Married to a Stranger

by Louise Allen

  ‘I was thinking about Shakespeare,’ Cal admitted and she shook her head in bafflement, dark ringlets quivering. ‘I could show you St Paul’s and the Mansion House and the Tower and then we can go down to the docks and you can see our ship.’

  ‘Ours?’ He liked the way her mouth curled, half-teasing, half, he was certain, genuine pleasure.

  ‘We will pretend it is all ours,’ he promised.

  ‘The post, sir.’ Hawksley came down the hall with a laden silver salver. ‘And breakfast is ready, ma’am.’

  ‘Thank you for enduring last night. At least it means you have met most of the relatives who come to town regularly,’ he said as they sat down.

  He thought Sophia’s smile looked forced for a moment. Perhaps she was tired; he had certainly kept her awake last night. ‘And the day after tomorrow is our own reception,’ she said. ‘We have had a gratifying number of acceptances.’ Her smile became stronger. ‘I fear it will be a sad crush.’

  ‘Excellent. And you have a new gown?’ He knew she had, he had asked Chivers in secret and looked at the simple column of deep blue silk with its sweeping over-skirt of spangled gauze. The sapphires he had bought her to go with it were hidden in his room. Would she read the message in the heart-shaped gem that made a pendant to the necklace?

  ‘I have one I am very pleased with, if truth be told,’ she confided. ‘Callum, it will not hamper your career that I have no useful connections, that no one has ever heard of me?’

  ‘Good Lord, no.’ Cal grounded his coffee cup with a clatter. ‘Whatever put that nonsense into your head?’

  Sophia would not meet his eyes. ‘I overheard someone last night saying what a pity it was that you did not marry Lady Piercebridge’s daughter.’

  ‘Daphne? She’s a pretty peahen and I never had the slightest interest in her.’ He reached across the corner of the table, put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up so she was forced to look at him. ‘You, my love, are the only woman I have ever wanted to marry.’

  Sophia’s face relaxed into a smile and Callum realised what he had said. My love. But she did not pick up on it. She would surely think it was just an endearment, not the honest truth. When this reception was over and she saw how well she was fitted to be his wife, how easily she was accepted as his hostess, then perhaps she would be confident enough to believe him when he told her he loved her. And he would have two more days to woo her first, two more nights to make love to her.

  ‘Well, Sophia? What is it to be first? Our ship or the horrors of the Tower of London?’

  ‘Oh, the Tower, definitely. And then we can be cheered by the sight of the ship.’

  The warmth that crept through him as she laughed and spoke so happily of ‘we’ shook him. That moment all those months ago when she had roused herself from her shock over the news of the wreck and Dan’s loss and had touched his cheek with her fingertips, forgetting her own distress, murmuring her concern that he be warm again, came back to him. His destiny had been there, then, waiting for him.

  ‘Callum? Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, smiling into the questioning blue eyes. ‘Never better.’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Oh where has Callum got to?’ Sophia realised she was wringing her hands and made herself stop before she split the seams on her fragile kid gloves. ‘In fifteen minutes people will start to arrive!’

  ‘He said he had forgotten something and had gone back to Half Moon Street,’ the Earl of Flamborough said. Will leaned on the banister and looked down into the hall of his town house in Cavendish Square from the sweep of landing outside the ballroom. ‘He can’t be much longer. If the worst comes to the worst I’ll head the receiving line with you and tell them all he has been rushed to the dentist.’

  As she knew he intended, her brother-in-law’s nonsense made her laugh. ‘Oh, Will! What would Julia say to you deserting her?’

  ‘My betrothed would immediately find another man to flirt with, never fear—but there, you see? Here he is.’

  And there, to her relief, was Callum indeed, entering in a dramatic swirl of black and crimson as his evening cloak caught the draught from the open door. He handed a mysteriously large parcel to a footman, was relieved of hat, cloak, gloves and cane by another and then stood in the middle of the hall, tipped back his head and looked up at her. ‘There you are.’

  ‘There you are,’ Sophia retorted. ‘Will was fabricating tales to explain your absence.’

