Authors: Illusion
Emily French (31 page)
“What!” Seth echoed with a hint of incredulity. His eyes focused on Sophy in a swift, surprised look.
Perversely, this only seemed to infuriate her further. She gave a negligent shrug, not denying anything, but not at all certain she’d taken the right course.
Charles was at the window looking out. His hazel eyes were narrowed. Alert. Calculating. Temper seethed about the edges of his words. “Twister of truth! Who is the cheat? Substituting one of Richard’s stamps for mine! Trying to catch me out, Sophy?”
“I was right, wasn’t I? Forged any checks lately, Charles?”
Termagant!
Seth stepped toward her. Sophy held her ground. His eyes locked with hers, and he set his hands on her shoulders. Did she tremble?
“Enough!”
The word came out sharply, surprising Sophy with its whiplash of command. Seth had never used that tone of authority with her before, and she acknowledged shakily it was effective. Even Charles responded to that raw, aggressive power.
“Damn!” Charles swore in an undertone, his indignation collapsing beneath the weight of his conscience. “I didn’t mean that! It was a low shot, Sophy, and I’m sorry.”
Sophy sucked in her breath, her breasts heaving tumultuously, and lifted her chin. “I had reason to suspect you. I needed to know the truth.”
Aware that Seth was blazingly angry, she felt a kind of vertigo, a strange frightening pressure in her chest as if the air were liquid. Wide-eyed she waited, gray gaze fixed on his thunderous face.
“In your heart you know I have discovered the truth! I know who the embezzler is and so do you!”
There was a long silence while he stared at her, his expression hard and remote. He drew a little away from her, moving stiffly, each step carefully measured. Then he spoke very softly, biting out each word between set teeth.
“If you have an ounce of common sense, Sophy, you will not say another word.” Each word was a chip of ice. It sounded as though he were exercising every measure of self-control he possessed.
Charles gave Sophy a slight bow, and turned to Seth, his voice a little thick. “I’m sorry, Seth, but I have to go to Paterson today and I’m already late. I’ve assembled a portfolio of new designs. Perhaps the lithographs could be discussed in my absence.” He laid the folder on the desk and tactfully left the room.
Desperately, Sophy tried to regain some control Her small white teeth closed briefly around her lower lip.
“Seth. I can explain.” She said it a little quickly, a little breathlessly.
“There is nothing to explain.” Lean and darkly powerful, Seth stood firm and unrelenting, his logic, his reasoning suppressed and overwhelmed by a wave of majestic anger. She had blown their cover.
Damn and damn and damn her.
Chapter Sixteen
I
t began to snow as Seth and Sophy began their journey homeward, the sky turning white like spirit sails. The two occupants of the carriage cleaved to their respective corners, each giving a stiff mental lecture on the perils of playing with fire.
t began to snow as Seth and Sophy began their journey homeward, the sky turning white like spirit sails. The two occupants of the carriage cleaved to their respective corners, each giving a stiff mental lecture on the perils of playing with fire.
Away in the park, a crowd of people were making merry on the frozen lake. The ice was in splendid condition. It sparkled in the half-light like a sheet of frosted glass, and over it the skaters glided with much fun and laughter. It was an invigorating scene.
Sophy leaned against the carriage window and watched them. Seth heard the movement as her thighs brushed against the fabric of her gown, caught the faint lavender scent of her as she turned to speak to him.
“Oh, look at the children skating! Aren’t they adorable?” She threw Seth a little smile in a small attempt to lighten the atmosphere between them. “Wouldn’t you just love to be out there skating?”
As usual, when Sophy smiled, her face changed like the sky on a windy day, from clouds to sunlight. It seduced. For once, Seth didn’t return her smile, but he swallowed the angry retort that rose to his lips.
“My legs are no longer a pair, so I can’t even begin,” he said in an unnaturally even tone, his hands spread, palms up.
Sophy looked quickly at the skaters and then back at him. He was gazing down at her, a half smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Her fingers curled around the rim of the window.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” She flushed and bit her lip, her voice trailing off as she tried to control her emotions.
Seth forgot himself utterly, and leaned forward to clasp her hand. “It will not be long before you have a child of your own. You can take him skating.” He looked directly into her eyes, all the ice in his own turned to running water and rainbows.
A jolt of shock ran through Sophy. Startled, her hand instinctively moved to her middle. Not until he loved her!
“No!” The single negative almost exploded from her. Her head shook from side to side, her normally sensual lips pressed tightly together.
Now his face was very close, and his eyes stared straight into hers. She could smell his scent, clean and strong and masculine. She felt a shiver race down her spine, as if he had reached out and touched her.
