The Sheik's Son Page 6

  “You mean he kisses strange women in the park without asking?”

  Sebastian shook his head at the girl’s sharp tongue. “Sophie—”

  “Excuse me.” The line had reached the front. She received her cup and saucer filled with tea as requested, and returned to the table with Germaine.

  ***

  Lizette Robidoux was very different from her dear friend Sophie. She wasn’t intellectual like Sophie, nor as beautiful. With her dark blonde hair and brown eyes she was pretty, but not very tall so she was prone to chubbiness and her fondness for sweets didn’t help.

  But she was kind and giving and adored Sophie. Sophie in turn was very fond of Lizette and they had been friends since girlhood.

  “Was the cricket game interesting?” Lizette asked.

  Sophie pondered the question, wondering how much should she tell her. She knew Lizette wasn’t a gossip but if it got back to her grandmother, she would be forever locked inside the house. She could still feel Sebastian’s hand on her neck and his mouth covering hers. In line for tea he had called her by name. It was all very disconcerting.

  “It was quite boring,” she said, deciding a little lie was best.

  Lizette nodded. “I thought so. And the duke?”

  “He asked me to dinner.”

  “No!” Lizette’s brown eyes widened.

  “Yes, Lizette. He did. And before you get all worked up, Grand-mère is coming with me.”

  Lizette nodded. “Of course she would. Your grandmother is always proper. She follows the rules.”

  Sophie agreed. “Yes, unfortunately she does.”

  “What does that mean?” Lizette asked.

  “Nothing. It’s just that change is in the air. I can feel it. And she would prefer nothing ever changes,” Sophie complained.

  Lizette helped herself to another small iced cake. “Well, change is hard so she prefers to live in the past.”

  “Yes, you are correct, of course.”

  “Will you attend anymore of Madame Necker’s salons?” Lizette asked.

  Though she did not read the most esteemed writers of the day, Lizette was aware of them through Sophie. Her father was a well-known and respected doctor. He was good friends with Sophie’s father, which was how the two women had met.

  “I do hope so, Lizette. The people, the conversations are all so dizzying.”

  “And your second pamphlet is out. I heard my father speaking of it,” she spoke quietly.

  Only Lizette and Marie knew of Sophie’s writings and they were both sworn to secrecy. Sophie knew that Lizette would remain steadfast and never betray her.

  “Really?” Sophie asked excitedly.

  “Yes. But not in a good way, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t understand why women’s rights are so frightening for everyone to grasp. Why?” she asked heatedly as the door opened to admit Eugenie, clad in an orange silk gown.

  Eugenie joined the two young women at the table. “Dear Lizette. How are you?” she asked, eyeing the simple white gown she wore.

  “I am well, Madame Gauvreau.”

  “Bon. What on earth were you shouting for, Sophie? Quite unladylike.”

  “I wasn’t shouting, Grand-mère. I was simply explaining the cricket game and all we saw to Lizette.”

  Eugenie relaxed. “Oh, yes, my dear. It was quite exciting.”

  Eugenie had spent almost the entire time inside the tent gossiping with her friend, but everyone who had asked her about the game received the same response.

  “Yes. Quite exciting. And now the duke has asked Sophie to dine with him,” Eugenie said, smiling and eyeing her granddaughter critically. She was clad in a peach-colored gown that suited her complexion and hair, though the scooped neckline was too low for Eugenie’s taste.

  Lizette nodded but Sophie spoke. “I have heard the duke has quite the reputation with ladies.”

  Eugenie was pouring herself a cup of tea and stopped midway. “What was that?”

  “Yes. He’s known as quite the womanizer. In fact, there is group of gentlemen that surround him—friends I believe—and they call them Dorset’s Devils.” Sophie wiped away a crumb from her peach skirt.

  “Mon Dieu!” Eugenie exclaimed. “Where do you pick up these things?”

  Sophie was about to explain that she read the scandal sheets, but she kept her tongue.

  “It is unseemly. It is not ladylike to discuss such things.” Eugenie placed the teapot down and stood.

