Temptation Has Green Eyes (13 page)

What had happened? Her heart ached. The progress they’d made earlier in the evening had dissipated like smoke in the wind. Nothing left.

When she turned to take her leave of Lord Alconbury, he’d gone. Max hadn’t bothered to conceal his sudden frostiness.

Rather than create a fuss, she mustered what dignity she could and left with her head held high.

She had to use every bit of her self-control not to refuse Max’s help into the carriage. Of course his touch had its usual predictable outcome, triggering those now unwanted emotions of yearning and need.

He didn’t speak to her but observed her, tight-lipped, on the short journey back to their town house.

He helped her out with due punctiliousness and led her in. They went past a clearly startled footman who had probably not expected them back so early and straight into the breakfast parlor at the rear of the house.

The room was cold and unlit. Max paused to find the tinder box and light a branch of candles before he turned to her. The relatively dim light didn’t help to dispel his stern mien.

“You are not to talk to that man again.”

“What man? John Hayes? Believe me, I have no wish to talk to him, but if society sees me shunning him, it will add to the gossip.”

“No, not him. Alconbury.”

She glared at him. Alconbury’s arrival had come as a relief, breaking any presumptions John might have. “Why not? Is he a notorious flirt? Are you by any chance jealous, Max? I found him amusing and respectful. I will most certainly speak to him again if he wishes it.”

“I forbid it.”

Astonished, she dropped her mouth open. She closed it with a snap of her teeth and found her voice. “I beg your pardon?”

Max wasn’t the only person who could make his voice drip ice if they chose. She had had enough. “You cannot preserve me in aspic and then scold me for talking to men who at least have the courtesy of taking care of me. You are, Max, the most complete hand. I do not mean that as a compliment.”

“I am aware of that.” He came close enough for her to see the sparks in his eyes, enhanced by the flickering candles and the lighter flecks of color. But he looked dangerous and, with his ascetic features, almost otherworldly. An angry god. The emerald at his throat gleamed with malicious intent. If an emerald could be said to have intent. “However it is my wish that you do not speak to him again.”

Why should she? If he’d given her an explanation, then yes, she’d have considered it. But to present it as an order and to give no reason?

“Max, I’m asking you one more time. Why don’t you want me to speak with him? Give me a cause, rephrase your command, and I might consider it. But I am not the kind of wife who will meekly obey without question. Respect creates respect, and I’ve had precious little from you recently.”

He glared at her and then spun away, the skirts of his coat catching her gown and forcing her to take a step back. She firmly stepped forward, but kept close to the door. If she exited, she wanted the exercise dignified, not with him in the way. He took a few paces into the room and back again before he turned to face her.

“He’s a Dankworth.”

“What?”

“He’s the son of the Duke of Northwich. A Dankworth. They’re dangerous, and they would do anything to put the Emperors in a bad light.”

She hadn’t realized that. Her father’s book only concerned itself with the people they were likely to do business with. Northwich never struck either of them as a good prospect.

Then Lord Alconbury was the son of John’s new employer. But he was perfectly respectable, or he seemed so. “Why?” That sounded like Shakespearian tragedy rather than real life. She needed more than that.

“They’re Jacobites.”

She snorted. “Pooh, everybody knows that!” The Dankworths were long-established Jacobites, but since the rebellion had been put down so decisively, the Stuart faction hadn’t counted for much. “They’re a spent force. Not even welcome in France these days.”

“That could change.” He took a deep breath through his nose, like a dragon about to belch fire. His nostrils flared. “We don’t wish to be associated with them.”

“We? Do I not have an identity of my own, then?”

“Not in law.”

Fury filled her. If he’d asked, if he’d reasoned with her, she’d have listened, but he had not. He ordered, and Sophia never obeyed orders blindly. “My lord, I am not the meek and mild wife you imagine. I will not be commanded, and I will not accept your word without good reason. So far you’ve given me none. Ten years ago I might have listened to you, but that’s not enough. Jacobites!”

