyes as if she was considering how best to say goodbye, should she fail to return. “I am so pleased you’re safe and happy,” she said her voice brimming with emotion. “And do not worry. Dane will look after me.”
As Sophie moved to hug Annabel, Sebastian knew he was still not in any state one would call respectable. Perhaps because he had been having visions of her wearing the necklace. Only there were no clothes in his vision. He whipped his domino around him in such an exaggerated fashion it would have rec
eived a round of applause had he been on stage.
James walked over and gripped his shoulder. “Have a care,” he said, his face solemn as he stepped back. “Although you will not look half as dangerous if you continue to swirl your cape in such a fashion. You’ll have all the dandies queuing up for an encore.”
Chapter 25
Lord Delmont’s mansion house in Portman Square was a hive of activity, as carriage after carriage barged and jostled their way for a coveted place in the queue.
Sophie stared at the scene in wonder.
A warm, orange light blazed forth from every window, illuminating the parade of exotic guests: an oriental princess, a Greek goddess, a butterfly with life-size wings, who had all chosen to walk into the square rather than suffer any further delay.
“Lord Delmont is renowned for his extravagance,” Dane said with exasperation as he glanced out of the carriage window. “He is always seeking new and novel ways to amuse his guests and so I fear it will be rather a crush.”
He spoke with a jaded view of such events, Sophie noted, as though he took no pleasure from the normal pursuits sought by other members of the aristocracy.
“With no formal announcement being made, we will struggle to locate Dampierre,” he continued as he stared across at her, his gaze scanning her costume before settling on the ruby necklace. “Yet, he will know the exact moment we enter.”
Sophie liked the way he looked at her: the slow predatory gaze roaming over her from head to toe, warming her body and soul, even on a chilly night such as this. When his eyes lingered on the necklace, she felt triumphant. It did not matter who wore it now. She felt confident he would always associate it with her.
A part of her wanted to thank Dampierre. His costume had provided the means for her to show another side of herself: a more refined and sophisticated side. But, amongst all the excitement, she had almost forgotten the true purpose of the evening.