The Sheik's Son(92)

Sebastian cursed himself. He should have known the blackguard had not given up. “What happened at the lodgings?”

“He mentioned that he had been following me for some time. He called me a traitor to my country and the monarchy.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Bastard.”

Sophie shrugged. “I asked him the most obvious question. I asked him if he had proof.” At this, Sophie shook her head. “I had given him my own head on a platter.”

“How so?” Sebastian asked.

“My grandmother is such a stickler for niceties and tradition. She insisted I write a personal thank-you card to everyone who had attended the ball. That included the inspector.”

“So?”

“So I believe he took the card I wrote and went to the printer’s—or most likely, broke into the printer’s shop and stole my original writings of the pamphlet.”

Sebastian ground his teeth. “Sophie.”

“The inspector made no mention of any desire for me; quite the opposite. In fact, he told me he had no wish for me in that regard. What he wanted was my help. Or I should say, he demanded it.”

“Blackmail?”

“Yes.” Sophie told the story calmly but she could feel the tears building up. “He said he would have my assistance or he would arrest me. Then he showed me the card I had written and the pamphlet from the printer. The writing was identical.”

“Sophie.” Sebastian kneeled before her on the bed.

“He mentioned again his desire to be the youngest commissioner in Paris. He also told me that he was giving me a chance to avoid jail.”

Sebastian shook his head. To blackmail a well-bred young woman was unthinkable!

“He said that many must have told me that I was beautiful. I didn’t know why he was saying these things.” Sophie looked into her lap.

Sebastian remained silent, all the while cursing his anger at her. She had gone through everything alone and borne it well, but she should not have been alone. He should have been at her side.

“Then it became clear. He asked me how long I thought I would last in jail. He said that the guards would take turns with me one after the other. And when they were finished, I would be like discarded rubbish.” Sophie shuddered.

“Bastard!” He swore.

“I was never the target. He wanted me to get to my father—or more precisely, my father’s office,” she told him.

Of course, Sebastian thought. An ambitious man would want power. How better to gain power then by seizing it from others or bringing others down? Sophie was merely a pawn.

“He didn’t mention who and I never pressed him, but he wanted incriminating papers on someone. He told me my father had those papers.”

“So in return for not being arrested, I helped him. I betrayed my father to help a power-hungry madman,” Sophie finished, trying to hold back the tears.

“Sophie, no. You had no choice.” Sebastian touched her cheek lightly.

“Yes, I know, but that makes it all the worse. You of all people should know. You warned me. You warned me and I didn’t listen!” She felt the tears upon her cheeks.

“Sophie, no, no.” He held her hands in his and his heart broke at the sight of her tears. “You could do no less. I see that now. You had to write. I know that now. He’s a blackguard! To take advantage of you! To threaten you!”

Sophie wiped away her tears. “He told me that once he retrieved the papers, our agreement would be at an end. He said that as commissioner, more important people would occupy his time and energy.”

Sebastian doubted the word of a madman.

“He told me to tell no one and specifically mentioned you and my father.”

Sebastian nodded. “Of course he would.”

“I waited to hear from him and finally we met at a park. He told me at the week’s end to meet at the coffeehouse on the corner of the street where my father works. I had passed it several times over the years so I knew it well.”

“Go on,” Sebastian said.

“He named the time and asked that I wear a mourning gown. I had one from my uncle who died two years ago. He said we must not draw attention to ourselves.”

Sebastian nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

“So I met him that evening. He gave me a lantern and we made our way to my father’s office.” She recalled the knife and the words stuck in her throat. “He had a knife but said he didn’t want to use it.”

“Mon Dieu!” Sebastian exclaimed. He would kill the man.

“We moved along the corridors and when we came upon my father’s office, he picked the lock. Once inside, he rummaged through the papers until he found what he was looking for. I spent the time looking out the window wishing I was somewhere else.”