Courting Miss Vallois (21 page)

‘You said more than once,' Robert interrupted, his voice vibrating with anger, ‘that everyone had a history. Some histories are good, some contain secrets that are both dark and disturbing. Yours is just such a history, Oberon. And I intend to expose it for all the world to see.'

‘Expose me?' Oberon sneered. ‘My poor deluded friend, you don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Ah, but I do. Because I know what you've been doing. I know about your abominable treatment of Lawrence Welton and your attempts to cripple him by having him pour money into a phoney investment scheme. I also know that what you spend far exceeds your allowance and that you do, in fact, owe a great deal of money. Debts your father knows nothing about. Oh, yes, I've done my own bit of investigating,' Robert said, taking pleasure in watching the colour drain out of Oberon's face. ‘And when the world finds out what you've done, you
will
be a broken man.'

‘You've taken leave of your senses,' Oberon said, his expression growing uglier by the minute. ‘No one will believe you. And you certainly won't find anyone to corroborate your story.'

‘I don't need corroboration when I have proof. Proof that is safely in the hands of my lawyer even now.'

For the first time, Oberon faltered, a crack appearing in the smooth façade. ‘You're lying! No one knew what I was doing.'

‘Unfortunately for you, several people did,' Robert said. ‘And records
were
kept. Meticulous records, I might add.'

He knew the moment Oberon began to believe him. It was the same moment the snake reappeared, a desperate creature concerned only with its own survival. ‘Who told you?' he hissed. ‘Give me his name and we'll talk about my releasing Miss Vallois.'

Robert shook his head. ‘I'm afraid it isn't that simple. You see, crimes
have
been committed. The Scottish railway scheme for one. The California land deal for another.'

Oberon's face suddenly went a sickly shade of grey. ‘You're bluffing.'

‘Are you willing to bet your life on it?'

In an instant, it was over. The cocky, self-assured man was replaced by a quivering coward who knew the cards were stacked against him. Lady luck had turned—and she had turned with a vengeance. ‘What do you want?' Oberon growled.

‘Write a note. Two lines will suffice,' Robert said, ‘agreeing to release Miss Vallois from her promise and guaranteeing that you will never contact her again. Write the same letter to Lord and Lady Longworth. I will deliver them both this evening.'

‘And if I refuse?'

‘You won't.' Robert got to his feet and signalled for the butler to bring pen and paper. ‘You will also place a notice in
The Times
, announcing that the engagement between you and Miss Vallois is over.'

‘And if I do all that,' Oberon asked petulantly, ‘what is my fate to be?'

‘That is for the authorities to decide. I'm sure your father will intervene on your behalf and no doubt he will succeed in getting your sentence reduced. But given what is likely to be revealed about your dealings with others, you may not wish to remain long in London.'

The butler placed parchment and a quill on the table. With a visible display of irritation, Oberon began to write. ‘Anything else?'

‘Yes. Strike the entry from the betting book,' Robert said. ‘The Mistress Wager is now officially and for ever at an end.'

 

Sophie heard a carriage draw to a halt in the street outside the house just before ten o'clock that evening and went rigid with apprehension. Surely Oberon had not come to gloat. Surely he would have the decency to leave her in peace on this, her final evening as a single woman.

She heard the sharp rap of the brass knocker and then the sound of footsteps as Banyon went to answer the door. Muffled conversation followed, followed by more footsteps, and then still more muffled conversation.

She waited for what seemed an eternity for the drawing-room door to open. Ten minutes later when the mantel clock chimed the hour and the drawing-room door still remained closed, Sophie sank into the nearest chair, relieved beyond measure that the visitor had not come to see her.

How tragic her life had become that she should so desperately fear the thought of callers. That the sound of a carriage should set her nerves on edge. This, truly,
was what it was to live in fear. And tomorrow, that fear would take on an entirely new dimension. Tomorrow she would become the wife of Montague Oberon and lose all rights to how she led her life. She would be expected to do as her husband bid. Go where her husband directed. Say what her husband told her to say. Without thought. Without will. Without choice.

