and you’re keeping my correspondence from me.”
Garrett gestured at the high pile of papers cluttering the corner of his desk. “Perhaps your letters are here.”
He’d been flooded with letters daily since he’d returned home—most of them welcoming him home, but some were of true importance and pertained to legal and financial matters. Several were from the steward at Calton House, updating him on the condition of the house and grounds, which was, by all accounts, disastrous. He thought Tristan would have done a better job with his properties. All of those letters had mixed together with Sophie’s correspondence. He could do nothing but tackle them one at a time.
“Why would you keep them from me?”
“The ladies of the ton thrive on scandal. I’d rather avoid their egging you on to betray me.”
“That’s nonsense. I wouldn’t engage in any effort to undermine you, nor would I countenance any such attempt from any of my acquaintances.” She sighed. “Garrett, I must have my letters. If they go unanswered, it will only fuel the flames of gossip. I assure you, you will find nothing to disturb you within them.”
He gazed broodingly at the pile of correspondence, struggling with the insane desire to keep her completely isolated. What if she escaped from him? Ran off with Tristan? Took his daughter away?
But perhaps he wasn’t giving her a chance. Last night had proven she possessed a great deal of compassion. As much as his imagination liked to run wild, he couldn’t bring himself to believe she’d deliberately hurt him.
Tristan, on the other hand… Given the opportunity, he might try to spirit her away.
“I will go through them today and give you the letters I deem to be innocent.”
She blew out a breath between her teeth. “I am certain all of them will be ‘innocent.’ ”
“We’ll see.”
Her eyes flashed gold sparks at him. She was annoyed again. He couldn’t entirely blame her, but she must understand that he was in ultimate control of her destiny. He opened the desk drawer and collected the stack of calling cards he’d gathered since his return. “If you would like to know who has come calling, here you are.”
“Oh, Lord.” Taking them, she sank into the rose-embroidered armchair. “Half of London has come by.”
“So it seems.”
As she sorted through the cards, he returned to the account he’d been working on when she’d arrived, and for a long while they worked in a measure of companionable silence. When he heard Sophie sigh, he looked up.
She’d sorted through all of the cards and piled them on the small round table beside her chair. “I wanted to inform you that I shall be accompanying Miranda and Miss Dalworthy to the park this afternoon.”
He frowned at her, fighting against the compulsion to tell her she couldn’t go. He’d given her the freedom to leave the house days ago, yet she hadn’t taken advantage of that freedom since the day she’d found him in his bedchamber in farmer’s rags. Oddly enough, she seemed about as displeased by the prospect of her outing as he was. He lifted his brows in question. “It doesn’t please you to leave the house after all this time?”
“It should, I know. But—” The pale column of her throat moved as she swallowed. “—I admit to being somewhat apprehensive.”
“Why?”
She glanced toward the open window, where a stiff breeze lifted the heavy velvet of the curtains.
“Gossip,” she said in a low voice. Her amber gaze returned to him. “What shall I tell them, Garrett?”
“The truth,” he replied bluntly.
“I know. But the truth is… so complicated.”
Garrett rubbed his temples. He closed his eyes and an image fluttered through his mind. An eight-year-old Sophie dodging through the high grasses in the field behind Calton House, her hair glinting with gold streaks in the sun. Laughing as he chased after her—she was small and quick as a sprite, and he’d never been able to catch her.
“Be yourself, Sophie. No scandal can touch you,” he said in a low voice. She smiled, and it was a beautiful, wide smile that reached her lovely hazel eyes. “I think that was a compliment. Thank you.”
He returned her smile stiffly. “Hyde Park only. And I shall expect you back within two hours’ time.”
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
He nodded as she turned to leave, and then he lowered his attention to the paperwork on his desk, determined to stop himself from calling her back.
