The stage was set late in the morning. Sophie had now been confined to Rafe’s chamber for some twenty-four hours, while, he understood from what his many allies among the servants had told him when he went to get food, Lord Wyverne searched for any trace of her around his estate with increasing desperation.
When at last the mechanics of the plan began to unfold and the door of his private chamber crashed open – finding another key and ensuring others could plausibly find it too had been ridiculously complicated and caused some delay – Rafe hoped that his own face was a convincing mixture of consternation and anger. But he doubted anyone was sparing him more than a glance.
Sophie was the focus of attention. It could hardly be otherwise. She was clad only in her chemise and covered by a rumpled sheet. Her hair lay spread across the pillows in wild disorder and her eyelids were sultry with satiated passion, her lips red and swollen where Rafe’s unshaven cheeks had abraded her pale skin. She gave the most convincing impression of a woman who’d been most thoroughly pleasured in a manner that she’d very much enjoyed. The room was redolent with the heavy scent of sex, and the rest of Sophie’s clothes, and Rafe’s, were discarded here and there.
Lord Drake himself was clothed in a loose banyan of magnificent dark blue silk – he’d drawn the line at nakedness, given the audience for their little play. There was a large, unmissable love mark on his neck and his hair was in a state of great disarray. Lord and Lady Wyverne had burst into the room in a flurry of movement and stood staring in blank astonishment at the picture thus presented to them. It plainly wasn’t in the least what they had expected to find.
The Marquess’s butler, Kemp, had gone to his master a short while ago with a report that he and Rafe had concocted together. Kemp was obliged to tell Lord Wyverne that he had overheard some of the maids whispering, and compelled them to tell him what they were gossiping about: it was their belief that the fugitive Frenchwoman was concealing herself in one of the attic rooms. A light had been seen there late in the evening, and while it was widely known among the staff that Lord Drake kept a chamber high up in the house, they also knew that he didn’t usually spend the night in it. It was all most suspicious, even suggestive. Kemp had not presumed to verify the truth of the rumours himself, but he’d found after some trouble the key to the room in question and brought it straight to his master. It had a rather helpful label on it which said in a bold clear hand ‘Lord Drake’s Chamber’, so there could be no mistake.
When Sophie had proposed the whole misbegotten idea, Rafe had been forced to agree with her main point: it was quite impossible that Lord Wyverne would be able to resist coming to see for himself. If the fugitive should indeed be cowering guiltily in the attic, and if, even better, she should have the jewels with her and be caught red-handed… Rafe supposed that his parent had never climbed a set of stairs so fast in his life. He was flushed and panting now, as was Rosanna, but there was no triumph in either of their faces, only confusion.
It was time for him to speak. It wasn’t at all hard to achieve the appropriate level of incredulous fury for the occasion. ‘I confess, as you can see, we were not expecting visitors. I will not apologise for our deshabille, for after all, this is my private chamber. I don’t come bursting into yours, sir, to interrupt your… activities. What do you want?’
Lord Wyverne was purple in the face, his eyes bulging in a most unhealthy manner, and all but gobbling with baffled rage. But he was not a man to admit defeat, nor one who changed hismind readily. It must be obvious to him that matters were not as he had hoped, but he was hardly about to admit this and slink meekly away with his tail between his legs. ‘What do I want, sirrah? I came to find the impudent doxy who has stolen my jewels! And I have found her, and you with her! I knew you had played some part in this!’
Rafe had to admire Sophie’s perfect composure under this verbal attack, though he doubted this was an emotion shared by anyone else in the room. ‘I haven’t stolen anything, my lord,’ she said coolly, to all appearances entirely unembarrassed by her condition. If anything, she seemed to be quite enjoying herself. ‘If we are to speak of theft, Lord Drake has stolen me and kept me here.’
‘My dear…’ Rafe said indulgently, his tone an enormous contrast with the one he’d used to address his parent. His deep voice was charged with a sort of heavy concupiscence that was most unlike his ordinary mode of speech. He was quite proud of how he sounded: like a man entirely in thrall to the sexual allure of a woman, and uncaring who knew it. Perhaps it was so convincing because there was more than a grain of truth in it.
‘You know I’m right, you wicked creature,’ she said, pouting seductively. ‘You quite overcame me when you encountered me yesterday, and have kept me captive here ever since while you used me at your pleasure.’