In short, her life would become purgatory. It would have to, for Oberon didn't love her. The expression of disgust on his face had been more than enough to convince her of his true sentiments. Lust would remain, as would the need to chastise and control, but there would be nothing of the gentler emotions in their marriage. No affection. No respect. No forgiveness. There would be fear and brutality and loathing—and there was nothing Sophie could do to prevent it. If she ran back to Paris and tried to lose herself in the crowded streets, Oberon would exact his vengeance on those who stayed behind. Her fate was sealed. She
had
to marry him to ensure the safety of the people she loved.

And Robert?

Sophie closed her eyes, feeling the hot sting of tears as she pictured his face. They'd had so little time together, and now even that was over. His memory would become her salvation. When the days stretched long and the weight of her new life pressed down upon her, thoughts of him would be all that carried her through. She would remember the way it felt to be held in his arms, play over and over the sweetness of his kiss.

And when the night came and with it a suffocating darkness that threatened to blot out all hope, she would cling to the memory of him asking her to be his wife. She would remember that, for a few blissful days, she
had actually believed it would come true. Until Oberon had returned—and ground her dreams into dust.

The click of the drawing-room door as it opened brought Sophie to her feet. She held her breath and pressed her hands to her stomach, willing the tumultuous butterflies to settle. But it was only Nicholas and Lavinia who came in. Nicholas, who had tried to do so much for her and, in the end, had been able to do nothing. And dear Lavinia, who had become like a second mother. She searched their faces, looking for some indication as to what had happened. ‘Someone came?' she ventured.

‘Yes, someone came,' Lavinia said quietly. ‘A gentleman, bringing with him the most wonderful news.'

‘
Wonderful
news?' Sophie glanced at Nicholas, hardly daring to breathe. ‘Tell me quickly. What has happened?'

‘You are not to marry Oberon,' Nicholas said, holding out a sheet of parchment. ‘He has withdrawn his offer.'

‘Withdrawn it?'
Sophie flew across the room and took the letter in hands that shook so badly she could scarcely read the words. There were only two lines—but they said all that mattered. ‘I am released,' she whispered. ‘Oberon no longer wishes to marry me. And he has given his word that…he will not try to see me again.' She raised her head. ‘How has this come to pass? What on earth could have made him change his mind?'

‘Can you not guess?' Nicholas asked. And when he moved aside, she saw Robert standing quietly in the doorway.

‘Good evening, Miss Vallois. I trust you are well.'

‘Robert! That is…Mr Silverton. Yes, I think I am.'
The letter fluttered to the floor. ‘In fact…better than I've been for some time. But I am also very confused.'

Robert strolled forwards, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Then I will do my best to clear up the mystery.'

‘Lavinia, I believe our presence is required elsewhere,' Nicholas said, stretching his arm towards his wife. ‘These two have much to talk about.'

Lavinia was beaming. ‘Yes, of course they do.' But before she left, she stopped to give Sophie a quick hug and whisper in her ear, ‘I told you your face would give you away.' Then she joined her husband and the two left the room arm in arm.

As the door closed behind them, Sophie turned to face the man she had thought never to see again. ‘Why has he released me?'

Robert bent to pick up the fallen piece of parchment. ‘Oberon once told me that everyone had secrets, and he was right. But he intended using yours as a weapon against you and I couldn't allow that to happen. So I started asking questions. I needed to uncover the secrets in his past, and if I could find any, to use them against him.'

‘And you found some?'

‘Oh, yes, and they were far more incriminating than yours. You see, Oberon had several fatal flaws,' Robert said. ‘His insatiable appetite for money, his reckless desire for power and his uncontrollable need to gamble. Taken alone, any one of those vices would be enough to destroy a man. But when all three are combined and you add a complete lack of conscience to the mix, disaster is sure to follow. It was only a matter of time before his wrongdoings caught up with him.'

‘What did you find out?'

