Courting Miss Vallois Read Online Free PDF

be weary after your long journey,’ Lavinia said. ‘Why don’twe retire to the drawing room? I’ve asked Banyon to set out refreshments.’ She extended a slender white hand to Antoine. ‘Vous ne viendrez pas avec moi, monsieur?’
    The young man’s eyebrows rose. ‘Your accent is perfect, madame. Avez-vous été née en France?’
    â€˜No, I was born in England, but my first husband was French and we lived in Paris for several years after we married. It will be delightful to have someone to speak the language with again.’
    â€˜I am surprised you do not speak it with Lord Longworth,’ Sophie said. ‘I remember his French being very good.’
    â€˜Alas, that was over three years ago,’ Nicholas said. ‘And given that I seldom use the language any more, I am beginning to forget many words and phrases.’
    â€˜Understandable. Even my own French is not as good as it once was.’ Lavinia turned to Antoine, a hint of mischief lurking in the depths of those lovely eyes. ‘I look to you for help in that regard, monsieur. ’
    â€˜Ce serait mon plaisir,’ Antoine replied, and though he did not smile, Sophie thought she detected a slight thawing of his reserve. Good. If the beautiful Lady Longworth had the ability to make her brother less suspicious of the situation, so much the better. She watched them walk into the house, quietly chatting in French, and found herself alone on the steps with Nicholas.
    â€˜Tu es…très belle, mademoiselle,’ he complimented her. ‘And I am sorry my accent is so poor compared to my wife’s.’
    â€˜Your accent is fine,’ Sophie said, wondering why Nicholas still seemed so ill at ease with her. He was a great man—a viscount in the British aristocracy. Hehad a beautiful wife, a lovely home and was clearly a man of means.
    And yet, perhaps it was only to be expected. The last time they had seen each other, she had been a naïve girl of sixteen living on a farm in the French countryside and he an Englishman fighting for his life. She had struggled to make him understand what was happening to him and had done her best to keep him alive by feeding him soup smuggled from the kitchen, and by wrapping his wounds in bandages made from her own petticoats. For that, he had called her his angel of mercy and had gripped her hand when the fever had raged and the terror of his own anonymity had settled in his eyes.
    Perhaps that was the problem, Sophie reflected. He was no longer a man on the brink of death and she was no longer the child he remembered. Maybe now that she was here and so little like the person he’d left behind, he was regretting his invitation, wishing he’d left things as they were. So much had changed in both their lives.
    â€˜Lord Longworth—’
    â€˜No,’ he interrupted gently. ‘Let there be no formality between us, Sophie. You are the young lady who saved my life and to whom I will always be indebted. I would ask that now, and in the future, you call me Nicholas.’
    She looked up at him and tilted her head to one side. ‘Is such familiarity permitted in England?’
    â€˜I see no reason why not. You are a good friend, and good friends always address one another by their Christian names.’
    â€˜ D’accord, then Nicholas it shall be. As long as I am Sophie to you.’
    â€˜You will always be that, even though I now know your full name to be Sophia Chantal Vallois.’
    Sophie raised one eyebrow. ‘You have done your homework.’
    To her amusement, he actually looked embarrassed. ‘I fear so.’ Then, his expression changed, becoming serious. ‘Our first meeting seems…a very long time ago now, Sophie. Almost as though it were another lifetime. And there are still parts of those three weeks I don’t remember. But I sincerely hope I did nothing to hurt you, or say anything to which you might