What You Desire (Anything for Love, Book 1) (18 page)

“More tea?” Charlotte asked, offering some distraction from the hard stare Dane directed at his friend.

Sophie obliged, grateful to have something else on which to focus. For although she had no intention of ever becoming Dane’s wife, Dudley’s remark stirred vivid memories of their passionate liaison, memories that caused her pulse to race and her breath to quicken. Now she knew why gentlemen found it necessary to loosen their cravats when emotions ran high. As she sat there sipping tea, she tried in vain to think of something, anything other than the deep sense of longing the memory evoked.

She gazed across at Charlotte, the perfect image of domestic respectability. Expecting her first child at Christmas, she was radiant, charming, and graceful. Most importantly, she was in love with her husband. Sophie had noticed the discreet glances she secretively stole. She noticed the way he looked back with a profound tenderness, as though she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

“I believe I am in need of some air,” Charlotte said with a smile, holding the arms of the chair to stand. While both gentlemen also stood, Mr. Spencer offered his assistance by placing his hand at the small of her back and guiding her to her feet. “Would you care to join me, Miss Beaufort? Or am I supposed to call you Mr. Shandy?”

Sophie placed her cup on the table and stood. “I would love nothing more.”

As she turned to leave, Dane touched her lightly on the elbow and bent down so his mouth brushed against her ear. “I would prefer if you would walk in the garden and not out in the square,” he whispered.

“Of course,” she consented with a small nod of the head. Had he asked her the same question a few days ago, she would have told him to go to the devil. Indeed, had his request involved hindering her progress in finding James, she would have said exactly that. In agreeing to this request, she hoped he would understand she was not opposed to everything he suggested.

As Sophie stepped out into the hall, Charlotte’s maid came scuttling down the stairs carrying a fur-trimmed shawl, which she placed around Charlotte’s shoulders.

“We shall not be too long,” Charlotte began. “I believe they have some making up to do.” She laughed as she gestured to the drawing room where the low, rumbling tones suggested the gentlemen were already deep in conversation.

Sophie could not help but be intrigued by their relationship. “Are they always so … so direct with one another?”

Charlotte glanced affectionately towards the closed door. “Perhaps not in company, but the freedom with which they speak stems from a bond forged during their travels abroad. It was a dangerous time.” Her eyes widened to add intrigue to her words. “Who best to turn to for advice than a man you know would die for you,” she said slipping her arm through Sophie’s and leading her out into the garden.

The rectangular shaped garden was what one expected from a townhouse in a more affluent area. It was formal in design, with three flowerbeds placed along the central axis, all edged in neatly trimmed box and smaller beds lining the outer walls. The design would be even more spectacular when viewed from an upper window, Sophie thought, as they stepped out onto the gravel path that wound around the central beds in a figure of eight.

“You do not mind if I take your arm?” Charlotte asked. “I have been prone to bouts of dizziness and Dudley is such a worrier.”

“I am more than happy to be of assistance,” Sophie said a little too formally. She stopped abruptly. “Oh dear, I fear I sound more like Mr. Shandy every day. Of course I don’t mind,” she rephrased with a grin.

Charlotte was silent for a moment and then took a deep breath. “May we be candid with one another, Miss Beaufort?”

“Please, you must call me Sophie,” she replied, eager to further their acquaintance. It was the least she could do after all the wonderful clothes she had been given.

“Sophie,” Charlotte corrected. “It must be wonderful to be able to discuss anything and know you may trust the answer you receive.” Charlotte gave Sophie’s arm a little squeeze. “I do not see why the gentlemen should be the only ones afforded such a luxury.”

“I agree,” Sophie nodded, regaining her composure. “You may be candid with me, Mrs. Spencer.”

“You are doing your Mr. Shandy thing again,” Charlotte said with a chuckle, “and please call me Charlotte.”

Sophie chuckled, too. “If the gentlemen have forged their friendship through danger, then perhaps we shall forge ours through laughter.”

