Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke (18 page)

The thought startled her, and she opened her eyes even as Adam lifted her onto his lap. The past fortnight had felt like a dream—that was why she could think such outlandish things. The larger, crueler world had stopped at the edge of the river, and part of her wished the Jones brothers would never repair that bridge, whatever the consequences to the Tantalus when she failed to appear for her own wedding.

Adam slowly slid his palm up her leg, drawing her skirt with it. Then the music room door opened.

“Hello, Adam,” Keating Blackwood drawled, the tray of cider in his hands. “Get your hands off Sophia.”

Sophia yelped, shoving down her rising skirt and leaping to her feet so fast she nearly knocked him off the bench. “Hello, Keating,” Adam said in his coolest tone, considering he couldn’t stand at the moment. He shifted his gaze past his tall, dark-haired friend. “Where’s your wife? Or have you forgotten her?”

“Your butler’s taking her up to our room. Once I heard that the two of you were in the music room, I thought I should be the advance scout.” Suspicious brown eyes glanced over at Sophia. “Hello, my dear. You’re well, I take it?”

So the blackguard thought he was doing something nefarious with the houseguest. Well, he was, but it was mutual. “Calm yourself, Blackwood.”

Sophia strode forward and took the tray from Keating. She set it down on a chair, then gave Blackwood a sound hug. “I’m glad you came,” she said feelingly, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m going to find Cammy.” Without a backward glance she fled the room.

Once she was gone, Keating lifted an eyebrow. “I’m awaiting an explanation that doesn’t end with me punching you in the nose.”

That was damned uncalled for, considering Keating’s reputation. “I have—had—one guest in residence. Sophia and I frequently take tea or cider together. And we’re both adults, so stand down or I’ll take you up on the suggestion of fisticuffs.”

With a quick glance around the room and another look at him, Keating relaxed his stance a little. “I’ll accept that.”

“Good.”

“Thank you for inviting us to your home,” Blackwood continued. “I’m attempting a life of propriety, but I haven’t been able to convince anyone of that fact. We don’t receive many invitations.”

“You stole your bride from someone else’s wedding, Keating. As your grand return to Society after that previous bit of scandal, it was certainly memorable but not very confidence-raising.”

Keating picked up one of the cider mugs and took a drink, then retrieved the other one and walked over to Adam. “And yet it was utterly worth it.”

“I’ll admit that you’ve lately seemed more civilized.”

“Just happier,” his friend returned, handing over the second mug. “And I tried not to take it personally that the first year in seven that I decided to accept your invitation, the one bridge to your estate fell into the river.”

Adam mustered a grin now that his mind, and his body, had mostly caught up to current events. If anyone had to arrive to interrupt this odd, peaceful interlude, he would rather it be Keating than nearly anyone else. “I’m glad you came.”

Narrowing one eye, Keating took another drink of cider. “And you wished to see a dazzling parade of unattached chits as well, then?”

“Not so much wished as needed to see,” he returned. “You do remember which birthday I’m nearing, don’t you?”

Keating looked at him blankly for a moment before his brows lowered in a scowl. “You mean to marry one of them. Of course. I’d forgotten.”

“So had I. Or rather, I ignored the inevitable until it arrived to gnaw on my ankle. This seemed the best setting to select someone appropriate.”

“Do they know why they’re here?”

“Not the details or the timing, but doesn’t every young woman have matrimony on her mind at every given moment?” Even as he spoke he knew there was at least one young lady present who would have preferred
not
to be facing matrimony, but Sophia seemed an exception to every rule, anyway.

“Then explain Sophia,” Keating said on the tail of that thought.

“I already did.”

“Yes, two adults thrown together by circumstance. Bollocks.”

Adam lifted an eyebrow. “You doubt my word?”

“Yes, I do. The letters Sophia’s been sending across the river to Cammy have been very … affectionate toward you, and my wife was worried that you might be up to some game or other. So was I. And considering what I saw in here, I’m not reassured.”

“I’m not leading Sophia astray, if that’s what you’re intimating. She has her own set of circumstances, but I’m not divulging them. You’ll have to speak with her.” Adam paused as the rest of what Keating had said struck him. “How affectionate were Sophia’s letters toward me?”

“Ridiculously so, at least to someone who knows you as well as I do. She’s a friend, Adam, and she helped me win Camille. So I hope you aren’t doing something disreputable.”