Time to leave. A family feud didn’t sound like anything she wanted any part of. Destructive and stupid. No merit at all. No profit in it.

With a flounce, she spun around and showed him what skirts really looked like when they were flared. Then she stalked out of the room and went to bed.

She dampened her pillow that night, but her tears were as much fury as frustration. She’d longed to get closer to her husband, but not at the expense of her independent spirit. Tonight he’d made advances that had given her hope, only to dash it later.

She would not let him or anyone else trample her into the dust. After years of defying and proving to her father that she was as good as any son, she wasn’t about to lose the battle to another man.

John Hayes approached Sophia in the park the next day, when she was taking the air with only her maid and a footman for company. Sophia showed him a serene face. More to demonstrate to Max that she wouldn’t obey his strictures than because she was glad to see John.

Still not in charity with Hayes and angry with the way her body reacted by tightening in fear whenever she saw him, she understood she would have to conquer that emotion. The best way to do it was with familiarity. Only the social kind, naturally, but it would do.

Although the last thing she wanted to do was rest her fingertips on his arm, she did it, glad she was wearing gloves. That layer of fabric gave her another piece of distance. At least he couldn’t attack her here, in the fashionable hour at the park with much of society looking on.

“I’m pleased I found you in private,” John said. “I’m sorry, however, that we can’t speak somewhere quieter.”

She stared at him incredulously. “There is no chance of that. You’ve apologized for what you did, but I’m not sure I totally forgive you. It’s obvious you want to seek out my presence. After this, I’d appreciate it if you did not. Too much familiarity is as bad as too little.”

“We will meet, though.”

“I daresay, and give each other courteous nods. That will do. If you want to get back into my father’s graces, I have to tell you that you’re a lost cause with him. Give it up.”

“I know,” he said sadly. “I wouldn’t have upset him for the world.”

What about her? “Nevertheless, you have.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I will never cease to regret that day. I found you irresistible, and I offered you behavior I should never have allowed in myself. It was unthinking and instinctive.”

“Plenty of people seem able to resist me.” That, at least, was obvious.

She nodded to Lady Carter, currently driving past in her carriage. The lady nodded back.

Good. The initial doubts at her entry into society were dispelling. The longer she behaved as she should, the more they would accept her.

“Sophia, I need to tell you something. In my current position I heard some disturbing rumors, and I went to my employer for confirmation. He said it was so, and he wanted to see you.”

“Does this concern me, or is it society gossip?”

“It certainly concerns you. It also explains why the Marquess of Devereaux wished to marry you, and so quickly, too.”

Because he desired the arrangement with the Russells made formal without delay. Although now he didn’t appear too enthusiastic to further the relationship.

“I can’t tell you everything because I don’t know it. Have you heard the rumors?”

“Which particular rumors?” There were always rumors.

“That you’re not your father’s daughter.” His words dropped like a stone into a frozen pond, shards of awareness smashing the surface.

Hearing the words and absorbing them proved two very different things. At first she laughed. Then she stared at him. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“That’s why some people don’t talk to you. Don’t bother to deny it. I know it’s true.” His blue gaze compassionate, John waited for her to respond.

Somehow she kept walking. “That is idiocy. I’m my father’s heir, his only…” She cleared her throat and began again. “My mother was the daughter of an earl, and my father is one of the wealthiest men in London. That is who I am. They are my acknowledged parents.”

She hadn’t realized how tightly she was gripping his coat. Deliberately she eased her hold.

He patted her hand. “That’s what I thought, and it’s certainly the legal case, although your father may leave his fortune where he wishes.”

She knew that, but she didn’t care. Once she’d thought he’d leave it to John, as long as he married her. But that one day changed everything, and now here she was, a marchioness. With an unknown father, if what John said were true.

Of course it was not. Gravel scuffed under her feet, the sound unnaturally loud.

“When I first heard the rumor, I scoffed too,” he continued.

They walked at a steady pace. At least she could glance away and angle her head so the broad brim of her hat concealed her hurt.