  ‘There is something I wanted to show Will that I forgot when you bundled me out of the house after luncheon. It can wait, we’ll discuss it when we are recovering after the guests go home.’ Callum ran up the stairs two at a time as though he could not wait to be at her side and she indulged that romantic little fantasy for a moment.

  ‘So it was my fault?’ she enquired archly as he arrived at her side. Oh, but he looked handsome and just a trifle tousled with one lock of hair falling over his forehead. She put up her hand to push it back and he caught it and brought her fingertips to his cheek.

  ‘Of course it is your fault,’ Callum said, his voice husky. ‘You befuddle my brain, my love. Turn around.’

  Obedient, Sophia turned. No doubt a hairpin had come loose. She was almost used to Callum calling her his love. It was nonsense to attach any significance to it, it was simply a term of endearment. ‘What are you doing?’ He was removing her pearl earrings, her necklace. ‘Callum!’ Then something cold touched her neck and he turned her to face the mirrored wall beside the door and she saw the necklace, the heart reflecting blue fire as it lay cushioned on her breast. ‘Oh!’

  ‘Stand still, these are tricky.’ With more delicacy than she could have expected he threaded the earrings into her ears. ‘There.’ He delved into his pocket. ‘And the bracelets.’ Callum turned her around again.

  His hands slipped down from fastening the bracelets and caught her fingers in his, his head still bent. She looked down at the thick dark hair, the vulnerable nape of his neck, the broad shoulders and wanted to cry, and to kiss him and to shout to the whole house that she loved him. Instead she said, her voice shaking a little. ‘They are so beautiful. Callum, thank you.’

  He looked up and she thought she would drown in his gaze, deep and green and intense. ‘No more beautiful than your eyes,’ he murmured. ‘Sophia, I—’

  ‘Lord, here’s the first coach.’ Will appeared on the landing beside them. ‘Most unfashionably early—they must have heard the lobster patties wouldn’t go round.’

  ‘Will!’ Lady Julia Gray joined him, shaking her head at his levity. ‘We had better … Oh my goodness, Sophia, what wonderful sapphires!’

  ‘Callum has just given them to me,’ she explained with pride as Will took his brother’s arm and started organising them into a receiving line.

  ‘You here, Sophia here. Me here. Julia next to me. Walker, tell the musicians to start playing. Right, Mrs Chatterton, your first reception is about to begin. Good luck—you look ravishing.’

  ‘Thank you, Will.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you for everything.’ For being so kind all these years, for accepting me, for being there for Callum.

  And then the front door opened and people began to come in and Sophia was swept up in the need to smile and shake hands and pretend that she remembered everyone. She even managed to smile when Mrs Hickson stopped dead, stared at the sapphires and exclaimed, ‘Well! Those sapphires!’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with a sweet smile. ‘Are they not the loveliest thing? My husband spoils me.’ She looked up and he smiled a smile that curled her toes in her silver-kid slippers. What had he been going to say when Will interrupted them?

  ‘Humph,’ said Mrs Hickson and moved on to shake hands with the earl.

  By the time the line of guests had become a trickle Sophia knew that she was presiding over a considerable success. It might be out of Season, but there were enough fashionable people in London who were eager for entertainment to create a mo
st respectable crush. The reopening of the Flamborough town house was a draw, of course, and so was the appearance of Lady Julia as Will’s betrothed. Will had craftily left the great doors at the far end of the ballroom closed to create a slightly smaller space and the card tables had been set up in the room thus created.

  The string-and-woodwind band created a perfect tuneful background to the babble of voices, Callum had not stinted on the wine and it was easy to avoid the ladies that Sophia thought of as the Spiteful Starlings. She was, she realised, floating on a happy cloud and it was not the one glass of champagne that she had drunk that was creating that feeling.

  Callum had given her a parure of the most beautiful jewels. They were lovely gems, but, most important to her, he had chosen them carefully for this evening. He had looked at her as though he … as though … She could not bring herself to think the words, but she could hope.

  Will’s servants were experienced and the footmen circulated smoothly with the wine and in the card room. When Sophia peeped into the ladies’ retiring room the maids were calmly dealing with torn hems and a fainting fit. The butler assured her gravely that all was in hand in the supper room. Feeling alarmingly matronly Sophia circulated, steering shy wallflowers into conversations, listening to the latest on dit that she hardly understood from gossiping dowagers and nudging gauche youths towards the young ladies who were inclined to giggle at them.

