by Mary Balogh
But she had loved him for many years. And now they were lovers—for a brief moment in time. For one springtime out of her life. And she found, to her alarm, that she craved even a single sight of him. Even if they did not come close enough to each other at the soiree to exchange a greeting, even if she just saw him from afar and did not hear the sound of his voice ... Even that would be better than not seeing him at all.
Or so she told herself. Though she was not sure she believed herself.
She wore her dark green second-best gown—the one she had worn to Rawleigh House. She simply must not give in to the temptation to attend many more entertainments, she thought as she gazed at her reflection with a sinking heart. How could she when she had only two very dull gowns to wear? And not even a string of pearls with which to dress them up? She touched a hand to her bare throat. She felt half-naked without them.
And of course it was the first thing Beatrice noticed after they had arrived at Mrs. Leblanc’s and their cloaks had been borne away and they had entered the drawing room.
“Oh, Sophie, dear,” she said just when Rex and Catherine were converging on them, a smiling Viscount Perry with them—he was smiling at Sarah, of course, “you have forgotten your pearls.”
“And so I have,” Sophia said, touching her left hand to her neck and trying to look surprised. “Oh dear.” Oh dear indeed! What was she going to say next time?
“Oh, Sophie!” Beatrice’s voice was more than dismayed this time—it was horrified. “And you wedding ring too.”
“Oh.” Sophia stared at her hand. The shiny white rim at the base of her finger looked far more noticeable than the ring ever had, she thought. “Well, I do not suppose another living soul will notice, Bea. At least I remembered my gown. Rex, did you approve of the bonnet Catherine bought this afternoon? I promised to use my influence with you if you were cross. It was positively made for her, you know. There is no one else who could wear it to such advantage.”
“Your influence, Sophie?” he said with a grin. “Were you one of the culprits who talked her into its purchase, then?”
“Absolutely,” she said.
“Then I must thank you,” he said, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips. His eyes laughed into hers. “The bonnet almost does its wearer justice.”
It was so delightful, Sophia thought, to know that Rex had made a love match and to see that Catherine was his equal in every way that mattered. Rex had always been the biggest rogue of all of them, the one most adept at using his charm to get whatever—or whomever—he wanted. With Catherine, she suspected, he had been outcharmed, with fortunate and happy results.
Her pearls and her wedding ring seemed to have been forgotten. And she was not sorry she had come this evening. All her particular friends were present, she could see. Her debt had been paid off today and tonight she might relax. Perhaps Nathaniel would even ... No, she must not come to expect it every night. It did not matter. The memories of last night were good enough on which to live for a few days to come. She might expect a few weeks of freedom in which to enjoy this brief springtime of her life, even though she knew very well that the freedom would not last. There would be other letters.
But for now, for tonight, for the few days and weeks to come, she would simply enjoy herself.
One day at a time.
He was wearing dark green tonight, with gray and silver and white. Nathaniel, that was. He was the first person she had seen on entering the room, though she had not even yet looked directly at him.
She was going to enjoy herself.
TWELVE
LADY GULLIS CLEARLY FELT that she had paid her dues to society and was now entitled to please herself. At the age of twenty she had married—or been married to was probably a more accurate description of that transaction, Nathaniel supposed—the enormously wealthy Lord Gullis, who had been more than three times her age. He had lived to enjoy his marriage for only a little longer than a year. He had not lost his infatuation with his bride in that time. He had left her everything that had not been entailed on his heir.
Now, still very young, even more beautiful than she had been before her marriage, she was in search of personal gratification. She was not in search of a second husband, Nathaniel would have suspected even if Eden had not told him as much, but of a lover with whom to satisfy herself until she left during the summer for a year or so of travel on the Continent.
Eden had clearly performed well his self-imposed task of matchmaker the evening before. The lady soon maneuvered matters at Mrs. Leblanc’s soiree that she was in a small conversation group that included Nathaniel. He had already been deserted by his female relatives, Georgina having been invited by young Lewis Armitage to join a group about the pianoforte, and Lavinia having stridden off without a word of explanation to join Sophie. Margaret, with no immediate chaperoning to attend to, had wandered off with her spouse to exchange news and gossip with a group of acquaintances.
And that left him with the widow, Nathaniel thought in some amusement. Soon enough the number in their group had dwindled to just the two of them. Lady Gullis, he thought, was a lady who knew both what she wanted and how to get it—or so she seemed to believe. She was extremely lovely, of course, though lovely was a tame word to describe her charms. She was quite simply stunningly voluptuous. She also had some conversation and wit to balance the effect of her physical presence. She was not just a pretty ninnyhammer.
Eden had been as good as his word, Nathaniel saw. He was with Sophie and Lavinia, though the latter was no doubt making him feel unwelcome. There was something about Ede that aroused decided hostility in Lavinia. Perhaps she sensed that he was not the type of man who took relationships with women seriously, though he enjoyed using his charm—and his blue eyes—on them. Yes, he was just the sort of man to set her teeth on edge.
