With a sigh, he walked over to the dressing table. “She must’ve wanted this.” He lifted a gold locket by its chain from the table. “My grandfather gave this to her on their first anniversary. When she misses him, she holds it. She says it brings him closer.”
“I’ve seen her with it before, but I didn’t realize its significance or I would’ve gotten it for her before I left.” She shook her head. “I should’ve insisted on staying.”
Elliott placed the locket on the bedside table before turning to Sophia. “You and I know there is no point in arguing with her. She is a woman who knows her own mind.”
Sophia looked up at him in surprise. He didn’t blame her?
“What?” He cocked a brow at her.
“I thought you were angry that I hadn’t prevented her fall.”
He drew near and took her hand to help her rise. “Prevented? Are we speaking of my grandmother?”
“She does have strong opinions.” Her aunt would’ve berated her to no end for an event like this, regardless of whether it was truly her fault or not. The idea that Elliott didn’t was both a relief and a puzzle.
“If the two of you are going to speak ill of me, the least you could do is go into the other room.” The roughness of the countess’s tone spoke of the congestion the doctor mentioned.
Sophia thought nothing sounded sweeter.
“Grandmother.” Elliott released Sophia and hurried to the bed to take her hand. “You gave us a scare.”
“Me as well.” She touched her head, wincing.
He retrieved the locket from the table. “Were you wanting this?”
She smiled wanly as she reached out a trembling hand to take it. “Yes. I must’ve lost my balance.”
“Are you in pain?” he asked.
“My hip aches nearly as much as my head, but not compared to my pride.” She coughed, the nasty rattle causing Sophia to meet Elliott’s worried gaze.
“The doctor left something for your cough.” Sophia pointed toward the brown bottle on the nightstand.
“I’d much prefer the remedy the housekeeper makes. It doesn’t make my mind as foggy.”
“I’ll ask her to make more,” Sophia offered. “Then I will sit with you for the remainder of the night.”
“No, no, my dear. Have Sally sit with me tonight so you can stay with me tomorrow.”
Sophia glanced at Elliott. The countess agreeing to have someone stay with her all night proved how poorly she felt. “As you wish, my lady.”
“Sally doesn’t read as well as you do.” The countess gave her a weak smile. “I am most anxious to continue reading The Seven Curses of London to see what else Mister Greenwood discusses. I don’t believe Sally will appreciate his observations.”
“I look forward to it.” Sophia gave the countess’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m so pleased you’ve woken. I’ll return shortly with your drink.”
With a quick nod at Elliott, she closed the door then leaned against it for a moment, saying a prayer of gratitude.
Elliott closed his grandmother’s bedroom door, pleased she was resting comfortably after drinking the warm brandy with honey and lemon the housekeeper had prepared. How he hated seeing her looking so fragile, a shadow of her normal self.
If only he’d returned home sooner, circumstances might be different. Guilt was a constant companion of late. Aware he was too restless to sleep, he went down the stairs to his library, only to encounter Sophia in the hall.
“I just spoke with the housekeeper to see if she had any other remedies that might aid the countess.”
He gestured toward the library door. “Why don’t you have a nightcap with me and tell me about it. You look as though you could use something to calm your nerves.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “I insist.”
“But your grandmother—”
“Is asleep with Sally at her side.” He held open the door, pleased when Sophia acquiesced and preceded him into the library.
The fire still burned, as if the footman had anticipated Elliott would use this room before retiring.
He poured her a small glass of sherry and a brandy for himself, thinking how different this was from his previous drink with a woman. Josephine and Sophia couldn’t be more opposite. Being with Sophia was like drawing a deep breath of fresh air, and he appreciated it more than he could say.
Sophia sighed as she took the sherry. “I’m relieved to hear that. The housekeeper had one or two other possible remedies she promised to make on the morrow. She’s determined to assist in the countess’s recovery but is unwilling to share the ingredients. All she would tell me is that the recipes were handed down from her grandmother.”
“I hope she’s sharing them with someone. Whatever will we do once that generation and their wisdom passes away?” The idea of that happening to his grandmother caused a catch in his throat.
It had been terribly difficult when his parents were killed and again when his grandfather died. But losing his grandmother might be the worst of all.
Sophia moved toward the fire, the glass cupped in her hands. “My mother knew little of such things. My aunt had no knowledge either, though her cook made us a terrible drink when we had an upset stomach.” She shuddered. “Thick, nasty green-colored stuff that smelled as if she’d mixed peppermint leaves in pond scum.”
Elliott drew nearer, feeling his tension ease. “Did it work?”
“In all honesty, I was never brave enough to drink it. I tossed it when she wasn’t looking.” Her gaze swung to the withered palm.
“It’s recovering already.” The words slipped out before he could think better of it.
“Why?” Her focus shifted to the glass in his hand.
“Why what?” he asked to give himself time to think of an answer.
“Why pour a drink if you don’t want one?”
“I want this one.” As though to prove it, he took a small sip.
She raised a brow, clearly dissatisfied with his response.
