Modern English, page 16
“Ms. LeBlanc.” Vic recovered, with only a slight tremor in her voice. “May I have the honour of making introductions?”
She nodded slowly and tried to force a politely neutral expression to mirror Vic’s.
“Mother, Father, this is Ms. Sophia LeBlanc, the lead actress of the film they’re shooting in the library. Sophia, these are my parents, His Grace and Her Ladyship, the Duke and Duchess of Northland.”
Sophia froze, unsure how to respond. Should she bow, curtsey, genuflect? As if it weren’t awkward enough to meet your lover’s parents unexpectedly under normal circumstances. It didn’t escape her notice that Victoria chose to use their formal titles the way she might in a business setting rather than calling them by name or Mom and Dad.
Thankfully, the duke seemed to register her indecision and took mercy on her, extending his hand. “Ms. LeBlanc, such a pleasure to meet you.”
She accepted the gesture, surprised to find his hand soft and slight. She’d expected someone more commanding from his position, but then again, the rest of his appearance did match. He wasn’t an imposing man in stature, but he managed to strike the impression of easy elegance, while his fair hair and complexion had clearly been the dominant genes in Vic’s colouring.
“We had no intention of interrupting your work, but you must forgive us for not quite being able to stay away from our daughter and the excitement of her latest endeavours.”
“I understand,” Sophia said without being fully certain she did. “I’m sorry we’ve kept her from vacationing with the family this year, but she’s been indispensable to our efforts here. We’ve all marvelled at her ability to juggle so many responsibilities at once. I don’t know that we could’ve made any of this work without her.”
His smile took on a more genuine quality. “That’s our Victoria.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, dear,” the duchess cut in, her voice every bit as cool and refined as her pale skin and highly manicured brows might imply. “You’ve no doubt played a central role in keeping this project afloat as well.”
Sophia eyed her more closely, searching for the same type of resemblance to Vic that had put her at ease with the duke. She found little to cling to. The duchess undoubtedly possessed a commanding type of beauty, but willowy and graceful with long dark locks pulled tightly back from her face. Her dark eyes carried no sparkle to match her husband’s and daughter’s. Then again, perhaps they simply didn’t sparkle for her. Instead, her gaze held a more serious scrutiny as she scanned Sophia the way one might appraise a fine diamond, appreciation without affection.
Still, after a blatant examination that left Sophia wishing she wasn’t in a hoop skirt and heels, the duchess stepped forward and clasped her hand. “You must tell me all about the movie business.”
The comment was so unexpected, so gracious, and laced with something akin to real interest, Sophia almost found herself wanting to accept.
Almost.
The tension radiating off Vic, who’d yet to meet her eyes, told her there was more to this conversation than she could possibly understand. “I’d love to, but unfortunately we’ve only been given a ten-minute break in filming.”
“Of course,” the duke agreed quickly, “and we have to get settled into the residence. We have no intention of interrupting your plans, or Victoria’s, for that matter.”
“Yes, we must freshen up, but I look forward to some quality time with my daughter this evening. Perhaps you’ll join us? I would relish the chance to get to know the woman who’s been captivating the castle in our absence.”
Sophia used the same airy laugh she’d used on set over the last few days, finding it easier to slip into a more practiced persona than to try to parse out a power structure she didn’t fully understand. “You give me entirely too much credit. My job has merely been to reflect this beautiful setting and a very compelling script.”
“Modesty is overrated, my dear.” The duchess gave a little dismissive wave as her voice fell only slightly. “From what I hear, you’ve been so much more than either the set or script could’ve dictated.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end at both the comment and the knowing way in which the woman delivered it. Thankfully, she didn’t have to decide how to respond because the duke stepped back in. “Perhaps then you’ll join our family for an evening meal?”
“That’s kind of you.” She tried to edge away. “But I have a long day scheduled, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very animated company.”
“Right, and we’ve been traveling,” the duchess offered. For a second Sophia thought she might let her off the hook. “Why don’t we try something less formal? Shall we say drinks and a movie in the library whenever your film crew clears out for the evening?”
She felt the snare closing in as the duchess negated her excuses around scheduling, space, and formality in one fell swoop. To turn down the offer now would make it clear Sophia simply didn’t want to accept. Normally, she wouldn’t mind saying so bluntly, but these weren’t some rich producers or fans. They were the nobility whose home she was both working and living in. She had a professional and social obligation to them on both counts, even without factoring in their relationship to Vic. And yet, the pull toward Vic tugged on her more than all the others combined.
She turned to her now, searching her for some cue as to what she’d have her do; only the face she’d come to use as an anchor or touchstone had transformed into an impenetrable wall.
Sophia suffered a pang of loneliness at the loss of Vic’s open, easy assurance. Then a surge of frustration welled up in her. She hated feeling out of place. She hated feeling lost. She’d worked and fought and climbed too hard and too far to awkwardly await cues from anyone. She was a strong, confident woman, and Vic had never done anything but affirm that belief. Whatever was happening between them now, Sophia had no intention of letting herself feel any less worthy of Vic’s company because of it.
