Atonement

Chapter 4

"Nooooo...!" Sophie groaned under her breath as she spotted the Duc de Cassel sitting at the gaming tables the following morning. She could not believe she'd missed him.

She'd been up all night, fully dressed, waiting to intercept his reply to the mysterious note she'd found on his person the previous evening. But her plan had gone horribly awry when she'd fallen asleep, waking with a horrified jerk mere minutes earlier.

Her intention had been to station herself close to the duc's apartments and lay in wait until he eventually exited. Her plan had not been to seize the letter directly from him, but rather from the servant she was confident was his emissary. She'd felt more confident about being able to outwit a nervous maid than the cunning duc himself. However, in the unfortunate event she was discovered by Cassel, Sophie had taken great pains over her appearance. She'd wanted to look her best should she need to employ her feminine whiles to distract him – perish the thought!

To this end, she'd donned one of her newer gowns, a soft wool in burnt orange with gold trim around the neckline and down the centre of the bodice. The colour suited her, enhancing her fair complexion and highlighting the flecks of gold in her eyes. The fashionable pickups in the skirt were flattering on her, appearing both youthful and flirtatious. Because she'd had to dress herself in the dead of night, she'd had no help with her hair, so the best she could muster on her own was to sweep her dark mane back into a simple chignon which she'd secured with a few pins and a gold comb.

But all her planning had come crashing down when she'd realised she'd succumbed to her own exhaustion. Panicked, she'd scarcely had time to wash her face and fix her hair before she'd hurried from her apartments to the salon, hoping she'd find news that Cassel was still indisposed. The fact that he was present meant that his reply had most likely already been ferreted out of the palace.

Her heart sank. This had been her chance and she'd lost it. How would she face Monsieur Marchal knowing that she'd failed? Sophie chewed on her bottom lip and discretely exited again. This was the opportunity she'd been looking for. Using some of the secret passageways she'd recently discovered, she made her way towards the guests' wing, ensuring she avoided any servants as they rushed about doing their masters and mistresses bidding.

Taking care, she traversed through dank hallways, chilly tunnels and blessedly empty foyers before she reached the end of a long marble corridor. She'd managed to discover where the duc slumbered after plying her maid with a few pointed questions. She tested the handle of the door she was certain provided entry into Cassel's bedchamber, articulating a muted gasp when it gave way. Heart thundering, Sophie pushed in, closing the door behind her with a soft snick.

Her foremost thought as her eyes adjusted to the shadows within was that it was tiny, more like a closet than a place one would expect a high ranking noble to sleep. The king really had to be displeased with Cassel to have placed him in such a hovel. Her eyes travelled over the sparse interior, taking in the narrow bed, armoire, escritoire and chair. There were no other furnishings. Not that there was space to accommodate anything else. Through a small window close to the roof a silvery shaft of light filtered into the chamber, providing a trifling amount of cheer to counteract the overwhelming gloom. In the corner was a modest sized grate, the fire within having died down hours before.

No wonder Monsieur Marshal ransacks this place so regularly, Sophie thought. It would take no more than a few minutes to search the entire chamber from top to bottom.

Shrugging off her growing sense of disappointment, she looked around. First she stepped towards the bed, moving from the top end, around the side and down to the bottom, feeling under the mattress as she went. Nothing. Next she moved to the armoire. She wrinkled her nose as she sniffed the stench of wine and sweat clinging to Cassel's jackets. The man was a pig. After a few minutes of riffling through every part of the armoire and the clothing it contained, Sophie sighed. This was getting her nowhere. Then, more to satisfy her own curiosity than the real hope of finding anything, she perused the walls and floor, looking for any signs of a secret hiding place. There were none. At least none that her untrained eyes could detect. This entire endeavour had been pointless.