The Charmer (8 page)

He may never have made his interest explicit, or at least not so soon. He might have continued expressing it through light flirtation unless she encouraged something more. But the mood of the moment not only permitted this, it demanded it, and also much, much more.

He laid his palm against her cheek and kissed her without deciding to. It was an impulse born of the urge to soothe her distress and acknowledge their little bond. He also wanted to taste again the trembling lips he had kissed in her Parisian garden, and feel once more her pliant surrender.

She responded. He could feel it in her rapidly fading shock and hear it on her quick breaths.

He began to embrace her so he could lead her to the exploration waiting.

When his hands touched her body, she jumped back and turned her face away. She appeared frightened and tragically vulnerable. “I suppose that I do know why it matters to you. If revenge against my father drives me, it will make me more predictable. Easier to manage.”

He smiled at her attempt to pretend that she did not comprehend what had just happened. “Just as long as you understand my intentions, Duchess.”

Her blush revealed that she indeed understood them. She gathered her reins clumsily and pulled her horse closer. “I think that I will go visit some of the farms.”

He helped her to mount, more charmed than disappointed by how flustered she had become. Surely she had learned in Paris that ignoring a bridge was not the same as burning it. This one would remain there, connecting their two islands, whether they ever acknowledged it again or not.

He would have to cross over now. He was curious about what lay on the other side.

She did not hate all of her inheritance. She loved the land and the distant sound of the sea. The parks and farms and hills had been her refuge as a girl. If she could be rid of the ghosts and memories, she would welcome this part of the legacy. She could probably even reconcile herself to the duties and restrictions if her heart could find peace with the past.

She aimed toward the closest village, too aware of the exciting man riding beside her. He always made her jumpy and alert. She wondered if she would ever learn to ignore his presence. After what had just occurred, probably not.

That worried her. She knew how to handle flirtatious wit and flippant innuendoes. That was a game with certain rules. This kiss had been different, and much more dangerous.

It had disarmed her, coming as it had during that spell of deep empathy. She still struggled to control her reactions. The appeal of what he might be offering shook her soul. A reflexive yearning gushed, frightening her with its force. It had been foolish to get drawn into that discussion of Alistair. She had revealed much more than she ever had to anyone before.

His quiet strength had encouraged that. It still beckoned, as surely as a hand reaching toward her, offering to make everything better.

They turned onto a dirt road and a little village appeared on the horizon. Its low, small buildings clustered picturesquely in the distance. A cart lumbered toward them, pulled by a woman and a youth. Three children walked alongside it.

She recognized the woman. Her name was Sarah, and she was the wife of Henry Johnson, a farmer. Both Sarah's and Henry's families had lived for generations on the estate as tenants.

The boy paused as she approached, more from fatigue than deference. He and his mother set down the cart's arms. Sophia noticed the cloth sacks that each of the children carried, and the pack sashed to Sarah's back.

“Your Grace,” Sarah said, bobbing her head. Eight years had aged her tremendously. Sophia remembered a bright-eyed young mother, not this pale, tired matron.

“Sarah, it is good to meet a familiar face. I see that your brood has increased since I left. And your husband, Henry, how does he fare?”

The boy gestured to the cart with his head. “See for yourself.”

She paced her horse around. Henry lay barely conscious inside the cart, wedged among pans and household goods. His pallor and labored breathing marked him as a very sick man.

“Mister Burchard, will you help me down, please.”

He was with her at once, lowering her from the sidesaddle. Together they considered Henry's condition.

“He is dying,” Adrian muttered.

“Sarah, what is ailing him?”

“Don't know, Your Grace. He's been poorly for months, just getting worse.”

“What did the physician say?” Adrian asked.

“No money for a physician. Old woman Cooper gave us some potion, but it didn't help much.”

Sophia surveyed the family, noticing again the cloth sacks. “Where are you going?”

