What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1) (10 page)

“Did Miss Beaufort say why she refuses to eat?”

“No, my lord, I tried the door but it was locked,” Sarah replied. “I did knock, but she didn’t answer. She’s probably fallen asleep and so I thought it best to bring the tray down.”

“But she slept most of the journey,” Amy added, shaking her head. “She told me herself, it wasn’t good for the constitution to sit around idle.”

Sebastian narrowed his gaze. “Where are her clothes?”

“Amy took them up an hour ago,” Haines replied, a look of suspicion marring his weathered face.

“I cleaned them as best as I could, given such short notice, but Miss Beaufort seemed happy enough,” Amy said, looking proud of her efforts. “She said as long as she looked respectable enough to walk down the street —”

“
Bloody hell!
” Sebastian cried, turning on his heels and running out of the door.

He mounted the stairs two at a time, aware of Haines’ heavy plodding behind him.

“In here?” Sebastian asked, pointing across the landing to the room furthest from his own.

“Yes, my lord,” Haines murmured, his voice tinged with remorse as he hung his head low.

Sebastian turned the handle and discovered the door was locked.

“Miss Beaufort,” he called as he rapped on the door. He felt like smashing the blasted thing down with his fists.

There was no reply.

Sebastian knelt down and peered through the keyhole. He could see straight through into the room as she’d taken the key out of the door. His instincts told him she was no longer in the house. Experience told him she had left through the front door. If she had escaped via the window, she would have left the key in the door.

“Shall I barge the door, my lord?”

“No, Haines, that won’t be necessary,” Sebastian said abruptly, as he stood and straightened his coat. “I believe Miss Beaufort has already vacated her room. But you may ask Mrs. Cox for the spare key.”

“Beg your pardon, my lord, but this is my fault,” Haines said standing with his shoulders slumped forward. “I’ve never known anyone as angry as Miss Beaufort when you left her in the carriage,” he said scratching his head. “But she seemed happy when we arrived.”

Of course she was bloody happy, Sebastian thought, she had probably been planning her escape from the moment she knew he was not following behind. Thank goodness he had the necklace else he doubted he would see her again. He patted his chest to make sure it was still in his pocket and Miss Beaufort didn’t know of a conjurer’s trick to spirit it away.

Sebastian did not know what bothered him most. The fact Miss Beaufort was now wandering around town dressed in those blasted breeches for the entire world to see, or that she seemed to have an innate ability of making him look like a complete idiot.

“I’m afraid the blame rests firmly at my door, no pun intended,” Sebastian replied. “I foolishly assumed Miss Beaufort would seek my counsel before tearing off around town.” He was going to have to put an end to this cat and mouse game they played.

Haines cleared his throat. “When you give Haines a job to do, my lord, he always does his best. Never let it be said Haines don’t do his duty,” the coachman proclaimed, as though reapplying for his position. “It’s just the lady has a look about her, a way of … well, let’s just say she was mighty cheerful for someone about to bolt.”

Sebastian felt sorry for the man. “Miss Beaufort is an unusual lady, Haines. I fear I will never quite understand her motivations or her impulsiveness. I suppose you cannot attempt to cage a tiger and expect it will not try to bite you.” He smiled, remembering Miss Beaufort’s prince and mouse story and her threat to gobble him up.

“I can’t say I know much about tigers, my lord,” Haines replied, scratching the top of his head again. “But I know what it’s like to catch a butterfly, to trap it in a glass and watch it struggle to break free, to watch it grow tired and flutter to the bottom, all hopeless an’ lost.”

“You’re suggesting Miss Beaufort is struggling to be free of the glass.” Sebastian leaned back against the jamb and folded his arms across his chest. “I did not know you were so perceptive, Haines.”

“Beg your pardon, but there’s not much else to do atop a carriage all day long, besides think.”

“Indeed,” Sebastian replied arching a brow with curious interest.

