The Sheik's Son(54)

Madame Necker had also been correct when she spoke of France’s support of the American War of Independence. The equivalent of the state’s entire income for a year had been spent to support the war effort.

Sophie brushed her hair back away from her face to avoid the ink that seemed to stain everything. Madame had been right. Sophie had not doubted her friend, but she had not thought it to be so serious. She felt sick when she read in other pamphlets tales of starving children and about the extravagances of the queen’s wardrobe, the court and the general lavish wastefulness at Versailles. She closed her eyes. She wanted to write a pamphlet. She wanted to add her voice to those of her fellow writers.

She decided she would not publically chastise the monarchy but merely point out the discrepancy and the need for equality. She would move from equality between the sexes to equality for all people. Equality must exist for everyone. The large lower class could not exist to solely support the upper classes and their excessive way of life. It was not correct.

She pondered how to phrase it. Sophie wished she could speak to Madame Necker about what she was learning but she had gone to England for a month. It was vexing. Her dearest friend, Lizette, was not interested in such affairs and her father would not want his daughter delving into such subjects.

She would write a rough draft of her thoughts and read it several times before she submitted it to Monsieur Blanche. She didn’t even know if he would publish it. If both Madame Necker and Sebastian were to be believed, this new pamphlet would be too revolutionary and perhaps even the printer would not want to print it. She would write and see what ideas formed on the page. Once she was certain of the contents, she would send it to the printer.

***

Etienne had entered a sort of heaven and hell on earth. He had become increasingly tantalized and tortured by his good friend’s sister, but it was of his own doing. He tried to keep his distance but he was also spending a great amount of time thinking of her and wanting her.

Since the chateau they had not been together, but he wanted to be with her. He ached to be with her. That Leila felt the same way was more than obvious, but there was no chance of anything happening. If they went out to a concert or ball, she was always accompanied by her brother. If she went out shopping or on an errand, she was with her maid. They were never alone. Etienne was both relieved and troubled. He wanted to approach Sebastian, but what could he say? That he wanted to marry her? That he wanted her as his mistress? It was all too complicated.

***

Sebastian had spent much of the day with Dorset. They reviewed papers and discussed several matters, but Sebastian was only half listening. Although being the ambassador was a prestigious position, Dorset was little more than a representative of his sovereign. It was the reason Dorset had become obsessed with the cricket game and women. He had too much time on his hands. They all did.

The evening before, he had bedded Juliette and he had been unnecessarily rough and quick. He had not been rough in the sense of hurting her, but there had been no affection, just lust.

She seemed to understand and said nothing. She had not risen to the rank of Paris brothel madam by stupidity. Juliette was a wise woman who knew when to speak and when to hold her tongue. She also kept an eye on Sebastian as she poured two glasses of wine and handed one to him. She waited for him to speak first. If he did, she would offer her advice.

“I have met someone,” he started cautiously.

“Yes?” she asked in a tone that bade him to continue.

“I’m not sure what I feel for her.”

“I see,” she said in a quiet tone. She had never expected anything between them to grow, but a slight twinge of jealousy was beneath the surface.

“Is this insensitive?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to be,” he told her honestly.

“No, Bash. Not at all.” She shook her head. “I’ve known you for several years and understand our relationship. That was very clear.”

He nodded.

“But I’m not sure what you want from me. Am I to be your confessor?” She smiled.

“No. There is nothing to confess.”

“Ah. A virgin. Much like the mythical unicorn,” she teased him.

He smiled. “Yes. The mythical virgin. And this one has a brain as well.”

Juliette settled back into the settee as Sebastian reclined on the bed. “You are of the right age. If she is suitable to your family, have you thought of marriage?”

Sebastian looked deep into the dark red wine and contemplated the question. Marriage. It was a question he had asked himself again and again. What would his father think? He had often assumed that his father would want him to marry an Arab girl. They had never discussed it, but he had thought it to be so.