All I Ever Needed (37 page)

"Where was your mind when you covered me with it? You might have used something else. There are blankets in the bedrooms."

Grinning, Eastlyn kissed Sophie lightly on the top of her head. "I do believe that living in Clovelly has made you a proper fishwife."

Sophie's mien softened, as did her shrewish tone. "You could have left me a proper note."

"I left my coat."

She released a long breath and nodded slowly. The movement made his chin rub pleasantly against the back of her head. She had refastened her hair in the comb but not as tightly as before. Fine wisps of it tickled her temple and her nape, and for a moment she closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean against him. Her sleep under the caped greatcoat had been deep but not dreamless. It had been like lying under him, the weight and scent so firmly in her mind that she expected to find him with her when she opened her eyes. He would not credit that she had been panicked by his absence, or that she had been hurt by it. It was not until she took stock of the coat and its meaning that she was able to reason that he intended to return.

"I suppose my disposition was not improved by sleep," she said, slipping out of his hold and skirting the table. She set down the plate in her hand and placed silverware beside it. "Where did you go?"

"Bideford. That is where I left Sampson."

"He is coming here?"

"No. I mean to manage on my own." Eastlyn noticed that the surprise she had shown upon thinking Sampson might join them only deepened when she realized he would not. Her mercurial thinking made him smile. "What? Do you not think I can? If you can be Mrs. Frederick, then of a certainty I can be..." His voice trailed off as it occurred to him that he did not have a name.

"Mrs. Frederick's brother?" Sophie said with no intention of being helpful.

"Mr. Tinker."

"Tinker? I don't think I like the sound of that."

"Most definitely Tinker," he said, ignoring her.

Sophie merely shook her head, resigned to his choice. She pointed to the chair where he should sit while she prepared the remainder of their meal. They dined on simple fare, a fish chowder that Sophie made with cod, potatoes, fat salt pork, milk, and pilot bread. Onion, pepper, butter, and a liquor made by boiling the fish bones added savor to the stew.

Eastlyn resisted a third helping when it was offered to him. "I left my hollow leg in London." To forestall temptation, he pushed his bowl away. "I do not think my mother ever cooked a meal in her life. My sister either. How did you come to learn?"

"I spent a great deal of time in the kitchen at Tremont Park. Mrs. Hubbard was the cook then, and she let me sit on a stool beside her while she worked. Sometimes my governess would find me and send me back to my room, but most often they learned not to look too hard for me."

"You did not like the schoolroom?"

Sophie gathered the dishes. "Not nearly as much as I liked the kitchen."

"Or the stable?" He held up his hands, palms out, when she cast him a suspicious glance. "I was not referring to your penchant for spying on grooms and scullery maids. I swear it. I was thinking of your skill on horseback. You must have spent considerable time out-of-doors."

"I did." Sophie filled a basin with hot water from the kettle and set about cleaning the dishes. East offered to assist her, but she turned him down. "Were you offended when you saw me riding astride? It is not at all conventional."

"No, it's not," he said "But was I offended? No. Did you think I might be?"

"I suppose I did." She looked askance at him. Laughter hovered on his lips and brightened his eyes. "You are a trifle arrogant, you know, and you are accustomed to having your way. It is not unreasonable to suppose that you hold firm to a certain manner of doing things."

"You are confusing me with North," he said. "He will tell you himself that he is a prig."

"I doubt I shall have cause to make the inquiry, my lord"

"East. You promised that you would call me East." His voice deepened to a husky timbre. "You have only done so once."

Sophie's response was to apply more effort to scouring the stew pan.

Watching her, Eastlyn was satisfied that she remembered very well the occasion of it. He wanted her to keep the memory of lying with him in easy reach of her consciousness, just as he did. "I confess, Sophie, that upon making your acquaintance I could not have conceived of you riding in such a fashion."

"Like a hoyden, you mean."

"Yes. Precisely like that."

Sophie opened the back door and stepped out onto the small porch. She threw the dishwater into the garden and shook out the basin. When she returned, she stood for a moment on the threshold, hugging the basin. "When do you think we met?"

East frowned, uncertain of her meaning. It was put before him in plain enough terms, but the prickles at the back of his neck suggested nothing was quite as straightforward as it seemed. "It was at a musicale. A recital of Mozart pieces. You don't remember?"

"The recital to which you are referring was Bach."

"It may have been."

"It was."

"It was in Lady Stafford's salon," he said.

"Lady Stanhope's."

"Dunsmore was there with his wife. I am not mistaken about that."

Her faint smile was a shade regretful. "No. You are not mistaken on that count." Sophie put the basin away and wiped her damp hands on her apron before she removed it. She nudged a chair from under the table and sat at a right angle to Eastlyn. "I was very quiet on that occasion, as I recall. I do not think I spoke more than half a dozen sentences."

"Rather more than six."

"You do not need to be generous. You could not have formed any good opinion of me. I did not set out to give you one."

"Because of Dunsmore?"

She was puzzled for a moment, the small crease appearing between her brows. "Oh, you mean to thwart Harold's plan for me to attract a rich suitor? No, that was not the reason I did not care what you thought of me. Not entirely the reason, in any event. Abigail was there. Lady Dunsmore. Do you remember meeting her?"

"It is a vague recollection. She is a tall woman, I believe. Rather pale in her complexion. Red hair?"

"Yes."

"Is it important that I recall her?"

"No, not really. She was ill that afternoon. I thought you might have been struck by it."

"She could not have been too ill," East said. "Else she would have remained at home."