Chapter Eleven
Sophie didn’t expect to meet Tristan at the park. So when she saw him kneeling beside Gary on the bank of the Serpentine River, her heart raced and her palms grew damp. They looked so handsome together, one a smaller, plumper version of the other. It was clear to anyone who looked upon them that they were father and son, with their nearly black hair of exactly the same shade, and their piercing brown eyes now focused on each other. Tristan chafed the boy’s hands in his own. His lips moved and he frowned at Gary as if they were discussing a matter of great importance.Gary hadn’t inherited much from Nancy, besides her penchant for dramatics. Normally pleasant and easy-going, when Nancy cracked, she did so with flair. Sophie smiled, remembering Tristan’s panic the first time he’d experienced one of Nancy’s emotional outbursts. Now, no doubt, he’d had to face Gary’s tempers every day since Gary had been separated from Miranda. He looked as if he was managing well. It was nearly impossible to prevent herself from running up to him and throwing herself into his arms. Aware of the people all around, she kept a sedate pace between Miranda and Miss Dalworthy as they approached.
Miranda squeezed her hand. “I do believe that’s Gary and his papa.”
In Miranda’s grip Sophie sensed the same tension she herself was feeling. But Miranda, ever sensitive of matters of propriety, didn’t leap ahead either.
“Indeed it is.” Sophie had no chance to say more, for Gary saw them at that moment. With a shriek, he sprinted toward them and launched himself into Miranda’s arms. If not for Sophie’s grasp on her daughter, both children would have toppled to the ground.
“Whoa now, boy,” Tristan said softly, taking his son by the shoulder. Sophie couldn’t look at him. What would she say? It would be impossible to communicate to him as she wanted to in this public place.
“Miranda, darling. Look at you. You’ve grown two inches in the past few days, I think.”
“I’ve missed you, sir,” Miranda said as Tristan enfolded her in a hug. Gary tugged on Miranda’s arm. “Come look. Papa and I are making boats from newspapers!”
Miranda clapped her hands together and beamed in a smile more relaxed and genuine than Sophie had seen since Gary left the house. “Oh, that’s lovely. May I help?”
“Of course!” Gary led her down the embankment, and without so much as a glance at Sophie and Tristan, Miss Dalworthy hurried after them.
“I’m glad to see you,” Tristan said in a low voice once they were alone.
“I…” The linen ruffle of Sophie’s collar tickled her chin as she stared down at her hands and fingered the row of pearls on the back of her glove. “. . . Didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Look at me.”
Struggling to keep her breathing even, she raised her gaze to meet his. His eyes bore into hers—dark and impassioned. A yellow hue, the remnant of Garrett’s blows on the night of his return, still marred his handsome jaw, impossible to see unless one searched for it. He was cleanly shaven and smartly dressed. Not that she’d expect Tristan to appear publicly in any other state.
“I wish I could touch you,” he murmured. There was an edge to his voice, and it sent a wicked shiver racing through her.
She flicked her gaze to the right and left. It was early enough—Miss Dalworthy always brought the children to the park before the afternoon crush—and only a few people milled about. Nobody focused on them. Yet it was likely someone would see them, and Garrett would hear of their meeting.
“You can’t.”
Tristan’s eyes
narrowed. “I know.”
“We shouldn’t be seen together.”
“Of course we should. Let’s stroll along the river. Miss Dalworthy will mind the children.”
She couldn’t keep the panic from her voice. “But… what if someone sees us?”
He shook his head. “What if they do, Sophie? We break no laws by being seen in the park together as our children play. Everyone knows how fond Gary and Miranda are of each other.”
Everyone knew how fond Tristan and Sophie were of each other as well.
“If Garrett were to find out—”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “What then? Have you grown afraid of him in so short a time?”
“No—I just…” She took a deep breath. “He would feel betrayed.”
“There is no harm in a chance meeting at a park.” He held out his arm. “Come. Let’s walk.”
She stared at the sleek line of his proffered arm. The mere thought of twining her arm with his made her blood race. What odd things this distance had done to her. She felt as she had long ago when Garrett had first begun to court her in earnest, as timid and aflutter as a green girl.
