For Love Alone (13 page)

Not certain why, she told no one of her decision, and early the next morning she left the house and directed her coachman to take her to the fashionable jeweler she used on Ludgate Hill. He confirmed her suspicions that the stone was real. The entire pin was unique and very, very costly. Easily worth a small fortune, he informed her. Thanking him, she hurriedly left the shop.

Reaching her rooms, she again took the cravat pin from her reticule. No one would simply overlook or forget about a jewel like this. Unless there was some reason. But what reason? Sophy asked herself in puzzlement. If it had been simply lost, what could be simpler than asking if it had been found? Unless, she thought with a chill, there was something about its loss that someone did not want revealed?

She swallowed. Did the location in which it had been found have anything to do with why no one had come seeking it? Again she remembered the illusion of the shadowy figure and the ruby gleaming like a drop of blood at the top of the staircase—the staircase at the base of which her husband lay dead. She swallowed again, telling herself she was being silly and imaginative. There was probably a perfectly logical reason why no one had asked after it, she told herself stoutly.

A thought occurred to her. Perhaps someone
had
asked after it, but the inquiry never reached her. Edward had overseen the departure of Simon's guests during that terrible time. Had one of them asked after the pin and her notably unreliable uncle merely forgotten to mention it to her?

She took a deep breath. She would ask Edward.

A
rranging an interview with Edward had not been easy, but on Thursday afternoon, at Sophy's request, he came to call. She was alone in the room when Edward arrived, and she had given Emerson instructions to show him immediately into the green saloon on the first floor.

She had seen to it that the girls were gone to Hookham's Lending Library and that Marcus was out with his friends for the afternoon. For reasons she could not explain, she did not want anyone else to know about her interview with Edward. Which was, she knew, perfectly ridiculous.

Edward was nattily dressed in a formfitting coat of blue superfine and pale yellow breeches. The brilliant gloss of his Hessians was a tribute to his valet, and his linen was dazzling white. Bowing over Sophy's hand, he said, “I am glad to see that you have come to your senses, my gel. Miss Richmond's affairs are none of your business, and you were fair and far off poking your nose where it wasn't wanted.”

“I did not ask you here to discuss Miss Richmond. And I would remind you, you may have not wanted me to interfere, but
she
did!”

Edward flashed her a dark look. “Think you have the upper hand, hey? Puffed up with yourself, ain't you? Well let me tell you something, if you and that feisty young cub of a brother of yours don't start treating me more respectfully, you'll find out swift enough who is really driving this rig!”

Sophy frowned. “What do you mean?”

Edward smiled nastily. “I mean that if I decided to make a push to have the care of Phoebe, there would be nothing either you or Marcus could do about it! I am her guardian, and it is only through my generous nature that I have allowed you a free hand. I can take her to live with me whenever I want!”

At Sophy's stunned look, he crowed, “Thought you had me at a standstill, didn't you? Well, think again! I'll make certain you never see Phoebe again until she is married off to the man of my choosing. How do you like that?”

“You would not dare!” Sophy spat, her golden eyes fierce. “Make no mistake, I will never allow you the care of Phoebe's person. You will
not
do to her what you did to me. I will not allow it.
I will kill you first.”

The unmistakable fury in Sophy's face caused Edward to step backward. “Now, now, it don't have to come to that,” he protested. “I have no intention of poking my nose where it ain't wanted if you do the same.”

Controlling herself with an effort, Sophy asked tightly, “Precisely why do you want to marry Miss Richmond so badly? Doesn't raiding Marcus and Phoebe's fortune provide enough for you?”

“A man has to look ahead,” Edward returned easily, not the least discomfited by Sophy's attitude. “In less than two years, Marcus will be twenty-one, and my trusteeship will end. I will have to turn everything over to him, even Phoebe's care and fortune. Leaves me in a devil of a fix. Been thinking about it a lot.” He smiled charmingly at Sophy. “Thing is, without their fortune I won't have a feather to fly with. Thought I ought to start looking about for a way to recoup my losses. Gambling ain't the answer, too risky, but marriage to an heiress! That would fix me up right and tight. Been hanging out for a rich wife these past several months, but most of ‘em got a pack of starchy relatives to watch out for fortune hunters like m'self. I wouldn't even get a nod, much less an opportunity to pay court. Couldn't believe my luck when I discovered that Agnes had the care of the Richmond heiress.”