“Sure.” She forced a smile. “I don’t see what harm could come of a movie night with three gracious hosts.”
The duke’s smile was genuine, but Vic’s shoulders fell slightly. It was only a small movement, but that combined with the slow curl of the duchess’s lips told her quite clearly that she’d just walked into a trap.
••••
Vic’s stomach roiled as she fought to keep from pacing in front of the library doors. Even the sound of the ice rattling around her mother’s cocktail glass made her want to crawl out of her skin. The waiting might drive her to the brink of insanity before the other shoe ever had a chance to crush her, but she didn’t delude herself into thinking this would be the worst part of the evening.
“I must admit, the crew did a lovely job of clearing out quickly this evening,” her mother said from near the window. “You do seem to have held them in check thus far.”
“They haven’t been a problem.” Vic kept her voice neutral. “The scheduling continues to be a nightmare, but never the people.”
“I find that to be true in a great many situations,” her father said, rounding the corner. He’d changed into khakis and a blue dress shirt, left open at the collar. It was as dressed down as he generally got in the evenings. “What are you drinking tonight, Vic?”
“She’s not yet,” her mother cut in. “Curious, no?”
“I was merely waiting for Father to arrive. I’ve missed his gin and tonics. No one else makes them to his standards.”
“It’s good to know my Eton education still serves its purposes in some areas.” He smiled broadly, but her mother merely glanced at her watch.
Did she think Sophia was running late? Should Vic offer to escort her? No, that would give too much away. She needed to appear calm and casual, almost indifferent, but not to the point of being rude. If she overplayed her hand, her mother would pick up on that immediately. She needed to behave exactly how she would if any other house guest had been invited to a family evening. Only that didn’t happen. Not unless they’d known the family for ages. For her mother to extend such an invitation to Sophia was such an utter breach of protocol, it meant there was no established way for Vic to respond. She suspected that was the point, to keep her off balance. Either that, or her mother was making a point about how Vic had already blurred those public and private spaces.
If only she could’ve warned Sophia. She’d tried, through a series of furtive glances and subtle head nods, but she’d had few opportunities to actually speak with her, and none of them offered any chance to be alone. The conversation she desperately wanted to have could no longer happen around any member of the film crew or the house staff, and perhaps they never should have. She strongly suspected that’s what landed them in this situation to begin with. She’d trusted too much in her own authority and the privacy of her own home, something she’d been kicking herself over all afternoon.
The last few weeks had been too beautiful, too perfect, too easy to be her real life. She should have checked every lock, every window, and every passageway. She should have looked over her shoulder more often. She’d been so certain none of the staff would talk to the press that she completely failed to consider the possibility that one of them might alert her parents. Not just any one of them, either. Clearly James led the betrayal.
There was no other real suspect. He’d probably had his suspicions since the day he found her and Sophia together, sword out and eyes blazing. Then when Sophia moved into the castle, he’d likely been lying in wait. Old James never missed anything, but last night she’d given him more than the evidence he’d needed to fire the shot he’d dreamed of for years.
She blew out a frustrated breath. Part of her wanted to rage and scream, but she had only herself to blame. She’d told Sophia point blank that James didn’t work for her. She’d always known where his loyalties lay, but instead of bracing for impact, she’d laughed and let down her guard even further. She’d allowed herself to grow content and comfortable with a woman who was undoubtedly about to be eviscerated for it.
Footsteps fell on the main stairway, and Vic rose to meet Sophia as she entered the library. She parted her lips, not sure if she intended to shout it’s a trap, or perhaps kiss her one last time before everything changed, but her breath caught at the mere sight of her.
Sophia had obviously showered after work. All her makeup was gone, and the ends of her dark hair were damp and down over her shoulders. She wore jeans that hugged the delicious curve where hip met waist, and the loose white blouse offered the most alluring contrast to her deep skin tone.
“Ms. LeBlanc.” Her father stepped into the void left by Vic’s transfixion.
“Your Grace.” Sophia took in his attire and glanced over his shoulder at the duchess, who still wore a classic black skirt and grey blouse. “I’m afraid I’ve underdressed for the occasion.”
“Not at all,” he said in a tone Vic recognised as genuine. “We’ve both come directly from dinner.”
“Yes.” Vic’s mother cut in. “I envy your ability to leave your work at work. I’ve never had the luxury of compartmentalising my responsibilities or my attire.”
And so it begins, Vic thought, but before she could even sigh, Sophia laughed.
“I’d offer to let you borrow some of my lounge clothes, but I fear they’d swallow you. You must tell me your secret to still being able to stand in heels this late in the evening, though.”
Vic’s mother waved off the redirect. “There’s no talent to it, merely submission to the mores of my position along with a great deal of practice.”
“In that case,” Sophia said, “perhaps I’ll be more judicious in choosing my next project. Maybe a Western? Or something that films on a beach.”
“Well thought.” Her father cut back in jovially. “What are you drinking?”
“What are you pouring?”
“Do you like gin and tonic?”
“That depends.” Sophia arched one of her expressive eyebrows. “Are you the one who taught your daughter to mix them?”