She tucked her arm into Tristan’s. He felt warm and solid against her skin, even through the heavy wool of her spencer and his coat. His touch traveled through her, leaving her muscles relaxed and languid.
They strolled at a leisurely pace down the trail leading along the bank of the Serpentine. The day had turned brisk and cloudy, another reason the paths weren’t crowded. It looked as if it might rain again.
“Tell me how you are. Are you comfortable?” she asked quietly after they’d walked awhile in silence.
“Yes, I can hardly complain.” He paused. “What of you, Soph? Tell me what’s happening in the house. There are rumors—”
“What are they saying?” She closed her eyes in a long blink. “Lord, I almost don’t want to know.”
“Gossip about Garrett is circulating far more freely than gossip about the two of us.”
“Tell me.”
He spoke quietly. “They say Garrett’s gone mad. That he’s beating you.”
She reeled to a halt. “What?”
Tristan released a relieved breath. “Thank God. I knew it wasn’t true.”
“Of course it’s not true! Did you even question it?”
“Not at first. I know he’s no madman. But… I admit, I was a little worried for you.”
“He’s changed, Tristan, but not that much.”
“I know, Soph.”
She shook her head, aghast. “Why would they be circulating such slander? About Garrett, too. He was always so well-loved.”
“I agree, it’s odd. I’m told the servants began the rumor that you’ve been ill-treated.”
“Our servants?”
He shrugged. “That’s what I’m told. Makes it all the more strange, don’t you think?”
She paused for a long moment. She’d look into the matter, but in truth, of all the people in the household, she couldn’t fathom that a single one would spread such lies. Still, people were willing to go to great lengths for a bit of fame. Even further for money. But how could slander about Garrett result in such a gain?
“I’ll question the servants.”
“Good.”
They glanced at each other. “So what can it mean?” Sophie asked. He frowned. “I don’t know. We have no proof that anything is amiss. And yet…”
“Something feels wrong,” she finished. “The rumors make no sense. Who would do this, and why? It’s almost as if someone is out to destroy Garrett.”
“Exactly. We must both be vigilant. I don’t trust anyone entirely, Sophie, so please be careful.”
She nodded. “I will. And I’ll return to my social functions. I’ve kept away too long. Surely when the world sees I’m well, the silly gossip about my ‘abuse’ will disappear.”
Tristan took a deep breath. “I hate the thought of you in danger.”
At that, she laughed. “I’m not in danger, Tristan.”
“I cannot shake the feeling that you are.”
She squeezed his hand. “Well, you’re wrong. In any case, Garrett—our Garrett—is there.”
It was a mistake to say that. In her and Tristan’s shared concern about the awful rumors surrounding Garrett, she’d forgotten their current enmity. Tristan’s face darkened.
“Tristan, don’t,” she murmured. “I hate the thought of the two of you at odds.” And what made it so much worse was that she was the cause.
It didn’t escape her notice, however, that despite their battle over her, Tristan still cared enough for his cousin to strive to find the source of the gossip and to put a stop to it. He squeezed her forearm with his free hand. “I know, Soph. It’s just—” She saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. “—it’s difficult. Forced to separate from you, picturing the two of you together in the house. One’s imagination… runs rampant.”
“Don’t allow it to,” she said fiercely.
“How can I stop? I imagine you with him, lying in bed beside him, making love to him. In our bed…” He sucked in a breath. “It nearly kills me.”
“But you’re wrong.”
“What are you saying?” His hands curled into fists. “That you haven’t slept with him?
God, Sophie. I know you, and I know him. Hell—”
She came to a dead stop in the center of the path. “I—we—haven’t.”
“You’ve always loved him. You pined for him for years—you were pining for him the very night he returned, and now he’s back.” He blinked hard, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I know how the two of you are—were. If it hasn’t happened yet, it will.”
