The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) (28 page)

Keene put his arm around George's shoulders.

"I keep thinking, if the baby was Victor's—I mean through a wife of his—I should be very fond of the child, perhaps even a godfather."

"It happened before you asked Amelia to marry you, and I gather only the once."

"I know, but I cannot accept her as my child. I can't."

A crushing weight settled on Keene's heart. He shook his head and pulled his arm away from George's shoulders. "Amelia is staying with me. Let her have her child."

George studied him. "You just don't understand."

"I understand better than you know." But doubts bubbled in his mind. How would he fare with Sophie's child? Would he feel as strongly about the firstborn as he would feel about his own children?

"I'll do the right thing. I'll raise her as my daughter. She'll never know the difference."

"Yes, she will."

Was he was wrong to think foreknowledge was better? Perhaps Victor was right in thinking a suspicion was easier to ignore, that a doubt was better than a surety. But it was too late for that. Keene already knew his wife bore another man's child.

* * *

Sophie sat in her hastily stitched sheet, a draft creeping through the opening in the back. Victor had long since departed. Amelia sat in the corner of a drawing room, looking demure and sophisticated, everything that Sophie was not. And yet, Amelia was a woman who had appealed to her husband at one time, perhaps still did.

Keene looked done in, but he flashed Amelia a compassionate smile as he crossed the room. His glance at Sophie had been more along the lines of a shaken head.

"We shall put it about that you are staying with us to guide Sophie through the labyrinth of society." Keene watched Sophie as he spoke.

Amelia nodded. "I understand."

Sophie was glad someone did. "Why?"

Amelia blushed and looked down.

"Amelia and George's estrangement isn't anyone's concern."

"Lud! Is it anything like our estrangement?"

Keene scowled at her. "Sophie, we haven't been estranged."

"Separated then?"

"No, it isn't at all similar." Amelia's quiet statement broke through the illusion of being alone with Keene. She turned toward him. "Perhaps it is not the best of ideas. If George means to divorce me"—her breath caught, as if speaking the word out loud was painful—"then I shall not do your wife's reputation well."

"You couldn't damage it more than she is bent on doing. I found her in Algany's company last night. I trust it is her ignorance that led her there. She was very sheltered in the country." Keene winced. "She needs a wiser woman to guide her past the pitfalls of London."

Sophie hated the way Amelia's eyes widened and then she lowered her gaze as if that tiny break in her composure was unacceptable. How could Sophie ever emulate the poise that Keene so admired?

 
He knelt down in front of her chair. "Sophie, Amelia will guide you. She will help you pick and choose what invitations to accept and escort you about."

Sophie didn't want to look at Keene's earnest expression. She glanced at the other woman. Amelia bit the corner of her lip. She stopped almost immediately, straightened her spine and erased the hint of apprehension from her porcelain features. She crossed her hands in her lap and glanced down at them.

Sophie suspected the woman rarely lost control. The unexpected cracks in her demeanor led Sophie to the conclusion that she no more wanted to act as a guide than Sophie wanted to be led by her.

Sophie narrowed her eyes, her focus on Keene. "May I speak with you privately?"

Amelia rose from her chair. "I'll just have the servants show me my room, if that is all right."

Keene stood and led her to the door. After the door clicked shut, he turned around.

Nervous energy spilled over, and Sophie stood and crossed to the window. "You are very fond of her, are you not?"

"Yes, I'm fond of her. I'm fond of George. I want them to work out their problems. They won't, if she is too far away."

"She doesn't want to lead me around London." Sophie
crossed her arms and turned to look out the window. Did
Keene really want to help salvage his friends' marriage or did he just want to keep Amelia accessible?

"Whatever are you wearing? Bloody hell, you need her guidance if you are buying clothes like that. Or am I buying it? Where have you instructed the dressmakers to send the bills?"

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. She had forgotten the irregular closure of the sheet gown. "You will be relieved to know that you shan't have to pay my mantua maker bills. Remember, Mama gave me money for my trousseau."

"I daresay I'd be relieved if no one paid for that dress."

"Perhaps you had better tell me why she is staying with us."

"Because Victor suggested it, and what could I do but extend an invitation."

Sophie clenched the drapery in her hand. "Do you wish me to be like her?"

"No one could fault Amelia's behavior in polite company. If you could be more like her . . ." His voice fell off.

What? Would Keene love her if she was more like Amelia? Did she want him to?

Keene moved to stand behind her. He settled his hand at her waist. "She is always perfectly behaved in public."

His touch warmed her skin, but she was still sorting through her disappointment at learning another woman would be staying with them, that he had seen the opportunity to pass off his wife's introduction to London to another person and stolen it. That the mother of his child would be living with them. "But not so in private? I understand she had a baby that is not her husband's."

Sophie held her breath waiting for Keene's response. Would he tell her he'd fathered the child?

His response was slow. The "Yes," drawn out. His expression grew enigmatic. "So you know about it?"

Her heart pounded. "Not everything."

Keene moved away from her. His distance pulled warmth from her. "The crux of the problem is that she lied to George. She let him believe he was the father."

Sophie wasn't convinced. Keene paced the room. She turned to watch him. "Is that what George says?"

"No, but I think if she had been honest—"

Sophie snorted.

Keene rolled his eyes.