  Sophia stopped to fix a foliage spray in a flower arrangement and catch her breath. Hands caught her around the waist and pulled her back against a warm, hard body.

  ‘Mrs Chatterton,’ Callum breathed in her ear. ‘Your reception is a great success. Allow me a congratulatory kiss.’

  ‘Mr Chatterton …’ His mouth was warm and possessive and quite indecently demanding, considering that they were screened only by a large flower display and a pillar. When he raised his head Sophia saw the same sensual delight in his eyes as she knew was in her own. ‘Callum, thank you so much.’

  ‘For the sapphires? It is my pleasure.’

  ‘For them, of course. They are beautiful and it is such a thoughtful gift. But for everything. For marrying me. I was so grudging, so awkward when you asked me. I hope I can make you as happy as you have made me.’

  ‘You have made me very happy.’ Callum took her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘I hope we can make each other happier yet.’

  What did he mean? Children? Or whatever he had been about to say when Will interrupted? Her conscience gave a little jab. Tomorrow she must confess about Ackermann’s. But he admired her drawing, had said himself she should be published. Callum would be proud.

  ‘So do I,’ she said. He released her hand and she looked around. ‘We must go and mingle, it will be supper soon.’

  The supper room was set out with small tables for two and four and six. ‘Let’s go and sit with Will and Julia,’ Callum said. ‘I think my capacity for mindless chatter has expired, at least until I have had something to eat.’

  They wove through the seats and tables, smiling and nodding. Sophia even managed a gracious smile for Lady Piercebridge sitting with her husband and Mr and Mrs Hickson close to Will’s table, which was in the far corner.

  ‘Come and enjoy your triumph,’ Will said, pouring champagne. ‘I’ve told the footman to bring a platter of assorted savouries. This is going very well. Do you know, I even saw Lord Eagleton in positively amiable conversation with Great-Uncle Sylvester and I’d have sworn they haven’t spoken in ten years. Yes, Paul, what is it?’

  Sophia glanced up to find a footman standing holding a parcel.

  ‘I am very sorry, my lord. Sanderson on the door says Mr Chatterton went out in a hurry to get this just before the guests arrived and it quite slipped his mind. He overheard Mr Chatterton saying it was for your lordship. I thought I had best bring it straight up in case it was needed.’

  ‘What the devil is it?’ the earl asked.

  Callum said, ‘No, no, not for now, for later. Take it—’

  But the footman, his attention on his master, not on Callum, unfurled the wrapping paper and placed two portfolios on the table.

  Sophia gasped. Not only the portfolio she had given to Callum to look at, full of harmless drawings of flowers and scenes from the park, but the old one, with Ackermann’s card and receipt for her work and the caricatures and the other sketches she had pushed in there and hidden under her sofa.

  ‘I was going to show you these later, Will. They are Sophia’s and I remembered that printer who did such a good job of Grandmama’s watercolours for a private family edition.’ He glanced at her as she sat frozen, staring at the battered old black folder. ‘I found the green one on the side and then I hit this with my foot—it must have slid under the sofa, which does not say much for the frequency with which the carpets are brushed.’

  ‘But I—’ Suddenly galvanized, she reached for the incriminating folder, her hand hitting Will’s as he, too, leaned across for it. A full glass of wine tilted, Lady Julia made a grab for it and knocked the folder with her elbow. It slid to the floor, the tattered front cover fell off and the papers inside fanned out in a great drift.

  In the centre rested the large nude study of Callum, asleep, as exposed as his body had been in reality. Lady Julia gave a small gasp and stared. The ladies at the Hicksons’ table were transfixed. A small flurry of caricature prints landed at the feet of Mrs Hickson and she picked them up, her eyes still on Callum’s explicitly naked body. A pen-and-ink study fluttered on to the table before her and she glanced at it, then stared and gave a squawk of outrage. ‘Maud, look! It is us! As starlings!’