Although Sophie doubted there was anything dangerous about spending years on a grand tour in the company of loose women. If Dudley Spencer had spent time abroad with Dane, then perhaps he did not want Charlotte to know he’d assisted the marquess in pursuit of pleasure while his estate went to rot.

As they reached the bottom of the garden, they sat down on a stone bench with armrests in the shape of swans.

“I believe Sebastian is in love with you,” Charlotte announced in a rather matter of fact tone.

“What?” Sophie jumped to her feet so fast anyone would have thought she’d just sat on a bee. When she agreed to talk candidly, this was not the sort of topic she had in mind.

“Please, sit down,” Charlotte said in a calm tone as she patted the seat next to her. “I did not mean to frighten you. I just wondered if you knew and now it is obvious you do not.”

Sophie sat back down on the bench and sighed. “There are many ways to make one laugh, Charlotte, without resorting to the ridiculous.”

“There is nothing ridiculous about love.” Charlotte took Sophie’s hand in hers, perhaps to prevent her from jumping up again. “And you certainly love him.” She gripped Sophie’s hand a little tighter. “There it is said,” she shrugged. She turned and looked around the garden as though that was the end of the matter.

“Now I know you are being ridiculous,” Sophie protested. “I do not even like him that much.” Well, that was a lie. She liked him a great deal and could not deny she was attracted to him in a physical sense. However, while she had changed her opinion of him over the last few days, she could not forgive him for the way he had shirked his responsibilities.

“Oh, look, over there on the bird bath.” Charlotte pointed to two robins that had just flown down and were balancing quite precariously on the edge. “I have heard it said that robins are symbolic of new beginnings.” With a sparkle in her eyes, she placed her hands over her stomach. “Well, I suppose a baby is a new beginning and falling in love always heralds a new beginning. Do you think our little robins are also in love?”

“I am not in love with him and I do not —”

“I do not believe you,” Charlotte interrupted with a wave of her hand. “One doth protest far too much.”

“I will not deny he holds a certain fascination,” Sophie began determined to be as candid as possible in order to prove her point. “But I could not possibly love a man who whored his way around Europe while his tenants were left to rot in squalor.” Sophie regretted the words as soon as they had left her lips. She did not want to cast aspersions on Dudley Spencer’s character or cause Charlotte any distress, particularly in her fragile condition.

“Who told you that?” Charlotte snapped.

“Told me what?” Sophie did not have the heart to repeat it again.

“Who told you Sebastian whored his way around Europe?” Charlotte sounded annoyed. “Because they most certainly are not talking about the man who is sitting in there,” she shouted, her face a little flush as she stabbed her finger towards the house.

“I’m sorry,” Sophie cried. “The last thing I wanted to do was cause you any distress. In the village, it’s common knowledge the marquess used money from his estate to fund a rather unconventional grand tour. The tenants have been suffering for years as a consequence.”

Charlotte stared at her with a look of utter disbelief. “My dear,” she began in a much more composed manner. “Are you telling me you believed these lies, you believed Sebastian was capable of such selfishness, such cruelty and yet you still consented to be his mistress?” Charlotte suddenly clapped her hands in joy. “Oh, you are definitely in love with him.”

Sophie did not know which charge to dispute first. The fact Charlotte believed the villagers of Marchampton were liars or the fact she believed Sophie was Dane’s mistress.

“You’re letting your emotions run away with you,” Sophie said respectfully, as though they had been friends for years and could say anything to one another. “I know we agreed to be honest, but perhaps it is best to restrict our topics to things of a less personal nature.” Sophie could feel the heat rising to her face and bowed her head as realisation dawned.

She was, essentially, Dane’s mistress.

To respectable society, her loss of innocence also meant the loss of her reputation and as such, she would be deemed unsuitable company for any lady, including Charlotte Spencer. But that was not what saddened her.

Suddenly, the tears began to fall.

