Two Sinful Secrets (28 page)

He made no mention of love, yet surely understanding was more than most couples could
expect. She would be a fool to look for anything more, especially when she had
never looked for this at all. She should be sensible and take what Dominic offered.

Yet still, underneath it all, there was a pang of quickly-stifled longing.

“Yes,” she said. “Our lives would certainly never be boring.”

“I know I am not what your family must have once wanted for you, Sophia,” he said
quietly. “My family lost their place in Society long ago. But the St. Claires are
not without their own kind of power. I can give you anything you want—houses, carriages,
jewels. And men like Hammond won’t be able to touch you. I’ll always stand as your
friend.”

Her friend. Sophia nodded sadly. That should be all she could want—Dominic’s friendship.
“Just my friend?”

Dominic laughed. “And your lover, too. You have to admit, Sophia, we definitely have
adventures in the bedroom.”

“And we haven’t even really begun.”

“So you will marry me?”

Sophia stared back out over the vast city. It was not perfect, what Dominic was offering.
But what was perfect in life? She was tired of being alone, of endlessly fighting
battles a lady alone had little hope of winning. She had hoped she could go back to
her family and finally fit in with them, even as she realized that wouldn’t be possible.
A life of adventure with Dominic, of finding her own place in London again—it was
too tempting to resist.

And she had never been good at resisting temptation.

“Yes, Dominic,” she said firmly. “I will marry you.”

And she hoped to heaven she would never rue those words…

Dominic hadn’t taken Sophia up the steps of Notre Dame with the intention of proposing
marriage to her there. In fact, until that moment, he had been sure that, after Jane,
he would never want to marry again. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth,
he realized he meant them. He had always known that being with Sophia could be a revenge
of sorts against the Huntingtons, but he saw now there was Sophia herself.

And now they were holding hands, laughing like two naughty schoolchildren playing
truant as they ran back down the winding steps. The full impact of his impulsive actions
hadn’t yet hit him, but Dominic knew it soon would. And he would have to face his
family with the fact that he was marrying a Huntington.

Yet this was not just any Huntington. This was Sophia, who was unlike any woman, any
person, he had ever met.

They ran out of the dark church and onto the sun-splashed walkway along the Seine.
The hood of Sophia’s cloak had fallen back, and her dark hair glowed a glossy, burnished
sable in the light. She smiled back at him over her shoulder, and when he saw that
those shadows of fear and worry were gone from her eyes, he knew he couldn’t be sorry.

He wanted to protect her, like those knights of old; he wanted to make her laugh,
make her happy. He hadn’t lied when he told her they could make a life together because
they understood each other. They were two wild spirits, beating against the narrow
expectations of the world, yearning to be free. He had cared about Jane very much,
but now he could see that no matter how careful he might
have been, her gentle soul would have been crushed by life as a St. Claire.

Surely nothing could crush Sophia.

He didn’t love her. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to love in that way. But he would
gain a wife who understood him and wouldn’t ask for more than he could give. A beautiful
wife he liked and who would fit into his life. And he would also protect her from
Lord Hammond, an odious, overly entitled bastard if there ever was one.

Above all, it would be a revenge against the Huntingtons. If they thought Sophia was
a scandal now, they hadn’t seen anything yet.

Yes, it was a fine situation all around. Why, then, did he feel the oddest, smallest
touch of disquiet? The voice of reason told him he was jumping headfirst into trouble
he did not need. But the voice of reason had never counted for much with Dominic.
He easily pushed it away and laughed with Sophia as she spun around in his arms.

“Are you absolutely sure you want me to marry you?” she said. She tilted her head
back and smiled up at him.

“Of course I’m sure,” he said. He gently smoothed a windblown curl back from her forehead.
“We’ll have a marvelous life together, never-ending fun and excitement.”

Sophia laughed. “I know we will. But…”

“But what?”

A frown cut across her laughter, and for an instant she looked away. Dominic was afraid
he was losing her, that she was drifting off somewhere in that moment, and he tightened
his arms around her until she smiled again.

