Tainted Bride (7 page)

Dory cleared her throat and a wide grin spread across her face. “I believe you have taken the Earl of Marlton off the marriage market, Sophia. You two will make quite a stir.”

Sophia spun around so fiercely her dark hair came loose from the pins holding it. “I don’t want to make a stir. I don’t care what he does and I will absolutely never marry him.” Tears sprang into her eyes and soaked her face. She dashed them away, mounted her mare and road toward Collington house at a clip.

Dory called her name.

Horses clomped behind her.

As soon as she reached the steps to Collington House, Sophia dropped down from her mare without assistance and ran up the front stoop. Once Wells opened the door, she rushed through and up the curved stairway. She didn’t want company, but Dory trudged behind her.

She longed for time to brood and perhaps have a good cry.

Once in Sophia’s chambers, Dory turned to speak to Marie, who had rushed up the steps as well. “Marie, your lady will not need you for now. We will ring if there is a need.”

Marie curtsied and stepped out of the room.

Dory closed the door behind her.

“What on earth is wrong, Sophia?” Dory demanded.

“Nothing. Oh, Dory, go home. I’ll be fine by the next time we meet.” She loathed the begging quality in her voice.

Dory sat on the edge of the bed and watched while Sophia paced back and forth across the fine rug.

“I will not go, so you may as well tell me why you dislike the Earl of Marlton so intensely.”

“I don’t dislike him.” Tears were running freely down her face now. She tried to dash them away, but more followed and she gave up her efforts.

“But you will never marry him?”

“I won’t marry at all. Never.” She plopped herself down in a chair near the empty hearth.

Dory got up, crossed the room and knelt in front of her. “Why not, Sophia? What happened to make you so set against it? Not to mention how rude you were to the earl who you just told me you do not dislike. No one has said you must marry him. Did he do something on the veranda last night that upset you?”

“He kissed me.” Her voice shook.

“Was it terrible? John Allendale kissed me last week and I found it quite pleasant. I was not rude, though I did stop him rather quickly.”

“No. It was very nice. Lovely, actually.” She whispered and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“I don’t understand,” Dory said.

Sophia’s chest was so tight, she gripped the front of her riding habit and tore open the jacket. In her haste, several buttons skittered across the floor. Telling one person the truth even if it was a mistake would let off the pressure building inside her. She took a breath and met Dory’s gaze. “I’m not a virgin. I know you will hate me now that you know and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush.

Now that Sophia had said it out loud, she felt stronger. “I did, so much, enjoy having you as a friend and I would appreciate it if you kept my secret. I would so hate to embarrass her ladyship.”

Dory sat back on her heels and looked up at Sophia. Shock registered in her clear green eyes. Pity or maybe sorrow created deep creases around her downturned mouth. “I’m still your friend, Sophia. Would the blackguard not marry you?”

Chills ran up Sophia’s spine at the mention of the life she might have had. “He offered, but my father tossed him from the house and I thanked god he did. I cannot imagine a worse hell than being married to that horrible man.” She shuddered with another violent chill.

Dory stood and turned away.

Sophia’s heart sank. She had ruined one of only two friendships she had in London.

Dory’s back was rigid and her hands fisted. She turned and stared at Sophia with narrowed eyes. Maybe she would strike her. “He forced himself on you.”

Sophia only nodded. The night in her father’s study rushed back to her memory pushing more tears to the surface.

“How old were you?” Dory knelt before her again.

Sophia was surprised at how angry Dory seemed. Angry at a man she didn’t even know. “Sixteen. It was my first season out.” Her heart slowed its pace. Dory hadn’t rushed from the house the minute she heard of Sophia’s shame. She didn’t call her the terrible names that rolled through Sophia’s own mind. Dory had knelt before her with sympathy.

“He should have been shot for what he did to you. How did your father not kill him?”

For the first time since that horrible night, she had told someone outside her mother and father the truth. Her imagination had painted a picture of the result that included shame and remorse. Dory stared at her eyes wide and hands shaking as she gripped hers. Sophia’s heart lightened and the pain long in her chest eased. “I think father would have enjoyed exceedingly to have killed him on the spot.”

