Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke (33 page)

Sophia nodded, waiting for the knowing snickers from somewhere behind her, saying that of course she’d made it. Why else would it look like that? But the timbre of conversation didn’t alter. Hm. That was at least as odd as the tremendous number of valuable gifts she’d received.

He draped it around his shoulders. “Thank you. I shall treasure it.”

Whether he meant something additional or not, she decided that attempting to decipher any of his comments now would be a very poor idea. And so, trying not to let her fingers shake with anticipation, she opened the box he’d given her. Moving the paper aside, she revealed a lovely green and yellow scarf that matched her new hat.
A scarf.

“It’s a scarf,” he said helpfully. “Camille showed me the hat, and I thought something to match would be nice.”

A scarf.
In terms of value, it was likely the least expensive of the gifts she’d received today. In terms of importance, she couldn’t remember ever mentioning scarves in his presence, or him in hers. In other words, it meant nothing to either one of them. Of course she’d also given him a scarf, but at least she’d made it herself.

“It’s lovely,” she heard herself say. After all, he’d already given her dresses and saved her life. What the devil had she expected? A wedding ring? Diamonds? Those were the things she would never receive from him, because firstly she was to be married to someone else, and secondly because she couldn’t be purchased.

With his toe, he nudged the stack of other gifts she’d received. “Where did these come from?”

“From Lady Wallace, and Lady Hayforth, and oh, everyone. They were very kind to me. I feel terrible that I didn’t purchase something for them in return.”

Something very dark crossed his face and then was gone again. He lifted an eyebrow. “Purchase something for them with what? Everything you brought with you washed down the river, as I recall,” he stated in a carrying voice. “The fact that you managed to find the materials and then knit a scarf”—he glanced at Keating who was making some sort of motion—“three scarves, is extremely impressive. As is the craftsmanship.”

Whether he was attempting to explain her circumstance or thank her too vehemently for a knit scarf, she didn’t know, but she didn’t particularly like either conclusion. “Thank you again, Your Grace,” she said, standing. “Udgell, would you mind helping me bring my new possessions up to my bedchamber?”

The butler immediately squatted down and picked up a stack of gifts. “Of course, Miss Sophia.”

Though Cammy sent her an uncertain look, Sophia smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Are you staying in for luncheon?”

“I believe so.”

“Then I’ll see you in a bit.”

She curtsied at the room in general and walked out. On the one hand she’d gotten some very nice, if impractical, gifts that she could sell to put a little more money in the bank. On the other hand, the man she adored, the man she couldn’t wait to see every night and hated to part from every morning, had given her a present that was only slightly more meaningful than a doorknob.

If he’d given Lady Caroline something as stupid as a scarf, she would eat it. No, she couldn’t have him, and no, they didn’t have anything close to a lasting relationship, but he might have found … something that meant something special. Just between the two of them. Happy Christmas, indeed.

*   *   *

“Really, Greaves? A scarf?”

Adam stiffened and turned around. Aubrey Burroughs stood close to the center of the room, where of course everyone couldn’t help noticing him. “Are you complaining that you received a pocket watch, Burroughs?” he asked. “I can more than likely find you a scarf, if you wish one.”

“Actually what I mean is you couldn’t have found a gift to more obviously show your disinterest in the chit if you wanted to. Trying a bit too hard, aren’t you?”

Aubrey Burroughs was a dead man.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Have you been drinking again?”

“I’ll admit, she isn’t your usual sort, but for Christ’s sake, Greaves. She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t your mistress. We all know that. So why bother with the cheap and cheerful gifts?” He gestured at Eustace, who sat with a smile absolutely pasted on her otherwise still face. “Your sister and her friends know the truth, or they wouldn’t have showered her with so many pretty trinkets. Why haven’t you bothered to tell your own friends, so we’ll know to keep our hands off? I nearly went after her myself, you know.”