“I was just thinking—what about your family? What will they think about me?” she said.
“When my cousin Aidan married your sister…”

“It was your family who refused to see them,” Dominic reminded her. “My parents hosted
their wedding breakfast and gave them a theater in Edinburgh to manage. They will
surely accept you.”

“True enough.” Sophia laughed ruefully. “And I can hardly do anything to make
my
family turn away more.”

“So you will still marry me?”

“And let the chips fall where they may!” Sophia said merrily. “Not that such a philosophy
has worked for me very well in the past.”

“It will work now. You’ll see.” Dominic looped Sophia’s arm through his, and they
strolled back over the river. The day was growing later, the sky turning amber at
the edges and the wind crisper as evening set in. The walkways weren’t as crowded,
as everyone made their way home to prepare for the night’s revels.

Dominic had to be back at the theater to get ready for that evening’s play. And to
tell his brother and sister what he had done. Isabel, with her sweet, romantic heart,
would be thrilled.

Brendan would probably not be. But Dominic could make him come around, could make
him see this as another humiliating shot across the bow of the Huntingtons’ ducal
ship.

“When should we get married?” Sophia asked as they walked.

“Our engagement at the theater here is over in a few days,” he said. “We could marry
on our way home, at Calais perhaps. I think there is a small English church there.”

“Yes,” Sophia said thoughtfully. “If we left from Calais, perhaps we could travel
with my cousin Elizabeth. It would be nice to have a member of my family at the
wedding.” She gave a wry laugh. “None of them were at my first ceremony.”

And that would surely make word of her union with a St. Claire go racing back to her
uncle the duke that much faster. “I think that is a very good idea. I’ll make the
arrangements right away.”

They reached the club just as the sun was starting to sink lower in the sky in a burst
of rose-pink, the color of Sophia’s gown at the Café de Paris. Dominic was sure he
could never see that color again without thinking of her.

He took her in his arms on the doorstep, and she smiled up at him. As he bent his
head to kiss her, he caught a glimpse of a man hovering in a doorway across the street.
It was the same man who had watched the theater and then vanished. He was studying
Dominic and Sophia now.

Dominic gave the man a smile before he kissed Sophia. One shot fired. How many to
come?

T
here. You look absolutely beautiful,” Elizabeth said as she put the finishing touches
on Sophia’s hair. “The perfect bride.”

Sophia laughed, turning her head to examine herself in the mirror. “I wouldn’t say
that. This is hardly the ideal wedding, is it? But you’ve done marvels here, Elizabeth.
Where did you learn to dress hair like that?”

Elizabeth’s crooked little smile reflected in the glass. “Well, I found out my lady’s
maid was a spy in the employment of my husband. After that, I wanted to spend as little
time as possible in her company, so I learned to do my hair myself.”

“A spy?” Sophia cried. She spun around on the dressing table stool to look up at Elizabeth.
Her cousin’s blue eyes were as hard as chips of ice, and in that one instant, they
seemed to flash with a light that spoke of worlds of hidden pain.

But Elizabeth laughed and turned away, that glimpse of stark pain gone. She smoothed
her own coiffure in the mirror and reached for her blue satin hat. “And she was complete
rubbish at fixing stylish coiffures anyway.”

Sophia nodded and slowly rose to her feet to adjust her gown. There had been no time
to order something new before leaving Paris, so her rose-pink gown served as her wedding
dress. Over it, she wore an exquisite lace shawl that Elizabeth had given her, and
a wreath of pink and white flowers wound through her hair. It was a hasty bridal toilette,
for a wedding that still didn’t feel quite real.

“I’m glad you’re here today, Elizabeth,” she said. “No one was at my first wedding
at all.”

Elizabeth laughed and reached over to tweak one of the flowers in Sophia’s hair. “Well,
everyone
was at my wedding. St. George’s was absolutely packed. And you see how that turned
out.”

“My first didn’t turn out so well either,” Sophia said ruefully.

“But this one will be better! It’s so romantic. You’re marrying a St. Claire. It will
be the talk of London when you get back.”

“As if I haven’t caused enough scandal!”