“I thought you Americans went around shooting each other willy-nilly.”

A small giggle escaped. She put her hand over her mouth. “Not generally.”

Dory paced with clenched hands. “All right, then. If you do not want to marry, then we shall devise a plan so you will not have to. Will your father not allow you a small income?”

“He would, but mother insisted I come to London and try to find a husband. She said I must put the incident behind me. But really, I can’t. I can’t stand the thought of a man touching me.” The night before rushed to her memory and her skin tingled. “Though, when the earl kissed me it was quite soft and enjoyable.”

“I wish I knew more about such matters. My mother has been very closed-mouthed on the subject. However, I must believe that a rape is not the same as whatever one would have with a husband. I’ll give the matter of your remaining unmarried some thought. In the meantime, do not worry so much. No one has offered for you, so there is no reason you should not enjoy your season. If someone does offer, then we shall think of reasons why each and every one is not suitable. I can be clever when I need to. I’ll send your maid in and order you a bath. I shall call on you tomorrow with Elinor.”

Sophia jumped up. “Oh, don’t tell Elinor. Please.”

“Of course not.” Dory hugged her. “We shall just come for a visit and discuss gowns for the Fallon ball.”

Sophia wanted to hug her new friend and never let go. She couldn’t have dreamed anyone would take her part, let alone fight on her behalf. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Dorothea Flammel.”

Dory smiled. “I am as well.”

Once Dory left, Sophia called for a bath and Marie helped her undress. She closed her eyes and sank deeper into the warm water. Perhaps everything would be all right. The idea of a small house, either here or in Philadelphia, crept into the back of her mind. She would like to be in the country, where she might grow a garden and no one would gossip about her lack of husband. That would be perfect. No husband meant, no children to ever call her mother and in turn, none of the grandchildren her mother coveted so desperately.

Perhaps not perfect.

* * * *

The dress glimmered in the color of rich butter and gave her skin a golden glow. Marie had outdone herself styling Sophia’s hair, entwining crimson ribbons and crystals through her dark tresses. The same color ribbons flowed down from just below her breasts, which mounded above the scooped neckline. But the cleverly made dress would keep her safe from embarrassment.

The Fallon’s London home was larger than Collington house. Upon entering, there were two grand staircases that curved around an oval foyer. The wood gleamed and a tasteful chandelier hung in the center. Its crystals polished to a miraculous shine illuminated the entry. To the right, the ballroom took Sophia’s breath away.

Aunt Daphne joined the dowagers where they clustered together like hens.

Sophia found herself standing alone watching the dancers and staring in wonder at the beauty of the house. His presence warmed her even before he spoke and her spine stiffened. Her stomach did a little flip in spite of her resolve to be unaffected by him.

“Do you like it?” He spoke softly just behind her left ear.

The ceiling had to be forty feet tall, with golden arches and a fresco of kings and queens enjoying a picnic in the park. Tall glass doors lined one entire wall and silk curtains gleamed in the candlelight.

The sound of his voice gave her a quiver inside. It took her several beats before she found her voice. “It’s a lovely house. Do you live here?”

“No. I have a home not far from here. My stepmother and sister live here.”

Her interest piqued. “Was that part of your father’s wishes?”

He shrugged and his broad shoulders creased the crisp lines of his black jacket before everything settled into place as if ordered to do so. It was as if he commanded his clothing to obey and the cloth wouldn’t dare defy. “I really have no idea. My mother enjoys living here when she is in town and I like for her to be happy.”

“You get along well with your stepmother, then?”

His smile warmed his face and sent a quiver through her belly. “My own mother died giving birth to me and my father remarried when I was five. Janette is the only mother I have ever known. She raised me as her own and gave me a wonderful little sister, whom I adore. Why should we not get along?”

She constantly said the wrong thing. “I did not mean to imply anything, my lord. It is only that you have no legal obligation to keep them housed and many men in your position would not bother to care for a stepmother and half-sister.”