Adam took a swallow of warm cider. “I am not disreputable.”

“And I’m not blind. I’ll be speaking with Sophia just to verify your interpretation of this morning.”

As if he could do something to Sophia against her will without receiving a kick to the groin, anyway. Adam ignored the slight to his honor and stood. His flock of brides was likely crossing the bridge at this very moment, but he wasn’t heading for the foyer to greet them. Instead, he led the way to the upstairs room he’d given over to Sophia.

Her door stood open, and even from the stairway he could hear chatting and laughing. She must be relieved to have her friends finally there. Why wouldn’t she be? Now she had Camille Blackwood with whom to discuss her troubles, and from whom she could borrow gowns and gloves. Adam frowned briefly. He liked providing her with pretty things. It would be difficult to stop.

“May we come in?” he asked, stopping in the doorway to see Sophia and Camille Blackwood laughing over the wreck of a hat that had survived the dunking in the river.

She looked up at him, her green eyes dancing. “Cammy doesn’t like my new hat,” she exclaimed.

“All her things were lost in the river, Keating,” Camille said, rising from her seat on the bed to offer her hand to Adam. “I knew I should have brought more clothes.”

“If you’d brought any more clothes, we would have collapsed the bridge again,” her husband said dryly.

Adam took Camille’s hand and bowed over it. “Sophia is very practical. She’s found or borrowed a very … unique wardrobe.”

Dimly from the front of the house he heard the sound of more voices, and he steeled himself against the abrupt wish to flee the inevitable. The pleasant part of this holiday had just ended. “I have more guests arriving,” he said, attempting not to put any additional meaning into the words as he looked at Sophia. “I need to go greet them.” He turned his gaze to Keating. “I’ve given you two the corner room, right next to this one.”

With a slight inclination of his head, he left the room, pretending that he hadn’t just seen the sliver of regret touch Sophia’s pretty eyes. Did she regret the end of their interlude, or that it had begun at all? This was what would have happened a fortnight ago if the bridge hadn’t fallen into the river. Simply because it abruptly seemed as if the past fortnight hadn’t existed, that didn’t mean it truly hadn’t. Unless it did, and this had all been a perfect, snow-tinted daydream.

*   *   *

“You truly don’t need to, Cammy,” Sophia protested, as Camille dug into her just arrived trunk. “I have several gowns I’ve borrowed from servants.”

“I’ve brought more than I can wear,” Cammy returned. “Keating loves to purchase gowns for me.”

“Another reason I shouldn’t be wearing them.”

“Sophia, you can’t wear a servant’s dress to a Society dinner.” Straightening, Camille lifted a pretty blue gown in her hands. “This one should fit you.”

The deep gray gown Mrs. Brooks had found in an old trunk was at least as fine as Camille’s, Sophia decided, and she’d been wanting to wear it. Not to a large dinner, of course, but at least it did seem adequate for that occasion. More than adequate. “I’ll be fine. You should wear that one. It’ll look divine on you.”

“We used to share clothes all the time at the Tantalus. Why are you so reluctant now?”

“It’s not that.” Sophia sighed. “You’ll need to wear those clothes. I don’t want these people thinking you’re wearing
my
gowns or something. I have no place in Society; you and Keating do.”

“Perhaps on the very fringes. A killer and a runaway bride aren’t precisely going to be invited to Almack’s.”

Snorting, Sophia took the gown and held it up in front of her friend. It no doubt looked very good on Camille, with her buttermilk blond hair and blue eyes. “Perhaps not this Season, but you’re both interesting. I imagine in another year or two you’ll be the toast of London once again. Definitely wear this one tonight. Say you will.”

“Oh, very well. But you know you may borrow anything of mine you like. Whenever you like.” Placing the dress on the bed, Camille sat beside it and folded her hands in her lap. “Now. The Duke of Greaves.”

“What about him?”

“You said in your letters that he took you shoe shopping and riding and that you played several interesting games of billiards and piquet. You like him.”

Sophia lowered her brows. “Of course I do. We’ve become friends.” Friends who did some rather naughty things together, but that seemed beside the point.

“Is that all?” Camille asked skeptically. “Friends?”

“Close friends,” Sophia conceded with a smile.

“Oh, you sly thing!” her friend exclaimed. “Did he seduce you?”