“And exactly how did that come about?” Sophy asked, her disgust obvious.

Edward had the grace to look embarrassed. “Er. Miss Weatherby ain't precisely up to snuff, if you know what I mean. We were rather, uh, good friends, and she mentioned her niece to me.”

Sophy gasped with outrage. “Miss Weatherby is your
mistress?”

“Was!” exclaimed Edward feebly, seeing that he had put his foot into it. “I may be a blackguard of the worst kind,” he admitted, “but even
I
wouldn't keep my wife's aunt as my lightskirt. Very bad ton!”

His shameless candor left Sophy speechless. He saw absolutely nothing wrong with his actions. He even, if the expression on his face was anything to go by, thought she would applaud his plans for ensuring his financial stability.

When Sophy remained silent, Edward took it as an encouraging sign. “Now you see why it is important for you to send Anne back to her aunt. Be to your benefit, too,” he added shrewdly.

Sophy arched a brow.

“Stands to reason,” he said, “if I have the Richmond fortune at my fingertips, I won't need to dip into Marcus and Phoebe's funds.”

Shaking her head, Sophy said, “You are too despicable for words! I do not know what you planned to accomplish by coming here, but let me assure you that I have no intention of changing my mind about Anne's stay with me.”

“If that don't beat all!” he exclaimed. “You were the one who requested I come to call. Thought it all a hum, but then I decided, my niece and all, so I came. If you didn't want to see me, why the devil did you invite me here in the first place?”

Reminded of her reasons for this interview, Sophy started. Taking a deep breath, she said slowly, “I have a question to ask you. Do you remember the night Simon died?”

“Do I remember? Good gad, how could I forget? Man was a good friend of mine.”

“You took care of everything, seeing to the departure of his friends and whatnot. Did anyone mention to you that they had lost something?”

Edward frowned. “Lost something? What?”

“A cravat pin.”

Obviously puzzled by her question after so many years, Edward shook his head. “Not that I recall.”

Bringing forth the pin from the drawer of a small satinwood table, she showed it to him.

“I found this at the top of the staircase on the night Simon died. Do you recognize it?”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at the pin, and an odd expression crossed his face, part astonishment and something else Sophy could not name—craftiness, perhaps?

“No, I can't say that I do recognize it,” he said finally. “But let me look at it more closely.”

Taking the pin from her, he examined it carefully, and though his face revealed nothing, Sophy was positive he recognized the pin. Looking over at her, he commented, “Found it the night Simon died, hey? At the top of the staircase where he fell?”

Sophy nodded, but after a moment or two, he returned it to her and shrugged. “Pretty piece of work. Can't see why you had me come here on such a sleeveless errand. Wasted my time. Busy man.”

Sophy's lip curled. “Indeed you are, frittering away money that is not yours.”

“Nasty tongue you have, gel. Always thought so. Too bad Simon didn't teach you better,” Edward said, his golden eyes, so like hers, bright with dislike.

Sophy made no reply. Edward sketched her a scant bow and stalked from the room.

For several minutes, Sophy stared speculatively at the ruby pin she still held in the palm of her hand. Her uncle had recognized it, she was positive. But he had denied it. Why?

She left the green saloon and thoughtfully made her way upstairs to her bedroom, putting away the pin in her jewelry box. Her uncle really was despicable, she observed, not for the first time. He honestly thought that she would approve of his plans for Anne. And he blatantly admitted that without the fortune her father had so unwisely placed in his hands he would be all to pieces.

His threat concerning Phoebe disturbed her the most. It was something she could never allow to happen, and she hoped that he had merely been blustering in his usual manner. But just the fact that he had even mentioned it worried her immensely.

 

Marcus was understandably furious when Sophy told him about Edward's threat. His young face taut, he swore, “By Jove! Just let him try to take Phoebe from us! Just let him try. I will run him through before I will let him lay one hand on her.”