With a shrug, he met her gaze. “I suppose that is true of many.”

“But not you.” She wished she could find a cruel streak in him, walk away and not think of him again. It would be much easier to ignore a man who would put the women who depended on him out in the street. But he obviously loved his family and that fact made him even more endearing. She forbade herself to like him.

“Would you like to meet my mother and sister?” he asked.

Before she could stop herself, she nodded. For some reason, she wanted to meet his family. Though, for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why. He was nothing to her.

He walked only a few steps before stopping suddenly.

She stumbled and gripped his arm tighter to keep her feet. Looking up, she found him staring down at her.

His eyes shone with intensity making her heart pound.

The music changed to a waltz and he bent his head an inch from hers. “Perhaps a dance first, Miss Braighton? I hate to let an opportunity to hold you in my arms slip away.”

“I wish you would not say such things.”

“Is that a yes, or a no, to the dance?” His eyes filled with mirth.

She nodded and they circled the dance floor. In his arms, it was difficult to think of anything she decided before the ball. She planned to avoid him and, if she did run into him, she would be cool and polite. However, now that his hands were on her and his heat radiated through the flimsy material of her gown, she longed to be close to him. There was safety in Daniel’s embrace. A word she never thought to apply to any man besides her father.

“Why do you wish I would not say such things to you, Sophia?” He whispered closer to her ear than was appropriate.

Running was her best option, but she stood her ground. “You should not call me Sophia. It is not right and I have not given you permission to do so.”

“It seems impossible for me to behave correctly with you, Sophia. I promised myself I would avoid you, but as soon as you entered the ballroom I was aware of your presence and I could not keep away. I do not know what draws me to you and believe me, I would prefer to be indifferent to your allure. I felt this way once before and it ended quite badly.” He shook his head and his posture stiffened, not at all like his flirtatious manner of a moment before.

Her heart raced and she was certain he could hear her heart pounding, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say in response to his personal admission.

He smiled. “You must think me a fool.”

“No.”

He laughed. “There is that word again. If you were English, you would elaborate.”

“Yes, you are a long-winded bunch. However, my father is English and my Mother Italian and I’m American, so, ‘no’ will often do.” She missed her family and the wonderful differences that made them unique.

“I suppose it shall have to.” He whirled her around one last time before the music ended. He bowed.

She curtsied.

The crowd watched with avid interest.

He escorted her back across the crowded ballroom.

One fact about his admission nagged at her. “Why did it end?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said you felt this way once before and it ended badly. I wondered why it ended.”

“Would it be rude of me to say that I would rather not say?” He towered over her and stared into her eyes. His closeness filled her head with vanilla, spice and another scent uniquely his.

She breathed deeply to commit the scent of him to memory. “Not if it is to protect the lady.”

Without a word, he led her across the ballroom.

Elegant and petite, with chestnut hair, and bright eyes, Janette Fallon beamed luminously at her stepson. She didn’t look old enough to have been Daniel’s mother for over twenty years.

He bowed and kissed her cheek. Adoration shone in his eyes.

If she never married, she would never have a son who would look at her that way. Her blood chilled and she closed her eyes against the wave of sorrow. She swallowed, took a breath and pushed those thoughts aside.

“Mother, I would like you to meet Miss Sophia Braighton. Miss Braighton, this is my mother, Lady Janette Fallon.” His smile warmed and his gaze softened as he made the introductions.

Lady Marlton stared so long that Sophia braced herself against the urge to fidget. Her gaze was not unkind and a small smile remained on her lips as she assessed Sophia from head to toe. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Braighton.”

“Thank you, Lady Marlton. It’s an honor to be here.”

Janette’s eyes widened. “You are American. Have you just arrived in London?”

It was Daniel who answered. “Miss Braighton is Lady Collington’s great niece, Mother.”

“I see.” Janette’s smile brightened. “I seem to remember that your aunt had a nephew who left for America the year I made my debut. He was married to a lovely Italian girl. I also recall that Charles Braighton made quite a good deal of money in shipping. Is that your father, Miss Braighton?”