Haines opened his mouth but then snapped it shut.

“Please, continue,” Sebastian said. Any information to aid him in understanding Miss Beaufort’s psyche was valuable indeed. “I feel I am in need of enlightenment and I find your analogy quite refreshing.”

Haines shuffled on the spot. “Well, you take Miss Amy,” he continued a little cautiously. “There’d be those who’d be annoyed by her constant chattering. Some might say no good can come from such foolish talk.”

“And you, what would you say, Haines?”

The corners of Sebastian’s mouth curved into the beginnings of a smile, for he already knew the answer.

“Well, my lord,” Haines began. “I’d say that when she speaks the whole world lights up and if it means my ears have to take a bashing, seems like a fair trade to me.”

Sebastian’s thoughts were drawn back to Miss Beaufort. He admired her tenacity, her courage. Yet the qualities that intrigued him the most were the qualities he tried to suppress.

In an effort to protect her diminishing reputation, he had forced her to take matters into her own hands. He found himself wondering why he cared so much, why he felt such a desperate need to control and conquer.

What was it about Miss Beaufort that spoke to him in a way no other woman ever had?

Throughout his life, he’d always done what he felt right, propriety be damned. He considered the unconventional methods he’d used to save his father’s lands, to restore his legacy for future generations. How was he any different to Miss Beaufort?

Perhaps they had more in common than he first thought.

Knowing her brother was alive and well was not enough. She wanted to find him, to offer assistance and support. It’s exactly what he would have done. Woe betide anyone who tried to stop him. Suddenly, the road ahead became clearer. In future, he would treat Miss Beaufort as he would Dudley; as a partner, a friend. He would allow her the freedom to make her own decisions. What choice did he have? It was either that or he feared he’d be a rambling madman before the week was out.

“I can speak to the staff. See if Miss Beaufort gave any clue as to where she was going,” Haines said.

“That won’t be necessary. It appears Miss Beaufort is quite capable of taking care of herself,” Sebastian replied, pushing himself away from the jamb. “As soon as I’ve changed, I shall scour the streets for her. I’m confident she will return and when she does would you ask if she is free to accompany me for dinner this evening?”

“What, in the dining room, my lord?”

“Yes, of course in the dining room. I shall leave it to you to break the news to Mrs. Cox.” Sebastian turned and took a few paces towards his room. “Oh,” he said, swinging back round to face Haines. “Dudley Spencer’s wife will be sending a few things over for Miss Beaufort.” He was going to say he’d rather be damned than let her wear those breeches. But he was no longer in the habit of smothering butterflies. “There’ll be a few dresses, amongst other things. Have Amy press them and lay them out in Miss Beaufort’s room,” he paused and then added, “should the lady wish to wear them, of course.”

Haines nodded and made his way to the top of the staircase. He stopped, his calloused hands gripping the rail as he turned to face Sebastian. “I doubt life would ever be dull with Miss Beaufort around.”

Sebastian laughed. “No, Haines, life would be far from dull. Of that I am certain.”

Chapter 12

“I imagine Lord Danesfield must have been furious when he discovered I’d gone out,” Sophie said as Amy fastened the buttons on her gown.

“He did curse a few times, but I said you would come back.”

Sophie’s hands drifted down the front of the turquoise-blue dress, tingling at the feel of the soft silk. The elegant style, with its full sleeves and low décolletage, flattered her figure and made her feel feminine and rather bold.

She glanced at the white dress hanging on the door of the armoire. It was the more modest of the two and she knew she had made the right choice. If Dane intended to berate her over her expedition into town, she needed to feel confident, to feel his equal.

“You look very pretty, miss, if you don’t mind me saying,” Amy declared, unpacking the leather portmanteau Charlotte Spencer had sent over. “Blue really suits you. I doubt his lordship will have a mind for food when he sees you in that.”

