Two Sinful Secrets

by Laurel McKee

  Sophia took a step back to lean against the cold wall. As she studied the tiny, faraway city, she twined the ribbon of the bouquet around her finger. It did feel safe up here, alone with Dominic as he watched her calmly. He didn’t press her or hurry her, didn’t tell her what to do. He was just there. With her.

  And she was really very tired of being alone.

  “Before I came to Paris, I was in Baden-Baden,” she said. “That was where Jack died. I was alone there, no money, no place to go. And there was this man. Lord Hammond.”

  “Hammond?” Dominic said, his tone startled. “He was your visitor today?”

  “Yes,” Sophia said. “Do you know him?” Oh, please, don’t let him be friends with Hammond, she thought frantically. But that made no sense. Hammond had threatened the St. Claires as well today.

  A muscled flexed in Dominic’s strong jaw. “I have had encounters with him. A rather unpleasant individual, quite happy to throw his weight around.”

  “Yes indeed,” Sophia agreed with a humorless laugh. “Unpleasant is one term for him.”

  “Shit-eating bastard is another,” Dominic said. “If he was your unwanted caller, I’m not surprised you ran. So, you met him in Baden-Baden.”

  Sophia nodded. She told him a shortened version of the tale of her encounters with Lord Hammond, winning his money in the card game, his pursuit of her. His unwelcome, and most insistent, marriage proposal. It felt unbelievably relieving just to say it aloud, to get it out of her mind and out into the world for a moment.

  “How did you come to meet Lord Hammond?” she asked as she finished.

  Dominic stared out thoughtfully over the city. His expression was calm and cool, not betraying any reaction to her story. “He was playing cards with my brother James at a bawdy house one night. There was a disagreement.”

  “I see,” Sophia said slowly. “So that is why James returned to London?”

  “Yes. And the rest of us are to follow next week.” Dominic was silent for a moment longer, then he suddenly turned to her with a smile. “There is only one solution to your difficulty, Sophia.”

  Sophia wasn’t sure she trusted that smile. “Oh? And what is that? Murder?”

  “Worse. You should marry me.”

  Sophia choked out a laugh. Surely she hadn’t imagined that! She had never heard more outrageous words. “You shouldn’t joke about such things.”

  She turned away from him, but he caught her hand and drew her back to him. He looked down at her steadily, and to her shock, he looked perfectly serious.

  “I’m not joking,” he said. “Sophia Westman, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  “But we haven’t known each other very long!” she said, even as she knew that was a silly argument. She had known Jack a month when she eloped with him.

  And that was a mistake she had been determined never to repeat.

  “If you count our first meeting, we’ve known each other a long time,” he answered with a quirk of a smile.

  “Our first meeting was hardly an auspicious one,” Sophia scoffed. “And why would you want to marry me after I kneed you in the groin and ran away?”

  “Because you could use my help right now, I think,” he said. “And that is a rare thing for me, to be able to help someone.”

  “It’s true I could use your help,” she admitted, remembering how alone she had felt when she ran to the river. And now here was Dominic. Even though she was cautious of his sudden offer, part of her wanted to reach out for it.

  “But,” she went on, “marriage is for such a very long time. Once the threat of Lord Hammond is past, and I don’t need your help with him any longer, you may be sorry.”

  Dominic laughed. “Sophia, I have the feeling that even after Hammond, you will need my help. Just as I will need yours.”

  Sophia studied his face, puzzled. “How can I help you?”

  “Once we return to London, the Devil’s Fancy will need a hostess again. No one has been able to fill the role since my sister left, and I think you would be excellent at it.”

  “Yet you hardly need to marry me for that,” Sophia said.

  “And you could make my family cease to worry over me,” he added. “Ever since Jane died, they have been hovering around me with solemn looks on their faces. If they think I’ve found a proper lady to look after me, I won’t have to put up with that any longer. They’ll let us set up our own household in peace.”

