Rook(14)

Sophia wanted a pastime, or at least one that could be done in a sitting room, where sword fighting was frowned upon. Three days of torrential rain had left her cooped up and testy. René Hasard had been haunting her steps, paying her unearned compliments, stating his opinions on music, magazines, Parisian actresses, and, most memorably, an endless dissertation on his particular preferences in nursery carpets. Tom had nodded sagely while listening to this, asking her fiancé such detailed, serious questions that Sophia thought holding in the laughter might actually kill her. And if she did manage to be without René’s presence for the odd moment or two, up he would pop unexpectedly, full of a restless, boundless energy and incessant talk that, good looks or no, stretched her patience to the limit.

St. Just lifted his head from her lap, sniffing at her foul mood. René’s suggestion of a game was not appealing, but then again, Sophia wasn’t certain he could have suggested anything that was. Her father snorted, startling belatedly from his doze.

“What?” Bellamy said. “What? Play my Sophia, Mr. Hasard? Oh no, I don’t advise it. I’ve been playing her since she was ten years old, and the child has trounced me every time.”

Tom smiled from his armchair, adjusting the cushion beneath his leg. “You’ll make Hasard afraid of our Sophie, Father.”

“And you think that a bad thing, Tom?” Sophia said sweetly. “Do go on, Father. What were you saying?”

René laughed, a little too loud, a sound that grated across every raw end of her nerves. He said, “And now I must insist on the game or be thought a coward.” He turned back to Sophia. “Or you shall.”

She set her mouth, put St. Just on the carpet, and marched over to the chessboard. Spear’s newspaper lowered, and she could feel his eyes following as she sat herself down at the game table. René was in the green coat tonight. She found a silver button, the second one down, and fixed her gaze there.

“White first, my love,” René said.

“I prefer black.”


He turned the board while St. Just settled his bushy tail over her feet. They played in silence, she taking her time and with her attention on the board, he with quick, haphazard moves and his face turned toward the rest of the room. Sophia moved her sheriff and stifled a yawn. She was six moves from taking his king.

“My cousin says that he walked in the lane with you the other day,” René said loudly.

“You’ve been to see Monsieur LeBlanc?” She glanced once at Spear. He and Cartier were supposed to have been watching, making sure René didn’t leave the house. Spear almost imperceptibly shrugged a shoulder.

“Oh, yes,” René said, “I went to see him early, before breakfast.”

“In the rain?”

“It was a refreshing journey. But my cousin made me quite jealous.” René ignored her sheriff and unwisely moved a pawn. “Perhaps you might like to walk with me next time, when the weather improves?” When she remained silent, René said, “Do none of the young women from your Banns ever come to walk with you? I would not mind seeing Mademoiselle Lauren again. I thought she was very … pleasant.”

Oh, Sophia thought. So that’s what sort of husband he would be. She supposed it shouldn’t matter to her. She tried to imagine strolling down the A5 with Lauren Rathbone and failed.

“Bellamy has invited my cousin to dine with us tomorrow,” René went on. “That was thoughtful of him, yes?”

Sophia looked over at the armchair, where her oblivious father was again snoozing. She lowered her voice. “I am surprised that Monsieur LeBlanc stays in the Commonwealth. What can he possibly have to do here?”

“I believe that tonight he was intending to ride the coast.”

“Really? An impractical plan. Why would he want to do that in this weather?”

“I wish I could say he was riding out to have his hair dyed,” René sighed. “That streak is not in fashion.”

Sophia stared at the water streaming down the window glass. Sometimes it was hard to believe the man sitting across from her could possibly be serious. And then she did believe it, and it was depressing.

“But Cousin Albert does not share his reasons with me,” René continued. “I only saw his horse being saddled.”

“He’ll have found somewhere else to stay, I would think. In Forge or Mainstay, if he got that far.” For once she let her gaze rest briefly on René’s face. “If the weather holds, maybe he won’t be able to come to dinner after all. Maybe he’ll have to go straight back to where he came from.”

René laughed, again much too loud. “What a teasing little minx you are!”

This remark carried to the fireplace, earning her a surprised glance from Tom and a long look from Spear. Sophia felt a bit of heat rise to her cheeks. René had made it sound as if she was flirting with him. It threw another log of fuel on her smoldering temper.

“Such a shame Mrs. Rathbone couldn’t come eat with us tonight,” Sophia said to the room in general. “What did she say she had to do again?”

Spear immediately shifted in his chair, ready to accommodate her, but Sophia could see by the line of Tom’s mouth that he disapproved. Still, she couldn’t help it. She was ticked.