Sophy gradually calmed him, convincing him all that was needed for the present was a vigilant eye.

With Phoebe it was a trifle more delicate. Sophy did not want to terrify the child, and so she merely warned her never to go anywhere with her uncle, no matter what the circumstances.

“As if I would!” Phoebe returned heatedly. Her gaze sharpened. “Why are you warning me against him now? What has he done?”

Sophy shook her head. “He has done nothing, my pet. I just do not know what sort of maggot he may get in his brain. I am only taking precautions.”

“Is it because of me?” asked Anne, her brown eyes huge in her little face.

The two girls were sprawled across Phoebe's bed, where they had been scanning some of the books they had just brought home from the library. Seeing the anxiety in Anne's face, Sophy smiled at her and gently patted her cheek.

“This has nothing to do with you. Our uncle has always been a disagreeable beast, and I only wanted to remind Phoebe always to be on her guard around him.”

The girls seemed to take her words at face value, and, feeling that she had done all she could for the moment, Sophy returned to her own rooms, where she began to prepare for dinner that evening with the Offingtons and Viscount Harrington.

After the interview with Edward, Sophy was not in any mood to join friends for what would undoubtedly be, under normal circumstances, a most convivial evening. If it were not such a small party and her absence would not be greatly missed, she would have come up with an excuse to remain home. But it would have been the height of rudeness to abandon the Offingtons, and even the vexing Lord Harrington, at the last minute if there was no pressing need for it.

By the time Lord Harrington came to escort her to Stephens's Hotel on Bond Street that evening, Sophy's mood had improved somewhat. Pushing her troubling thoughts aside, she went down the stairs to greet Lord Harrington. To her annoyance, just the mere sight of him, standing so tall and handsome in the grand foyer, unfairly caused a wave of breathlessness to sweep over her. Damn him, too!

Bending gallantly over her hand, Ives murmured, “May I say that you are enchanting this evening, my lady?”

“I doubt that anyone could stop you from saying or doing precisely what you please, my lord. Certainly to date I have seen no one do so,” she returned tartly, allowing him to drape a cream-colored Spanish cloak over her elegant gown of apricot shot silk.

“You wrong me, my lady. Why, only the slightest hint from your sweet self would make me instantly change my ways.”

Unable to resist the twinkle in his eyes, Sophy laughed. Satisfied with her reaction, Ives escorted her out of the house and into his carriage.

Sophy was startled to find that the Offingtons were not already in the coach waiting for them, and she cast an inquiring eye toward her escort.

As the horses leaped into action and the carriage rolled smoothly down the street, Ives said, “The Offingtons will be a trifle tardy joining us at Stephens's. It seems they were delayed returning home from a tour of the royal menagerie this afternoon by an accident between the driver of their coach and that of some cow-handed young blood trying to drive to an inch. I received a note from Offington just as I was leaving stating that they would join us within the hour.”

Seated beside her, Ives grinned down at her in the dim light of the carriage. “I am afraid that you shall have to endure my undiluted company until they arrive.”

“You could have let me know of the delay,” Sophy said coolly, not certain she was comfortable with the change in plans.

Ives took one of her hands and lifted it to his lips. “I could have,” he murmured, “but then I would have been denied your very charming company.”

She shot him a look. “Perhaps I would have preferred it that way. Did you think of that, my lord?”

“The thought did cross my mind,” he confessed brazenly, keeping a firm hold on the hand she was trying discreetly to free from his grasp, “but upon reflection, I decided that perhaps it was a good thing.” He smiled angelically. “It provides us with an opportunity to get to know each other better, does it not?”

“Perhaps,” Sophy said bluntly, “I do not want to know you better.”

“Sweetheart! How can you say such a thing? After all that we have shared together.”

Giving up the fight for her hand, she glared at him. “Do you know,” she said finally, “that I would very much like to box your ears?”

“And I,” he said softly, as he pulled her into his arms, “would very much like to kiss you. Shall we agree upon a trade? You may box my ears, if I may find out if your lips are as sweet as I believe they are.”