Her son glared insolently. “Crops didn't get planted, did they? Steward knows no rent will be paid, so we are out.”

“But your father . . .”

“Out of his head now. Won't know where he dies.” He turned away, dismissing her interest. He bent to lift the cart's arms again, placing his young body where a donkey or ox should be.

“Turn the cart around, young man,” she ordered. “Mister Burchard, will you help Sarah onto my horse? It is a long way back to the village, and she is exhausted.”

Sarah looked confused and frightened. “Your Grace, the steward, he will—”

“You can remain in your home, Sarah. Marleigh is mine now. If I say that you can stay, that is how it will be.”

Adrian lifted an astonished Sarah onto his horse, instead, and then settled two of the children on Sophia's. “I will help the boy,” he said, taking the cart's other arm.

As they drew closer to the village, its details became clearer. The picturesque vignette turned into one of creeping decay. Adrian and the boy pulled the cart down a lane of graying wood and rotting plaster until they stopped in front of a sad little cottage. Adrian set down the cart's arm, carried Henry into the cottage, and then returned to lift the children and Sarah from the horses.

Sarah clasped Sophia's hand. “Your Grace, this is so generous. It will ease his passing so. We will be on our way afterwards, I promise you.”

“Nonsense. I will have a physician sent, and perhaps Henry can be helped. If not, you will stay anyway, Sarah. Your son will be strong enough in a few years to manage the fields, and your other boy will be old enough to help him. I will see to your keep until then. Now, go and make Henry comfortable.”

The family disappeared into the cottage. Adrian helped her onto her horse, his firm hands grasping her waist and his strong arms slowly lifting her. His closeness made her heady.

She surveyed the village as they rode out. “I do not remember it looking so poor.”

“The cottages show little recent improvement.”

“I cannot believe my father let things get to this state. He most likely never saw it. Tenants were just a source of income to him. It was my mother who knew their names and visited the sick. She probably badgered my father to make improvements. When she died, I suppose his conscience did too.”

“It is your own conscience that will matter now. Such decisions are yours.”

They were, weren't they? One word from her and this tired village could look once more as it did when she and Brandon would ride over to play with the tenants' children.

“I suppose that I can plan some improvements and establish some new policies before I leave.”

He reached over and grabbed her horse's bridle, stopping her. “Leave?”

“Of course. I will nominate the candidates as agreed, but then I am returning to France.”

“I do not think so. If you leave, I will probably be sent to drag you home again.”

She jerked her horse from his grasp, and kept moving. “If I decide to go back, you cannot stop me.”

“Try it and see whether I can or not,” he said. “You have duties here. You just accepted that in helping that family. You cannot set policies and then leave the realm. Your stewards and managers will do things in the old ways if you are not here to oversee them.”

“If I stay, those duties will form a yoke around my neck. They will control my life, and Alistair's ghost will be the teamster with the whip, driving me for the rest of my days.”

His expression softened. “It will not go away. You cannot pretend it hasn't happened. And you have been given the power to do good too.”

“Helping one family and improving a few cottages is easy. Managing all of it, that is different.”

“Do you doubt that you can do it? I don't.”

It was a simple statement, and not spoken in flattery. Just there, in his quiet, firm way.

Her heart lurched at the calm affirmation. It provoked that sense of empathy again. For a moment she tasted once more an intimacy such as she had not experienced in many years.

He assumed that she was better and stronger than she could ever be. She was going to disappoint him if he got to know her better.

She wanted badly to explain why she could not stay. Some things burned too deeply for her to confide, however, so she only broached the reason easiest to understand.

“If I accept the duties, the most important will be to preserve Everdon by giving birth to the next duke. When I marry, my own competence will no longer matter. I will be reduced to a figurehead. At least if I direct a steward from Paris, I will own him and not him own me. I cannot bear the notion of being chained to Gerald that way.”

“It need not be Gerald.”

“If I accept that part of it, it will not make any difference who the man is. It will be Everdon he marries, not Sophia Raughley.”

