The Sheik's Son(20)
“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.