“Amy,” Sophie scolded. Although she could hardly blame the maid for making such an assumption, not after witnessing their amorous interlude by the pool. “As I explained yesterday, the marquess is simply a friend who lent a helping hand when I stumbled.”

Saying it aloud made the whole thing sound even more absurd; a thought echoed by Amy’s snigger.

“I thought you said you had something in your eye?”

Sophie cursed silently. She had been so angry with Dane she could not really remember what she’d said. Besides, what was the point of striving for independence or fighting against conformity when she did not even have the courage to take ownership of her actions?

“Well, yes, perhaps there was a little more to it than that,” she admitted, straightening her back and lifting her chin. “But it will not happen again.”

No. It most certainly could not happen again, especially after such blatant disregard for her feelings. Her side still ached from being picked up and dumped in the carriage.

“Besides, the marquess is used to the seductive skills of a mistress,” Sophie added honestly. “I doubt I would ever be able to compete.”

Amy smiled and arched a brow. “Let me tell you, miss,” she whispered. “I know I babble on, and most of the time no one’s even listening, but I do know a thing or two. I know a man doesn’t kiss a woman the way his lordship kissed you if someone else is warming his bed at home.” She gave a little wink.

Sophie could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. There’s a letter,” Amy continued, rushing over to the dressing table and handing the sealed note to Sophie. “Mrs. Spencer sent it with the wardrobe,” she said, noticing Sophie’s confused expression. “Are you sure you don’t want me to dress your hair for dinner?” Amy continued eagerly. “I could arrange it for you while you read your letter.”

“Thank you, Amy, but that won’t be necessary,” Sophie replied trying her best to keep up with Amy’s chatter.

“But it’s been ages since I’ve done anyone’s hair,” she said looking a little forlorn. “I promise I won’t do anything too fancy. Mr. Haines said he once saw a lady with a whole bunch of grapes stuck on her head.” Amy gave another snigger at that. “I’ll just do a simple chignon with a few curls framing your face. Mrs. Spencer sent over a pretty little pearl comb that would look —”

“Very well,” Sophie sighed, raising a hand in resignation. She sat carefully on the stool so as not to crease her dress, and turned the letter over to examine both sides. “But nothing too elaborate. Perhaps it would have been wise to do this before I dressed for dinner.”

“It won’t take long, what with it being shorter,” Amy replied, her face a picture of pure joy. “You go ahead and read your letter and don’t mind me.”

The letter, written in a delicate feminine flourish, began with an informal introduction and conveyed an almost childlike eagerness to become acquainted. Charlotte Spencer went on to explain that the garments were new and as Sophie was in such dire need, she could keep them.

Sophie found herself smiling as she refolded the letter. It was remarkable how a few simple words could convey much of a person’s character. She would look forward to thanking Charlotte in person, as she had a feeling she would like her immensely.

“There we are, miss, all finished,” Amy said, placing the unused pins into the glass dish on the table.

Sophie looked up into the oval mirror, angling her head to study Amy’s work. She had done a good job and the overall effect was one of … Sophie struggled to find the right words … one of rustic simplicity.

Amy had attempted to tame the unruly curls, but with Sophie’s hair being much shorter, they refused to comply. Sophie admired the few straggling locks that had already sprung loose at the nape and decided she loved it. Although the style lacked the finesse required for a more formal occasion, Sophie felt it reflected her character perfectly: downright stubborn and wildly unruly.

“It’s lovely, Amy. Thank you.”

“Those curls have a mind all of their own,” she chuckled. “It’s a good job you didn’t fancy the fruit. It would never have stayed in there.” She waited for Sophie to stand and then helped to smooth out her dress. “You’re to meet his lordship in the drawing room.” Amy leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Mr. Haines said his lordship always takes his meals in his study, says he can’t remember the last time he sat down to dinner.”

Was she supposed to be impressed by the effort? Or did he plan to hide behind formality when he berated her for her conduct? No doubt he planned to use his debaucher’s repartee to unnerve her.