Lady Gullis was asking his impressions of Spain, which was to be one of her intended destinations during the coming year. She was intelligent enough to realize, of course, that a country in wartime must appear vastly different from the same country in time of peace. He answered her questions while part of his mind was elsewhere.
If Eden thought it necessary to brave Lavinia’s wrath and deny himself the company of other beauties in order to be at Sophie’s side, he thought, there must be good reason. That reason could only be the presence of Boris Pinter at the soiree. Nathaniel had not seen him, but there were three adjoining rooms being used for the evening, and each of them was crammed with a great squeeze of people. Rex and Ken had gone with their wives into the music room next to the drawing room, but they came back after just a short while and took up a position not far from Sophie. They were not part of her group, but they were close.
Yes. Nathaniel smiled at a remark Lady Gullis made about the discomforts of travel. If she could but have her own house set upon wheels and take it with her, she said, and smiled too, she would be entirely happy. Yes, Pinter must be here. And Rex and Ken and Ede would do their best to discourage him from drawing close enough to Sophie to spoil her evening as he had done at Lady Shelby’s ball. Perhaps he too ...
“Do let us chase that tray,” he suggested, indicating a servant a short distance away, “so that I may get you a fresh drink. It is rather warm in here, is it not?”
She set a hand on his sleeve, her long, well-manicured fingertips touching the bare flesh of the back of his hand. He maneuvered them closer. He hoped Sophie would not suspect what was up. She would probably be annoyed, as she had never used to be, to know she was under the close protection of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
He had noticed the absence of her pearls as soon as she came into the drawing room with her family. They had not been a grand piece of jewelry and he had never consciously noticed them. But he noticed their absence. Her dark, almost shabby gown looked drearier than usual. Her neck looked bare. He tried to remember what she usually wore there and remembered that it had always been a single string of pearls. Always, for every evening function sh
e had attended as far back as he could remember.
But not tonight.
He had deliberately looked for her wedding ring, though it was difficult to see across the room if she wore it or not. She had not worn it last night. He had thought at the time that perhaps she had removed it out of deference to him. He would not have thought of looking for it tonight if he had not missed the pearls. But he did look. He was almost sure she was not wearing it.
Something, he thought—and he was quite convinced he was not simply overreacting to a trivial circumstance—something was wrong.
Lady Gullis kept her hand on his arm even after he had removed her empty glass from her hand and taken a full one from the servant’s tray to replace it. Her fingertips played as though absently against the back of his hand. She was asking, in the throaty voice he did not remember from three years before, how a gentleman who had lived life so fully as a cavalry officer in the wars could find enough entertainment from merely bringing out his sister and his cousin. She was, he thought, moving in for the kill.
It struck him that if this had happened a mere few days before, he would have been ecstatic. She was everything he had dreamed of finding—wealthy and independent in her own right, desirous of only a few months’ diversion, very lovely, beddable in the extreme, and flatteringly interested.
“There are, of course,” he told her, “my clubs and the races and my friends, not to mention all the entertainments at which I may delight in the conversation of companions other than my relatives.”
He remembered too late what seemed to be the general female opinion of his smile. He was smiling at her and she was flushing at the compliment she was taking to herself.
Damn Eden.
Though that was not really fair. He might spend tonight in this woman’s bed if he so chose, Nathaniel thought. He might have her for a bed partner for the rest of the spring if he pleased her—and he had never heard a single complaint of any past performances of his. He had no doubt at all that she would be an interesting and a vigorous lover. And he would have Eden to thank. Even as he thought it and looked at his friend, he found Eden winking broadly at him. And Kenneth, behind Moira’s back, was raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips.
They approved, damn them. Even Ken.
What he should be feeling, Nathaniel thought suddenly, was frustration that this had happened too late. He could have had this woman and avoided the entanglement with Sophie. He glanced at her while Lady Gullis asked him if he had seen Kew Gardens yet this year and told him that if he had not, they were certainly not to be missed—in company with someone who could appreciate their beauty with him, of course.
In appearance Sophie compared unfavorably with Lady Gullis, who was dressed fashionably and expensively, her neck and ears and wrists and even her blond hair glistening with jewels. Sophie was neither elegantly nor becomingly dressed. She never did dress to advantage—except in her bedchamber, he thought. In her pale dressing gown and with her hair down she was lovely. Without clothes at all she was perfectly beautiful. In manner she was placid and cheerful and quite without the arts and charms of the woman on his arm. She was also, he remembered, capable of glorious passion.
He smiled at Lady Gullis and told her that he really must try to find time to see Kew Gardens before he returned home for the summer—if the busy round of ton entertainments and the weather permitted, of course.
He heard Eden’s laugh and then Sophie’s and Lavinia’s as he spoke and realized that he would far prefer to be in that group than where he was. He would prefer to be smelling Sophie’s soap and to be looking down at the untidy halo of escaped curls about her head. He would prefer to be listening to her sensible voice saying things that could not in any way be construed as flirtatious. He would prefer not to have to weigh every word he spoke and every smile he smiled, careful not to give the wrong impression.
