by Brenda Joyce
His gaze shot up, startled. “I don’t know.”
Sofie’s heart pumped in painful spurts. Still she offered her daughter to Edward, agonizingly aware of how special the moment was—and that it should have taken place long ago in the hospital, and that it should have been shared by man and wife. “It’s all right. Edana is friendly”
“I’m afraid,” Edward confessed, staring at the baby girt. “She’s so small—so beautiful.”
“You won’t hurt her,” Sofie said, perilously close to shattering.
Edward took Edana and cradled her carefully in his arms. He sat down on the worn sofa, never removing his rapt, besotted gaze from the child. “God, she’s blond like you—but blue-eyed like me.”
Sofie wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve. But the tears wouldn’t stop. Fortunately, Edward only had eyes for his daughter and was unaware of her upheaval. “M-Most children are blond and blue-eyed. She m-might have black hair as an adult, or brown eyes.”
Edward made a sound, half a laugh. Edana was smiling up at him, waving her hands, as if trying to touch his face. “She likes me,” Edward said thickly. “Hi. Hi, sweetheart. I’m your daddy.”
Sofie could not stand it. Bursting into tears, she hurried from the room before Edward might see. But he was still bent over Edana.
Edana began to cry.
Sofie came to the doorway and saw Edward walking the baby, rocking her in his arms, trying to hush her. He sensed Sofie’s presence and turned, alarmed. “What’s wrong? Did I upset her? She was fine a minute ago!”
“She’s only hungry, Edward,” Sofie said softly. “It’s time for her to eat.”
Edward paused and stared at her, his gaze moving to her breasts.
Sofie had been nursing her child ever since she was bom, but she began to blush. Briskly she strode into the room and took Edana from Edward. “Perhaps this is a good time for you to leave.” She would not meet his gaze. Edana had begun to wail. “You can visit her again tomorrow.”
“No. I’ll wait.”
Sofie’s gaze flew up at his flat, emphatic tone. Edward’s jaw was firm, his eyes dark, determined. She could not bicker now. Edana was becoming red-faced. Sofie turned her back on Edward and rushed her child into the bedroom. Quickly she unbuttoned her blouse as she sat down in a rocking chair Rachelle had bought for her. Within moments Edana was suckling vigorously. Sofie began to relax.
But then she sensed his presence. Her gaze shot up. In her haste, she had not shut the door fully. Edward stood there on the threshold, watching her nurse their child.
Sofie’s pulse skyrocketed. Not expecting an audience, she had exposed herself completely. Her breasts were full, pale, and blue-veined. And Edward was staring, but not at his daughter.
It was thoroughly inappropriate, but Sofie was stabbed with lust. She did not need to be a mind reader to know what Edward was thinking, either. Abruptly he turned away, closing the door behind him.
Sofie began to shake, in relief. She moved Edana to her left breast, pulling her chemise up on the other side. She was perspiring. Edana was content and did not notice.
Oh, God, Sofie thought. She had never dreamed it would be like this if he returned. Insanely, she had thought that she could keep her distance, both physically and emotionally, and remain blandly unaffected by him. What a fool she had been.
Sofie dared not think about what would transpire next. She only knew one thing. Once before he had so casually happened into her life. But then, he had almost destroyed it. Every instinct Sofie had told her that this time he would be successful—if she let him.
Sofie closed the bedroom door carefully, leaving it just slightly ajar. Edward’s brow lifted. “She is asleep,” Sofie said.
He stared at her, far too intensely for Sofie to be comfortable. She recalled how he had looked at her breasts. She recalled how he had felt against her when he had been kissing her with punishing strength. His kiss had been hurtful. But mere had been nothing hurtful about the feel of the rest of his hard, aroused body.
“When do you want to get married, Sofie?”
“What?”
His jaw flexed. “You heard me. When do you want to get married? Now? Tonight? Tomorrow? There’s no point in waiting, the sooner Edana has my name, the better.”
Sofie could not breathe. It was exactly as she had feared. He cared too much—about Edana. She fought for calm. It was impossible. “You are very arrogant, Edward, to assume I would marry you because of Edana.”
His eyes widened. “Goddammit! You have to marry me, and we both know it! Isn’t that why you sent that letter?”