“There are times when drinking is expected of me, but I’d prefer to have my thoughts clear.” He cursed himself. Why did he feel compelled to tell her the truth?
“I see.”
That was the problem. She saw and understood far more than he wanted her to. As he’d known from the start, having her here was dangerous.
From her curls that were always trying to escape her chignon to her hazel eyes that reminded him of the sea glass he’d found on a distant shore, to her intelligence combined with an education that surpassed many men in his acquaintance, Sophia was a force.
A very attractive force.
She enticed him more than any woman he’d met throughout his travels. He simply couldn’t help himself.
Now that he’d given up trying to gain a reaction from her, he was thinking of other things. Things like the curve of her upper lip, the pert tip of her nose, the length of her dark lashes, and the smoothness of her skin.
“Do you?” he whispered as he stepped closer, hoping she wouldn’t retreat.
Did she truly see what she did to him?
Her watchful gaze met his. The scent of her, a mixture of lilacs and the sea, filled his senses. Her freshness was like a heady wine, something to be savored and enjoyed.
The fire cast shadows and light alternately over her face. He had no idea what she was thinking.
Her gaze dropped as if she realized he spoke of something different. Then just as quickly, she straightened, her eyes catching his as her chin lifted. “I do. I’ve learned that things are not always as they seem. Appearances can be deceiving. Don’t you agree?”
Did he dare say yes or would that reveal too much? He couldn’t risk her guessing his secrets. Could he?
His focus dropped to her lips and all questions fell away. All thought fell away. Except for one—the taste of her. He lifted a finger to touch her lower lip, but her quiet gasp only increased his need to kiss her.
He couldn’t stop himself any more than he could stop the m
oon from rising or the stars from coming out at night. He took her mouth with his. Sweet yet spicy. Gentle yet strong. She was a mix of contradictions, and he was grateful she’d entered their lives. His grandmother wasn’t the only one who’d come to care for her.
He eased closer still to draw her into his arms, loving the feel of her against him. The touch of her fingers against the hair at the back of his neck sent desire pulsing through him. He eased his hands to her narrow waist, wishing he could feel her rather than the layers of clothes.
Just as he deepened the kiss, Sophia drew back.
“Elliott?” Her whisper paused his movements.
“Yes?” He did his best to calm his passion. No doubt she intended to call a halt to this. He braced himself.
“You feel divine.”
Chuckling, he placed a hand along her cheek. “I was thinking the same of you.”
She mirrored his movements, and he tipped his head toward her hand on his cheek, her touch deepening his need for her. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again. He parted his lips, hoping she’d do the same. When she did, he swept his tongue against hers.
She stilled for a moment as though surprised, then joined in the kiss.
What was it about this woman that inflamed his senses so? He had no doubt she was innocent, but the way she responded to him made him want to carry her to the settee and have his way with her.
Instead he eased back to look into her eyes, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, determined to enjoy this interlude. “Will you sit with me for a time?”
Those wide hazel eyes blinked at him. “Of course.”
With her hand in his, he guided her to the settee and sat beside her, taking her in his arms once more. “Your skin is so soft,” he murmured as he kissed her cheek then down her neck.
“Oh?” The breathlessness of her response, along with the way she tilted her head to allow him better access, sent his need for her spiraling deeper.
He kissed her, his tongue sweeping more forcefully against hers, intent on showing her how much he wanted her. Again, she matched his movements.
More. He wanted so much more. He reined in his desire but gave into the urge to run his hand along her jaw and down her neck. Continuing his exploration, he eased over her collarbone, her pulse there quickening as he caressed her. The smoothness of her skin drew him, and he moved closer to the modest neckline of her gown.
“Oh. My.”
“So perfect.” He watched her as he lowered his fingers to caress the top of her full breast, back and forth, until he reached his goal. The tip of her breast was taut, growing tauter still as he touched her.
Her head fell back on a sigh, eyes closed, cheeks pink with desire.
The way she responded to him had his body pulsing with need. But no. Sophia was a woman to be wooed and won, not to be used for a quick toss. Knowing he gave her pleasure was enough for the moment.
He eased down the neckline of her gown and lowered his hand to lift her breast free, desperate to see her. The rosy tip beckoned, and he dipped his head to place gentle kisses along her supple skin until he reached her nipple. His tongue circled the tip repeatedly before at last suckling her.
Her moan was his reward.
Shifting to the other side, he gave her other breast the same attention. Her passionate response tightened his body painfully until he throbbed with desire.
“Elliott.” The way she uttered his name was part demand and part plea.
It didn’t matter which as he was happy to continue. He sought the hem of her gown, wanting closer contact. He ran his hand along the length of her leg, pleased to find every inch of her as soft as her breasts.
He kissed her again as he continued his journey to her thigh, shifting aside her undergarments to touch her bare flesh.
Her tight embrace felt like heaven as her tongue swirled against his. When her clever fingers unbuttoned his suit coat and vest, he realized how much he wanted her touch. “Yes, my sweet,” he urged as he eased back.
“I want to see you. To touch you.”