“Oh, please to do not cry.” Charlotte took both of Sophie’s hands in hers. “It is my fault for pushing you on the matter. I should have respected your privacy. It is just that Sebastian is so very dear to me and …”

“Forgive me, I am just being silly.” Sophie sniffed as she dabbed the corner of her eye with the pad of her finger. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she said. “It is not like me at all.”

“You have had a lot to contend with these past few days and …” Charlotte paused and lowered her head to look into Sophie’s eyes. “When a woman gives herself to a man for the first time it can be an overwhelming experience. But it is of no consequence, you will marry him and all will be well.” She looked back over her shoulder and then turned to Sophie and whispered. “When I married Dudley, I was already carrying his child. Look how well that has turned out.”

Sophie was surprised by her confession, but there was a huge distinction between them. No one could mistake Dudley Spencer’s love for his wife. Dane, on the other hand, had said quite openly it was his duty to marry. Not once had he mentioned love as a deciding factor. Regardless of whatever it was she felt for him, she could never marry a man who did not love her above all else.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte, but I can never marry. I am too tempestuous, too irresponsible, and too stubborn to be someone’s wife or mother.” And what gentleman would want a wife like that, she added silently, certainly not a peer in need of an unblemished bloodline. “The truth is I like being Mr. Shandy on occasion. I like riding out with the wind in my hair and swimming in the lake in just my chemise.”

Charlotte smiled. “And you do not believe Sebastian would accept you doing such things? The fact you are sitting here in gentleman’s clothes is a testament to his unconventionality.”

“I did not give him much choice in the matter,” she snorted, remembering how angry he had been as he rode along Keepers Lane to find her sitting astride Argo in a pair of gentleman’s breeches. “I do not think he is as unconventional as he would have us believe. Besides, if Westlands is to thrive, he needs a more refined lady at his side. One who can inspire confidence in his tenants, one who will overlook his indiscretions.”

Charlotte looked puzzled. “I should think the years he has devoted to recouping the estates losses would inspire confidence in itself. Do the tenants know that if it wasn’t for Sebastian they would all be destitute?” Charlotte folded her arms across her chest in exasperation. “In his youth, I do not doubt he had his fair share of admirers. But during the last six years, he has devoted himself entirely to his estate. He has not had time to sleep let alone whore his way around Europe,” she cried.

Sophie did not want to dampen the woman’s admiration further. “Charlotte, please calm down. You must think of the baby.” Sophie placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “I understand he is a very dear friend to you …”

Charlotte grasped the hand at her shoulder tightly. “You do not understand. I could never repay Sebastian or Dudley for what they have done for me. Although at least with Dudley, I can show him how much I care.” Charlotte looked away into the distance, her green eyes full of pain. “One day I will tell you the story,” she whispered, “but for now it is enough for you to know that Sebastian is a selfless man, a man who risked his life rescuing me from a hell-hole in France. I shall never forget the moment when I looked up from my straw bed and saw his face, bloody and bruised, yet he still had a smile for me.”

Sophie was momentarily speechless.

Images flooded her mind: Charlotte lying on the floor in some rat-infested dungeon, her face smudged with dirt, her clothes ragged. Sebastian dressed in nothing but a pair of tight, buckskin breeches, carrying the helpless woman to safety as she clung on to his muscular, bronzed shoulders.

A war began to rage within, as an array of emotions scrambled for supremacy: jealousy, fear, and pride — each one challenging the other for the right to breach the walls of her heart. But as the images faded and the dust settled, she was left with one formidable emotion — love
.

She loved him. She had always loved him. Charlotte had been correct in her observation.

Fear began to claw at her heart — if it was so obvious to Charlotte then perhaps it was obvious to Dane. Oh, what had she done? She had tasted the forbidden fruit, she had felt his lips on hers, had felt what it was like to be held in his arms. Now the memory of him would be all the more painful. She should leave. She should go home to Marchampton, move into the cottage and pretend he had never come back.