Sophy wrapped her arms around herself, clinging tightly. “Seth! I didn’t mean it! It was only... I didn’t expect... didn’t know what I was saying. It’s just that the thought of a child distracts me. It is too soon.” She felt like a clockwork doll, jerking out mechanical words.
Words, empty rattling words. Sophy’s throat closed. She bit her lip, distressed and wishing she could recall her words. But as is usually the case with rash words, they had already done their damage.
Seth reached down inside himself for something he did not even know existed. He dragged it up with all his strength. He clenched his fist and Sophy could see the cords of his neck standing out with the strain.
He spoke through set and aching teeth, the words bitten off sharply. “There is already the possibility that you might be with child.”
Seth saw Sophy’s lips move as if to protest, and put up his fingers to prevent her speaking. “It may be that nothing has happened. We need not address the problem until it arises.”
His voice was low now, and he swallowed with difficulty. “In the meantime, we must just wait and ensure the chance does not occur again.”
Dinner that night was quite lively, with Sophy’s young cousins arriving just before the meal, and lingering on the off chance that they would be invited to stay and share a fillet of beef. And maybe
just one
of the little cranberry-pear tarts they had spied cooling on a kitchen bench.
just one
of the little cranberry-pear tarts they had spied cooling on a kitchen bench.
As he graciously invited the young men to share the repast, Seth suspected he was turning out to be unexpectedly vulnerable to this particular form of attack. He was pleased they were there. One could forget, for a little while, that nothing was going right.
Sophy was also pleased to see her cousins. She listened to the men discuss the political situation, and watched Seth’s mind turn over alternatives. It was a very pleasant mind to watch, quick and clear, honest yet subtle, able to analyze and evaluate in a logical and orderly fashion. She felt her dark mood lifting.
Bernard’s merry quips and Pieter’s jovial rejoinders concealed the cool politeness between Seth and Sophy. The strain, however, was noted by Agnes Weston.
Her eyes, bright as a bird’s, went first to her son, searching his face. Seth appeared totally relaxed, but there was a hard gleam in his eyes. He was furious, Agnes realized in sudden intuition. Her speculative glance flicked to Sophy, taking in the tense look on that small pointed face in one comprehensive glance.
Agnes smiled to herself. It seemed that all was not well in the dovecote! She waited until after the meal when the men were drinking their port and they were alone in the drawing room before she turned her level gaze on her daughter-in-law.
“What have you done to make Seth so angry with you that he is heavy eyed and simply oozing displeasure?”
Sophy instantly experienced a flush of guilt. She sighed and sank into a chair near the fireplace, plucking an imaginary piece of fluff off the Chantilly lace flouncing of her skirt. There was no way she could discuss the true cause of Seth’s vexation!
“I’m afraid I behaved outrageously, accusing Charles Lethbridge of unspeakable things.”
How much Agnes Weston guessed about the quality of her marriage to Seth she was never of course sure, but her mother-in-law probably had a fair idea. The older woman said nothing, however, as she calmly selected a strand of colored thread from her sewing basket.
Sophy sighed again, and closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the scene all over again. Normally she would have accepted Seth’s criticism of her insolence, even have laughed it off. Tonight, she felt dejected and completely enervated. Life had lost its buoyancy.
She had always believed in the triumph of good over evil, so had never doubted the inevitability of her success. However, her philosophy had never mentioned at what cost such triumph was to be achieved.
“My wretched tongue! I should not have said all those things. It is my tiresome temper... when I lose it there is no knowing what I will say.”
Somehow she had trouble seeing. It was as if she were peering through a windowpane streaked with running water. She rubbed her eyes furiously on one deep crimson velvet puff sleeve.
“Do you know what happens to children who play with matches?” Agnes Weston remarked, but her bright eyes twinkled as, with delicate precision, she drew a thread through the eye of a needle.
“Yes.” Sophy blinked at the change of topic, and her smile flashed briefly. She picked up several strands of colored silk. “They eventually see the light... even if they do get burned!”
“Poor Seth!” Agnes shook her head mournfully, placing a small stitch with great care.
“Why do you say that?”
“My son thought he was marrying a nice meek and mild little woman who would make no difference in his life.” Agnes Weston’s needle flashed surely, delicately, back and forth through the embroidery she was working on a tambour frame. “He wanted to be free to come and go as he pleased. He did not bargain on a firebrand like you!”
“I simply didn’t think through the consequences of my actions. My impulse was stronger than my will, which compelled me,” Sophy protested, her voice a husky whisper.
They had been the actions of a woman caught up between the crush of her own desire and common sense, she thought defensively. It seemed a fiery spirit like love could not be kept at one level. She should have known this, of course.
