Lady Whistledown Strikes Back (38 page)

engage in a real game of cards. Doesn’t sound like ‘love’ to me.”

She was going to kill him; it was her only hope for a normal, pleasant life. But before she could figure

out how to do it in so public a place, Max took her arm. “Shall we dance?”

She ignored the heated tingle that raced through her at his touch and instead tilted her head to one side, straining to hear the sounds of the orchestra. None came. “I cannot hear the music.”

“Then we’ll take a breath of air on the terrace.”

Good God, the terrace! She could not be alone with Max. Sophia turned to John and was just in time to see the back of him as he disappeared among the crowd. Blast his carcass! She’d have a strong word to say to him the next time she saw him. Several words, in fact, and none of them pleasant.

Max tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Come.”

She kept her feet planted. “I have no wish to go on the terrace.”

A sliver of humor touched his mouth. “Not even if I promise to talk about the annulment?”

The annulment. It was what she wanted. Perhaps if they did have this one, simple conversation, she could get his agreement and he would be on his way all the sooner. “I suppose—”

“Excellent.” He led her to the door and opened it, guiding her outside in one smooth movement.

The noise of the ballroom faded as the door clicked shut, the cool night air wrapping about them. To

her relief, Max released her and merely walked at her side.

The fresh scent of the damp gardens cleared her head and calmed her racing heart. She walked to the

top of the wide stairs that led down into the garden and viewed the vista lit from the bright glow of the moon. “It’s lovely out here.”

Max moved to stand beside her, leaning his shoulder against a pillar. “Lovely, indeed,” he murmured,

and she had the oddest sensation that he wasn’t looking at the gardens.

Sophia swallowed, feeling the strangest urge to whisper.

It was so quiet out here, almost peaceful. Or it would be if she weren’t so painfully aware of the man beside her. She stole a glance at him, a pang of homesickness hitting her. Strange as it was, even standing with him now, she still missed him, missed the way things used to be for those brief shining months.

He caught her gaze, a frown flickering over his face. “What are you thinking?”

She sighed. “I was wondering where we’d be if Richard hadn’t lied in that card game all those years ago.”

The quiet question hung in the moist air. Max looked down at her. The moonlight caressed the delicate planes of her face, touching the line of her cheek and throat, clearly showing the hint of regret in her eyes. His chest tightened and he turned so that he could face her more completely. “I fear that if it hadn’t been for Richard’s betrayal, something else would have torn us apart. We were too young, too foolish.”

She flicked a glance his way, her eyes shadowed so that he could not read her expression. “You think

we made an error in marrying.”

“We made an error in marrying so quickly,” he amended. “We didn’t know one another. Well enough. That was proven by our inability to handle adversity.”

“Had we loved one another, we would have been fine. We had passion and nothing else.” Her mouth curved, a bitterness to her smile that deepened his ache. “That’s what you told me as you packed your bags. I will never forget that.”

“I had rather hoped you would. Sophia, I didn’t mean what I said that night. I was hurt. Pained that you, the woman I adored, could think so poorly of me as to believe I’d cheat.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to believe it, it’s just that… John and I had practically raised Richard. And you wouldn’t answer the accusations. It just seemed—” She bit her lip, a quiver passing over her face. “Max, I am sorry for not supporting you. I should have. If I had it to do over, I would do it differently.”

“Really? If I had it to do over, I would have done the exact same thing. I do not have to refute the allegations of fools or imbeciles.”

“Would you have left me, as well?”

“I could not subject you to the embarrassment of being banished. That was my burden to bear, not yours.”

“I disagree. I asked you to take me with you. I— I even begged.”

Even in the pale light, he could see the color lifting in her cheeks. “What kind of a man would I have been to have taken you into exile with me? To live without a home, without your family, your friends.

I could not do it. Besides… you’d made your choice.”

She flushed. “I’m sorry for that. I cannot keep saying it. It’s just that… you do not leave someone if you love them.”

“You do when staying would hurt them more. I loved you, Sophia. It was just a pity you didn’t feel

the same.”

It seemed in the uncertain light that she paled before she turned away. “Make no mistake; I did care.”

