“You should not be discussing his lordship’s affairs,” Sophie said, her tone far too severe. “Or mine for that matter.” She took a deep breath to settle her pounding heart and began fussing with Amy’s cravat in a bid to focus on anything other than the women who’d shared Dane’s bed. “Now,” she continued, taking a step back in order to study her protégé. “Do you have your pocket watch?”
Amy fiddled around in her pocket, casting Sophie a satisfied smile when she managed to pull the watch out without dropping it.
“Wait with Madame Labelle for ten minutes. Then direct her to the carriage and Haines will transport her to Leicester Square,” Sophie instructed. “I shall be waiting near the gate at the east entrance.”
“What shall I do once she’s gone?” Amy asked as she chewed on her fingernail like a girl half her age.
“You must wait for Haines to return and he will bring you home.” There was no need for the girl to worry. Haines would not want to leave her alone for too long. The man would probably thrust his bare hand in a brazier to ensure her safety. Sophie reached for Amy’s hands and held them in hers. “Are you ready?”
Amy took a deep breath. “Yes, miss,” she nodded, still looking rather sheepish.
Dane and Haines were waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Sophie and Amy sauntered down, dressed like two young dandies about town. Dane paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back, whilst Haines stood in the corner like a disgruntled bear.
On hearing the soft patter of footsteps, they both looked up and although Sophie tried her utmost to avoid Dane’s gaze, her eyes were drawn to his by a compulsion she could not control.
The more time she spent in his company, the more she was able to determine his mood. Even with his mask firmly in place, she was aware of every unconscious movement, the restless flexing of his fingers, the straightening of his cravat, the conceited curl of his lips she’d so often mistaken for vanity, but which she now knew he used to disguise the true nature of his feelings. Just when she felt she was beginning to understand the man, she discovered yet another reason to question his character.
In truth, he posed the perfect contradiction.
He had assumed responsibility for her, put his own plans aside to assist her, and even risked his own life to save Charlotte. Then, like the flip of a coin, he revealed another side of himself. The side that cavorted with women, the side capable of showing complete disregard for his people and his estate. It was all rather perplexing. How could she despise him yet at the same time love him with an overwhelming passion?
When they reached the bottom stair, Sophie guided Amy forward. “May I present Mr. Shandy’s counterpart, Mr. Dunstable,” she announced, choosing to sound jovial. Both men looked as though someone had just died.
Amy sniggered at the introduction, but Haines and Dane assumed a restrained silence. Haines struggled to raise his gaze from the floor. While Dane held his jaw so rigid, he looked as though he was about to murder someone with his bare hands.
“Miss Beaufort,” Dane said, “may I have a moment.” Moving to slip his hand around her back, he drew her further along the hall, away from prying eyes and ears. The warmth radiating from his palm made her legs tremble and her heart skip a beat. “I believe it would be best if I were to meet with Madame Labelle,” he whispered. “I am sure she would have no objection and —”
“She has not asked to meet with you,” Sophie interrupted, feeling a little annoyed at the way he tried to control every situation. She would not be manipulated like one of his mistresses. “She specifically asked to meet with me. The sooner we verify what happened to James at Labelles, the closer we shall be to finding out where he’s gone.” And the sooner I can go home and try to forget about you, she added silently. “Besides, I need to confirm she has a connection to Dampierre and I doubt she would talk to you about such things.”
“And you believe she will talk to Mr. Shandy,” he sneered. “If Dampierre is a partner in the investment company that owns Labelles, then he owns her, too. Her loyalties lie with him. Don’t be fooled by her friendly overtures. She has been schooled in the art of deception.” He leaned forward and said somewhat brutally, “It is simple, Dampierre wants the necklace as compensation for the girl and he will use you to get it.”
He had a way of making her feel like a fool, just like he had six years ago. Sophie took a step back and straightened her coat. “Well, we will not know for certain unless I meet with Madame Labelle.”
Some thirty minutes later, Sophie entered the square on the east side and sauntered up and down the gravel path. She had already tipped her hat to two young ladies, who had blushed and sniggered at each other as she passed. She had even stopped to admire a baby, being pushed in a perambulator by his nurse. Which was probably not something a young gentleman was prone to do, but the baby had been so adorable Sophie had found it impossible to resist. She wondered what Dane was thinking as he watched her from the window of number eight: a rather grand townhouse owned by a merchant who was apparently indebted to the Marquess of Danesfield and who had seemed most pleased to have a gentleman of such prominence use his home.
Distracted by the baby, she had not noticed Dane’s unmarked carriage draw up alongside the square. Nor had she noticed its passenger alight until the tip of a vibrant green ostrich feather almost tickled her nose.
“What a beautiful baby,” Madame Labelle said as she linked arms with Sophie and stared into the perambulator.
After complementing the nurse, who still seemed slightly shocked that such respected personage should disregard propriety and converse with her in public, they moved along the path as though they had just nipped out for a leisurely stroll.
Sophie turned to see Madame Labelle. Dressed in a poison-green muslin dress, coupled with a black-cherry Spencer and matching pillar-box hat, she was so exquisitely dressed she could have passed for the daughter of a duke.
“Did you have an interesting time with Amy?” Sophie said, wondering if the maid had pl
ucked up the courage to ask any questions.
“Was that her name? What a darling. She was so shy I could hardly get a word out of her.” She paused and inhaled deeply. “I’m pleased to say, your coat smells so much better than your girl’s coat. I could not decide if it smelt of dog with a hint of lavender or the other way around.”
Sophie offered her a weak smile. “I’m sorry you were obliged to sit with Amy, but you know the danger I am placing myself in just by meeting with you today.”
Madame Labelle raised a brow. “I take it you are not referring to your scrupulous reputation, Mr. Shandy.”
“No,” Sophie replied rather bluntly, for as much as she liked Madame Labelle there was no doubt she was involved in these iniquitous events. “I am referring to your connection to the Comte de Dampierre.”
It was as though the mere mention of Dampierre caused Madame Labelle to turn to stone. Her body became stiff and rigid; her carefree countenance replaced with a cold, stern disposition. She stopped and turned to face Sophie, the vivacious sparkle in her eyes now diminished to a spiritless stare.
“You must not trifle with him,” she pleaded. “You do not know what he is capable of.”