  “So it’s perfectly acceptable for men to do such things, but I shouldn’t speak of them,” Sophie stated.

  “Oui. Exactement. Men have needs and we do not discuss them in polite society. You will be a wife and mother one day. That is enough.” Eugenie was upset by her granddaughter’s inability to hold her tongue, and in front of company, no less.

  Sophie shook her head. “No, Grand-mère. That is not enough.”

  “Excuse me, Lizette. I have a headache coming on. Give my regards to your parents.” Eugenie swept from the room, giving Sophie a harsh look.

  “Sophie, why do you torture her?” Lizette asked.

  “She thinks because he is a duke that he is a perfect male specimen. But he is flawed, as most men are. And that in itself isn’t the worst part. She hides these things and pretends all is well. It’s hypocritical.” Sophie stood near the window, watching the horse and carriages drive by.

  “You should be more understanding,” her friend coaxed.

  “And now she’ll tell Father. And then Father will talk to me.” Sophie sighed. “Why? Because I made a perfectly legitimate statement.”

  Lizette rolled her eyes. Though Sophie spoke the truth, she tormented her grandmother often because they were two such different people.

  “Lizette, I don’t truly want to be mean or cruel to her,” Sophie said softly. “I just want her to see life as it is. I love her. But we are so different it’s like talking to someone from China.”

  “Sophie. It is her life. Yours is a different life. And I imagine 50 years from now it will be the same with you and your granddaughter,” Lizette replied, devouring her third iced cake.

  “Since when did you become so all-knowing?” Sophie said, turning to her friend with a smile.

  Lizette smiled back. “You are rubbing off on me, I suppose.”

  ***

  Later, Sophie’s father summoned her to his library, but it wasn’t to admonish her. He had been invited to Madame Necker’s and the invitation expressly asked for Mademoiselle Gauvreau as well.

  “May I?” she asked, excited.

  “Of course, my dear. Although it did not mention her, I will ask your grandmother as well.”

  Sophie nodded, though she knew Eugenie would not want to attend. She was correct.

  ***

  That evening Sophie dressed in a deep forest-green silk gown with a sage-green petticoat. The scooped neckline and elbow-length sleeves were embroidered with fine threads of brown that made a lovely contrast. She wore a simple pearl necklace her father had gifted to her on her eighteenth birthday. She had matching drop-pearl earrings, which she wore as well.

  When she came downstairs to see her father dressed in dark breeches and a matching coat she thought he looked handsome and distinguished. His hair was clubbed with a black ribbon while his shoes were black and his hose white.

  Jean Pierre saw his daughter descending the stairs and was taken aback. She looked so much like his dear departed wife he struggled for the words.

  “My dear, you look quite charming,” he said softly.

  “Thank you, Papa.” Sophie smiled faintly under the compliment.

  She had Marie dress her hair simply with much of it pinned back, leaving one long curl hanging free. It was the style and she approved of it.

  “Come.” Jean Pierre led her outside to the waiting carriage.

  ***

  The salon that evening was a mixture of many different rooms, as Sophie and her father saw once they entered Madame Necker’s home. One
room was dedicated to the game of billiards and several men were enjoying a friendly game, though she didn’t see their faces.

  In another room several tables had been set up for gambling, which was rampant in Paris and was even entrenched within the royal family at Versailles. People could lose vast sums in one sitting and even cause ruin to a family.

  Beautiful candlesticks adorned the tables; several people were seated in elaborate chairs around a mahogany gaming table. Other people were standing nearby eyeing the players and their deft card moves with drinks in hand.

  Sophie saw the intricately designed cards being dealt and the players who concealed their hands by giving nothing away on their faces. One player was a lady dressed in an elaborate gown of gold with a scooped neckline cut very low across her breasts. Her hair was powdered in the old style and a beauty mark adorned her pale left cheek.

  She was not attractive. She had a long nose and face, but her eyes glinted in the low candlelight and Sophie had the feeling from her grim smile that she was a very skilled player.