Damnation.
Adam had evidently fallen into a hole made by his own cleverness. And now, there they were. But how much did Burroughs actually know, or was it all bluster and supposition? Grateful now that Sophia had left the room, he kept his relaxed stance, though he felt anything but easy on the inside. “I did invite
you
here, Burroughs, and we both know I had no ulterior motive for that. She’s a friend, as I’ve said before. Just as you are.” Or were, anyway.

“You see?” Burroughs returned, clearly playing to his rapt audience. “The more you dissemble, the more we want to know why. You never hid Lady Helena Brennan. In fact, you took her to Almack’s with you.”

Eustace shot to her feet. “Come, gentlemen. It’s Christmas. You—John—bring champagne for everyone.”

So there was a good side to his sister’s obsession with propriety. He hadn’t expected that she would ally herself with him, whatever her reasons for doing so. “And the fig pudding,” he added, as the footman hurried out of the room.

“I saw you, Greaves.” Burroughs seated himself, crossing one leg over the other and looking every inch a gentleman at leisure. “You met her at that dressmaker’s shop—where I presume you’ve been having all those pretty gowns made—and you kissed her. I hate to carry tales, but I fail to see an alternate explanation for your attention.”

“Hear, hear,” Lassiter seconded from across the room. “Is the chit your mistress, or isn’t she? We have wagers to settle, here.”

They all looked at him. What was the alternative? He’d been seen kissing her. In the eyes of Society, a duke and … whatever Sophia was, kissed for one reason: he’d arranged for her care and support in exchange for exclusive sexual favors. A duke didn’t lose his heart to an unredeemable by-blow got on a maid. On the other hand, the Duke of Greaves—both the ninth and the tenth—did favor redheads. If he admitted that he cared for her, he would look like a fool.

“If it looks like a duck,” he snapped, leaving his supposed friends to finish the proverb by themselves.

“Greaves,” Keating hissed in a very low voice behind him.

Ignoring Blackwood, Adam sketched a lazy bow. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to go soothe a wounded bird.”

Cursing under his breath, he stomped up the stairs and along the familiar path to Sophia’s room. She would be furious. But she wouldn’t be returning to London, anyway. And this little lie would serve to keep everyone and their opinions polite until she left Yorkshire. No other man would proposition her, and he could spend his time with her as he pleased.

He pushed open the closed door without knocking. “Sophia.”

She looked up from her seat by the window, the scarf he’d given her in her hands. “You shouldn’t have given me this,” she said.

Truer words were never spoken.
“Yes, I know. It was just for show. I do have another gift for you, however.”

“I mean, you saved my life. And all these dresses you’ve bought for me. It’s too much.” She narrowed one eye. “And you don’t have to wear that scarf. I just wanted to give you … something. It was silly.”

“It was not silly. You made this.” He fingered the warm wrap still hanging about his neck. “With your time and your hands. It’s the nicest gift I received.”

Her expression softened a little, and finally she offered him a crooked smile. “I don’t quite believe you, but that was well said.” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “And I had to hide it every time you came in here. For a time I thought I was going to have to crawl under the bed to finish it.”

Sending up a quick prayer that she would listen to reason despite the fact that he’d just done the one thing she’d asked him not to, he pulled the oblong box from an inner pocket. A gift first would hopefully soften her objections to what he needed to explain to her.

“Your actual Christmas gift,” he said, and handed it to her.

Dividing her attention between him and the box, she took it from him, brushing his fingers with hers as she did so. Her shoulders rising and falling with her breath, she opened the lid.

Firelight caught the strands of delicate gold chain, and sent wildly glinting reflections off the hundred tiny diamonds set around the length of the twisting, twining necklace. The thing was absurdly delicate looking, and the Hanlith jeweler might never recover from its creation, but the beautiful asymmetry of it reminded him of Sophia.

“Do you like it?” he asked after a moment, when she continued to sit there wordlessly.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, lifting it and letting it drip through her fingers.

“I had it made for you.”

She looked up at him, a tear running down one cheek. “Thank you. Truly, Adam. But you know I can’t accept this. I could never wear it without everyone asking where it came from. Without … my husband asking why I would ever receive such a gift.”