And if he was to spend the night in any woman’s bed, he thought, he would prefer to spend it in Sophie’s. It had surprised him during the course of the day to realize that he remembered the first part of the night, when they had simply lain side by side talking and holding hands, with as much warm satisfaction as he remembered their two couplings.
Being Sophie’s lover was comfortable as well as sensually satisfying. He would not have expected to find both in the bed of one woman. But he had. And he remembered that feeling he had had after their first coupling last night that what they had started was a great deal more serious than he had ever intended. He remembered without the unease he had felt at the time.
There was something special about Sophie. He had always known it, of course—they all had. They had never taken any other officer’s wife beneath their collective wing as they had Sophie—yet Walter had not even been a particularly close friend of theirs. But there was something special too about his new relationship with her. Special in a way impossible to put into words.
He met her glance suddenly and they half smiled at each other. He wondered if she would think him impossibly demanding if he went to her again tonight. He would find a moment later and ask her, he decided. He would also remind her that she was quite at liberty to say no. He hoped she would not say no.
“I did not bring my companion with me this evening,” Lady Gullis was saying. “One has to have a companion for appearance’s sake, you know. She was once my governess, but she has grown deaf, poor dear, and tires easily. I promised I would be quite safe without her this evening, and persuaded her to go to bed early. She sleeps like the dead.” She laughed lightly. “I am sure I will be safe on the streets of Mayfair alone in my carriage later tonight, will I not, sir? I have a stout coachman and footman.”
Some situations were quite unavoidable. “I am sure my sister and brother-in-law will be happy to see my charges safely home,” he said. “I will be pleased to set your mind at rest, if I may, ma‘am, and accompany you in your carriage.”
“You are most kind,” she said, and for a brief moment her fingers curled beneath the frill at the cuff of his shirt-sleeve.
But his attention had been quite effectively distracted. Boris Pinter had appeared in the open doorway between the drawing room and the music room. He stood there for a few moments, looking about him, assessing the situation, a smile of what appeared to be genuine amusement on his lips.
Nathaniel removed his arm from beneath the lady’s playing fingers, set his hand against the back of her waist, and propelled her firmly in the direction of Eden and Sophie and Lavinia.
Sophia, having decided that she was going to enjoy herself, was doing so. The necessity of moving about the rooms, working her way into a group, had been taken from her. It was something she was perfectly capable of doing, but something she never enjoyed. She always imagined—and was never quite convinced that she was not merely imagining it—that the members of the particular group she chose did not want her there. Which was absurd, of course. Every single guest at every single entertainment was doing the same thing she was doing.
This evening she did not even have to move from the spot where she had first come to a halt inside the drawing room. While Sarah had been borne away by Viscount Perry—there seemed to be a genuine spark of mutual interest there, Sophia thought—and Beatrice and Edwin decided to stroll through all three rooms to see who else was present, she herself was immediately detained by Lavinia, who came to inform her that she had read some of Blake’s poems, on Sophie’s recommendation, and had been amazed and delighted by them.
And then Eden joined them and amused them with a slightly naughty story about a duel that had been narrowly averted last evening at a card party he had attended. At least Sophia suspected there was naughtiness behind it, since it seemed very unlikely that the cause of the quarrel had really been an uncomplimentary remark the elder man had made about the younger’s mother—although that was Eden’s laundered version of events. In the Peninsula he would have told the story with all its bald and sordid details. Tonight he was on his best behavior—for Lavinia’s sak
e, of course. Though Lavinia was not taken in for a moment.
“It is so gratifying,” she said, smiling sweetly at Eden, “to be treated like a half-wit, Lord Pelham. Is it not, Sophie? Was the, ah, mother at least worthy of the quarrel, my lord?”
Eden merely grinned at her and reminded her that there were certain things of which a true lady pretended to be quite ignorant.
“I daresay,” Lavinia said, her sweet smile considerably more dazzling, “you would be willing to call me no true lady in Nat’s hearing, my lord?”
“Oh, the devil!” Eden said quite outrageously. “Nat always had a quite wicked sword arm. Did I call you no true lady? Did I, Sophie? My memory has become shockingly unreliable. I have no recollection of saying any such thing. But if I did, I do most humbly apologize, ma‘am.”
They were, Sophia realized after the first few minutes of suchlike conversation, greatly enjoying themselves. She looked from one to the other of them with considerable interest. They were probably both convinced that they thoroughly disliked each other.
He was not here, she thought after a careful perusal of the drawing room. And so she might relax and allow the evening to take its own pleasant course. There was, however, the sight of Nathaniel with Lady Gullis to be contended with. At first they were in a group together, but soon enough they were in a tête-à-tête, and not long after that they were even touching. She had a hand on his sleeve, but it was not properly positioned. Her fingertips dipped over the edge of his cuff to touch his hand.
Lady Gullis was a wealthy and lovely widow with a growing reputation as a flirt. Her riches and her position in society preserved her respectability, of course. Tonight, it was as clear as if a majordomo had appeared in the room and announced it in stentorian tones, that the lady had set her sights on Nathaniel. And of course they looked quite startlingly beautiful together.