“No! That is exactly why I did not write to you until the very last possible minute!” Sofie shouted, forgetting all about the sleeping baby.
Edward gripped her arms. “I don’t understand.”
“And I don’t care! I am not marrying you, Edward. Not because of Edana.”
He was shocked. He had turned a ghostly shade of white. He released her, too dumbfounded to speak. “Jesus,” he finally said. “I don’t believe you!”
Sofie backed away from him, intent on staying out of his reach.
“You’d rather live like this?”
She knew better than to answer.
But now he was furious. “It’s him, is that it?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”
“It’s him!” he shouted. Edana began to cry. “Jesus, if that’s the way it is … I never meant it would be a real marriage, Sofie. Christ! You want your lover, that’s fine! Hell, take ten lovers, I don’t give a damn! But Edana will have my name. I won’t have my daughter a bastard, dammit!”
“You’ve woken the baby,” Sofie cried, shaking with her own anger, her own grief. “It’s time for you to leave, Edward. Now!”
He hesitated. Edana wailed. “All right. We’ll finish this tomorrow. But we will finish it, Sofie.”
Sofie did not answer. She rushed into her bedroom, as much to run from him as to soothe her child. Quickly she picked up Edana, forcing a smile through her tears. “It’s all right, darling, it’s all right. Hush, now. Mama’s not angry. Mama’s not upset. Mama loves you. And your daddy loves you, too.” She cradled Edana to her chest, crying harder than before.
Eventually the baby stopped crying. Sofie put her down, covering her with a light blanket, crocheted by her neighbor. She wiped her eyes. She hesitated, then saw that Rachelle stood in the salon, unmoving and somber. She took one look at her face and knew that Rachelle realized what was going on. Sofie left the bedroom.
“What are you going to do?” Rachelle asked, putting her arm around Sofie.
Sofie trembled. “You heard?”
“I heard.”
“I’m not marrying him. I can’t. Not like this.” A horrible scenario flashed through Sofie’s mind. Herself in a luxurious, canopied bed, nursing Edana in the middle of the black night, alone and knowing Edward was out with someone else and would not return anytime soon, and even then, would not return to her. Never to her.
“Oh, Sofie,” Rachelle whispered, seeing her stricken expression. She hugged her again. “I understand. But what will you do?”
“Leave. Now. Tonight.” As she spoke, her determination crystalized, fueled by a very real panic that bordered on terror. Very grim, Sofie said, “It’s time for me to take Edana home.”
Part Three
A Woman of Principle
21
New York City—November 1902
When Sofie first glimpsed the great Statue of Liberty and the distant Manhattan skyline, a feeling of joyous relief overwhelmed her. Sofie clung to the ship’s railing, almost weak with relief. Never had she needed her family more. She missed them terribly.
And she could not wait to show off Edana. Sofie knew that Suzanne would fall in love with her granddaughter the moment she saw her. Everyone did, for the small baby girl was so pretty and sweet, she was picture-perfect.
Sofie’s hands tightened on the rail. Edana had undoubtedly received h
er good looks from her father. Sofie had tried to imagine Edward’s wrath many times since she had fled Paris in the dead of night with Edana and Rachelle. Guilt consumed her every time, for hadn’t she said she would never deny him his daughter? And God, she had meant it. and not only out of fairness to Edward. Too well Sofie recalled growing up without her own father. She could not ever wish such a fate upon Edana. She did not want to sever the relationship between Edward and Edana, she did not. But she could not marry Edward. Not even for Edana’s sake.
Briefly she thought of that frightening night. The carriage ride to Le Havre had been endless and terrifying, for Sofie had expected Edward to materialize out of the night like a nineteenth-century highwayman, preventing her from escaping with their daughter, perhaps even dragging her before the nearest cleric. It was not until she had boarded an outbound vessel that next morning, and not until that ship had actually slipped free of its moorings and steamed into the harbor, away from the docks, away from French soil, that Sofie’s fear had finally diminished. And then she had sagged over Edana, sobbing, torn.
