The Charmer (16 page)

His flush revealed that that had indeed been one of his concerns, and that he resented her articulating it so baldly. A defensive sneer twisted his mouth. “What was he doing in your house?”

“Not visiting me, as you well know. You were present when I left the library and retired. You found me alone in my chamber. I assume that he was passing the house and noticed some smoke and found a way in.”

“That strange walrus of a man, the Bohemian, assumed otherwise.”

“Attila is Hungarian. Unfortunately, his mouth runs ahead of his brain. Considering that Adrian was lowering us both from my chamber window, his assumption is understandable even if it is incorrect.”

“Only if he knows you for a woman who takes lovers. Who is this Attila, anyway, and what is he doing here?”

“He is a friend from Paris. He and Jacques have come to visit me.”

“Are you saying that you have imported your lovers? Is it your goal to humiliate me before the whole country?”

“Really, Gerald. I have no intention of answering any more of your impertinent questions.”

“My future bride is the center of a public spectacle that will be the tattle of drawing rooms for weeks, she has her virtue publicly compromised by the indiscreet yapping of a hairy foreigner, and you call my concern impertinent?”

“I call your concern self-centered. You have expressed no interest in my health or disposition after last night's shock, but only in how things affect
you.
However, your continued assumption that we will marry is indeed impertinent.”

Anger brought out something icy and hard in Gerald. He stopped his pacing and looked her over with his best Alistair inspection, instantly giving that ghost physical substance. The similarity sucked the strength right out of her. She barely suppressed a tremble.
So this is what I am left with,
that expression said.
And a sad specimen it is too.

“Harvey Douglas has come up for the sessions. He said that you visited Staverly.”

“He no doubt also told you why I took refuge there.”

“Another spectacle. They follow you wherever you go, don't they? I would not have expected you to ever go back to Staverly, let alone so soon after your return.”

She knew that he could see that broaching this subject made her composure wobble. He was glad for it. “It was not as difficult as I expected.”

“Wasn't it? Are you that heartless? I would think that being there would overwhelm you with guilt.”

She could only glare at him while her heart filled again with the dismay she had felt in the gazebo.

Unlike Adrian, he did not seek to comfort her, but cruelly pressed his advantage. “You accuse me of impertinence for assuming we will marry, but Everdon was everything to Alistair. With the succession secured by Brandon, he knew some peace. You robbed him of that.”

“I did not.”

“Have you blocked the memories that well? You killed him. Your willfulness and rebelliousness killed him. Call it an accident if you want, but you were the direct cause of his death, and the death of your father's dreams.”

The way he ruthlessly spelled out her guilt, giving voice to her own horrible thoughts, left her boneless and nauseous.

“The notion that you would be the heir distressed him to no end. Your behavior in Paris only confirmed his fears. In your childish, extravagant hands, Everdon's status would be ruined in a generation. So he gave you to me. Not to some earl or marquess, but to me. He did not want the power of Everdon to be swallowed by being joined to another great title. I would be its caretaker until your son could assume his position. The legacy would continue whole, just delayed by a generation.”

“I do not care why he did it. It was not my choice.”

“Your choice? How like you to think only of yourself. It has always been like that. Your shocking friendship with a revolutionary ruined your reputation. Your recklessness killed your brother. Your father sought a way to rectify the disasters, and all you could think about was whether he had pampered your childish sensibilities by giving you a choice.”

The relentless picking at the scab of those memories was driving her close to tears.

“You owe it to him, Sophia. You owe it to him, and to Brandon, to obey him in this. For once in your frivolous, intemperate, and thoughtless life you must do his will. There will be no peace about your brother's death until you expiate the damage that you caused.”

She was beyond defending herself. The browbeating had worn her down, just as Alistair's always did. There was too much truth in what he was saying. She could not even look him in the eyes anymore.

He picked up his hat and walked to the door.

“One more thing. I would not put too much faith in Burchard's friendship. I heard a rumor that he had a visitor at his chambers last night. Celine. He was one of her suitors before she married your father, you know.” He opened the door and threw out his last punch with a vicious smile. “As you once said, if he is interested in a pleasurable liaison with a woman, he can do better than you.”

She did not move for a long while after he left. She felt as if she had been pummeled by fists. The final blow, the information about Celine, had knocked the life right out of her.