The word “did” tore through his heart, and he realized in that instant how much he still wanted her, still desired her. All these years he had told himself over and over that she was not for him. That he could live without her. That he was fine alone. It was all a lie. And now, standing here on the moon-soaked terrace, with Sophia only an arm’s length away, he knew what he really wanted. Her. But was he too late? Could she ever feel for him like she once did? And would that love prove more true? Stronger, just as she was stronger?

He sighed, wishing he knew at least some of the answers. “I thought you’d eventually write and ask for

an annulment.”

“I didn’t need one. Until now.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged, the gesture graceful. “I don’t know. Life just seemed to be passing me by.”

“What of this Riddleton fellow?”

“He is a friend, no more.”

“Good,” Max said roughly. “He’s not man enough for you.”

She took a deep breath, her chest lifting against the thin silk of her gown.

“Please do not disparage Thomas. He has been kind to me.”

Max didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to control his body’s heated reaction to the sight of those tempting breasts. … He remembered her breasts, and her skin, and the taste of her lips. Every inch of her had been his. Max had to ram his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

She made an impatient gesture. “Enough of this. We came here to discuss the annulment. And your uncle’s diary.”

“Auction the diary.” Max shrugged. “I don’t care.”

She almost sputtered. “You don’t—you have to care!”

“If I didn’t care that people thought me a cheat, why would I care what they thought of my dead uncle?”

“Then … why are you here?”

‘To prove to myself that we are indeed finished.”

“How will you prove that?”

He stepped forward. “Kiss me, Sophia. Show me you don’t care.”

Sophia had to use every ounce of her will not to throw herself into his arms. It was almost as she’d once dreamed it, Max returning to declare his love. Only … he didn’t love her. He hadn’t once used those words. She stiffened. “No.

You cannot come back into my life and then demand that I give what you once threw away. I want my freedom and I will not halt until I have it.”

His jaw tightened, his hands spread over her back as he pulled her flush against him. He was as solid as rock, his muscles firm, his manhood pressing against her. His mouth curved into a taunting smile. “Are you afraid to kiss me? Afraid to see what might happen?”

Sophia’s heart bounded at the challenge, but her traitorous body was already reacting to him. “I kissed you once. Wasn’t that enough?”

He leaned forward, his mouth a scant inch from hers. “I don’t know. Is it? Do you think—”

“Ow!” came a soft feminine voice from behind them.

Max instantly released Sophia, and they turned toward the voice. They could just make out Lady Mathilda Howard and Mr. Peter Thompson standing in the dim light.

An awkward silence ensued, broken when Mr. Thompson gamely offered a cheery, “Good evening.”

Max took a deep breath. “Er, fine weather.”

Sophia had to bite back a surprising giggle at the inane comment. Max
never made small talk.

“Indeed,” Mr. Thompson said at the same time Lady Mathilda popped in with a lively, “Oh yes!”

The poor dears, Sophia thought. It was little wonder they were out here on the terrace. It was deuced hard to get a few moments alone, especially at a crowded ball. And since Lady Hargreaves hadn’t the decency to at least provide a suitable orchestra for dancing, the younger set was left without recourse. Sophia smiled kindly at Mathilda. “Lady Mathilda.”

The younger girl greeted her in return, a breathless note to her voice. “Lady Easterly. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. And you?”

“Just fine, thank you. I was just er, a little overheated.” The girl waved a hand toward the garden.

“I thought a spot of fresh air might revive me.”

“Quite,” Sophia said, wondering whether Mr. Thompson or the heated ballroom was responsible for

the color in the girl’s cheeks. “We felt the exact same way.”

Max grunted his agreement.

“Er, Easterly,” Mr. Thompson said, stepping into the breach. “I should warn you of something.”

Max inclined his head in question, his gaze narrowing on the younger man’s face.

“Lady Neeley has been publicly accusing you of the theft.”

“What?”
Sophia asked, outrage pouring through her.

Max slanted a sharp glance her way before looking back at Mr. Thompson.

“Publicly?”

Thompson nodded curtly. “In no uncertain terms, I’m afraid.”