  Lady Piercebridge looked from the paper she was holding directly at Sophia. ‘This is a receipt! Mrs Chatterton is selling drawings to Ackermann. The wicked creature is selling libellous caricatures of us!’

  The disturbance in their corner was attracting notice from all around the room. Callum fell to his knees, swept the tumbled papers together and hissed at Will, ‘Get them out of here, for heaven’s sake!’

  Will was on his feet. ‘Cousin Georgia, Lady Piercebridge, do come through to my study, I am sure there is nothing to be concerned about.’ He shot a look at Lady Julia who, with admirable composure, moved to the nearest occupied table and sat down.

  ‘Oh dear, what a to-do! A foolish practical joke by one of Flamborough’s younger cousins that has completely misfired. Such a naughty drawing! I declare I will be blushing until tomorrow.’ There was laughter and Sophia realised that no one else, except the footman who was looking scandalised, had actually seen what had come out of the folder.

  Callum stood up. ‘Come with me,’ he hissed and followed Will, his arms full of portfolios and papers. As soon as they were out into the corridor he demanded, ‘What have you done? The truth.’

  ‘I sold some perfectly innocent drawings to Mr Ackermann for a memorandum book, to be used anonymously,’ Sophia said. Her voice teetered on the edge of hysteria and she wrapped her arms around her body, hanging on while she fought for composure. ‘I bought the prints and I copied the style, because those old cats said such horrible things about me, but I swear I haven’t sold anything to anyone, only those little sketches to Ackermann. I was going to tell you tomorrow.’

  Callum’s eyes were dark with anger, his face as rigidly controlled as she had ever seen it. ‘Have you any idea how serious this is? It may be the ruin of you. Why the hell couldn’t you tell me what you were going to do? Do you trust me so little?’

  Despite his anger and her own distress, Sophia could read the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal. She had not simply failed to trust him with a secret, she had struck at his honour and his career by her actions. ‘Callum, I am—’

  ‘They will say that you are a professional,’ he swept on, ignoring her words and her outstretched hand. ‘They will say that I knew about what you were doing—I can hardly deny it, can I, not with my body on display for the entire world to see? And to add to the general humiliation, the word will go around that I need my
wife’s earnings as an artist to support us. You had better get out there and circulate as though nothing has happened. Can you do that?’

  It could ruin him, too, she knew that even if he did not say it. A wife who was disgraced, exposed as a professional artist with the suspicion that she was selling scandalous prints, would be more than a liability to a man with his feet on the precarious ladder of success. The Company demanded high standards and good judgement. What did it say about Callum’s judgement that he had married her, allowed her such scandalous freedom?

  ‘Yes. Of course. I can manage. Callum, I am so sorry.’

  ‘It is a little late for that,’ he said grimly and strode off down the corridor.

  She could not faint now, or weep. The only way she could help Callum was to put on a mask and follow Lady Julia’s lead. Sophia took a deep, shuddering breath, fixed a smile on her lips and opened the door.

  Dita, Alistair, Averil and Luc were sitting at Will’s table laughing. As soon as they saw her they gestured for her to join them and Alistair fetched a chair.

  ‘Sophia, dear! Such a lovely evening,’ Dita said, then dropped her voice. ‘What on earth is wrong? We caught some of it—we were sitting just behind Mrs Hickson.’

  ‘And I’ve got my foot on a sketch of some kind.’ Luc bent down and picked up a rectangle of paper covered in pencil studies. A man’s hand, a bare foot, his torso and—Luc slapped his large hand over it as Dita said, with some interest, ‘Is that Callum? My goodness.’

  ‘Yes, it is. Thank you.’ Luc folded the paper and slid it across to Sophia. She stuffed it into her reticule. ‘I sold some little sketches to Ackermann’s for a memorandum book, just innocent flower and landscape studies. But Callum didn’t know what I had done and he brought my portfolio to show Will without telling me and he picked up the one I thought I had hidden and that idiot of a footman brought it to Will and it got dropped and …’

  ‘And now the fat really is in the fire,’ Dita said. ‘How can we help? Will’s Lady Julia is doing an excellent job of spreading a story about a practical joke by the young men and naughty sketches, so we’ll support that. Do you want to go home? We’ll take you.’