  Sophia laughed. “Somehow I can’t picture your brother Brendan hovering around, clucking in sympathy.”

  “Oh, he is the worst of the lot, I assure you.”

  “I admit having a house of my own sounds wonderful,” she said. She was very tempted. But what he was offering so far sounded like a business arrangement. His protection for her hostessing and housekeeping skills. “Yet could we really live together?”

  She thought about Mary’s diary, about how her marriage started with such hopes and ended so bleakly. She didn’t want to end up like that.

  “Sophia,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I think we could live together very well. We understand each other, do we not? We could have so many adventures together.”

  Adventures. Yes, they did understand each other. With him, she wouldn’t have to fight against her nature, as she had tried to do with her family and failed at so miserably. He wouldn’t expect her to be what she was not.

  He made no mention of love, yet surely understanding was more than most couples could expect. She would be a fool to look for anything more, especially when she had never looked for this at all. She should be sensible and take what Dominic offered.

  Yet still, underneath it all, there was a pang of quickly-stifled longing.

  “Yes,” she said. “Our lives would certainly never be boring.”

  “I know I am not what your family must have once wanted for you, Sophia,” he said quietly. “My family lost their place in Society long ago. But the St. Claires are not without their own kind of power. I can give you anything you want—houses, carriages, jewels. And men like Hammond won’t be able to touch you. I’ll always stand as your friend.”

  Her friend. Sophia nodded sadly. That should be all she could want—Dominic’s friendship. “Just my friend?”

  Dominic laughed. “And your lover, too. You have to admit, Sophia, we definitely have adventures in the bedroom.”

  “And we haven’t even really begun.”

  “So you will marry me?”

  Sophia stared back out over the vast city. It was not perfect, what Dominic was offering. But what was perfect in life? She was tired of being alone, of endlessly fighting battles a lady alone had little hope of winning. She had hoped she could go back to her family and finally fit in with them, even as she realized that wouldn’t be possible. A life of adventure with Dominic, of finding her own place in London again—it was too tempting to resist.

  And she had never been good at resisting temptation.

  “Yes, Dominic,” she said firmly. “I will marry you.”

  And she hoped to heaven she would never rue those words…

  Dominic hadn’t taken Sophia up the steps of Notre Dame with the intention of proposing marriage to her there. In fact, until that moment, he had been sure that, after Jane, he would never want to marry again. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized he meant them. He had always known that being with Sophia could be a revenge of sorts against the Huntingtons, but he saw now there was Sophia herself.

  And now they were holding hands, laughing like two naughty schoolchildren playing truant as they ran back down the winding steps. The full impact of his impulsive actions hadn’t yet hit him, but Dominic knew it soon would. And he would have to face his family with the fact that he was marrying a Huntington.

  Yet this was not just any Huntington. This was Sophia, who was unlike any woman, any person, he had ever met.

  They ran out of the dark church and onto the sun-splashed walkway along the Seine. The hood of Sophia�
��s cloak had fallen back, and her dark hair glowed a glossy, burnished sable in the light. She smiled back at him over her shoulder, and when he saw that those shadows of fear and worry were gone from her eyes, he knew he couldn’t be sorry.

  He wanted to protect her, like those knights of old; he wanted to make her laugh, make her happy. He hadn’t lied when he told her they could make a life together because they understood each other. They were two wild spirits, beating against the narrow expectations of the world, yearning to be free. He had cared about Jane very much, but now he could see that no matter how careful he might have been, her gentle soul would have been crushed by life as a St. Claire.

  Surely nothing could crush Sophia.

  He didn’t love her. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to love in that way. But he would gain a wife who understood him and wouldn’t ask for more than he could give. A beautiful wife he liked and who would fit into his life. And he would also protect her from Lord Hammond, an odious, overly entitled bastard if there ever was one.

  Above all, it would be a revenge against the Huntingtons. If they thought Sophia was a scandal now, they hadn’t seen anything yet.