‘My pleasure, and yours, wench,’ he growled. ‘Don’t try to deny that.’
‘Oh, Rafe…’ she sighed. ‘I do declare you put me to the blush!’ Despite her words, she didn’t, in that moment, give the appearance of a woman who would be embarrassed by anything in the world.
There was no question that Lord and Lady Wyverne were not in the least accustomed to being ignored in such a manner, and that they did not care for it. ‘You lied to me, girl!’ said Rosanna,her voice high and indignant, determined to take her part in the farce that was playing out. ‘You told me you were a respectable lady companion! But my husband has discovered that you have posed for indecent pictures, and now this! You have betrayed our trust, and you should be whipped for your deception!’
Perhaps fortunately, Sophie had no time to reply to this; Rafe could all too easily imagine what she might have felt impelled to say.
‘Enough of this nonsense!’ grated Lord Wyverne. ‘I don’t give a damn if my mother’s latest companion turns out to be a whore. It makes a change from shrivelled-up old maids. But when I hear she’s a liar and not who she pretended to be, and my most valued possessions disappear within a few weeks of her arrival, then I’m interested.’
‘Sophie didn’t take your blasted jewels,’ Rafe said impatiently. He’d had quite enough of his father’s company, and every reason for showing as much. ‘You suspected her because she vanished – well, she vanished because I got tired of sneaking around with her and wanted her here at my convenience. She didn’t steal anything; she’s had other fish to fry and plenty to keep her occupied. She’s still here, and she’s not leaving anytime soon.’
‘So masterful…’ sighed Sophie soulfully. ‘But to be serious,’ she went on in quite another tone, ‘I didn’t need to steal anything. If I play my hand cleverly, I could end up owning it all, and much more besides. As you did, my lady. I’m only following your excellent example.’
‘Why, you insolent little bitch!’ Rosanna made a lunge towards her, but Rafe reached out one long arm and held her back without the least appearance of effort.
‘I think it’s past time you both left,’ he said. ‘You can search the room if you like, tear it apart if you must, but you must know you won’t find anything. And it seems like a good moment to saythat if either of you lays a finger on Sophie, I promise I will make you sorry for it.’
‘I won’t take threats from you, boy!’ Wyverne managed.
‘In this instance, sir, you will. And I don’t wish to hear the word “whore” again in relation to Sophie. After all, you must both know the saying about people who live in glass houses.’
He was still restraining Rosanna, who showed every sign of a continuing determination to lay violent hands on Sophie if he relaxed his vigilance for a second, but when she heard his final words she rounded on him in fury instead, and was still protesting shrilly as Lord Wyverne, his patience clearly at an end, pulled her from the room. Rafe knew him well enough to expect that he would seek to have the last word, and so was unsurprised when his father turned and said, his colour still high and his voice menacing in its conviction, ‘I’m watching you – both of you! Don’t imagine for a second that you can pull the wool over my eyes! If you try to cross me, I will make very sure that you pay for it!’
And then he slammed the door behind him.
31
Rafe locked the door again – Wyverne had in his bafflement most usefully left the spare key behind – and then sank down on the crumpled bed beside Sophie.
‘Rafe, that worked out splendidly! Much better than I could ever have hoped.’ She sat up, hugging her knees, triumphant, her dark eyes sparkling. He’d never seen this mischievous side to her before today, and he was enchanted by it. Would she never cease surprising him? But with a sharp little stab of pain he realised she’d be gone soon, and he’d likely never see her again. There’d be no time for him to discover any more enchanting things about her. He’d have to live on these memories.
‘You were magnificent,’ he said seriously. ‘Entirely convincing in the role you had chosen. It’s plain to me that the stage has lost a great actress in you. You might even have been too good – I thought Rosanna was about to scratch your eyes out when you commenced taunting her.’
‘She wanted to, but with great presence of mind you stopped her. It doesn’t matter, as she was always sure to hate me once she knew you and I were involved. You were excessively good too – the very picture of a man driven half out of his senses by lust.I’m sure they believed it all completely, and it was wonderful to see them so confounded.’
‘It was, and there’s no denying it went well.’ He gathered her up in his arms and looked down at her, his face still somewhat troubled. ‘But he will still be watching us – you heard him. We mustn’t be lulled into thinking that everything will be plain sailing now. You no longer need to hide away here, and you’re in no immediate danger – very well. But let us not forget that he remains a dangerous man, and escape will not be easy.’
