Emily French (10 page)
Authors: Illusion
“I really must. There is much to be done.”
“Have you nothing to say to me?”
His voice, low and husky, made her heart jump, alarming her, thrilling her and spinning her into turmoil all over again. What did he want her to say?
“There’s nothing I can think of.”
There were things she would never forget, but the matter of putting them into words was beyond her.
“I thought ... perhaps ... well, it doesn’t matter.”
Something in his expression told her it did matter. She studied his face. His eyes were their usual stunning blue, but it seemed that a cloud covered them, reminding her of a tempest gathering at sea, of the latent passion in him.
Sophy’s mind was a tumult. She could feel the blood rise, coloring her cheeks. Her face burned. Was her approbation important? Or was he concerned that she would now make demands on him? That must be it.
Or was it because she was something new in his experience? A virgin versed in lovers’ tricks, who somehow knew how to please a man? She wished she had confided in him before he came to her bed.
A terrible thought struck her. He might beat her if he ever discovered the truth. Sophy caught her breath. His mouth was set in a line that made her wary, but Seth Weston was no wife beater.
How she knew, she did not know. She just knew.
The knowledge eased her, making her feel that she was beginning to right the wrong she had done, and that all might yet be well despite it. Time enough to confess when he had eaten a hearty breakfast. It would be easier for him to accept such information then.
Seth’s confusion deepened. Women’s motivations were so opaque. He drew up his legs under the bedclothes and winced with the pain that accompanied the movement.
“Sophy, we must walk.” His low, husky voice seemed to vibrate through her. “There are plenty of servants to stir jam and mend sheets. There are other accomplishments I seek in a woman.”
Deliberately she misunderstood the note of intimacy he had introduced. “I would prefer not to talk about it, Seth.” It was not what she had meant to say, she thought, confused.
There was a peculiar, tense silence. Only their eyes moved minutely. Sophy sucked in her breath, and color swept over her face. She hadn’t realized she had been looking at his bare chest, thinking about touching the soft curling hair on his smooth skin with her index finger.
He had not moved, but the quality of silence had changed, become charged with a curious tension. What must he think of her? She had no answer. There was an awkward silence.
“Disconcertingly truthful as ever, Sophy. Still, I’d not have you different.” He gave a mirthless laugh and rose from the bed. There was a rustle as he pulled his shirt over his head.
Sophy was silent. What was she going to say now? What would he think of her when he discovered she had lied not once, but twice? She was aware of unhappiness, knowing she was something she had sworn never to be. A cheat.
She slid off the bed and picked up her discarded clothes. Her eyes were luminous. He was watching her, his face impassive. She tried to unscramble her thoughts.
“Will you ... ?” Her voice, for all her willpower, faltered.
There it was, the inevitable question. Seth felt a chill current curdling through his veins. There was a lump in his throat that made swallowing painful. He tried to control his features, clamping his jaw tight over hot words that could only hurt them both.
“Cancel our wedding bargain? No. I’ll give you a straight answer. I will not.”
Sophy waited a moment. The seed of anxiety grew. She turned her head. “Because...because you think I want to profit from what’s happened?”
“Would it be that?”
His face had changed, all the proud coldness transmuted to something warmer, gentler, yet tinged now with amusement. Of course, he would look so if his intention had been to quell her rebellion. He’d think she’d capitulated.
Sophy stared uncomfortably at him. She had no answer to this question. The tip of her tongue came out and traced her lips. “Not altogether. It’s just that I want to know where I stand.”
Seth gave an exclamation that was almost like a pistol shot and bit out curtly, “I see.” Seconds passed. “So it didn’t matter too much?”
Was there a dryness in his tone? She could not be sure. It was her doing if there was. Her own feeling was that she was losing a battle she had never really stood a chance of winning.
Sophy moved away from the bed across to the fire, bending to adjust the gas injector. She made a sharp gesture with one hand. She dared not tell him the truth. The knowledge that she must choose her words with care was apparent, especially now with that delightful interlude between them.
“It was nothing,” she said when she had mastered her voices. She kept her eyes on the fire. “It is forgotten already.”
That was a lie. They both knew it. A horrible stillness seemed to thicken in the room. There was another long pause and then Seth slowly nodded his head as if having arrived at a difficult decision.
“You needn’t fret about last night, Sophy. I’m not blaming you.”
Her head was bent, exposing her exquisitely slender neck. To his horror, Seth realized that the sight of her was rousing desire in him so strongly that it was almost painful. His impulse was to fling himself across the room and reach for her. With an effort that was near physical pain, he suppressed it.
Instead, he pulled on his pants, then walked slowly to the window. He stared out through the high panes of glass, rubbing his jaw. The previous night’s storm had brought a heavy fog to the city, bleaching out all the color from the land, reducing visibility to a few feet. The air was gray, cold and heavy with dampness.
He shivered.
Sophy came to stand beside him, so close her skirt brushed his trousers. It was the sound of dry leaves rustling, hollow. Empty. Distant. Like the loss of her dreams. Dreams were illusions. Doubtful. Reality was certain. Reality was that she was deliberately deceiving her husband. Reality was that Seth would regain his pride.
The world seemed much brighter with that conclusion. Sophy’s natural ebullience revived. Every woman made a few mistakes in her life when it came to dealing with the male of the species. She would try compliance.
She looked up at him. The ghost of a dimple showed in her delicate cheek. An unspoken apology. Her voice was very small.
“I forgot to give you this telegraph, which was delivered yesterday.”