“Oh, but this will be different. You will be the envy of every woman in town.” Elizabeth
drew back the curtains from the window, and sunlight flooded into the hotel room.
“It’s a beautiful day for a wedding.”

Sophia went to lean against the window ledge and examine the scene outside. The harbor
of Calais gleamed below, sunlight reflecting on the water that lapped around the ships.
One of them would carry them home on the evening tide.

But first she was to be married.

Sophia glanced at the clock on the dressing table. It was almost time to meet Dominic
at the church. Suddenly,
as she realized this was truly about to happen, her stomach clenched with nerves.
On the trip from Paris, laughing with Elizabeth over romantic poems and speculating
on why Dominic had gone ahead to Calais to prepare the wedding, it had seemed like
a fun lark. A solution to her difficulties that would also be most enjoyable.

Now she saw it was very real. She was about to leap into marriage again.

But Dominic is nothing like Jack
, she told herself. Jack had been a charming weakling; Dominic was the strongest man
she had ever met. A man who understood her, whom she could build a life with.

Wasn’t he?

“Are you well, Sophia?” she heard Elizabeth say. Sophia felt her cousin’s kid-gloved
hand on her arm. “Do you feel ill?”

“No, I—I’m fine,” Sophia murmured. “Just a fit of bridal nerves, I think.”

“Here, sit down. Let me get you some water.” Elizabeth led Sophia back to the stool
and poured out a glass from the refreshment tray the hotel maid had left.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Elizabeth asked. “It is terribly romantic, but
if you aren’t sure…”

Sophia shook her head. What else could she do? Keep running, her funds growing ever
smaller, always hoping not to run into Lord Hammond again? Alone? No, that held no
appeal.

And the thought of never seeing Dominic again, never hearing his laugh or feeling
his touch… no. It was better to stay and see what came next. She wanted to stay with
Dominic.

“I’m as sure as one can be,” Sophia said. She drank
the last of the water and felt stronger. “Shall we go? It’s almost time.”

“Of course, if you’re quite sure.” Elizabeth handed Sophia the bouquet, a bunch of
pink hothouse roses tied with white satin that had been delivered just that morning.
A gift from Dominic.

Sophia held on to them with one hand and picked up her purse with the other. Mary’s
diary was tucked in there safely, waiting to go back with her to England. Her fear
faded as suddenly as it had come upon her as they made their way down the hotel staircase.
She felt only excitement. A warm, fizzing hope for the future she hadn’t known in
so long.

The English church was near the hotel, a small white stone chapel perched high above
the harbor. It shimmered in the sunlight, shards of color from the stained-glass windows
reflecting back onto the few monuments of the small churchyard. As she and Elizabeth
stepped through the gate, the door opened, and Dominic was standing there waiting
for her.

The light shone on his golden hair, and on the brilliant smile he gave her as he held
out his hand. He was the perfect image of a romantic bridegroom, dressed in a perfectly
cut blue coat and pearl-gray satin waistcoat, a tall-crowned silk hat in his hand
and a rose in his lapel. And Sophia knew this was the right thing to do. It
had
to be, because she was just about to leap. The future was uncertain, but it would
surely never be boring.

“You look beautiful,” he said, raising her hand to his lips for a quick kiss.

“So do you,” Sophia answered. “I know men can’t be beautiful, but I think that’s the
only word for you today.”

Dominic laughed. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and turned to lead her
into the cool dimness of the church. The vicar waited for them there, Brendan and
Isabel St. Claire beside him. The church was silent, the shadows of the empty pews
and the muted colors of the stained glass dazzling after the bright day outside. The
altar was spread with a snowy white cloth and laid out with pink and white roses like
her bouquet.

Suddenly Sophia heard Elizabeth gasp. She looked back over her shoulder to see that
her cousin’s face had suddenly turned very pale. Elizabeth pressed her gloved hand
to her lips.

“Elizabeth, what’s wrong?” Sophia whispered in concern.

Elizabeth shook her head, her wide-eyed stare aimed across the church. Sophia saw
that she watched Brendan—and that he stared back at her, his face set in stark, harsh
lines.