Now the huge French steamer chugged up beside the docks on the East River harbor, the seamen crying out with gusty excitement, planks and gangways crashing down. As they disembarked, gulls wheeled overhead and the waiting throng cheered the arrival of the passengers. Rachelle carried Edana, for she was far stronger than Sofie in any case, but especially now. Sofie had not been able to sleep well on this journey. She had little appetite and she had lost weight. What appetite she had was forced, for she must nourish her daughter—she was afraid she might cease producing milk. Rachelle had hovered over her like a hawk. She had scolded like a mother hen. Sofie did not know what she would have done if Rachelle had not insisted that she come with them.
They had fled with one single bag that contained just a few changes of clothing and necessities for the baby. A porter took that valise and summoned a hansom. Sofie could not relax. She began to point out landmarks to both Edana and Rachelle. At five months old, Edana was alert and happily watching everything.
They passed Tiffany’s, Lord & Taylor, F.A.O. Schwarz, the Company Gorham. They left Union Square, turned onto Madison Avenue. Sofie’s smile faded. They were not far from Delmonico’s.
It felt like yesterday, not more than a year ago. If she closed her eyes, she could transport herself back to that day, to that wondrous moment in time, with Edward sitting across from her, so handsome and elegant and seemingly so sincere, and she could feel how she had loved him. It was insane, but she could feel how she still loved him, despite it all.
“Sofie, petite? Are you all right?” Rachelle asked.
Sofie blinked and took a deep breath. “Everywhere I look … I see him.”
Rachelle reached out and squeezed her hand.
Finally they turned past the two guardian lions and into the circular, graveled drive in front of the imposing Ralston residence. Sofie leaned forward, eager and trembling. The hansom pulled up and Jenson appeared on the wide stone stoop. Sofie handed Edana to Rachelle and stepped from the hansom. Jenson cried out when he saw her.
Sofie smiled then. “Jenson! I’m home!”
He rushed forward to greet her, beaming in a manner thoroughly inappropriate for a butler. “Miss Sofie! That you are! And about time—if you don’t mind my saying so!”
Rachelle climbed out of the hansom, holding Edana. Smiling, Sofie pulled her friend forward. And as she did so, an old memory suddenly surfaced and Suzanne’s warning words echoed in her mind. You cannot bring a child home.
Jarred, feeling slightly uneasy, Sofie gripped Rachelle tighter. “Jenson, this is my dear friend and companion, Rachelle du Fleury. And this is my daughter, Edana Jacqueline O’Neil.”
In the foyer, more servants rushed out once Sofie’s presence was known. Although she could not shake off her slight uneasiness, the warm welcome of the staff made Sofie terribly glad to be home. She hugged Mrs. Murdock, who had tears in her eyes. “This is my friend and companion, Rachelle,” she said, pulling Rachelle forward with the baby. “And this is my daughter, Edana.”
Mrs. Murdock’s eyes widened and she paled. It took her a moment to recover, unlike Jenson, who had hidden his shock by retreating behind formality almost immediately. “She is beautiful, Sofie.” Mrs. Murdock gripped Sofie’s hand. “Oh, my dear—I did not know!”
Sofie managed a smile.
Mrs. Murdock became a briskly efficient housekeeper once more. “We shall put you in your old room, of course, and the baby next door with Rachelle. I will have your studio cleaned inside and out today, and it will be ready for you to go to work first thing tomorrow!”
Sofie was moved. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Edana sleeps with me, but Rachelle can have the adjoining room.”
Mrs. Murdock nodded and sent maids scurrying upstairs.
“Is no one home?” Sofie asked then.
“Mr. Ralston is attending to business downtown. Your mother is out to lunch with the ladies. Lisa is in the garden.”
Sofie turned to Rachelle. “Come. Lisa knows, of course, and is eager to meet her niece.”
They hurried through the house. Sofie paused on the threshold of the terrace, which overlooked the gardens. She had expected Lisa to be alone. She was not.
She was in a gentleman’s embrace. And he was kissing her.
Sofie’s eyes widened. From where she stood she had an unobstructed view of the couple—and this was no chaste kiss. The man, who was tall and broad-shouldered, had Lisa bent over one of his arms while he kissed her very deeply. Sofie coughed. Instantly they broke apart. Lisa was flushed, with far more than just guilt. But then she saw Sofie and she cried out and lifted her skirts and came running.
Sofie cried out as well, stretching out her arms. Lisa had never been lovelier. Clad in a green-on-green striped gown with darker gloves and hat, she was stunning. Lisa rushed into her embrace.