She supposed snorting was one behavioral faux pas he wished to break her. If he thought her so unmannerly, why had
he married her? Why, indeed, other than a mixture of misplaced
family honor and obligation? Certainly not to get an heir through her.

He folded his arms across his chest as if he would launch into a homily. Perhaps all men expected a woman to be modest, meek and mindless. Did he think she was too featherheaded to understand the connection between him and Amelia?

She started to suggest he just tell her the whole story, but her throat felt raw. She'd never believed that Keene held her in any great affection before his proposal, certainly he didn't now. Her hope that he might come to love her needed to be thrown to the wolves. She should be content that he allowed her the lifestyle she'd always wanted, the freedom, the gaiety, the clothes. His former mistress living with them shouldn't be so bad.

Questions and half-baked inferences swirled into a muddy mix in Sophie's brain. She turned to stare out the window.

She put a stop to her runaway thoughts. All of the mysteries surrounding Amelia and her ill-conceived child really had nothing to do with anything Sophie wanted. She supposed if she didn't go chasing after things that were not likely to be, she could be content with her marriage. She presumed she and Keene would rub along tolerably well. Her behavior was more likely to upset him. And her mother had warned her that Keene would not be content with one woman's company. Her hand closed around the curtain, and she gripped it as if it were a lifeline.

Keene's voice startled her out of her thoughts. "You may tell me anything."

She pivoted to return his words. "Odd, I was about to say the same thing to you."

Two lines furrowed between Keene's eyebrows, and he tilted his head sideways. "But you do understand, you should not speak of Amelia's situation to anyone."

How simpleminded did he think she was? "Of course, I understand that. But I still do not think she wishes to be my teacher."

"She will, though. Sophie, you must let her lead you. She knows everyone who is anyone. She'll steer you around trouble. You don't know what you're about. The gossips here can destroy you."

"I have never been afraid of what people think of me."

"You need to have a care what people think and how your actions would reflect on me. You could destroy me politically."

He had political aspirations? "You aren't a member of Parliament . . . are you?"

"I can't be. I don't own property. I can't run for a seat in the House of Commons without an estate, but I do plan to take my seat in the House of Lords when I inherit the title from my father. For now, I do what I can to influence the lawmakers."

Why hadn't she known? For an awful moment she felt dimwitted and all at sea. But then, how could she have known? She hadn't been around him enough to form any opinion of what he did in London beyond staying out all night. Anger spurted through her. "Were you perhaps campaigning for something special last night?"

"Of course not."

"Shooting one's friend in a duel doesn't adversely affect one's influence?"

"Sophie, we are not discussing my behavior. Fighting a duel may be a regrettable lapse on my part, but being seen unescorted in Algany's company is a much less forgivable offense."

"For a woman."

"For you."

How did housing his former mistress sit with the ton? Or was their former liaison a well-guarded secret? It must be, if George accepted Keene's company. How could Keene have been any more honest about the situation than Amelia was?

"I still don't think you have consulted Amelia about this. She doesn't seem the least bit enthused by your proposition."

"She'll do it, though. And if you aren't willing to let her help you, I'll send you back to my father's house."

"I have no choice, then?"

"You have a choice. You may return to the countryside for the time being."

What kind of a marriage was that? What had she gained by marrying him?

Keene crossed to her side. His voice dropped to a soft murmur. "Sophie, this is not just about me. I am concerned about your welfare. Last night you could have been badly abused. I don't want you in situations where you could come to harm. You are reckless beyond consideration."

A protest rose to her lips. His fingers stopped it with a gentle touch that shot sparks rocketing through her.

"Any misstep you make now could have long-lasting repercussions. Not only for me, but for you and for our . . . uh . . . for any children."

Her breath did a stutter step. The corner of his mouth curled as his fingers slid across her cheek. He gave a small shake of his head.

"What?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. Her heart began a footrace. He pulled back. "No more hotels, Sophie."

She nodded like a deaf-mute.

"No more travel without my escort."

Her head continued to bob up and down as if independent of her control. Why didn't he just kiss her again?

He wound a strand of her hair around his finger. "I can't protect you if I don't know where you are."

Did he want to protect her? She wanted to melt at his feet. Not that she needed his protection.

"Have Amelia guide you in fashion, too."

Sophie stopped the snort before it escaped her. Keene grinned. She wasn't sure if she wanted to smack him or beg him to kiss her again. The only thing she knew was he muddled her thoughts, jumbled her senses and made her blood dance.

A knock on the door prompted Keene to turn. "Yes?"

The butler entered and stood uneasily in front of the doorway.

"What is it, Blythe?"

"Begging your pardon, sir. But it seems the upstairs maid reports that your bed linens have gone missing. The housekeeper is concerned we may have a thief among the servants."

Keene looked at Sophie, then shook his head. "Not among the servants. I believe my wife is the culprit. No need to concern yourself with their removal."

"Very good, sir. I'll have the maid put on fresh sheets." Blythe bowed and left, discreetly closing the drawing room doors as he exited.

Keene cocked an eyebrow at her. "First, Victor's clothing, now, a sheet, Sophie?"

She shrugged. "My clothes aren't here, and you stole my evening gown. I suppose I should wear nothing."

"As enchanting as that sounds, love, I should not think it quite the thing." His dark eyes held hers. "At least not in anyone's company but my own."

He had to be kidding if he thought she would share his favors with Amelia.

* * *