Her Majesty’s Scoundrels

by Christy Carlyle

  Sophia drew back, shocked at herself.

  At him.

  At the desire flooding her body.

  For the briefest moment, she saw the surprise in Elliott’s jade green eyes in the torchlight. He hadn’t been expecting whatever this was either.

  Then a shutter drew over those eyes. Once again, he was a scoundrel, a knowing smile on his face as he eased back.

  “Well. That was...unexpected.” His gaze swept over her as if he saw her in a new light.

  How ironic, since she now viewed herself in a new light as well. She had never expected to be tempted by a scoundrel.

  “We had best see how my grandmother is faring.”

  She nodded, fearing her voice would emerge as a squeak, or worse, a moan.

  Within a few short minutes, Elliott returned her to his grandmother’s side, his rakish smile in place as he walked away.

  “I trust you enjoyed the dance?” The countess glanced at her.

  “Yes. It was lovely.” Curse him, for it truly had been lovely, as had the conversation and the kiss afterward.

  The other women shifted the countess’s attention, much to Sophia’s relief.

  “What a wonderful ball.”

  Sophia turned to see her cousin, Daphne Fairchild, at her side. “Isn’t it?”

  Daphne’s eyes narrowed as she studied her. “What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Sophia feigned interest in the crowd, hoping Daphne would change topics.

  “I may not know you well but even I can tell something is amiss.” Daphne stepped closer, the skirt of her lavender gown brushing Sophia’s. “Do tell.”

  “Nothing to report. I danced and am slightly out of breath.”

  “With whom?”

  Goodness, but Daphne was like a dog with a bone. A hint of news and she latched onto it for all she was worth. “The earl.”

  “The earl? As in, the Earl of Aberland? He has returned?”

  “What other earl would dance with me?”

  Daphne tapped Sophia’s arm. “You underestimate your own charms.”

  Sophia scoffed. “You truly don’t know me well.”

  “Sophia.” Daphne’s tone was full of reprimand. “I refuse to allow you to speak of yourself that way. Now, back to the matter at hand. How was the dance?”

  “She says it was lovely.” The countess leaned around Sophia to look at Daphne. “What do you suppose that means?”

  Sophia wished the floor would open and swallow her whole. The countess’s hearing was far better than she would’ve guessed.

  “Good evening, my lady.” Daphne curtsied before responding. “I have to wonder what it means as well. She tends to use that word frequently.”

  “I noticed that too.” The countess gave one decisive nod, as though Daphne’s agreement pleased her.

  Sophia shook her head at the pair. “What would you have me say?”

  “Additional details would be helpful. After all, you have only had a handful of dances.” Daphne leaned forward, her gaze on the countess. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Indeed.”

  Sophia could only sigh. It was going to be a very long evening for more than one reason.

  Elliott followed Lady Hamilton’s footman into her withdrawing room later that night. If his luck held, he’d be leaving shortly. He had no desire to engage in a dalliance with the lady, but neither could he afford to have her sharing the secrets she held with anyone else.

  Her international connections could provide interesting information. Unfortunately, her price for telling him what she knew might be higher than he cared to pay.

  “Aberland, how nice of you to come by.” She waved away the footman, who closed the door as he left.

  Elliott greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, hoping he wouldn’t have to do much more than that. The woman’s sexual appetite was not exaggerated.

  Her attire had him concerned. The smoky grey nightgown and matching robe with its plunging neckline revealed more than it covered. He did his best to keep his gaze elsewhere in case what he thought was fabric was actually skin.

  “Pour us a drink, will you, darling?”

  He moved to the sideboard that held several crystal decanters. “Sherry?”

  “Something stronger, please.” She fingered the teardrop diamond that dangled between her generous breasts, drawing his gaze though he quickly looked away.

  He poured them both brandy, handed her one, and took the chair near the settee where she sat before the fire. “How was the remainder of your evening?”

  “Dear Elliott, there is no need to play games with me. I know why you’re here.”

  Alarm filled him though he did his best to hide it. Had his long-kept secret been discovered? He quickly considered his options, hoping he could control the damage this would cause.

  She took a sip then offered him a sultry smile. “We have many mutual interests.”

  He smiled, delaying a response by taking a drink of his brandy until he knew to what she was referring.

  “But tonight, I am only interested in one,” she continued, cupping the glass in her palm. She looked up at him from under her lashes and bit her lower lip.

  In his younger days, he might’ve been interested in what the lady suggested. He’d indulged himself more often than he should’ve with the excuse that it was part of the requirements of his position.

  But not anymore. He’d grown tired of that life. He wanted more—if only he knew what more was.

  She shifted from her place in the center of the settee to the side and patted the seat next to her. “Come closer, darling.”

  He complied, still uncertain what topic she was discussing. Until he knew, he wasn’t going to assume anything. The time had come to make his own moves in this cat and mouse game they played.

  Holding his glass, he sat and placed his arm over the back of the settee near her shoulders. “I’m so pleased to have a few moments alone with you. With my travels keeping me away from London, I am behind on events, including those pertaining to you.”