“Until that day, it is yours as surely as if you were a man. You can use your position until you hand the reins to a husband. Why not take them up yourself for a while? Why not see whether being the Duchess of Everdon is in you?”

She almost laughed. She had made it a point never to discover what was in her.

His challenge prodded at her on the ride back to the house. It was strange to have someone who hardly knew her express belief in her abilities. Her own father had seen nothing but deficiencies.

The royal coach was waiting by the house when they arrived. The King would be leaving soon. She would have to run and change so that she could see him off.

She dismounted and faced Adrian under the eaves of the stable. “I think that you may be right. While I am in England, I should take up those reins.”

“Your tenants will be glad for it.”

“I do not think I should just attend to the lands. That is only one rein. If I am going to use this power for a while, I should try and do it right. My members of Parliament, for example.”

His lids lowered. “What about them?”

“If I am expected to direct their votes after the election, I think that I should start learning all that I can about the issues.”

From the expression on his face as she turned away, Sophia suspected that Adrian had not fully considered the implications before he encouraged her to take Everdon's power in hand.

chapter
9

S
he suffered the slow departure of guests, mentally urging them on. She had no history with these people. Since she had never come out, she had never enjoyed a London season. Everyone knew everyone else, but she knew almost no one at all.

The ghosts of Marleigh watched. She could feel their presence in the chambers and corridors. Her father and mother. Brandon, and the sister who had died as a baby. Even old servants from her childhood seemed to have left some of their essence in the building. The whole time she talked and sat and moved, she saw them in filmy pageants as memories distracted her. It only took an object or a smell to call them forth.

Finally only one guest remained. Gerald Stidolph had disappeared everytime a group departed, adroitly ducking below the current whenever the flow threatened to carry him out.

She found him in the drawing room after seeing off the last carriage. He stood near the terrace doors, gazing out to the garden, the image of a man determined to have his say.

She did not dislike Gerald exactly. He was very decent. He possessed no bad habits that she knew of. He stood tall and strong, his early years in the army still stiffening his posture. His face was composed of pleasant features and a strong jaw, and his sedate dress and short brown hair spoke of the temperance of his habits and tastes.

There wasn't anything specifically wrong with him. He was a little dull and a little too formal and a bit too enamored of power and wealth, but many women would consider him an appealing match.

So why had the very notion of marriage to Gerald always turned her blood cold? She contemplated him from the threshold and an eerie familiarity nudged at her. Suddenly she knew the answer. Marrying Gerald would be like marrying her father.

He stood like him. He walked like him. Now that she thought about it, he had adopted the duke's manner of speaking. The thoughtful pauses. The judgmental sarcasm that could shred even while it amused. Of all the people with whom Gerald had labored to ingratiate himself, the duke had been the primary target.

He had succeeded magnificently. In some ways, Gerald had become more the duke's offspring than even Brandon, and definitely more so than herself. Gerald had methodically modeled himself after the duke until, when the duke looked at him, he saw a younger version of himself. Small wonder her father had favored him, and had wanted him to have Everdon's power through her. It would be a form of life after death.

She walked toward him and he turned on the sound of her step. He hesitated, as if deciding how to deal with her. Would he have the good sense to play the petitioning admirer, and not the reincarnation of Alistair Raughley?

“I have overlooked much, Sophia, but your refusal to speak privately with me until now piques my annoyance.”

“I had guests to attend to, Gerald.”

“You managed to ignore them often enough when it suited you.”

“True, but ignoring them in order to have an argument with you did not suit me.”

“As willful as ever, I see. No doubt your time in Paris only reinforced those inclinations. It does you no credit.”

“Circumstances mean that it is a duchess's will that I exert now. I am rather enjoying that.”

“You made that abundantly clear yesterday with His Majesty. Your stubbornness was an embarrassment.”

