The Sheik's Son(8)

Sophie could feel her heart beat faster as she began to listen to the small group speak. Earlier, she had heard vaguely the words “pamphlet” and “women’s rights” but had not paid that much attention.

She had been focused on a couple at the far end of the room who were engaged in mild flirting. The woman was clad in a pale blue gown with a blue powdered wig, while her hand rested familiarly on the man’s orange silk-clad shoulder. The man did not seem at all concerned about the attention and seemed to enjoy it.

Meanwhile, her father was seated with a group of men engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion, judging by their raised voices and hand gestures.

When she heard the name Jean Inconnu, there was no mistake. The group was discussing her very own pamphlet.

“I am pleased and I cannot wait to read it for myself,” Madame Necker added.

“I’m sure you’ll agree wholeheartedly with the pamphlet, Mère,” Germaine leaned down and kissed her mother on both cheeks.

“Bonsoir, chere,” she greeted her daughter.

Germaine joined the group even as Sophie felt her heartbeat race. She always knew that there was a chance Monsieur Blanche would publish her pamphlet. In truth, her writings were sparked after her grandmother had angered her and pushed her again and again with the idea of marriage. Finally, she had taken pen to paper to vent. Now she sat in an esteemed Paris salon as those around her discussed her very pamphlet. It was beyond exhilarating.

She was excited to hear more from these influential people and their thoughts on her words when another figure approached their group.

This man was dressed in a purple velvet coat, cream-colored waistcoat and purple satin breeches. His hair was lightly powdered and clubbed with a black satin ribbon. He had a high forehead, dark eyebrows and viewed the younger women with interest. He held in his hand a glass of champagne.

“I wanted to give my regards to our hostess,” the man said, eyeing Germaine and Sophie while nodding to the two men.

Marmontel cast a sly glance to his friend La Harpe and was the first to speak to the man. “Good evening, Dorset.”

Dorset spoke to him in turn and took Madame Necker’s hand and kissed the back of it.

“Monsieur Le Duc,” she murmured and then introduced him to her daughter, whom he knew, and they exchanged pleasantries.

“This is Sophie Gauvreau. She is new to our salon. Her father is Jean Pierre Gauvreau, a lawyer with the prestigious Ferme générale. Sophie, this is John Sackville, the Duke of Dorset,” Madame Necker said, introducing them.

“Mademoiselle Gauvreau,” Dorset eyed the auburn beauty with obvious interest and kissed the back of her hand, though he seemed to release it with some reluctance.

“Monsieur.” She pinkened at his familiar touch and glanced at her hostess and her daughter.

The two women were speaking again of the pamphlet. Though she wanted to join in, the Duke seated himself next to Sophie and steered the conversation away from the mysterious pamphlet and began asking her questions about herself.

Sophie was at first annoyed. She had been so excited to hear about her small, insignificant pamphlet from the lips of these well-known people. But the Duke was engaging and seemed intent of capturing her attention, so she allowed herself to be drawn in.

He mentioned the word “cricket” and Sophie frowned. Cricket? She wondered what he was talking about.

Madame Necker and Germaine smiled as the Duke began to speak of his only true love, the game of cricket.

“My dear, you must join me for our next game. In fact, I insist.” Dorset was taken with Sophie’s beauty and made it clear he would enjoy seeing more of her.

“Of course I would be delighted. I will need to ask my father,” she concluded.

Dorset waved his hand. “I will invite your father as well; that is no obstacle.”

Germaine joined in. “Do we also get an invitation?”

Dorset seemed in a particularly friendly mood. “Of course, Germaine. You and your delightful mother add style and beauty to any gathering.”

Germaine smiled at the compliment. “And that delicious secretary of yours? Will he be there?” she asked.

“Fairfax? I imagine so.” He nodded.

Germaine smiled at the thought of the sexy secretary. She had seen him at several of her mother’s salons and had always been giddy with anticipation. He was a handsome devil. “Please count me in.”

Dorset smiled. “Excellent. It will be a merry day indeed.”

The duke moved away to join another group and Sophie was saddened when the conversation steered away from her pamphlet.





Chapter 3

Sophie could hardly contain herself on the carriage ride home. Her father and grandmother relayed trivial things that they had seen and heard at the salon, but she could only temper her excitement that the words she had written on a piece of paper were now on the lips of Parisians. She could barely stifle her pleasure.