Maybe Gerald was right. If she married him, she might bury the ghosts and the guilt. With Everdon's power transferred to her husband, probably Captain Brutus would lose interest in her and the letters and danger would cease. There might be some peace. Finally.

She pictured a life as Gerald's wife. The images left her queasy. They might make an arrangement, of course. One that permitted her to go back to France. She had him at a disadvantage and he would most likely agree. But would he honor that solution once he had her? The husband of Everdon would be much diminished if Everdon was in Paris.

With a weary sigh she pushed to her feet. The coercions would only increase. In a few days the Parliament would start, and the demands that she choose her political course would get more insistent. The calls for her to marry would mount. All the time that she tried to discover the right decisions, Captain Brutus would be watching and waiting.

What had been his intention with that fire? To frighten the duchess into obeying his political demands? Or to harm the woman who had betrayed him years ago? His letters implied that he might not know for sure which he desired more badly.

She wanted desperately to hand this all over to someone else. Someone who would manage it for her and make it come out good in the end. Someone like Adrian.

She had woken this morning much softened toward him. Last night had moved her to reconsider the judgments that she had formed. She had even decided to show him those letters and ask his advice.

How stupid of her to read genuine affection into that rescue. How very childish to grasp at the excuse it offered to make a fool of herself. How ridiculous to experience this excruciating disappointment on hearing how he had spent last night.

Do not put too much faith in Burchard's friendship.
It had been weak of her to ever do so. He had been managing her to his own ends from the start. He had tried to make love to her even while he cast his lure for Celine.

She coldly looked into the future of demands and expectations and threats and confusion. It was unfair that her life should have been disrupted like this. She wanted none of it. By what right did all these people, these
men,
pull her in several directions like a criminal to be quartered?

Simmering annoyance gave her back some spine. She left the drawing room and headed in search of the only two friends she had in England.

She remembered that first conversation with Adrian.
I am nothing in this.
How true. It was Everdon that they wanted to control, not her.

Well, damn it, let them have it.

chapter
17

T
he gathering at Laclere's house in late afternoon was a political meeting, which was how Sophia justified attending despite being in mourning. Fortunately, the conversation did not completely revolve around Parliamentary reform.

Perhaps that was because Laclere's wife had invited some friends who were not in the government. Maybe it was because Sophia herself did not encourage the few overtures to political discussions that wafted her way. Most likely, however, it was because many of the guests had an interest in the arts and found that topic more pleasant.

She attached herself to a group that did. It included the St. Johns, whom she had met the day before in the park, and members of Laclere's family.

The viscount's handsome younger brother, Dante Duclairc, began charming her after their introduction. Dante displayed absolutely no interest in politics, which she found refreshing. He was also handsome as sin, with thick brown hair and heavily lashed, beautiful eyes.

“I had expected a more formal gathering,” she said to him when he sought reassurance that she was enjoying herself.

“Would that have pleased Your Grace?”

“Not at all. I have been spared formalities for years, and do not relish living with them again.”

“Then you have come to the right place. My brother's wife possesses a spirit that undermines most social rituals through her mere presence. No matter what my brother's intentions in this gathering, Bianca will not permit it to be boring.”

“We will be spared speeches, then?”

The Viscount Laclere's sister, the Countess of Glasbury, had joined their conversation. She now glanced at Laclere. “No speeches. If you notice, however, my brother is speaking quietly with the M.P.'s present who straddle the fence.”

Sophia had noticed those private chats. The tall, imposing lord with his harsh good looks and piercing blue eyes was using the assembly to work his persuasion individually and subtly.

She wondered when he would make his way around to her.

“I apologize that I have not called on you, Your Grace. I thought it best to be introduced first,” the countess said.

“I hope that you will call now. Your interest in the arts matches my own, and it would be a joy to have friends with similar sympathies. I count on you to introduce me to others of like mind.”

Sophia felt guilty making the overture, since it was unlikely that friendship would have a chance to blossom. Still, she understood the unspoken allusion in the countess's comment, and wanted to reassure her that the new Duchess of Everdon did not judge women as harshly as others might.

The countess appeared surprised and grateful for the invitation. With a smile, she allowed her attention to be claimed by Diane St. John.