  Yes, it was a fine situation all around. Why, then, did he feel the oddest, smallest touch of disquiet? The voice of reason told him he was jumping headfirst into trouble he did not need. But the voice of reason had never counted for much with Dominic. He easily pushed it away and laughed with Sophia as she spun around in his arms.

  “Are you absolutely sure you want me to marry you?” she said. She tilted her head back and smiled up at him.

  “Of course I’m sure,” he said. He gently smoothed a windblown curl back from her forehead. “We’ll have a marvelous life together, never-ending fun and excitement.”

  Sophia laughed. “I know we will. But…”

  “But what?”

  A frown cut across her laughter, and for an instant she looked away. Dominic was afraid he was losing her, that she was drifting off somewhere in that moment, and he tightened his arms around her until she smiled again.

  “I was just thinking—what about your family? What will they think about me?” she said. “When my cousin Aidan married your sister…”

  “It was your family who refused to see them,” Dominic reminded her. “My parents hosted their wedding breakfast and gave them a theater in Edinburgh to manage. They will surely accept you.”

  “True enough.” Sophia laughed ruefully. “And I can hardly do anything to make my family turn away more.”

  “So you will still marry me?”

  “And let the chips fall where they may!” Sophia said merrily. “Not that such a philosophy has worked for me very well in the past.”

  “It will work now. You’ll see.” Dominic looped Sophia’s arm through his, and they strolled back over the river. The day was growing later, the sky turning amber at the edges and the wind crisper as evening set in. The walkways weren’t as crowded, as everyone made their way home to prepare for the night’s revels.

  Dominic had to be back at the theater to get ready for that evening’s play. And to tell his brother and sister what he had done. Isabel, with her sweet, romantic heart, would be thrilled.

  Brendan would probably not be. But Dominic could make him come around, could make him see this as another humiliating shot across the bow of the Huntingtons’ ducal ship.

  “When should we get married?” Sophia asked as they walked.

  “Our engagement at the theater here is over in a few days,” he said. “We could marry on our way home, at Calais perhaps. I think there is a small English church there.”

  “Yes,” Sophia said thoughtfully. “If we left from Calais, perhaps we could travel with my cousin Elizabeth. It would be nice to have a member of my family at the wedding.” She gave a wry laugh. “None of them were at my first ceremony.”

  And that would surely make word of her union with a St. Claire go racing back to her uncle the duke that much faster. “I think that is a very good idea. I’ll make the arrangements right away.”

  They reached the club just as the sun was starting to sink lower in the sky in a burst of rose-pink, the color of Sophia’s gown at the Café de Paris. Dominic was sure he could never see that color again without thinking of her.

  He took her in his arms on the doorstep, and she smiled up at him. As he bent his head to kiss her, he caught a glimpse of a man hovering in a doorway across the street. It was the same man who had watched the theater and then vanished. He was studying Dominic and Sophia now.

  Dominic gave the man a smile before he kissed Sophia. One shot fired. How many to come?

  Chapter Nineteen

  There. You look absolutely beautiful,” Elizabeth said as she put the finishing touches on Sophia’s hair. “The perfect bride.”

  Sophia laughed, turning her head to examine herself in the mirror. “I wouldn’t say that. This is hardly the ideal wedding, is it? But you’ve done marvels here, Elizabeth. Where did you learn to dress hair like that?”

  Elizabeth’s crooked little smile reflected in the glass. “Well, I found out my lady’s maid was a spy in the employment of my husband. After that, I wanted to spend as little time as possible in her company, so I learned to do my hair myself.”

  “A spy?” Sophia cried. She spun around on the dressing table stool to look up at Elizabeth. Her cousin’s blue eyes were as hard as chips of ice, and in that one instant, they seemed to flash with a light that spoke of worlds of hidden pain.

  But Elizabeth laughed and turned away, that glimpse of stark pain gone. She smoothed her own coiffure in the mirror and reached for her blue satin hat. “And she was complete rubbish at fixing stylish coiffures anyway.”