“Gerald, in the last half-minute you have criticized me three times. Is it any wonder that I grew obstinate at the King's suggestion that we marry?”

His censorious expression softened. “Forgive me. My surprise at your attitude has made me forget myself.”

“No, it has interfered with your hiding yourself, and I am glad for it. I cannot imagine why my attitude should surprise you. I resented how Father tried to browbeat me into marriage when he was alive. Do not expect me to tolerate such handling from you and Wellington now that he is dead.”

He held out his hands beseechingly and smiled. “I have blundered it badly, haven't I? This has gotten off to a bad start.”

“I think it has gotten off to a splendid start. I had feared we might spend hours pretending first.”

He evidently decided that petitioning admirer would be the better tack after all. He gestured to a settee. “Please sit with me, Sophia. I wish to learn how you have been.”

She considered refusing to be diverted from the confrontation that needed to be finished. Years of training in civility won out, however, and she perched herself on the settee's edge.

Gerald eased beside her. His sharp brown eyes had grown hard with the years, but his expression of appeasement dulled their harshness a little.

“You are looking very lovely. Maturity suits you,” he offered.

She looked terrible and she knew it. In fact, she had worked at it, and just for him too. He had never found her very lovely, not even when youth had given her some claim to it. She had overheard him once, when she was sixteen, frankly discussing her lack of beauty with a friend.

“By maturity you mean age. You think that I make an attractive spinster?”

He feigned a fluster. “I am heartened and grateful that you never married.”

She considered telling him the lie about the secret husband. It would make mercifully quick work of this for the time being. Her pride resisted it. She had not needed the story of a violent husband to fend off Gerald when she was young and vulnerable. She certainly would not rely on a hoax to do so now.

“While in Paris I learned the sweet life available to a single woman of wealth. In comparison, marriage has little to recommend it.”

“I have been told that you were a leading light in the arts circles there. It must have been fascinating.”

“Yes, fascinating. And educational. And exciting. And sometimes, deliciously naughty. Paris was always freer than England, of course, but among the artistic community a whole separate code of behavior reigns.”

She saw a scold begin forming, but he restrained himself. “Well, you are back home now at last. What is in the past is done with.”

“Goodness, Gerald, do I hear absolution? You will forgive and ignore any indiscretions?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“We wipe the slate clean? Any excesses are forgotten?”

“Certainly.”

“And my young artists, Gerald, are you prepared to ignore them too? Father knew all about Paris. Certainly he told you.”

This time the fluster was not feigned. “He did warn that you might come to our marriage with more experience than one might prefer.”

“How nicely put. When did you plan to raise the problem with me, and conduct your interrogation?”

He flushed to his receding hairline. “I assumed that we would never speak of it. It is indelicate to do so.”

“But you contemplate marriage. Would you never wonder? Never be jealous? For the rest of our lives, you intend to never ask about Paris, or throw your suspicions in my face? My father would never have restrained himself thus, nor, I think, would you. I suspect that there are men who could, but you are not one of them.”

“I can understand that you might fear my anger about it. Is that the reason for your refusal yesterday? I promise you now, Sophia, that I will never ask about your lovers, or upbraid you for past liaisons.”

“Yes, with a life interest in Everdon's wealth and a seat in the House of Lords as my dowry, I expect that you could forgive me just about anything.”

“You insult me. My wish to marry you is not grounded in avarice and ambition.”

“In what, then? Affection?”

“Of course.”

“Please, let us at least keep this honest. Whatever you have convinced yourself, this is all about ambition. It always was. I do not begrudge you that. After Brandon died, I knew that no man could ever look at me again without seeing the map of this estate engraved on my face. Nor was it my concern about your reactions to my past that gave me reason for refusing you yesterday. I will not marry you, because I do not want to. You are too much like him, Gerald. Too much like Alistair. I went to Paris to escape him. I will hardly bind myself to him for life now.”

“You speak nonsense. I am not Alistair.”