Robert shook his head. ‘The details don't matter. Suffice it to say that he committed a crime for which he will be made to pay.'

Sophie arched a brow. ‘Lawrence Welton?'

‘Amongst others. The list stretches long.'

‘What will happen to him now?'

‘That is for the courts to decide. There is no getting around the fact that his father is a peer and that he will do everything in his power to clear his son of the charges. But the harm Oberon has done other people is extensive and will not soon be forgotten. I think it unlikely he will wish to linger in London once word of this gets out.'

So it was true. She was not to marry Oberon—and he was never going to bother her again. Relief bubbled up like a wellspring. ‘Then it really is over.'

‘It is, and you are free to go on with your life. A retraction of the engagement will appear in
The Times
, and your brother and Lord and Lady Longworth need no longer fear exposure of any kind for their past activities.'

Sophie's eyes opened wide. ‘You knew about that?'

‘I put two and two together—after a rather enlightening conversation with Lord Longworth.' His gaze was both gentle and teasing. ‘If I ever find myself nursing a gunshot wound, I'll know who to go to. It seems you and your brother are quite adept when it comes to patching up wounded Englishmen.'

She started to laugh, not sure whether it was from joy or relief. ‘I told you I could be of assistance, but you
would
try to put me in my place.'

‘So I did.' His own eyes lightened, his expression becoming almost boyish. ‘You're quite the woman,
Sophie Vallois. Marrying Oberon to ensure their safety was an incredibly brave, albeit unspeakably foolish, thing to do.'

‘How could I have done otherwise?' Sophie asked simply. ‘There was so much at stake. Antoine's future. Nicholas and Lavinia's well-being. Your reputation. Perhaps your very
life
. How could I have married you
knowing
that by doing so, I was wilfully putting all of that at risk?'

‘For what it's worth, he couldn't have done anything worse to me than force me to watch you marry him,' Robert said. He came so close that she could see the tiny creases fanning out from the corners of his eyes. ‘But now it doesn't matter. No one's life is in jeopardy and you are free to marry whomever you please. Although…' he reached for her left hand and raised it to his lips ‘…I hope your mind is already made up in that regard.'

Sophie raised her free hand to caress his face, loving the texture of his skin, the rough stubble of beard on his chin. She could scarcely bear to think about how close she'd come to losing him. Of what her life would have been like without him. ‘It has been made up for some time. And I cannot see it changing now that we have been given a second chance.'

‘Ah, Sophie.' Her name was a benediction, and having her in his arms was a sure sign that all was right in his world. ‘When will you marry me?'

‘Now. Tonight, if it were possible,' she told him, her eyes glowing. ‘But I suspect there are those who would object to the lack of notice.'

‘Your brother being one,' he said ruefully. ‘He would
never forgive me for marrying you without his being here to give you away.'

‘Then I shall write to him at once,' Sophie said. ‘Apparently Monsieur Larocque is recovering well, and I am told he has taken on another apprentice. As soon as Antoine can arrange to be here, I will become your wife.'

Robert smiled as he lowered his head to nuzzle the soft white skin of her throat. ‘Perhaps I shall have Jane write to him as well. Then Nicholas and Lavinia will have
two
weddings to look forward to.'

A soft gasp escaped. ‘You would
allow
Jane and Antoine to marry?'

‘I think it the only humane thing to do. Jane has been wandering around like a sad little ghost ever since your brother went back to France. How could I enjoy my own happiness if it came at the expense of hers?'

Sophie closed her eyes, loving the warmth of his mouth on her skin though it made it exceedingly difficult to concentrate. ‘For what it's worth, Antoine has been miserable too. He is desperately in love with her.'

‘Then why did he say nothing to me before he left?'

‘Because he felt he had nothing to offer.' Reluctantly, Sophie opened her eyes. ‘Jane is a gentleman's daughter, Antoine a farmer's son. What could he give her that would compensate for all he believed she would lose by marrying him?'

‘Love,' Robert said simply. ‘Love, and the rest will take care of itself. With a little help from me, of course.'