  Sophia nodded and slowly rose to her feet to adjust her gown. There had been no time to order something new before leaving Paris, so her rose-pink gown served as her wedding dress. Over it, she wore an exquisite lace shawl that Elizabeth had given her, and a wreath of pink and white flowers wound through her hair. It was a hasty bridal toilette, for a wedding that still didn’t feel quite real.

  “I’m glad you’re here today, Elizabeth,” she said. “No one was at my first wedding at all.”

  Elizabeth laughed and reached over to tweak one of the flowers in Sophia’s hair. “Well, everyone was at my wedding. St. George’s was absolutely packed. And you see how that turned out.”

  “My first didn’t turn out so well either,” Sophia said ruefully.

  “But this one will be better! It’s so romantic. You’re marrying a St. Claire. It will be the talk of London when you get back.”

  “As if I haven’t caused enough scandal!”

  “Oh, but this will be different. You will be the envy of every woman in town.” Elizabeth drew back the curtains from the window, and sunlight flooded into the hotel room. “It’s a beautiful day for a wedding.”

  Sophia went to lean against the window ledge and examine the scene outside. The harbor of Calais gleamed below, sunlight reflecting on the water that lapped around the ships. One of them would carry them home on the evening tide.

  But first she was to be married.

  Sophia glanced at the clock on the dressing table. It was almost time to meet Dominic at the church. Suddenly, as she realized this was truly about to happen, her stomach clenched with nerves. On the trip from Paris, laughing with Elizabeth over romantic poems and speculating on why Dominic had gone ahead to Calais to prepare the wedding, it had seemed like a fun lark. A solution to her difficulties that would also be most enjoyable.

  Now she saw it was very real. She was about to leap into marriage again.

  But Dominic is nothing like Jack, she told herself. Jack had been a charming weakling; Dominic was the strongest man she had ever met. A man who understood her, whom she could build a life with.

  Wasn’t he?

  “Are you well, Sophia?” she heard Elizabeth say. Sophia felt her cousin’s kid-gloved hand on her arm. “Do you feel ill?”

  “No, I—I’m fine,”
Sophia murmured. “Just a fit of bridal nerves, I think.”

  “Here, sit down. Let me get you some water.” Elizabeth led Sophia back to the stool and poured out a glass from the refreshment tray the hotel maid had left.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Elizabeth asked. “It is terribly romantic, but if you aren’t sure…”

  Sophia shook her head. What else could she do? Keep running, her funds growing ever smaller, always hoping not to run into Lord Hammond again? Alone? No, that held no appeal.

  And the thought of never seeing Dominic again, never hearing his laugh or feeling his touch… no. It was better to stay and see what came next. She wanted to stay with Dominic.

  “I’m as sure as one can be,” Sophia said. She drank the last of the water and felt stronger. “Shall we go? It’s almost time.”

  “Of course, if you’re quite sure.” Elizabeth handed Sophia the bouquet, a bunch of pink hothouse roses tied with white satin that had been delivered just that morning. A gift from Dominic.

  Sophia held on to them with one hand and picked up her purse with the other. Mary’s diary was tucked in there safely, waiting to go back with her to England. Her fear faded as suddenly as it had come upon her as they made their way down the hotel staircase. She felt only excitement. A warm, fizzing hope for the future she hadn’t known in so long.

  The English church was near the hotel, a small white stone chapel perched high above the harbor. It shimmered in the sunlight, shards of color from the stained-glass windows reflecting back onto the few monuments of the small churchyard. As she and Elizabeth stepped through the gate, the door opened, and Dominic was standing there waiting for her.

  The light shone on his golden hair, and on the brilliant smile he gave her as he held out his hand. He was the perfect image of a romantic bridegroom, dressed in a perfectly cut blue coat and pearl-gray satin waistcoat, a tall-crowned silk hat in his hand and a rose in his lapel. And Sophia knew this was the right thing to do. It had to be, because she was just about to leap. The future was uncertain, but it would surely never be boring.