  Sophie saw the porcelain gaming chips scattered across the table and almost shuddered. So much could be gained or lost in one sitting. She wondered whether it was it really worth it.

  Across from the gold lady sat an elderly man in a purple brocade coat with gold embroidery along the cuffs and down the front. He had a lacy cravat that engulfed his throat and his wig was frizzy and ill-kept. He eyed the table with such manic concentration that Sophie feared for him—he must be betting a fortune.

  Sophie knew her father never gambled, and she certainly did not. Her grandmother would have had an apoplectic fit if Sophie ever dared gamble. Several men and women gathered in yet another room where she heard the words “government,” “monarch” and “nationalism” and knew she had found her room.

  She excused herself from her father to join Madame Necker and several other men, two of whom she recognized as Marmontel and La Harpe from the last salon. She passed quickly by the billiards room as she went.

  ***

  “We don’t have all night,” Andrew complained as he watched his two friends play against each other in a friendly game of billiards.

  Sebastian waited patiently with his cue as his friend Etienne surveyed the table to make the best move possible.

  “All right, gents. I’m going to find myself a drink.” Andrew strolled out, leaving Etienne and Sebastian to finish their game.

  As Sebastian idly watched Andrew leave the room, a woman in green passed by the door as well. He watched her walk into another room and recognized the auburn-haired Sophie.

  “I entirely agree with the brash Holland. Let’s finish this game,” Sebastian told the Frenchman.

  Etienne, always the quiet, easygoing one, shrugged his shoulders. “It makes no difference to me at all, Bash. I thought we were to enjoy a game. If you’d prefer we do something else, then let us away.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “Let’s finish the game. I have two pounds riding on this and I want my money, old man.”

  Etienne laughed. “But it’s already warming my pocket, mon ami.”

  Soon, after Sebastian had won the game, the two men went in search of refreshments.

  A small room at the back of the home featured several long tables burdened with enough food to feed a small army. There was a large tureen of rice soup with sizeable platters of beef and cabbage, mutton cutlets, rabbit on skewers, suckling pig and veal. Smaller platters of fruits included strawberries, apricots, peaches, and pears, along with custards as well as a small variety of cheeses.

  Large crystal bowls of lemonade sat next to bottles of red wine and porcelain pots filled with coffee and tea. Cups and saucers were placed next to wine glasses for guests to serve themselves.

  Each man helped himself to a plate of food while Andrew joined them holding a drink in his hand.

  “Who won?” Andrew asked, sipping a glass of gin.

  Etienne smiled with good humor. “Who do you think?”

  Sebastian patted his pocket. “I’ll put it to good use.”

  Andrew shook his head. “I never play against him, Etienne. I’m not sure why you do. A glutton for punishment.”

  Etienne didn’t mind the ribbing from his friends. “One day my luck will turn.”

  “Absolutely mon ami. In the meantime, I’m more than happy to relieve you of your purse,” Bash said, smiling.

  Just then, framed in the door was a beautiful woman with dark, luscious dark brown hair and blue eyes. Etienne felt his heart thud inside his chest. He was sure he had never seen her before, though there was something vaguely familiar about her.

  Sebastian saw his friend staring behind him and turned. He grimaced and then beckoned to the young woman.

  She wore a dress of deep purple and dark blue, which emphasized her hair and eyes. The square neckline was modest and she wore a delicate diamond necklace and diamond drop earrings.

  “Hello, Sebastian.” She smiled at the two men behind him.

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “Leila.”

  He detested playing nursemaid and chaperone to his baby sister, but his father had entrusted her to him and he would fulfill his duty.

  “Andrew, Etienne, this is my sister Leila.” He watched each man place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand and sighed. She was too beautiful to be let loose in Paris.

  Etienne bent over Leila’s hand in awe of her. He had been so struck by her standing in the doorway that he had wanted to go to her. But he had waited, wanting to remain cool and calm.