"It is her nerves," Sophie explained. "She is easily overwrought and is given to megrims. She is often abed. The children test her patience, and she prefers the quiet of her own room."

"I am not certain I understand how her presence at the recital influenced you. Were your thoughts occupied with her health?"

"I was there as her companion, else I would have remained at Bowden Street with Robert and Esme. It was my task to make certain she was comfortable, not to make myself agreeable to the guests. She was most particular that I tread carefully around you." Sophie hesitated as she felt herself the target of Eastlyn's closer study. "She warned me not to make a fool of myself. She had seen it happen before. At Almack's. I was only recently out of mourning clothes, and I had not been in London so very long when Harold and Abigail agreed I should accompany them there. It seemed the very height of gaiety to me and a little silly, I suppose, but I could not help but be transported by the dancing and gowns and the crush."

"Many people are of a similar opinion," East said. "I would rather be transported to Van Diemen's Land."

"Yes," she said softly, not quite looking at him now. "I can imagine that you would find it distressingly tedious. There can be no enjoyment in having to dodge so many determined mothers."

"I manage," he said dryly. "I have the dubious honor of being approved to partner young women in their first waltz. It is a privilege I share with Northam and Southerton. As you might imagine, West was not sanctioned by the patronesses."

"Then perhaps the circumstances of his birth are not entirely unfortunate."

East greeted this suggestion with a sardonic look. "You will not engage me in that argument now." He was resolved that his child would not be born a bastard. "Tell me about your evening at Almack's. If it was after your mourning was at an end, then you must have been considerably older than most of the females being presented."

"Considerably older," she said with a hint of wry humor. "Ancient, really. One-and-twenty."

"Forgive me. I should not—"

Sophie waved his apology aside. "I take no offense. I
was
older, just as you said, though the measure of it was in years, not experience."

East wondered at his blunder. It was precisely the sort of misstep that could bring negotiations to a complete halt. He was too clever to make these mistakes when dealing with ambassadors and foreign consuls. He had indeed lost his balance with Sophie. The feeling that the whole of the world was listing to one side never left him when he was talking to her. He cocked his head in an effort to right things to the perpendicular once more. "You were permitted to waltz?"

Sophie nodded.

"And were you as accomplished as I might expect?" He saw her avert her gaze just for a moment. "Never say you trod upon the poor fellow's toes. Or worse, that he trod upon yours."

"No. He was a practiced partner. I was not his equal, but he was kind and did not draw attention to my lack of skill."

Eastlyn watched her eyes slide away again. The movement was almost imperceptible, but he was seasoned in looking for just such things. The slightest shifting could denote deceit. It might warn of a truth only partially told or mean that a lie had settled unpleasantly on the tip of a tongue. He was not certain what it meant in Sophie's case, only that it did not bode well. He let her go on.

"We did not have more than a few polite exchanges during the waltz," Sophie told him. "It seemed to me that he was not of a mood to talk. For my part... Well, for my part I only wanted to look at him. That is what Lady Dunsmore told me afterward, and I cannot say that she was wrong. If it is possible to embarrass someone with adoration, then that is what I did to this poor gentleman. It must have been very uncomfortable for him because he left soon afterward and was careful not to look in my direction."

"I cannot believe anyone would be discomfited by your adoration, Sophie."

"Bored, then. He might not have been as uncomfortable as he was bored. He was only doing his duty, you see. I was naught but an obligation. I do not attach any blame to him for wanting to see the last of me, but I would not want to be his obligation again."

Eastlyn had the feeling return that she was saying rather more than her words would strictly suggest. For all that Sophie thought he was clever at coming to the meaning beneath the surface, he knew himself to be drowning now. "Have you had occasion to meet him since?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I was careful not to give him disgust of me."

"By saying little or nothing at all?" East asked. "That was her ladyship's suggestion, I take it."

"It seemed a good choice. The proof that I acted improperly on the occasion of our first introduction was borne out when he never mentioned it. For many weeks after that second encounter, I thought he meant only to spare my feelings, so openly had I worn them on my sleeve, but then I became aware that he did not speak of our first meeting because he did not recall it."

Eastlyn frowned. "He did not recall... How is that possible?"

"It seems I made that little of an impression upon him." She snapped her fingers to emphasize the insignificance of that initial meeting. "You will admit that it is lowering to arrive at such a conclusion."

"Mayhap you are wrong."

"No. I am quite convinced of it."

"I cannot conceive of such a thing."

"Yes," she said. "I collect that is so."

East merely shook his head. "This experience at Almack's... It was the reason you were so reticent to engage in conversation with me at Lady Stafford's?"

"Stanhope."

"Forgive me. At Lady Stanhope's."

"After Almack's, Lady Dunsmore always urged caution. I believe she lived in perpetual dread that I would make a cake of myself with any man who showed the least interest in my company."

"I wish you had not been so agreeable to her ladyship's instruction. I would have been pleased to have even a small measure of your adoration."

Sophie laughed. "No, you would have found it as tedious as my conversation."

"Well, there you have me. My recollection is that our conversation was excessively dull."

"Then I must judge it a success, for that was certainly my intent."

East's mouth twisted wryly as he took measure of the lift of her chin. There was a stubborn sort of pride there in the set of her shoulders and the angle of her head. "You might well judge it otherwise," he said quietly, "when I tell how that dreary conversation set the course of all that followed."

The animation that had brightened Sophie's eyes vanished from her features. Her lush mouth flattened, and her chin fell. "What do you mean?"