“That was kind of you,” Dante said.

“You mean, because she is separated from the earl?” Sophia had been pointedly educated by several imposing and annoying arbiters of society on how that scandal had affected the countess's social status.

“Penelope did not want to risk criticism because of it.”

“Such things are common in France, and I do not hold them against a woman.”

“Not criticism from you.
Of
you.”

“I daresay that with all of the criticism
of
me filling the drawing rooms these days, any I might receive for receiving your sister would be the least of it.”

Dante laughed lightly, and gave a warm look that indicated he found some of that criticism both interesting and intriguing.

Any inclination he had to explore how intriguing was thwarted by a new presence in their midst. Adrian Burchard had arrived, and was suddenly standing right beside Sophia in a manner that crowded Dante away.

Adrian looked tousle-haired and a little tired and handsome as the devil. He managed to separate her totally from the group. She could not tell if he eased her away or if the others retreated, but suddenly it was just the two of them talking alone.

“I see that you have met Laclere's family,” he said.

“The countess is very sweet, and his brother is very charming.”

“You are not the first woman to think that of Dante Duclairc. Do not even consider adding him to your Ensemble, however. Dante has no artistic pretensions, and prefers married women.”

“He spoke earlier as if you are his friend, but you do not sound like one.”

“He is a very good friend, as are Laclere and St. John. That is another reason why you should not consider him for your Ensemble.” His scrutiny snapped from Dante to her. “You appear none the worse for last night's adventure. I am relieved to see that you have recovered so well.”

“I slept soundly and woke much refreshed. And you, Mister Burchard? Did you sleep well?”

“Passably.”

“That is good news. After such strenuous activity, the wise course is to rest. However, I am told that some men seek more exertions after such occurrences, as if their blood does not know how to calm.”

“That is true, but considering your shock, it did not seem polite to pursue further exertions last night.”

He had a lot of brass to make such insinuations after exerting himself all night with Celine. His quiet, slow tone lacked the playful flirting of their earliest exchanges. It caused an unwelcome sensation to tingle through her, despite her pique.

“I assume that you managed to solve the dilemma,” she said.

“Again, passably.”

Really!

“I will escort you home after this, Sophia.”

“My coach will be waiting, so I must decline.”

“I will escort you. The fire was deliberately set and your danger is no longer in question.”

“Again, I must decline. However, I want to say that I am grateful for your help last night. I truly am. Although I have come to wonder how you were in my house when the fire began.”

“Are you implying that I may have started it?”

The question astonished her. “In no way did I intend to suggest that, although someone other than Captain Brutus could be responsible, of course. I am merely curious about your timely presence. What were you doing in my house last night?”

“Reading the letters that you have received from Captain Brutus.” He did not so much as blink.

“You dared to intrude on my privacy in such a dishonorable way?”

He studied her with sharp deliberation, standing too closely, towering above her in a very male manner. “I found them interesting, and I find your willingness to believe he was not responsible for the fire astonishing. The threats in those letters were unmistakable. Maybe you did not absorb the danger because you were distracted by his references to your past intimacy with him. He writes to you as a lover, and now you consider excusing him from this criminal attack on you. It is enough to make one wonder if you welcome his return into your life.”

“You cannot seriously believe that.”

“I can think of no other reason for your keeping those letters to yourself.”

“Perhaps to share them would embarrass me. How did I come to be making the explanations? You are the one who stole into my house and read my private correspondence.”

“You can voice your displeasure about that on the way back to Dincaster House. No matter what your feelings toward this man, you should not be about alone, considering your apparent danger from him.”

“Why do you assume that I will be alone? Every woman in society is intent on throwing eligible men my way. If I need an escort, I daresay I can find another one. I would not dream of delaying you from pursuing whatever pleasures and diversions await you this evening.”

His jaw tightened at her crisp tone. At least she hoped it sounded crisp, and not shrewish and hurt. “In the best of circumstances you are a vexing woman. It has its charm, but your demeanor today does not amuse me. I must demand your company for the evening. You and I have some matters to discuss.”

“I do not think that we have anything to discuss.”

“Of course we do. Captain Brutus, for one thing. The way that you have been hiding from me, for another.”

“I have not been hiding from you. I have been discouraging you.”