“Marriage shouldn’t be a contest. Not between two sensible people.” In her mind Sophy added, “who love each other,” but she could not say it.
“You’re human enough for that and you’ve got a temper. But if you can face your conscience, you can hold your head high.”
While it was not the most extravagant praise in the world, Sophy colored under the pleasure of it. When she looked up at her mother-in-law, her eyes were unnaturally bright. “In all the world one can’t be singled out to have one’s heart’s desire.”
“Perhaps.” Agnes seemed to be sewing extra carefully. “It would be a pity if you tried too hard, Sophy. My son might not react well to captivity.”
Sophy felt herself redden even more, and concentrated on matching the threads. “He’s no captive!” she protested vehemently, but with eyes firmly fixed upon the tangled skeins in her hand. “He’s a very free agent...even if he has signed a contract!”
“Maybe.” Agnes bit off a piece of thread. Sophy had the feeling there was more to that statement than she understood.
“But you’re doing quite well at laying siege to my son’s reason and logic, my dear. It would be a pity to desist now.” Which was as far as Agnes Weston ever went with praise... or encouragement?
“I’m going to miss all this when I’m at Yale next year.” With a cheery wave, Bernard followed his brother to the waiting carriage.
“I promise to bake a fruit-filled stack cake every week!” Sophy called to him before she closed the door and walked beside Seth down the long hallway.
When they reached the foot of the stairs, Sophy felt a warm palm on her shoulder, holding her back. She swung her head round to look at her husband, the lamplight soft on the sharply defined curve of his cheekbone, his lips. Her heart beat very fast, and a peculiar weakness came into her knees.
Seth let go of her shoulder and ran an impatient hand through the carefully combed thickness of his dark hair. “Are you going to sulk forever?”
One hand on the newel post, Sophy resisted the impulse to flee. The wildness of her pulse seemed to have invaded her head and she felt dizzy.
She had to start twice, and then could only manage to get out, “I do not sulk,” wishing her voice did not sound so thin.
He stared down, the grooves at the edge of his mouth tightening, as though he could see in her flushed face the immense effort it took to utter those words.
Seth sighed. “I have given the matter serious consideration. You know, you’re wrong about Charles.” He lowered his voice, as if he felt himself on a precipice and in voicing this hidden knowledge he had begun to fear his own words.
“We’ve been friends for a long time. He had nothing but a spendthrift wife when he came to me. I gave him a job. Set him up. Let him go. He’s proved himself.” He gave her a half smile. “If I’d ever harbored doubts about Charles — and I don’t say I had — your bombshell today dissolved them.”
“As I said all along...”
“Permit me to finish. If an expert forger decides to place himself on the wrong side of the law and cook the books, to use your expression, do you really suppose he hides the main evidence under his own pillow, so to speak?”
Sophy shook her head, silently applauding his business acumen. His insight and perspective were sharp and well honed.
“Today you cut to the heart of the matter. I don’t want you to be used as a weapon, either on a business or personal front. I’d prefer you not to continue your audit at the shipping office.”
That stopped her. She hadn’t counted on that possibility. Would he never cease doing the unexpected? It made her nervous. Sophy came closer to him and put her fingers along his arm.
“One never discards even a potential weapon unless one has to,” she said, softly, fiercely. Her eyes never left his face while she waited tensely to see if he understood. His smile died and she was sorry to see it go.
“Weapons can be used by either side of a battle. I don’t want you on the wrong end of this one,” Seth bit back in an equally intense tone. “There’s been too many
incidents
lately. The Rivington Street fire was the last straw.” He struggled to master his emotions, to speak reasonably, but his eyes burned with an intense inner fire as he spoke to her.
incidents
lately. The Rivington Street fire was the last straw.” He struggled to master his emotions, to speak reasonably, but his eyes burned with an intense inner fire as he spoke to her.
For some reason Sophy seized on that. She decided to go on the attack. Her mind racing, she said the first thing that came into her head. “You can get that look out of your eye, Seth Weston.”
She could not stop herself, wanting as she did to push him further, to needle him, to provoke in him a response strong enough to prove to her once and for all that he truly cared for her. Why couldn’t he see what was so obviously hanging right in front of his face?
“Are you issuing a fresh challenge, Sophy? If so, I accept.” His voice came as a soft caress and sent an eddy of sensations spiraling down through the core of her being.
“You’re arrogant and domineering, and...” Sophy said, already halfway up the stairs.
“—and you’re stubborn and willful, and unbelievably provoking!”
Seth slowly ascended the stairs, one hand sliding along the polished banister. His anger was oddly exciting. Now that she knew he hadn’t changed his mind about sharing her bed, she felt driven to exacerbate it, to see how far she could go before his temper exploded.
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