Seth accepted the proffered slip of paper. It was from Matt Tyson. The words danced in front of his eyes. Mocking. Taunting.
Lloyd’s of London has agreed to underwrite the insurance on signed contracts canceled because of the war.
Sophy eyed his blank face. “Is it good news?” she asked doubtfully, watching him frown.
“Yes.” Seth’s voice was heavy. His capital was secure. A few hours earlier, and the marriage could have been annulled. Now it was too late. Sophy had neglected to give him the telegraph in time.
Anger bubbled inside him, turning without his knowing on Sophy. He wished she had given it to him the day before, although what he would have done differently he did not know.
They still had that stupid wedding bargain. No questions, no reproaches, no comments on his part; but Sophy permitted to poke her pretty nose into his business to make matters worse. And he had the gut feeling he was going to fall in love with this beautiful spoiled heiress. Damn it, damn it, damn it!
Lightning forked the sky outside and raindrops formed a million tiny eyes against the glass windows. Sophy touched his arm and he glanced at her.
“I wanted to tell you of it right away, Seth. It’s important that you believe that.” Her voice was haunting and quite gentle, her eyes oddly lonely.
“I do.” It was remarkable how she could defuse his rage so utterly. She had only to touch him, to turn those eyes on him, to whisper softly, and all the blackness curled like ash inside him.
Seth made to leave the room but Sophy stepped forward and blocked his exit. Her fingers dug into his arm.
“Not just say it.”
“I don’t say anything idly, Sophy.” He put her away from him, gently but with the utmost decision.
Sophy squeezed her eyes shut on hot tears. Determinedly she blinked them back.
“I was lucky to find such a bargain, Seth Weston. A knight in shining armor.”
It was a joke but he did not take it that way. “It is too late. We are bound together and had better find a way to live together.”
There was no bitterness in his voice, no emotion of any sort. His voice was flat, and very calm.
In another moment, he let himself out of her bedchamber. The door closed without sound behind him.
For three days, Sophy saw little of her husband. He departed the house immediately after breakfast, and did not return until dinnertime. At the meal table, he was unfailingly courteous, considerate and civilized.
He discussed any number of things, from the imminence of a thirteenth amendment to the constitution, which would formalize the abolition of slavery, to Walt Whitman’s poetry collection,
Drum-Taps,
which epitomized the war in verse.
Drum-Taps,
which epitomized the war in verse.
What he did not discuss was anything personal. He neither asked how she filled her days, nor told her what he did during his absence from the house. Nor did he inquire whether she had kept her appointment with Madame Bertine.
It was as if he had resolved not to interfere in any way in Sophy’s life.
This should have pleased Sophy. He had withdrawn his control over her actions. She was free to do as she wished. Yet a faint sense of disappointment went through her. This was not the way things were supposed to be.
She tried to tell herself that his present indifference was only a temporary aberration. Like a ship in a good wind, he would come about and all would be well. Now it was simply a matter of waiting.
But self-effacement and patience were not Sophy’s strengths. She was restless. By day her face was calm, her daytime self resumed. But as she lay fitful and uneasy in her bed at night, her thoughts went round and round in an endless, useless circle.
She spent endless hours wondering how anyone could embezzle money from a company as well run as Seth’s business was. That it was soundly organized, she had no doubts. But the discrepancy with the insurance did not correlate with sound management.
Still, the suspicion had been there, knocking on the windows of her mind, trying to get her attention ever since the wedding reception. After her visit to the bank, she couldn’t keep ignoring it. Drifts of a cryptic conversation overheard came back to her.
Discounts and rebates. An eye-for-an-eye-type thing. Cut the crap, Charles. Lay them out by dates and deadlines. Crack the Code of Hammurabi.
Babylonia. Right. Thought it was the Walls of Jericho.
You have until Thanksgiving. Then, it’s Alas Bubylon.
Although she could not see the men, hidden as they were behind a screen, Charles must have been Seth’s trusted confidant. It seemed Charles Lethbridge was not what he seemed. Whoever it was, the guilty one was nefarious and devious, so questions like “how,” “when” and “who” needed to be answered.
A part of her insisted on feeling that something elemental had changed in her life and she wasn’t going to escape the consequences. She wanted Seth to care. But caring and romantic love were not the same thing, a little voice whispered in her head.
She’d known that when she’d made the wedding bargain. That was why the cautious part of her had insisted on a platonic relationship. She had said she didn’t want a child, but that had been another fabrication, another lie.
The truth was that she would like a child, one with cobalt blue eyes, to remind her of her love. The truth was that she could not forget her misdeeds.
There was something to be learned from this experience. In bowing to her trustees’ wishes, she had also managed to achieve her goal. She had gained what she thought she wanted in her wedding bargain, but now, too late, she discovered it wasn’t what she craved at all.
She did not feel free and untrammeled. And although she was convinced of the justice of her actions, she was not at all certain Seth would agree. Whatever had happened, she was in the wrong.
But what in the world was wrong with her? She’d only acted in his best interests, even if she had compromised her ethics. Before going into this partnership she’d instructed herself to keep the relationship strictly professional, and now she wanted Seth to love her.
If Sophy suffered heartburning and second thoughts, so, too, did Seth. The truth of the matter was, Seth had not felt like himself since the day he had married Sophy. In fact, he felt he had been seeking his identity since almost the moment he met her.
Before Sophy he had known who he was and what he was. An entrepreneur dedicated to his pursuit of success. A man who had once savored the cream of life, who had lost it in the misery and brutality of war, and who had then come to terms with the future. Long gray days. Of emptiness. Of loneliness.
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