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‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ Henri frowned. It was wrong to keep someone caged like a bird. It encouraged rebellion. She could remember just before she had insisting on eloping and how her mother’s attitude had contributed to her need to escape. Edmund had understood and she’d never gone back to the house where she grew up after Edmund’s death.
Sophie clasped her hands together; the bright coral bangles on her wrists crashed together. ‘I’ve longed to meet you ever since Sebastian first told me about you and your romantic life. It’s all so wonderfully tragic. I wept buckets.’
Henri clenched her jaw. Pity again, and from someone who never even knew Edmund. Sebastian had no right to tell her the story or to imply that Henri was some sort tragic heroine. ‘What did he say?’
‘How you had eloped and then your husband died tragically a few months later.’ Sophie adopted a soulful look. ‘I thought it all terribly romantic. To be that in love and then to have it dashed from your lips as it were at such a young age. You have never remarried?’
‘Edmund was ill for a long time before and after the marriage.’ Henri kept her eyes on the ormolu clock. Had she ever been that young? This Ravel person made it sound as if she was languishing for a lost love. She wasn’t. She had a fulfilled and busy life, useful. She helped other people and didn’t have time for maudlin thoughts. ‘I’ve never found the right person to replace him. Never wanted to.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Miss Ravel put her hands to her chest and gave a long drawn-out sigh. ‘I thought it the most romantic thing in the world to marry someone who was suffering and to seek to relieve their pain, and should I have the great misfortune to ever be in such position, I shall follow your lead. After all, once you give your heart, it is given.’
‘How well do you know Sebastian?’ Henri asked, determined to steer the conversation away from her private life and towards things of far greater interest—namely, how Sophie Ravel saw Sebastian. This might be their only chance to speak privately if Miss Ravel was to be believed. ‘I understand there was a contretemps.’
‘We’ve only spoken in snatches. He was in the process of telling me about your tragic life when Mama happened in the room. He had just put his arm about my shoulders as I was weeping. And then quite suddenly and without warning, I was whisked up here. I’m forbidden all contact with Sebastian, which is a shame as his outrageous comments made me laugh. How can anyone take him seriously?’
‘Miss Ravel, do you know my cousin’s reputation?’ Henri asked gently.
‘He’s much older than me and far more experienced. But his face reminds me of an angel’s face. A true Exquisite, everyone says so.’ Sophie paused, fiddling with the tie on her black silk apron. ‘But he told me that he worshipped the ground I walked on. Mostly people ignore me, but Sebastian—I mean, Lord Cawburn—keeps saying how he’d like to make violent love to me in the most inappropriate places. He doesn’t mean it, of course, but it is flattering.’
‘He’s the sort of man who is not safe in carriages,’ Henri said, making a sudden decision. As much as she hated to admit it, she agreed with Robert. Any match between the pair would be a disaster. Sophie Ravel was not the sort of person who would hold Sebastian’s interest for the longer term or who could take a firm line when Sebastian started to commit his little misdemeanours.
If there was an alliance, it would be an unhappy one, but Sophie had to think that she had come to the conclusion on her own. Henri tapped her forefinger against her chin, considering. She wouldn’t directly meddle, more. suggest and allow the conclusion to come naturally.
‘Not safe at all. And he means precisely what he says,’ Henri said. ‘It’s part of his charm. He never lies. He simply says things in such a manner that people discount it.’
‘I know all about the value of a sharp elbow.’ Sophie gave a proud toss of her head. ‘A true gentleman like your cousin wouldn’t do anything that I didn’t want him to do. He said so. All I had to do was to say the word cease and he would. We were about to practise when Stepmama burst in.’
‘Sebastian can be remarkably hard of hearing,’ Henri said drily. She gathered Sophie Ravel’s hand between hers and was surprised how small and delicate it was. ‘I doubt an elbow would deter him. You might have to use a frying pan to get your point across, should he ever entice you into a carriage, and you might need to hit him more than once.’
Sophie’s blue eyes widened to the size of saucers. ‘A frying pan, truly?’