“I assure you, nothing has happened between us.” She fought down the guilt bubbling up from her gut, but she couldn’t tell him about the single kiss she’d shared with Garrett. Why cause him more pain?
“It would be natural. He is your husband, after all. For now.” His lips twisted. “Damn it, Sophie, this is killing me.”
“It hurts me, too, Tristan. I miss you. So much.”
She closed her eyes. He pulled her in one direction, Garrett in another. It would tear her apart.
He reached down suddenly to grasp her hands in his. “Whatever happens, I intend to take you away from him.”
Opening her eyes, she looked at him blankly for a long moment.
“We’ll take the children and go somewhere far from here, far from London, where we can be together. Where we can be happy.”
“What are you saying?”
He squeezed her hands. “I know you love me, Soph. I know you want me. I can make you happy.”
She looked away—anywhere but at him—beyond him to the bank where Miranda and Gary were playing. Both were clapping and jumping up and down as the wind caught one of the sails on their little newspaper boat.
“I’ve told you before I cannot leave him. He needs me.”
“I need you, Sophie.”
But not in the same way Garrett did. How could she make him understand? It was useless
—even she didn’t fully understand—it was all too complex, too overwhelming. A gust of wind caught the edge of her straw bonnet, pulling on the pins, and she clapped her hand to her head.
“I love him, too, Tristan. I love you, and I love him. Equally.”
“You and your deuced fairness.” His voice was raw. “It’s not going to work this time, don’t you see? It’s impossible, damn it.” He tore his gaze from hers, then turned away, taking long strides down the path.
Still clasping her bonnet to her head, she gathered her skirts with her free hand and hurried after him. “No, it isn’t impossible.” She curled her fingers over his arm. “Listen to me. They say a mother finds it in her heart to love all her children. The love for a child surpasses any kind of love a woman will ever experience.” She lowered her voice and tilted her head so she could see his expression. “Why, then, can a woman not be capable of loving two men?”
> “It is a different kind of love altogether,” he said tightly.
“I’ll grant you that. Still, it is not impossible. I wish—” She gulped in a breath. She’d never kept her deepest thoughts from Tristan, and she wouldn’t start now. “I wish you would both let me love you.”
“That’s—” His hand flew upward in frustration. “Damn it, that’s blasphemous.”
Wanton, wicked, debauched. She knew, and she agreed. And yet how could she force herself to stop loving either one of them? That was impossible. A thick wall of clouds suddenly obscured the sun, casting a shadow over both of them as surely as it cast a shadow over her heart.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s true.” He didn’t answer, so she continued.
“I’ve always loved Garrett. You knew it to be true the day you married me. You were willing to share my affections then.”
His upper lip curled. “I could share you with a ghost, perhaps. But a live man? I can’t.”
A group of twittering ladies was approaching followed by their chaperones, and Sophie’s heart sank. As they drew nearer, Sophie recognized one of them, the Lady Ella Worthing, one of the daughters of their friends the Earl and Countess of Harpsford. They could not turn and head back toward the children—it would be a direct cut and utterly rude. No, Sophie would be forced to be civil, after Tristan had just told her he could not accept what was in her heart.
The chattering diminished as the girls grew nearer. All four ladies gazed at Tristan and Sophie in open curiosity.
They stopped when they were within the appropriate distance and exchanged bows.
“Good day, Lady Ella,” Sophie said, smiling politely.
“Lady Ella,” Tristan said. Sophie risked a glance at him. He smiled handsomely at the young women across from him, showing no outward sign of distress.
“Your Graces.” Lady Ella smacked her hand to her mouth, and her doleful brown eyes grew wide. “Oh, dear! I am so, so very sorry, Your Grace and my lord.”
Tristan laughed, a sound that seemed to put everyone at ease. “Not to worry. Even I am having a difficult time keeping up with my titles of late, my lady.”
A Hint of Wicked Page 15