  “I’m flattered you care.” She ran a bold hand along his thigh.

  He lowered his arm so he could caress her shoulders then stared into her eyes. “Tell me.”

  Compliments worked wonders with this woman. She chatted easily, telling him of trivial matters. Relief filled him as he realized she hadn’t been referring to his work with the Intelligence Office.

  He held onto his patience with the hope she’d reveal something noteworthy. A few well-timed questions and feigned interest in her every word brought the conversation around to her uncle, who was deeply involved in Russian politics.

  As he’d suspected, the Russians were concerned with Prussia’s growing power. But that didn’t mean they were prepared to side with Britain over anything. Anarchists were active in every country from what Elliott had learned over the years. Many viewed Britain and its ever-growing empire as an unwelcome force that had to be stopped, including the Russian anarchists.

  Russia was a country of such vast diversity and distances it was only natural that certain individuals there sought freedom to rule their own people and believed others should have that right as well. Great Britain’s policy of expansion was unwelcome.

  But the chaos anarchists created had no place in Britain’s well-ordered government. Any activities they planned were only intended to harm. Innocent lives would be lost and that could not be tolerated.

  “You are so devoted to keep in close contact with your family despite the distance separating you.” He ran a finger along her neck. “Family gatherings must be interesting with the varied countries represented.”

  Each time the conversation paused, her hand wandered higher on his thigh. If he could keep her distracted and talking, he might learn more and keep her hand from moving.

  After an hour more, he decided he’d learned as much as he was going to. The woman was like an octopus, reaching for him so frequently he’d been hard pressed to stop her. He
’d convinced her he was weary from his travels and didn’t want to give her a poor performance in bed and left with no more than a few kisses.

  As he closed the door of her residence behind him, he couldn’t help but wipe his mouth. Lady Hamilton might be experienced, but there was no doubt the kiss he’d shared with Sophia had been far different—far better—than anything this lady offered.

  When he closed his eyes in his own bed as the fingers of dawn crept over the horizon, it was Sophia, her expression full of wonder, who filled his dreams.

  Chapter Four

  Sophia sorted through a basket of thread as she visited with the countess. Three days had passed since that unexpected kiss with Elliott. He’d been gone most of the time, much to her relief. The notion of facing him again was enough to make her shift uncomfortably in her chair.

  She had no idea what had gotten into her that allowed her to return his kiss the way she had. The memory heated her cheeks with embarrassment.

  The longer he stayed away, the better, though she knew he returned home to sleep each night. Or should she say each morning? How he managed to get by on so little rest was a mystery to her. Then again, that wasn’t the only mysterious quality to the man.

  “I’ll need some bright red thread as well. Is there any in the basket?” the countess asked as she examined the needlework she held.

  “Yes, I saw it only a moment ago,” Sophia said, grateful for the request. Anything to distract her from her thoughts. The less time she spent thinking about the earl, the better.

  Her aunt had insisted Sophia avoid idleness at all cost. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. In truth, Sophia knew her mind rested easier when her hands were busy, whether it be with needlework or some other task.

  Mornings like this with the countess were her favorite time, when the streets were quiet and no visitors required clever banter with which she felt inept, especially when the callers rarely said what they meant.

  Most days, she remained out of the conversation during calling hours, certain the countess had no interest in her companion’s thoughts on anything. But more often than not, the older woman drew Sophia into the discussion, seeking Sophia’s opinion on a variety of issues.

  Sometimes the conversation was merely a recap of the fashion or behavior they’d witnessed at the previous night’s event. Other times, the talk delved into political issues. Much of it Sophia found fascinating, but some of it seemed petty and trivial.

  “Did I mention we’re having supper with Elliott this evening?”

  Sophia’s stomach fell as her gaze flew to the countess’s. “Oh?”

  “I would like the two of you to become better acquainted. Then maybe he’ll stop hinting that I no longer need you.”

  “I’m sure supper will be delightful.” Nerves simmered as she realized the precariousness of her position had not yet been resolved. She’d hoped that by avoiding the earl, he’d have forgotten all about her. Apparently, that was not the case.

  “I expect you to be your usual charming self so he might see you for who you truly are.”

  “I look forward to it.” Though she had no intention of allowing Elliott to see her true self. Her sheltered life couldn’t possibly be of interest to him. No, she’d have to pretend to be different than who she was if she wanted him to like her.

  And she had to find a way to cover her distaste for his roguish behavior. It was none of her business if he stayed out late every night or if his clothes reeked of cheap perfume, brandy, and cigars. At least, that was what she’d overheard the maids saying.

  She was far from perfect. Who was she to judge anyone? Still, the idea of spending the evening with his watchful gaze on her made her nervous.

  “Try to engage him, my dear. Be friendly.”

  Sophia offered a small smile, hoping not to choke. If only the countess knew how friendly she’d been with Elliott the other night, she wouldn’t be so encouraging. “I will do my best.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  All too soon, it was time for callers. Sophia served tea, visited when necessary, and tried to anticipate the countess’s wishes. The afternoon passed quickly and soon Sophia was in her room, dressing for supper.