He began to respond, but stopped because their hostess approached. Lady Laclere bore down on them with a tall, dark, brooding man in tow.

“I see Julian Hampton is here,” Adrian muttered dryly. “Do not consider recruiting him to your Ensemble, either. He is far too old, and is a lawyer despite his poetic appearance.”

The viscount's wife, Bianca, possessed a distinctive face that managed to combine youthful innocence and worldly sensuality in its wide blue eyes and full lips and firm little chin. “There you are, Duchess. I want to introduce Mister Hampton. He is a dear friend of our family, and has served as solicitor to the St. Johns as well.”

Sophia was relieved by the interruption, and delighted to meet the solicitor. His presence reminded her that she had not taken care of a few details about her inheritance. It was past time to rectify the oversight.

“Mister Hampton, are you willing to consider new clients?” she asked after a few pleasantries had been exchanged. “I ask because I have relieved my father's lawyer of his duties.”

Julian Hampton appeared vaguely surprised by the question, but if he thought it in bad taste to broach the matter at this assembly he did not allow his expression to show it. “I would be happy to discuss the matter at your convenience, Your Grace.”

“That would be right now, I'm afraid. It will not do to have the estate matters left drifting. Would you meet with the previous solicitor and procure the documents and such? I will contact you soon regarding anything that needs my attention.”

Julian Hampton took it in stride, and Lady Laclere appeared delighted that her introduction had borne fruit so quickly. Adrian, however, gave Sophia a very peculiar look.

Mister Hampton requested some conversation with Adrian, and the two men wandered off. That left Sophia with Lady Laclere.

In no time the viscount found them. Sophia suspected it had all been planned, and that Mister Hampton had been asked to get Adrian out of the way.

“I am sorry to hear about the damage to your home, Duchess,” Laclere offered. “There is a rumor that it was deliberately started. I trust that is not true.”

“There is evidence to that, but I hope that you will help me to quash talk of it.”

“Do you think it was politically motivated?” Lady Laclere asked.

“It may have been.”

Laclere sighed with annoyance. “The more impatient radicals do not understand the fruitlessness of violence, I am afraid. Nothing will be accomplished through intimidation. Rather the opposite.”

Sophia could not agree. She was feeling thoroughly intimidated on many fronts, and it had definitely borne fruit.

“I risk being overbold, but how is it that Adrian Burchard attends this meeting?” she asked. “He is firmly in the antireform camp.”

Laclere glanced to where Adrian and Hampton spoke near a window. “Burchard is an old friend of mine. He is also an intelligent man. I am hopeful where he is concerned.”

“Vergil is quite the optimist,” Lady Laclere said.

“Decidedly, my dear. Those of us who support reform are optimists who think that men are capable of understanding issues and acting in the common good. Those who oppose assume that the general population is weak-minded, just so many children to be led by their parents.”

“I think that your optimism is misplaced where Mister Burchard is concerned,” Sophia said. “He did not attend today to listen to reason, did he? Nor did you invite him in the hopes that he would.”

“As I said, I am hopeful. But no, his attendance was arranged by certain ministers in my party. Because of you?”

“Probably.”

“For romantic reasons, or because they feared that I would corrupt you?”

“They think that I am one of those children, to be led by my parents.”

“Just like men,” Lady Laclere said, “to assume that a woman is incapable of determining the right course on her own.”

The viscount eyed her more sharply. “Have you been able to determine your own course, Duchess? Despite the overbearing influences that certain powerful men are trying to exert?”

“Yes.” And she had. Not the course that Laclere meant. Nor the one that Adrian tried to manage. She had most definitely decided her own course, however, and it was time to act on it.

The viscount chatted a bit about Paris and then excused himself. Sophia turned to her hostess.

“That was very mild. I expected more exhortations.”

“My husband is too clever for that. It is enough that you know that there are men of principle with other points of view. He assumes that you will seek him out if you need him.”

“His restraint is welcome, I assure you.”

Lady Laclere examined her with a naked interest. As if making a decision, she guided her over to sit side by side on a bench. “Vergil says that they are exhorting you to marry.”

“Yes.”

“Not the man whom you want, I assume. It never is.”

“I suspect that they would welcome any man who agrees with them. I would prefer to remain unmarried, however. I know that sounds odd.”