With a shrug, Sophia plunked herself down on the bed, as well. “It was mutual. We were trapped here, after all. One has to have something to do to pass the time.”

Camille covered her mouth with her hands, her expression partly amused and partly dismayed. “You know he has mistresses. Did he offer you … that?”

“He mentioned it, but I just enjoy spending time with him. And I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Perhaps she sounded defiant, but for heaven’s sake. She lived a very different kind of life than most women who resided in Mayfair. Even Camille was the daughter of a lord and lady and had lived a privileged life until an arranged marriage changed everything and had sent her to The Tantalus Club.

“Very well,” Camille commented thoughtfully. “Just please tell me you’ll keep in mind that Adam Baswich is temporary. Don’t let yourself be hurt.”

She blinked. For a delightful set of moments she’d forgotten her future, and she’d forgotten that she needed to tell her friend about it. With a quick breath to steady herself she did so, beginning with the Duke of Hennessy’s unexpected arrival at the Tantalus when she’d thought him long gone from London for the year. In her most matter-of-fact tone she told Cammy about his concisely stated disdain for her and his disgust with her circumstances and the gossip that he and his family had to contend with almost daily during the Season, and then about his decision to remove her from London and to give her over to the Reverend Loines in Cornwall. And what he would do to the Tantalus if she refused.

As she finished, Camille looked at her, white-faced. “I never liked that man,” she said, her voice shaking, “but I honestly didn’t think he would be so cruel.”

A tear ran down her face, and Sophia reached over to wipe it away. “Adam says that from Hennessy’s perspective he’s taken care of a problem and seen me to a position where I will have a roof over my head, a proper husband, and respectability. And stop crying or you’ll have me weeping again, when I’ve decided it’s useless and makes my eyes swell.”

“There must be something we can do, Sophia. Something.”

“I’ve already considered and discarded a hundred plots,” Sophia returned, hugging her friend. “If I run, he’ll set all his assets and his allies against Lord and Lady Haybury and the Tantalus. He’s bested me, but at least he’s also given me a few weeks—more than likely to ponder my fate and my scandalous life, but I’m using them to attend a house party with my dearest friend.”

“And I’m very glad you did so,” Cammy commented, with a clearly forced smile. “But you’ll have to forgive me if I attempt to find a way for you to escape this idiocy.”

“Oh, feel free to make the attempt. As we say at the faro tables, there’s always a chance.”

In truth she knew there wasn’t, but if plotting gave Camille something to do and kept either of them from dwelling too much on the inevitable, she would consider it worthwhile. She squeezed her friend’s hand. “Now. Let me dress, and we’ll go down to dinner. I’ll give all the pretty young ladies nightmares, which will be very amusing, don’t you think? After that, I can dine in my room in peace.”

“Why are there so many unmarried women here?” Camille asked, standing again.

“You’ll have to ask Greaves about that. Or Keating, since he likely knows by now.” With that, Sophia left her friend to go dress for dinner. Milly and the newly discovered gray gown waited for her in her bedchamber. “How in the world do you manage to keep finding these things?” Sophia asked as they pulled the charcoal-colored gown up over her hips and she threaded her arms through the lacy sleeves. “It’s breathtaking.”

“It’s a large house, don’t you know. Bits and bobs turn up everywhere. I think this might have belonged to a cousin or an aunt.”

“Well, she had very good taste, whoever she was.” Sophia twirled in front of the full-length mirror, then stopped as a dismaying thought occurred to her. “This cousin or aunt isn’t one of the houseguests, is she? I don’t wish to be accused of stealing her clothes.”

“Oh, I’m certain she isn’t,” Milly said dismissively. “That was years and years ago. Now sit down and let me fix your hair.”

Sophia almost declined, but she wanted a look at the bridal parade, those females Adam had deemed appropriate for marriage to a duke. “Something dramatic, I think.”

“That is precisely what I intend. And if there is a lady you think would best do His Grace, you should tell him. He trusts your opinion, and I’d rather have someone you think is fine than someone Lady Wallace prefers.”

Stifling a sigh, Sophia nodded. It certainly didn’t matter who she thought would best suit Adam, and it mattered even less if for a bare moment here and there she’d imagined herself in that role. She already had a husband waiting for her, and even if she didn’t, her parentage made her utterly unsuitable for a duke. For any aristocrat. “I’ll do my utmost,” she said aloud.