Sophie could hardly believe she was talking to the same woman, for her eyes were alight with pure terror. What had Dampierre done to her to reduce her to such a state? Sophie had witnessed his attempts at intimidation: the ice-cold stare and the razor-sharp blade.
“If he is as fearsome as you say, then why are you still at Labelles? What is he to you, your partner … your lover?”
“He is neither,” Madame Labelle whispered as she looked away, her face flushed with shame. “He owns Labelles and he owns me.”
There was a moment of silence while Sophie contemplated the significance of her words. To be at the mercy of a man like that, well, it did not bear thinking about.
“Have you not thought of running away?” Sophie implored.
Madame Labelle smirked. “Runaway? There is not a place I could go in this world where Victor would not find me.” She glanced at Sophie as though she were a small child who could not possibly understand the world she lived in. “And what would I do? Work in a tavern, let myself be mauled by the dirty hands of men who felt it was their right to do so.”
“Well, Dampierre has not found Annabel. Perhaps there is a chance for you, too,” Sophie replied confidently. It was the first time she had mentioned Annabel and Madame Labelle smiled as though genuinely impressed with the extent of her knowledge.
“My dear, Mr. Shandy,” Madame Labelle said, her tone conveying a hint of cynicism. “Annabel has the assistance of Lord Beaufort. Else she would have found herself dragged back to Wapping by her hair and deposited on the first ship out of here.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “Was that to be her fate?” No wonder James had offered the girl assistance. She knew it had to be something important for him to offer her mother’s necklace. “Is Dampierre still looking for Annabel?”
Madame Labelle snorted. “She has been alone with your brother for more than a week. I doubt the buyer would still have confidence in her purity. Besides, Victor would not take the chance. He has a reputation to uphold,” she said sarcastically. “He does not deal in soiled goods.”
Sophie was shocked. “You mean Annabel was to be sold?” The thought that Dampierre traded in women disgusted her and she wondered if that was what he meant when he said he would take her on a journey. Would he take her to a foreign land and sell her to the highest bidder? Thankfully, he was too late. She had given her virtue away freely, to a man who made her head spin and her heart flutter. Even if there had been other mistresses in the past, he made her feel special, protected and cared for.
Madame Labelle held up her gloved hand but then paused to wait for a lady and her maid to pass by. “I have said far too much already. It is Victor who insisted I meet with you today and you must do exactly as he asks, for all our sakes.”
Sophie’s body shook: an ice-cold tremor shooting down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Dampierre’s beady eyes bearing down on her, his sharp stick thrust in her back. Relieved to find no one there, she turned and glanced discreetly towards the window, to where Dane stood keeping watch. She could just make out his muscular frame propped against the wall, his arms folded firmly across his chest as he studied her from the first-floor window. The sight of him warmed her body and soul. He was strong and commanding and she felt safe in the knowledge he was there.
“He will not rest until he gets what he wants,” Madame Labelle continued, as though anxious to stress the point that the Comte de Dampierre was not the sort of man one crossed.
Sophie paused. A part of her was reluctant to ask the next question for fear of the answer. “And what does he want?”
“Victor wants the necklace,” she answered bluntly. “He believes it reparation for the injustice caused.” She said the words without feeling or emotion. Perhaps because it was her intention to make it clear they were Dampierre’s words and not her own. Madame Labelle sighed. “He said you would know the one he refers to.”
“He wants the ruby necklace, the one my brother offered you in exchange for Annabel?” Sophie clarified.
Once again, Madame Labelle appeared surprised that Sophie was so well informed. “He will not rest until he gets it. Though why he is so obsessed with the thing is beyond me. He has never even seen it.”
Sophie frowned, the comment rousing her curiosity. “You mean he was not at Labelles on the night in question … on the night Annabel escaped?”
“No, he was not,” she replied a little nervously. “But I can say no more on the matter.” She shook her head involuntarily as if reaffirming the need to remain silent on the subject. “You must bring the necklace to him or …” she stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. “Or he will find some other way to recoup his losses.” Madame Labelle opened her reticule and fumbled about inside. “Here, you must take this,” she ordered, removing the ivory card and handing it to Sophie.
“What is it?” Sophie flipped the card over to find an invitation to Lord Delmont’s masquerade. Dampierre had friends in high places. “But I have never even met Lord Delmont.”
“Neither has Victor,” she snorted. “Let us just say, Victor has something belonging to Lord Delmont and Delmont will do anything to see it returned.” She glanced at the invitation in Sophie’s hand. “Victor likes drama. He likes to complicate things,” she continued with a hint of disdain. “He insists you attend and has even provided you with a costume.” She glanced across at Dane’s carriage, which had just pulled up alongside the square. “It is in a box in your carriage. Victor assures me this is all he asks of you.”
“Why would he want me to attend a masquerade?” Sophie asked in astonishment.
Madame Labelle linked her arm with Sophie, forcing her to walk slowly back to the gate. “You are to wear the costume and your necklace and at some point during the evening he will reveal himself to you so you may hand it over in relative safety.” She stopped and looked Sophie directly in the eye. “Before you say anything, he knows your marquess has it with him here in London. He dropped a red velvet pouch outside Labelles during a fight. The men recalled seeing it, despite the fact their eyes looked like juicy fat plums.”
“He is not my marquess,” Sophie snapped a little defensively.
Why did everyone assume she had a formed an attachment to him?
That seemed to bother her more than the fact she would be expected to meet with Dampierre … and alone at a masquerade, to boot. She had always wanted to go to a masquerade, where one did not need to worry about silly things like etiquette and reputation. Perhaps Dane could accompany her. She would like to dance with him, to twirl around happily in his arms with not a care in the world, to dance just once, just one delicious memory to keep her warm on those cold winter nights. Her stomach fluttered with excitement.
Suddenly, as though being chided by a strict governess, the voice of reason scolded her for being a slave to her own fancy.
“Lord Danesfield will never allow me to walk into a masquerade unaccompanied,” she continued, shaking her head.
Madame Labelle smiled. “Victor anticipated your response, which is why he has agreed that Danesfield can go with you,” she paused and raised a brow. “But he must secure his own invitation. I am sure, for a man of such great standing, it will not be a problem.” There was a hint of contempt in her voice, which was probably to be expected after years spent servicing the needs of the aristocracy.