He wanted her so much he feared his need might frighten her. He shoved it back once again, telling himself he wanted a few more minutes before stopping this madness.
In short order, she’d unbuttoned his shirt to caress his chest. Nothing had ever felt so good. He wanted her to experience that as well. He lightly skimmed her warm, delicate skin. The scent of her arousal made him ache.
As he grew closer to the center of her body, she drew back.
“Elliott.” Her eyes had darkened with passion but her brow creased with worry. “This is...wonderful. A true gift.” She seemed surprised at her own response. “But I can’t do this.”
He wanted to tell her she was wrong. That she was doing it very well. But no matter how much he wanted her, he respected her and her wishes, even if he was tempted to try to change her mind.
She adjusted her gown as he watched, but he wished she were removing it instead.
To his surprise, she reached up to place her hands on his face, holding him still. Then she kissed him, her tongue reigniting his desire threefold. After several delightful minutes, she pulled back, resting her face against his.
The sweet gesture had something in his chest loosening, twisting, hurting.
Then she was gone, the door closing gently behind her. Though he told himself it was for the best, deep inside, he wanted more. Until he determined exactly what that was, it would be wise to keep his distance from the tempting lady.
Why did he doubt that was possible?
Chapter Eight
Sophia rose early, having tossed and turned most of the night. She wrapped herself in a robe and pulled her chair to the window that overlooked the dim street.
Delivery men’s carts plodded past. Dustmen with their fan-tailed hats, baggy flannel jackets, and red breeches drove by in a high-sided cart. “Dust-ho!” they called out to notify the servants they were near if the household rubbish needed to be emptied.
But none of that distracted her from her worry.
Elliott had awakened a passion within her she hadn’t known existed. All her life, she’d never understood why her mother had married her father. Why she’d stayed with him after he’d been unfaithful. Why she’d loved him.
Now she knew.
It had been nearly impossible to leave Elliott’s arms. Her heart twisted in protest as she’d done so. When she was with him, he made her believe happily-ever-after was possible. She’d wanted to see what making love with him would feel like as much as she wanted to breathe.
But the memory of her aunt’s warnings over the years had stopped her from giving into her passion.
Sophia was well aware of the dangers of being with a man out of wedlock. She’d be ruined if caught or if she conceived a child. Finding another position would be impossible.
After her mother’s death, Aunt Margaret revealed that Sophia’s mother had been intimate with her father prior to their marriage. She said it was only by the grace of God that her father had married her, otherwise she might’ve been forced into a life on the streets. If a woman had neither money nor a family who supported her, her only means of survival might be prostitution.
Sophia shuddered at the thought of being labeled as a “fallen woman” like those described in The Seven Curses of London. While her life hadn’t been easy compared to some, it would be far worse if she were ruined.
Yet part of her believed with all her heart that Elliott was a man of honor. He might have a reputation as a scoundrel, but she knew him. At least, she hoped she did.
She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the cold windowpane as she remembered an argument her mother and Aunt Margaret had when they first went to live with her. Despite her father’s philandering and leaving them penniless, her mother still loved him. Aunt Margaret told her she was a fool. Sophia’s mother disagreed, insisting her husband had good intentions and never meant to leave them in such dire circumstances.
Aunt Margaret replied that words held little value. Actions were what mattered. Sophia agreed with her aunt. Pretty words and promises were empty unless one followed through and made good on them.
No matter how much she wanted to believe Elliott was honorable, he hadn’t offered anything to reassure her, not even pretty words.
Regardless of the temptation, she couldn’t risk giving into him, not in her precarious position. Her future was at stake, whereas he risked nothing by being with her.
A small corner of her mind worried that Elliott would dismiss her since she’d denied him. But her more logical side insisted he wouldn’t do such a thing.
Though reason told her she’d done the right thing by walking away, the ache in her chest said otherwise.
She couldn’t bring herself to be grateful for Aunt Margaret’s dire warnings ringing in her ears, not with that ache.
As best she could, she pushed her worries to the back of her mind and dressed, suddenly anxious to look in on the countess.
It was far too early for her to be awake, but the urge to make certain she rested comfortably had Sophia hurrying to her room. Perhaps she could send the maid to bed and sit with her until she woke.
She opened the door quietly and stared in surprise, her heart melting. Elliott was sprawled asleep in the chair, the maid nowhere in sight. His dark hair tumbled across his forehead, his expression peaceful. He still wore the clothes he’d had on last evening. She had no doubt he’d spent the rest of the night at his grandmother’s side.
Elliott might have the reputation of a rogue, but his actions spoke otherwise.
She pressed a hand to her chest, rubbing, but to no avail. The ache only hurt worse. What on earth was she to do about her growing feelings for him?
The next few days were a struggle for Elliott. He only wanted to remain home, both to keep watch over his grandmother, and to be close to Sophia.
But once again, duty called. His counterpart had come across the same information Elliott discovered. Confirming rumors was an important part of the process of gathering intelligence. When a threat was verified, it elevated in status, which justified putting more resources in place to uncover additional details.
Her Majesty’s Scoundrels Page 45