“But they are strong. I asked my employer about it, knowing him for a discreet man, and he gave me advice. He said to bring you to see him. He says he knows the truth, but he wishes to speak to you about it face to face.”

She dug her heels in to the path. John had to come to a halt or walk on without her. He stopped. With deliberate intent, she removed her hand from his arm and gave him a frosty smile.

“What kind of fool do you take me for? Do you think to force me into a private conversation with you?” And more, no doubt. Had he never given up wanting her? She couldn’t doubt that this was a ruse to take her somewhere private yet again.

“You are much mistaken, Mr. Hayes. I’m not such a gullible idiot. You had your chance, and you failed so miserably that I should have listened to my heart when I saw you at Ranelagh. I wish I’d walked the other way. Now you tell me some ridiculous rumor?”

If not for the gossip she’d inevitably cause if she walked away from him, she’d do so. But the rumors about them made clear that people would watch them closely. Any offence, or on the opposite side, any particular warmth, would only fuel the fire. A cordiality engendered by their previous acquaintances seemed to be the safest path to take. But she hated it. She would have far rather had nothing to do with him.

He shook his head. “It’s true. When I saw the evidence, I had to believe it.”

“Until I see absolute proof I won’t believe it. I will reject it. What’s more, I’ll ensure people know it’s a lie. Rumors are stupid and not worth listening to.” This rumor was another, probably put about by people jealous of her success. Or jealous that she’d snared Max. He was a catch, she knew that, but as far as she was concerned, they could have him back and keep him. “So who is your employer?” She might as well know the name of the man who was helping to spread malicious rumors about her.

“His Grace the Duke of Northwich.”

The man Max had warned her about. Everything came back to him. She refused to listen to any more. “Don’t try to speak to me again.”

Sophia turned her back on John. She’d had enough of John Hayes and his schemes. She needed to know more, but not from him. Perhaps he’d stumbled on a germ of truth. After her early morning stroll she discovered she was quite hungry and decided to go home for breakfast.

* * * *

After a breakfast in which the atmosphere was silent and frozen, Sophia ordered the carriage brought around. She had no idea if her husband stayed at home or was out, nor did she care. Anyone who used such bullying tactics as to order her to do something without explaining himself wasn’t worth thinking about, much less crying over. Not that she’d done that last night. Oh no, not one bit.

In the carriage she sat perfectly still, watching the fashionable squares as they gave way to the familiar, narrower streets of the City. She still loved the square mile. More than anywhere else in the world, it was her home.

The streets teemed with life. From children dodging between people—some pickpockets, some merely mischievous—to street sellers shouting their wares to City businessmen, dapper and serious for the most part. They passed her favorite print shop, which had a slew of new caricatures in the windows. She wanted to stop and stare, but she was afraid that now she had joined the great and the not-so-good, she might feature there.

Someone would recognize her and she’d never get to see her father. He was the person who would give her the confidence to deny the stupid rumors.

If he wasn’t in his office at home, she’d order some tea and send a footman to find him. He’d be in one of the coffee houses, probably Lloyd’s, or the Exchange, or at his own office. Easy to find him.

Not so easy to find her husband. He disappeared, and she never asked where he went. Did he have a mistress? Was she pretty?

To her chagrin, Sophia still cared about that. Even when he’d treated her with disdain, she yearned for his approval. What kind of idiot did that make her?

Her mood eased when she saw the house, with the black paint on the front door that had dulled with time. Her father should have it redone.

The windows were set lower, closer to the street, so living there was to share life with the people outside, not stare loftily down on it. Her new home was beautiful, but she’d put no mark on it.

She would. That was her first decision of the day. She’d change her bedroom with that lovely, though inappropriate, cream upholstery and drapes. That would be a good place to start.

And give her something to do, instead of worrying about the state of her marriage. It would either come right or it would not. Her resolve firm in her mind, she felt better as she stepped down from the carriage and went to the front door.