“You imitated him for so long that you even look a bit like him now.”

Signs of annoyance quivered through his face. What a battle it must be for him not to let loose the biting sarcasm that would establish his dominance.

“It was wrong of me to force this today. You are still tired from your journey. We will discuss this in a few days when you have reaccustomed yourself to where you are and who you are.”

“I do not think so. For one thing, you will be back home by then.”

“You are inviting me to leave?”

“I am accepting with regret your desire to depart in the morning.”

He rose and paced away, as if composure were impossible if he remained beside her. “You need someone to take care of you, Sophia.”

“I did well enough on my own in France. I am not a girl anymore, as you so ungenerously noted.”

“It is not only that. I do not know if anyone has told you, but you may be in some danger.”

“I know all about Captain Brutus, and the suspicions regarding my father's death. Even so, there is no point in your staying now. As it happens, I must leave at once to nominate my candidates.”

This explanation for his dismissal relieved him. “Yes, of course. That must be done at once. I will arrange it, and accompany you.”

“That is not necessary. I already have assistance. In fact, I already have a guardian for my safety. Wellington saw to everything.”

He started, as if someone had poked him in the ribs. “I do not understand. Surely the duke would have consulted me. Who is this guardian who assists you?”

“Adrian Burchard.”

“He will accompany you? It will not be proper.”

“No less proper than if you did, since I share as much blood with him as I do you. Besides, I think it is safe to say that if Mister Burchard seeks a liaison with some woman, he can do better than me.”

He had the good sense not to concur outright, but his expression cleared in agreement. That hurt more than she wanted to admit. For an instant she truly hated Gerald.

“I don't know why Wellington patronizes Burchard so much,” he muttered.

“Maybe he sees something of himself in Mister Burchard. Older men often favor the young who possess similar traits. But then, you would know about that better than I.”

“He more than favors him. Wellington has promoted Burchard in the party. He intends for him to get a position in the Treasury in the next government, with an income in the thousands. A rather large prize, no matter what services Burchard has performed or what talent he possesses. Even Dincaster thinks it excessive.”

A thick fullness suddenly pressed inside her chest, choking her breath. So, Adrian had personal reasons for wanting this election to go a certain way. His bright political future, as mapped out by the great Wellington, depended upon it.

No wonder he was displaying such tenacity about staying with her. She had rather hoped . . . what had she hoped? Maybe that he really was motivated by concern for her safety. Maybe that something like friendship drove him.

It had been a mistake to agree he could accompany her to the boroughs. He was not doing it to protect her, but to manage her. As to what had happened this morning—well, a man who looked like Adrian Burchard probably knew all kinds of ways to make women come around.

Humiliation at her reaction to that kiss seeped through her, making her feel like a fool. She knew that he was Wellington's man, but she had not understood how ruthlessly he would exploit every opportunity to achieve his master's goals. But then, he had warned her, hadn't he?
Wellington thinks it would be convenient if I became your lover.

An astonishing disappointment throbbed beneath her embarrassment. For an instant Gerald became Alistair, cruelly forcing her to face unpleasant realities.
He only uses you, Sophia. You are nothing but a means to an end for him.

Not if she had anything to say about it. She had no intention of being used by any of them, least of all Adrian Burchard. She would make that very clear to him. She would sever the connections that had been stringing between them since that first night in Paris.

Foolish connections. Tempting and delicious too. Disillusionment stabbed sharply, penetrating her heart with wistful regret.

She pushed to her feet, suddenly exhausted to the bone. “Please forgive me, but I must rest now. I will leave early in the morning.”

He took her hand between his two, making a little stack. How icy his skin felt, compared to Adrian's warmth. A false warmth. At least with Gerald, one knew what one had.

“I will come and see you when you return.”

“Come when you will. This house has been more your home than mine for years. However, I will not change my mind about the marriage, Gerald. I will never get so reaccustomed to being home that I agree to that.”