Adam took a stiff breath. It was now or never, he knew. And nothing in his life had ever made him quite as nervous as this moment. “You can accept it, you know.”

“Of course I can’t. And it’s too dear to sell, as I’m going to do with all these baubles.” She gestured at the pile of gifts on her bed. The ones Eustace had undoubtedly orchestrated.

He took her hand. “Why do you want to make your life so difficult, when I could make it so easy for you? At least the next few weeks of it. This isn’t a fairy tale, Sophia. This is the world. I can make you so much more comfortable. You wanted a happy holiday. I can certainly give that to you, no matter who is here, or for what reason.”

Her face had paled, but at least she seemed to be listening. She needed to understand. He needed her to understand.

“I know you’ve fought for everything you have. I congratulate you for that. But you don’t need to keep fighting. Not here. If I could, I would give you an apartment and servants and jewels for every day of the week. You won’t take that from me, I know. But take this necklace, and take what I can offer you. For God’s sake, you could hide it away from your husband and have the blunt to run if you ever felt the need. And you could run to me. In fact, after a year or two, how would Hennessy be able to blame your flight on the club? Especially if he had no idea where you were.”

“But you would be married.”

“As would you be. I don’t care.”

Her tears had stopped. She turned to look out the window, at the slow, lazy drift of snow that had begun on the return drive from church. He’d already memorized her profile, but he didn’t think he would ever tire of looking at her.

Finally she looked up at him, her light green eyes deep and endless and very, very serious. “May I think about it?” she whispered.

Adam scowled. “What the devil is there to think about? I’m offering you the world.”

“A very large world, and a very different one, and I’d like to consider what you’ve said,” she countered, a touch of color returning to her cheeks. “Give me until luncheon at least, will you?”

If he gave her a minute, she might refuse him. If he pressed her, though, she definitely would refuse. Unclenching his jaw, he nodded. “Until one o’clock.” To underscore everything his offer entailed, he took the necklace and stood to fasten it around her throat. Then he moved around in front of her, catching her mouth with his in a deep, hot kiss.

She slipped her hands around his shoulders as she sank into his embrace. How could she do anything but accept his offer, when the alternative would be a life with a man who would never appreciate who she was? Who would keep her prisoner in a tiny village and heap guilt on her until she broke from the weight? And once she fled Cornwall for London, she would never leave him. He would never have to part from the serenity and the joy she gave him.

He lifted his head. “One o’clock,” he repeated for emphasis. “Consider everything, Sophia. Everything I will give you.”

She nodded, running her fingers down his cheek. “I will.”

FIFTEEN

Sophia watched as Adam left her room. Then she stood and went to the bellpull to summon Milly.

That done, she reached up to carefully remove her beautiful necklace and gently place it back in its velvet-lined box. Just as carefully she kept her mind on the present, on the exact moment before her. The walk to the wardrobe. The ugly old hat she dropped to the floor. The hat box she carried to the bed. The pretty, hurtful gifts she could fit inside.

Adam had offered her nothing but a few more weeks of what she already wanted—him. He’d merely attached a monetary worth to her presence, made her a thing. And then he’d made it even worse, by suggesting a way she could escape her fate, when they both knew she could never do such a thing. Or he should have known that about her, anyway.

She’d agreed to marry Mr. Loines to save the Tantalus. Why, then, would she run the moment she thought she could get away with it, when that would ruin her husband, herself, and the woman whom Adam would have married by then? He hadn’t even suggested that she find her freedom, but only that she trade a wedding band for a mistress’s chains.

And for a bare, awful moment she’d been tempted. “No, no, no,” she muttered to herself. Whatever people thought of her, whatever stigma had been placed on her from the moment of her birth, she meant to do the right thing. Even if it broke her heart.

Setting eyes on Adam again would shatter her into a million pieces. Yes, she was disappointed in him, but she certainly understood his dilemma and his frustration. She shared them. If he couldn’t force himself to make the correct, difficult decision of walking away, she would do it for both of them. Better to plunge the dagger into her chest all at once and be done with it.