  When Sebastian had introduced them, Etienne had thought that she was yet another one of his friend’s mistresses. But no. It was even worse. She was his sister. Nothing could be worse. He could not approach her or do anything to be near her. Sebastian would kill him, and could he blame him? There was no future with the exotic beauty.

  Sebastian watched his friends behave entirely appropriately with his sister, which was just as he expected.

  “Can you keep an eye on Leila?” Sebastian whispered quietly to Etienne as Leila made a plate of food for herself.

  Etienne groaned inwardly. Jesus. “Of course. If you wish.”

  “Thank you. You know what these salons can be like sometimes,” Sebastian said.

  Etienne eyed him. “Ummm. Yes. I think we both know.”

  Bash nodded. “Then keep an eye on her for me.”

  Etienne nodded in reply, but as he watched the luscious Leila saunter back to them he thought only one thing: trouble.

  Chapter 7

  Madame Necker raised her voice and was almost insulted. “You can’t be serious!”

  The argument had become quite heated and at the heart of the argument was Sophie’s pamphlet. Madame Necker and Germaine were only too happy to champion it and Sophie was delighted. But several other gentlemen did not and were happy to argue their point.

  “What more can a woman want than to be mistress of her own home and mother to her children?” Monsieur Gerard argued.

  Several men around them murmured their approval and Madame Necker’s cheeks burned hotly under the candles of the chandelier.

  “A woman may want more from life, Monsieur Gerard.” Sophie spoke quietly at first. She was new to the salon and many didn’t even know her name.

  “You are so young, my dear. I’m sure your father will marry you off, and well, and then you will see,” the man replied.

  Sebastian had come into the doorway and was listening to the conversation with interest. He crossed his arms over his chest nonchalantly.

  “Thank you, monsieur. I’m sure my father would look after me very well, and does. However, my husband or lack of will be my choice. If I don’t wish to marry, then I won’t marry.” Her words were quiet but forceful.

  Sebastian watched Sophie’s face in the candlelight and recalled the kiss in the rain. He licked his bottom lip, remembering her mark on him.

  “Bah! What nonsense! Who is your father? I will speak to him,” said Gerard to the assembled
people, amidst several snickers.

  “He is in the other room and you are most certainly welcome to speak to him. But he will not be swayed, and more importantly, neither will I,” Sophie retorted.

  “See? This is what happens when women have ideas beyond their sex. You seem to be quite a handful, my dear,” Monsieur Gerard said. “All sorts of nonsense will start spinning around in that lovely head of yours.”

  “I thank you for the compliment, but lovely or not I will marry for love and someone of an equal—or not at all. And no one will force me otherwise.” Sophie tilted her head up.

  Monsieur Gerard shook his head. “Quite the handful,” he muttered.

  Sophie moved away from him and his cronies and went near the fire to warm her hands and calm her passionate nature. These men were no different than her grandmother in their thoughts and beliefs, but to have people publicly tell her that she would marry whomever her father deemed appropriate with no thought to her own feelings seemed absurd.

  She felt it was an insult to assume women were merely chattel to be used for birthing children and no thoughts or feelings resided inside them.

  “I understand there are great pleasures to be found in marriage,” Sebastian whispered.

  Sophie whirled around to find Sebastian standing beside her. His intimate use of the word “pleasures” and his insinuation was best ignored. “Monsieur Fairfax is like a bad penny.”

  Sebastian took the reference in stride and smiled. He looked very handsome in a dark merlot-colored coat and brown breeches with a white waistcoat. The colors brought out his handsome features and the wool fabrics set him apart from the dandies in the room dressed in silks and pastels.

  His dark brown hair was clubbed and he wore no powder or beauty mark on his face. In fact, she could no more imagine Sebastian with a beauty mark than she could her father. He was a masculine man.

  “While you, Mademoiselle Sophie, are certainly aware that the green of your dress brings out your eyes and complements your hair very well,” he said, speaking lowly.

  Sophie blushed under the secretary’s scrutiny and tried to bite her tongue with a tart reply. She chose to respond cordially. “You look well also.”