Lady Mathilda added in an eager voice, “Mr. Thompson defended you. He was magnificent.”

“Tillie,” Mr. Thompson murmured, clearly embarrassed.

“Thank you for your defense,” Max said. “I knew that she suspected me. She has made that much abundantly clear. But she had not yet gone so far as to accuse me publicly.”

“She has now.”

“I’m sorry,” Lady Mathilda said. “She’s rather horrid.”

Horrid didn’t begin to describe the woman. Sophia said sourly, “I would never have accepted her invitation had I not heard so much about the chef.”

Max flicked a glance at Mr. Thompson. “Thank you for the warning.”

Mr. Thompson gave a nod. “I must return Lady Mathilda to the party.”

“Perhaps my wife would be a better escort.”

Sophia glanced up at Max, shocked to hear the words
my wife
on his lips. It seemed … intimate, somehow. She opened her mouth to speak, then realized that she could say nothing in front of the other two. Besides, Max was right about suggesting that she escort Lady Mathilda back into the ballroom.

There surely would have been comment had Mr. Thompson attempted to do it himself.

“You are more than correct, my lord,” Mr. Thompson said, pulling gently on Lady Mathilda’s arm and steering her toward Sophia. He bent toward Mathilda and added in an undertone, “I will see you tomorrow.”

Mathilda’s eyes shone, and she said in an adorably breathless voice, “Will you?”

“Yes.” He gave her a final look, then Sophia took Mathilda’s arm and led her toward the terrace doors.

As she stood back to allow the younger girl entrance, Sophia glanced back at Max. He was watching

her, his eyes shadowed, his face expressionless. It was just like Max to be worried about the propriety

of someone else’s good name, and yet care nothing that Lady Neeley was somewhere spilling poison

over his own.

Well, Max may not care, but Sophia did. And she owed him for her past error.

Determination stole through her. By God, this time she wouldn’t let Max down.

She’d stop Lady Neeley’s assault on his reputation, no matter what it took.

In that moment, Sophia knew how she would make up for her transgressions.

Make up for them and more. Flushed with renewed purpose, she turned and entered the ballroom, bid a hurried good-bye to Lady Mathilda and then went in search of John.

And to conclude this columns analysis of the Neeley suspects (or at least of five of them; This Author was unable to provide lengthier descriptions of all twenty-two), one must mention the surprise guest of the evening: Lord Easterly. Not much is known of the viscount, as he has spent the last twelve years on the Continent, specifically Italy. There is, of course, the unsavory scandal in his past, which necessitated his flight abroad, but even though Lord Easterly suffered his disgrace in a card game, there is nothing at present to indicate that he is short of funds.

Indeed, it is difficult to imagine why the gentleman might desire a ruby bracelet. Perhaps to

woo back his wife?

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS,
31 MAY 1816

After an entire night of tossing and turning and trying hard
not
to think about Max, Sophia formulated the beginning of a plan. To the startlement of her servants, she rose with the sun and was dressed and ready for breakfast at the unlikely hour of seven.

Her mind full, she made her way to the breakfast room, sublimely unaware that the cook had been hurriedly summoned and was now in the kitchen,

tying an apron over her nightgown and muttering vile sentiments about people who rose before the

sun was properly fixed in the sky.

Sophia took a seat at the long mahogany table and requested that Jacobs bring paper and pen. The butler did as asked, though it could be noticed that his wig was askew and his cravat rather hastily knotted.

Sophia, however, noticed little. Careful not to drip ink on the crisp paper, she made a list of all twenty-two guests who had graced Lady Neeley’s dinner party. Then, nibbling thoughtfully on the end

of the pen, Sophia considered each and every name. The list itself was a tribute to Lady Neeley’s wondrous chef, for only culinary wonders of the highest caliber could have drawn such a sparkling company hither.

Sophia dipped the pen into the inkwell. The fact that there had been so many highly placed people

present made her job all the easier. All she had to do was mark those who might have had a reason for stealing a bracelet. And that meant people in need of quick funding of some sort. By the time Sophia finished, she had circled five names.