  She took care with her appearance, though she didn’t know why. The idea of dressing to please the earl was nothing a proper companion would do. Besides, he wouldn’t notice anyway. Would he?

  Annoyed with herself and her doubts, she focused on the purpose of this evening—to gain Elliott’s approval. The thought only brought another flurry of uncertainty. It seemed an impossible task when they were already on the wrong foot. The interlude they’d shared had been so brief it didn’t count. Except for in a secret corner of her soul.

  She paced her room, trying to think of safe topics of conversation. Safe but interesting. Oh, dear. This was impossible. Nothing in her life thus far had prepared her to be an engaging conversationalist to an earl.

  Yet she had no choice. She needed him to like her if she wanted to keep this position. It was only for one evening. How difficult could it be?

  Armed with a very short list of topics and renewed confidence, she descended the stairs to the drawing room.

  The earl and the countess were already in attendance, the earl standing near his grandmother’s chair. Their gazes swung to her as she entered. Her confidence flew out the window but still she curtsied and offered a greeting. Already she felt the weight of his regard.

  “You look lovely this evening,” the countess offered.

  “Thank you.” She smoothed her gloved hands down the front of her pale pink gown, grateful her cousin was not only the same size but also had good taste. “As do you, my lady.”

  But as she said it, her gaze shifted to Elliott.

  “Why thank you,” he answered with a cocky smile.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I meant—”

  “Sophia dear, don’t allow him to ruffle you.” The countess waved a hand at her grandson. “Elliott! Behave yourself.”

  “I only responded to her compliment.” He grinned and moved to the sideboard. “May I offer you a sherry?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Pour her one anyway, Elliott,” the countess insisted. “It’s good for the nerves.”

  He did as requested and handed the glass to Sophia. “Grandmother’s orders.”

  Sophia smiled as she took the drink, trying to think of a clever response. Something that sounded interesting. Where was her natural wit when he was near? “My aunt didn’t allow any spirits in the house. She was certain it would lead to trouble. Then again, she believed anything pleasant would lead to trouble.” Too late, she realized how inane her comment was.

  To her relief, Elliott chuckled. “Living with your aunt must have been a challenge. How long did you stay with her?”

  “My father passed when I was six years, so my mother and I went to live with her sister. Then when my mother died two years later, it was just my aunt and me.” Though her memories of her father were vague, she had recollections of a handsome man laughing, lifting her high, bringing light to her life whenever he came home. Unfortunately, he had rarely come home.

  Her mother’s happiness had revolved around her father’s infrequent visits, her sorrow apparent long before her father died. Aunt Margaret took ‘I told you so’ to a new level with her comments and lectures and dire warnings about men and the evils they represented.

  “I’m sorry to hear of your loss. My parents died in a carriage accident when I was ten years of age.” He glanced at his grandmother. “We have been depending on each other for many years, haven’t we?”

  The countess smiled. “I’m grateful you allow me to live here with you instead of sending me to the country.”

  “Why on earth would I do that? I don’t want to rattle around in this house by myself.”

  “Soon you will need to focus on seeing to the business of an heir. You won’t want an old woman in the way during that.”

  As Sophia wondered if
she should make some excuse to step out of the room as the conversation was growing personal, Elliott knelt beside his grandmother.

  “You will always be welcome here.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Always.”

  Sophia’s heart twisted. His kindness toward his grandmother conflicted with everything else she believed about him. If only he always acted as a rogue, it would be easier to reconcile her feelings toward him.

  Now what was she supposed to think?

  The conversation continued to lighter topics, including the evening engagements over the next few days and which ones the countess wanted to attend.

  Sophia was just beginning to wonder when supper would be announced when the countess rose.

  “I fear I’m going to have to leave you two to proceed without me. I’m not feeling myself and think I’ll retire early.”

  Sophia’s heart sank. She didn’t like the idea of the countess feeling poorly, but neither did she care for dining alone with the earl. “Why don’t I accompany you? I’ll have the meal sent up to your room and we’ll eat together.”

  “No need. Codwell will see to it. You two enjoy dinner.”

  “Allow me to escort you upstairs,” Elliott said as he offered his elbow.

  “Don’t fuss.” The countess’s order was softened with a smile. “I am fine. Just tired.”

  Sophia watched as she stepped out of the room, wishing that by pure force of will she could convince the older woman to return. But no. The countess disappeared, calling for Codwell. Sophia dearly wanted to follow her.

  She felt the weight of Elliott’s gaze and waited, not looking at him, certain he would make an excuse to leave. But when the footman stepped in to announce dinner was ready, Elliott turned to her.

  “Shall we, Sophia?”

  When he said her name, she had no choice but to shift her gaze to him. He gave her that smile—the one she didn’t like as it wasn’t real—and offered his arm to escort her to the dining room.

  This was going to be the longest meal of her life.