by Julia Quinn
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 te
rms, 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.
Chapter 4
And to conclude this column’s 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.
Jacobs knocked and announced that not only was breakfast ready but her brother was standing in the entryway, demanding to be let in. Sophia raised her brows; it was early for John to be up and about. As it turned out, he was actually on his way home. Still dressed in his evening attire, he had passed her house, seen lights flickering in the main rooms, and had boldly concluded that breakfast might be had.
“You are a pig,” she told him as he piled his plate high with kippers, eggs, and bacon. “And you are going to get fat.”
“Not me. I have an iron constitution. Besides, it’s a chance I’m willing to take as there are kippers involved.” John sat beside her, his gaze resting on the list at her elbow. “What’s that?”
“The guests at Lady Neeley’s dinner. I’m marking the ones who had a motive to steal the bracelet. I thought to speak with them—without divulging my suspicions, of course—and see if there are any clues as to who might have taken the silly thing.”
“Splendid idea!” he said, salting his eggs. “Where are you off to first?”
Sophia sighed. “I suppose I must start with Lady Neeley, though to what purpose, I’m not sure. She has quite made up her mind to blame Max.”
“Perhaps she has some new information.”
“She had none to begin with.” Sophia examined her list. “After Lady Neeley, I shall visit Lord Rowe.” Lord Rowe was a loquacious man, warm and humorous, and a notoriously poor gambler. When other men cut their losses and walked away from possible ruin, he’d been known to foolishly continue on, bringing his family to the brink of the poorhouse on more than one occasion. Luckily, as oft as he lost his fortune, he also re-earned it, that same stubbornness allowing him to ride out a bad streak to which others would have bowed.
“Rubber Rowe, eh?” John finished his eggs and began to work on his kippers. “He’s bounced between riches and rags so oft, I never know if I should offer to spot him a guinea or borrow a groat.” John chewed thoughtfully, then nodded. “If his fortune is once again on the downward swing, he might make a good suspect.”
“Possibly. He’s a gambler, not a thief, and a horribly nice man. I truly hope he didn’t do it, but I simply could not leave any stone unturned.” She stood. “I had best make my calls before it gets too late. I have much to do.”
“Go ahead, my dear,” John said expansively, gesturing with his fork and knife. “I’ll just finish up here. Unless, of course, you need me to accompany you.”
“You’d be asleep in the carriage before we reached Lady Neeley’s.”
“Balderdash,” John said in a mild tone. “I’ve two good hours left before I fall into a stupor.”
“Two minutes is more likely. Feel free to make use of the guestroom if you find your bed too far away.” She bent and kissed his cheek, then left to call for her carriage.
Her interview with Lady Neeley was as unpleasant as Sophia had expected it to be. The woman was horrid, briskly repeating her accusations without one sign of remorse or thought. Sophia was forced to grit her teeth before replying to such unalleviated twaddle. “Lady Neeley, I cannot believe you’d make such an accusation without proof.”
“Proof?” Lady Neeley held out a bit of a tea cracker for her parrot. It squawked and whistled, turning a haughty shoulder on the tidbit. “Poor bird! I just do not know what is wrong with him for he won’t eat any of his treats! He hasn’t been the same for the last two weeks. Always fluttering about and squawking and stealing my best ribbons.”
Sophia, who knew nothing a
bout birds and preferred to keep it that way, merely said, “The weather has affected us all. Lady Neeley, I wish to speak to you about the missing bracelet. Why do you think Lord Easterly took it?”
“Perhaps he needed the money,” Lady Neeley offered.
Sophia thought of the generous allowance Max had provided for her over the years. “No, he does not need the money.”
“Oh. Then perhaps he collects ladies’ jewelry. I had a cousin once who collected women’s chemises. On his death he had over one hundred and fifty of the things in his possession.” Lady Neeley leaned forward. “At the funeral, I overheard my aunt say that he’d asked to be buried in one, but that the church wouldn’t allow it.”
“Lord Easterly does not collect other people’s jewels. Nor does he collect chemises.” Not that she knew of, anyway.
“Then perhaps he took the bracelet merely because he could,” Lady Neeley said, obviously uninterested. “Who knows how the criminal mind works?”
Sophia came to her feet. “Lord Easterly does not have a criminal mind!”
There was a stunned moment, then the parrot squawked. Lady Neeley managed an uncertain laugh. “My dear, it does you great credit to stand by Easterly—”
“I am not standing by Easterly. I am searching for the truth. Lady Neeley, I will find your bracelet and prove how wrong you are. In the meantime, you have no evidence and should not be spreading such horrid rumors about my husband.”
“How can you say that when Easterly all but abandoned you at the altar—”
“My relationship with Lord Easterly is none of your concern.” The words were softly spoken, but Sophia’s anger had frozen into an icy rock of disdain. She clung to the jagged edges, daring Lady Neeley to step closer.
Lady Neeley flushed a deep red. “Of course I won’t say another word. At least, not unless someone asks me about it.” That said, she turned her attention back to her parrot.
Though Sophia wished for a more substantial promise, she knew that was all she was going to get. As soon as she could, she excused herself and left for Rowe House.