heavens,’ Lady Longworth said. ‘I thought the entire visit was to be conducted on our doorstep.’
Making a sound of disgust, Nicholas said, ‘Forgive my abominable manners. Sophie, Antoine, my beautiful wife, Lavinia, who, I can assure you, has been as anxious about your arrival as I.’
‘Of course I’ve been anxious. But you must both be weary after your long journey,’ Lavinia said. ‘Why don’t we retire to the drawing room? I’ve asked Banyon to set out refreshments.’ She extended a slender white hand to Antoine. ‘Vous ne viendrez pas avec moi, monsieur?’
The young man’s eyebrows rose. ‘Your accent is perfect, madame. Avez-vous été née en France?’
‘No, I was born in England, but my first husband was French and we lived in Paris for several years after we married. It will be delightful to have someone to speak the language with again.’
‘I am surprised you do not speak it with Lord Longworth,’ Sophie said. ‘I remember his French being very good.’
‘Alas, that was over three years ago,’ Nicholas said. ‘And given that I seldom use the language any more, I am beginning to forget many words and phrases.’
‘Understandable. Even my own French is not as good as it once was.’ Lavinia turned to Antoine, a hint of mischief lurking in the depths of those lovely eyes. ‘I look to you for help in that regard, monsieur.’
‘Ce serait mon plaisir,’ Antoine replied, and though he did not smile, Sophie thought she detected a slight thawing of his reserve. Good. If the beautiful Lady Longworth had the ability to make her brother less suspicious of the situation, so much the better. She watched them walk into the house, quietly chatting in French, and found herself alone on the steps with Nicholas.
‘Tu es … très belle, mademoiselle,’ he complimented her. ‘And I am sorry my accent is so poor compared to my wife’s.’
‘Your accent is fine,’ Sophie said, wondering why Nicholas still seemed so ill at ease with her. He was a great man—a viscount in the British aristocracy. He had a beautiful wife, a lovely home and was clearly a man of means.
And yet, perhaps it was only to be expected. The last time they had seen each other, she had been a naïve girl of sixteen living on a farm in the French countryside and he an Englishman fighting for his life. She had struggled to make him understand what was happening to him and had done her best to keep him alive by feeding him soup smuggled from the kitchen, and by wrapping his wounds in bandages made from her own petticoats. For that, he had called her his angel of mercy and had gripped her hand when the fever had raged and the terror of his own anonymity had settled in his eyes.
Perhaps that was the problem, Sophie reflected. He was no longer a man on the brink of death and she was no longer the child he remembered. Maybe now that she was here and so little like the person he’d left behind, he was regretting his invitation, wishing he’d left things as they were. So much had changed in both their lives.
‘Lord Longworth—’
‘No,’ he interrupted gently. ‘Let there be no formality between us, Sophie. You are the young lady who saved my life and to whom I will always be indebted. I would ask that now, and in the future, you call me Nicholas.’
She looked up at him and tilted her head to one side. ‘Is such familiarity permitted in England?’
‘I see no reason why not. You are a good friend, and good friends always address one another by their Christian names.’
‘D’accord, then Nicholas it shall be. As long as I am Sophie to you.’
‘You will always be that, even though I now know your full name to be Sophia Chantal Vallois.’
Sophie raised one eyebrow. ‘You have done your homework.’
To her amusement, he actually looked embarrassed. ‘I fear so.’ Then, his expression changed, becoming serious. ‘Our first meeting seems … a very long time ago now, Sophie. Almost as though it were another lifetime. And there are still parts of those three weeks I don’t remember. But I sincerely hope I did nothing to hurt you, or say anything to which you might have taken offence. A man in pain often lashes out at those around him, and I would hate to think I had scarred the child I left behind with a callous remark or a thoughtless word.’
So, that was the reason for his reserve, Sophie reflected. It had nothing to do with the people they were now, but rather with the impression he had made all those years ago. ‘You did nothing wrong, Nicholas,’ she said. ‘Even in the depths of pain, you could not have been more vaillant. And if some of your memories of that time are dim, it is probably not a bad thing. It allows you more room for the good memories. For the ones that are worth remembering.’
‘I’d like to think so.’ He looked at her and a smile trembled over his lips. ‘What about you, Sophie? Have you happy memories of the last three years?’
Sophie knew that he wanted her to say yes. She could see in his eyes, the hope that her life had not been an ongoing series of struggles and hardships, and perhaps one day she would tell him the truth. But not today. ‘I have many happy memories, but I’m quite sure this is going to be one of the happiest.’
Chapter Three
‘Are you sure I cannot offer you more tea, Sophie?’ Lavinia asked. ‘Or another scone? Cook was most insistent that you try both the orange marmalade and the raspberry jam.’
‘Merci, non, I have already eaten too much,’ Sophie demurred, sitting back on the loveseat. Nearly an hour had passed since she and her brother had sat down with their hosts in the elegant rose drawing room, and in keeping with the spirit of the day, the formalities had long been dispensed with. ‘If I continue like this, I will not fit into my clothes.’
‘Nonsense, you could do with a little extra weight,’ Lavinia said. ‘Don’t you think so, Nicholas?’
‘I cannot imagine Sophie looking any better than she does.’
Lavinia’s lips twitched. ‘Spoken like a true diplomat. No wonder you do so well in the House.’
‘It does but pass the time.’ Nicholas set his cup and saucer on the table. ‘But now that we’ve all had a chance to become better acquainted, I think our guests would like to know why they are here. It isn’t every day a stranger from one’s past invites you to come to London.’
‘Especially when that stranger happens to be a member of the English aristocracy and an intelligence agent for the British government,’ Antoine added.
‘Former intelligence agent,’ Nicholas said. ‘I am happy to say those days are behind me. But it does bring me to the reason for my invitation, the first and foremost being to thank you properly for having saved my life. Without your discretion and most excellent care, I would certainly have died. A man doesn’t forget something like that and because I am in a position to repay you, it is my sincere hope that you will allow me to do so.’
‘But there is nothing to repay,’ Sophie said. ‘We did what anyone would have done