When they separated Sofie turned to face the gentleman, who had strolled up to them. Lisa stood proudly beside him, her arm now looped in his. Sofie started, not just at the open display of intimacy. For he was not just tall and powerfully formed, he was very handsome, gray-eyed and darkly golden; in short, he was more Greek Adonis than mere man. Sofie recognized the glitter in his gaze. She was dismayed. She knew firsthand where such desire would lead Lisa.
“This is my fiancé,” Lisa said, beaming and clinging. Beside him she appeared dark and small, the perfect foil to his blinding brilliance. “The Marquis of Connaught, Julian St. Clare.”
“Lisa, I did not know!” Sofie cried. She was pleased—and relieved. They hugged again. Sofie turned to the marquis. “I am so pleased to meet you. I am Lisa’s stepsister, Sofie O’Neil.”
He was not smiling. His nod was somewhat curt, but he bowed politely. His words were correct, but that was all. “I am honored to meet you, madam. My betrothed has told me much about you.”
Sofie managed a smile, stealing a glance at Lisa, who did not seem to notice her fiancé’s dark humor. She could only assume that he was displeased with Sofie’s untimely intrusion. And then Edana made a loud burp, distracting everyone.
Lisa froze. Sofie grew rigid, as well. It was one thing to introduce Edana to Jenson, Mrs. Murdock, and Lisa, quite another to a stranger. Despite having lived in Montmartre for more than a year, despite her bravado, Sofie was well aware that society would frown upon her daughter and herself.
But Lisa broke the moment. “Oh, Sofie,” she whispered, her eyes glazing, a question there. Sofie nodded, and Lisa slipped free of the marquis and took Edana from Rachelle. “How beautiful she is!”
Sofie stole a glance at the marquis. He was looking at her hands—she wore no rings. Calmly he lifted his gaze to hers. No expression showed in his eyes.
“Might I introduce my daughter?” Sofie said, hoping her voice was steadier than her sudden case of nerves. “Edana Jacqueline O’Neil.”
Something flickered in his eyes, surprise, perhaps, at her courage, but certainly no
t admiration. St. Clare left them shortly afterwards, claiming that he had business to attend to. Apparently he would pick up Lisa that night to escort her to a ball.
“I am so glad you are home,” Lisa said eagerly as they retired to a small, cozy parlor used for the family alone. They watched Edana, playing with a rattle on the Persian carpet on the floor. “My engagement ball is next week, when it shall become official, and now you can attend! It would not have been the same, Sofie, if you were not there.”
“Of course I will come,” Sofie said. “Lisa—how long have you known the marquis?”
“We met last spring.” Lisa smiled, her eyes shining. “Sofie—I was enamored right away.”
Sofie could guess why. Hadn’t she fallen for Edward the moment she had first glimpsed him?
“Isn’t he wonderful?” Lisa asked, her eyes shining.
How well Sofie recalled what it was to be in love like that. “He is certainly very handsome. The two of you make a striking couple.”
“Yes, I have been told that before.” Lisa’s smile wavered. “You heard, though, that he was married once before?”
“His wife died?”
“Yes, some time ago. Or so Father has said. The marquis—Julian—refuses to discuss it. I brought it up but once, and, well … he was furious.” Lisa’s gaze, worried now, held Sofie’s. “He said the past is dead and that I must never bring it up again.”
Sofie was somber, afraid that the marquis had loved his first wife—or that he still did. “Perhaps, after you are wed, when you know one another better, he will be able to talk about her.”
“I am counting on it.” Lisa said. She smiled again and reached out and took Sofie’s hand. “Enough about myself. Tell me about life in Paris—and tell me all about Edana.”
Sofie was nursing Edana when Suzanne barged into her bedroom.
It was sometime later. Rachelle had retired to take a nap, fatigued from the journey. Lisa was dressing for her engagement later that evening with the marquis. Sofie and Edana were alone. Sofie was feeling quite overwhelmed, and teetering on the brink of exhaustion herself. Somehow it was disturbing to have her daughter there, in the home she had grown up in, in the bedroom she had had since she was a small child of nine. It seemed wrong. As if something was missing. Which of course, it was. Sofie was not in her own home, but in the home of her parents.