He brightened considerably and straightened his shoulders. “I am indeed.”
“Then I’m forever in your debt, and I’ll have one of those, please.”
“A woman of exquisite taste.” He clapped his hands together and headed for the bar as Vic waited for her mother to argue. Instead she merely pressed her lips together and nodded briefly.
Vic released a slow breath at the reprieve and even felt a small prick of pride in the woman who’d done an admirable job of winning over her father.
Sophia was so much more than beautiful. She carried a social grace and an ability to read a room that Vic envied. Surely, she had to feel at least a little intimidated when walking into this room with these people tonight, but she didn’t show it, and Vic fell a little harder for her. If only Vic could have given her hand a squeeze, she might even have been able to bolster her own confidence as well. As it was, she would have to content herself with the fact that Sophia seemed to have won the first volley.
Still, Vic understood too much history, both of the country and of her own life, to delude herself into thinking one skirmish could sway the outcome of a much larger war.
••••
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of choosing a few film options,” the duchess said as Sophia settled onto the couch next to Vic. She wished the two of them could sit a little closer, but she still sensed the tension radiating off the woman to her right. She didn’t know what exactly Vic was afraid of, but the subtle changes in her demeanour spoke to something much larger than the awkwardness of having a lover meet her parents. The warm, open, confident woman she’d grown used to spending her evenings with had vanished, and in her place sat someone she hadn’t seen in weeks. This version of Vic, the one with the sharp shoulders and tight jaw, had a smile that barely managed to push past her stiff upper lip. Her expression seemed permanently stamped into a politely neutral setting, making it impossible to read any nuance there. Only her eyes conveyed any emotions, but they were too mixed for Sophia to pick out a dominant one.
“I will admit, I’m woefully behind on all things popular culture,” the duchess continued. “I’m not sure I’ve seen a blockbuster in years. You’ll probably find me quite a bore.”
“Not at all,” Sophia said, “and I’m a student of form and technique. If you’d rather watch a documentary or art house film, I’d be thrilled.”
“Not you, too.” Vic’s dad groaned. Funny how she’d come to think of him through his relationship to Vic, and still thought of the duchess according to her formal title.
“My husband was hoping that in present company he’d get to watch something a little more mainstream.”
“Here, here.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Every event I go to, people try to impress me with how proper they are. No one lets me see car chases or explosions unless they’re in some black and white war reels from the Forties. Please don’t tell me you’re into silent films or those dreary think pieces.”
She laughed. “In that case, don’t let my personal affinity for cinematography stop you. What would you like to watch?”
He turned to his wife. “You heard our guest. Please present us with our choices.”
The duchess’s smile was small but satisfied. “Very well. I actually had James select three of Ms. LeBlanc’s films for us to choose from.”
Sophia blinked, then squinted at the options that flashed on the TV screen a few feet away. “My films?”
“Yes.” A hint of genuine joy sounded in the duchess’s otherwise cool voice. “There’s one called Vigilant. One called Star Killer. And one I believe, oh yes, it’s titled Casting Couch.”
The superiority in the duchess’s tone as she listed the last one told Sophia everything she needed to know. She’d picked three of the most sexually explicit roles in Sophia’s film list. So that was her game. She’d brought her here tonight to show the others what sort of skeletons Sophia had in her closet, or perhaps she’d done it to let Sophia know what she knew.
“Which one would you recommend, Sophia?” the duke asked, clearly not in on the game. “Or is that like asking a parent to choose their favourite child?”
Sophia kept her gaze and her voice level and directed toward the duchess. “I’m proud of every movie I’ve ever made for one reason or another, but I like to think I’ve grown considerably as an actress over the years. If you want to see my most representative work, I’d start with the newest.”
“Very well.” The duchess moved the cursor over to click on Vigilant and then paused. “Wait, shouldn’t that be the other way around? Shouldn’t we see where you started in order to appreciate your progression?”
Vic shifted on the other end of the couch as if she’d just figured out where this might be headed, but Sophia refused to turn to her for help. She wouldn’t be intimidated, and she wouldn’t be shamed, not by her own choices, and not by a woman who would use Sophia to hurt her own daughter. “You can watch them in whatever order you want, but I don’t think any of us have time to watch all three tonight, so whatever one you choose will be what you get.”
The duchess raised an eyebrow as if she heard the undertones of the comment.
“Didn’t you win some big award for Vigilant?” Vic asked, then undercut the casualness of her question by adding, “Besides, Mother, maybe Ms. LeBlanc doesn’t want to spend her only free time all day dissecting her own work.”
“Is that true?” the duchess asked. “I’d merely thought it would be enjoyable to watch a film with the star in our midst. We don’t often get actresses here. Politicians, state visits, royalty even, but never anyone of your unique class. I hope I didn’t make a faux pas in bringing up your body of work?”
“Not at all.” Sophia lifted her chin the way she’d seen Vic do so many times, trying to channel some of that noble bearing the woman beside her had mustered when she’d talked about her family or her detractors, or were the two one and the same? “I’m not one of those artists who hates to look at their own work.”
