Deciding not to press, Ives nodded, and murmured, “I always thought that it was a magical place whenever I came to visit as a boy. I certainly never thought to own it.”
“It must have been very hard to lose so many of your family in such a tragic fashion. A boating accident, wasn’t it?”
A muscle bunched in Ives’s jaw. “Yes. The result of a wager.”
Sophy’s heart sank. If she needed confirmation that reckless gambling ran in Ives’s blood and that his recent actions were not just a passing whim, his words had given it to her. A wager. Every male of his family, except for Ives himself, lost because of a silly wager. How often had she heard Simon and Edward boasting of the ridiculous wagers they had made? The huge sums of money lost on the turn of a card, the speed of a horse, or the flight of a fly had caused her many a sleepless night. Was she doomed to repeat that experience?
Just when the silence would have become uncomfortable, Ives said, “You have had your share of tragedies, too, haven’t you?”
She glanced at him, questions in her eyes.
“Your father’s death. Your husband’s sudden death. Edward’s murder.” Very deliberately he added, “The men in your life all seem to suffer untimely ends.”
“What do you mean by that?” she demanded, snatching her hand from his.
“Why, nothing. I was only commenting on a curious fact.”
Eyes blazing, she stood up. “I had nothing to do with Simon’s death and I did not murder my uncle!”
Ives smiled crookedly. “I believe you, sweetheart. I would not have married you otherwise.”
“Thank you very much for that!” she spat, not a bit appeased. Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you marry me? Besides your need for an heir, that is. Why did you so gallantly provide me with an alibi? Could it be that you had something to hide? How do I know that it wasn’t you who hit me on the head and murdered my uncle?”
Ives scowled. “Don’t be a fool!” he snapped. “I had no reason to murder your uncle.”
“And how do I know that?” she asked angelically. “Am I to take only your word for it?”
“Dash it all, Sophy! I am no murderer. You cannot believe such a thing of me,” Ives protested angrily.
“Being thought capable of murder is not very pleasant, is it?” she said quietly.
“No, it is not,” Ives growled. “I should not have spoken as I did. It was a stupid comment to have made. Forgive me?”
Sophy sighed. “There is nothing to forgive. Simon’s death was an accident, but there have always been those that believed I pushed him down the stairs. And why not? I had fired a pistol at him only moments before. For those that believe I have murdered once and gotten away with it, Edward’s death is just another example of what a clever murderess I am.” She smiled sadly. “I am quite certain that there are already wagers being laid in the clubs on the length of your life now that you have married me.”
Standing up, Ives pulled her into his arms. His cheek resting on her hair, he said softly, “Then I shall just have to live a very long time. And we shall just have to discover who murdered Edward ourselves, won’t we? And prove them all wrong.”
Hope suddenly flickering across her features, she glanced up at him. “Can we actually do that? Find the murderer?”
He smiled down at her. “Together,” he said softly as his mouth caught hers, “we can do anything.”
It was several minutes later before Sophy emerged flushed and breathless from his embrace. With trembling fingers she patted the spangled ribbon in her hair and said with little indication of the rioting emotions within her, “I hope that you are right. Finding the person who murdered Edward will not be easy.”
“Hmm. I dare say. But do not forget, we have a clue that no one else does,” Ives replied easily, his mind more on the sweetness of Sophy’s kiss than on what he was saying.
“The note?”
Ives nodded. “That tells us that Edward was clearly attempting to blackmail someone.” He grinned at her. “We just have to discover who.”
A little frown creased Sophy’s forehead. “The night Edward was murdered, Agnes Weatherby mentioned to me that he had some scheme he had concocted to shore up his finances. She told me quite openly that he no longer intended to pursue Anne’s fortune, that he had come up with something else.”
It was Ives’s turn to frown. “That’s a bit of information you never mentioned before, and I find it rather illuminating. I think,” he said quietly, “that upon our return to town, a private conversation with Miss Agnes Weatherby might be our first order of business.”
Sophy nodded. “I agree. Edward’s murder aside, something of a more permanent nature must be done about Anne.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “You are going to let me continue to act as her guardian, are you not?”
He grinned. “I would not dare attempt to stand in your way. In fact, I already had every intention of speaking to my own solicitor about the pair of us becoming her legal guardians. You might,” he drawled, “even find that being married to me has some advantages when we confront Miss Weatherby about Anne’s future.”
Sophy made a face at him, and he laughed out loud as they continued their stroll. The stables came into view, and the subject was dropped.
Stopping to admire a pasture full of sleek, long-limbed horses near one of the main buildings, Sophy asked, “Do you raise your own stock?”
“I plan to,” Ives replied. “My cousin, Adrian, was an expert horseman. As I understand it, in the months just prior to his death, he had convinced my uncle that starting their own stud farm would be both practical and profitable.” His gaze suddenly bleak and his voice heavy, he added, “Along with everything else, I found that I had inherited a sizable band of broodmares and several exceptional stallions. None of the mares were bred last year because of the deaths and the uncertainty about what I planned to do.”
His eyes on the grazing horses, he said softly, “I have always enjoyed horses myself and while I am not the horseman my cousin was, I feel that he left me an excellent start. I owe it to him to at least see if his dream is attainable.” He smiled down at Sophy. “And so, madam wife, unless we come a cropper, we are going to be in the business of raising horses. You see before you the start of the Harrington Stud, and Adrian’s dream.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Sophy said, her eyes soft as she gazed at his hard profile.
Ives shrugged. “Not exactly. My man of business tells me that it will be extremely profitable. Adrian had assembled only the best, and there have already been inquiries from several mare owners who wish to breed to our stallions. The foals that were born last year did extremely well at the sales, and the market for the foal crop next year, so my man tells me, should be even better.”
The remainder of the day passed pleasantly, and it was only when she began to dress for dinner that the knot in Sophy’s stomach reappeared. Last night had been a revelation to her. With Simon the act of lovemaking had always been a degrading experience, but in Ives’s arms she had discovered that it did not have to be so. To her amazement, she had learned that much pleasure could be had from simply touching, that the brush of another’s lips could fill one with wild, exciting emotions, and the joining of male and female could arouse powerful sensations, thrilling sensations that had nothing to do with degradation and everything to do with pleasure.
Still, Sophy did not trust those stunning and unpredictable emotions. She did not like being out of control. Though the pleasure had been intense, it had frightened her to be at the mercy of such powerful sensations, sensations that overrode coherent thought, that banished reality and left her awash in a sea of primitive demands—demands that only Ives seemed capable of fulfilling.
To her dismay, a little stab of anticipation went through her at the knowledge that Ives would come to her bed again tonight. Would his lovemaking sweep her away as it had last night? Thinking of last night and of the pleasure that had been hers, an aching warmth suddenly flooded
her lower body, and she was astonished. Not once in all the years of her marriage to Simon had she looked forward to his possession with anything but revulsion. Yet in one night Ives seemed to have banished many of those old ugly emotions.
But not all of them, she reminded herself, unable to deny that while one part of her responded uncontrollably to him, there was another part of her that was wary and suspicious, not only of him, but of her own reactions to him. Until she trusted him, she would be on her guard.
Last night, she thought uneasily, could have been a mere aberration. Tonight, she realized, as she prepared to join Ives for dinner, could be vastly different. Tonight he could come to her with the same brutal, careless cruelty that Simon had practiced.
Ives was aware of the change in Sophy’s manner the moment she entered the room. The wariness that had been absent for most of the day had returned, and he sighed. He had not expected that one night in his arms would allay all her fears, but he had hoped that he had made some progress. From the way her gaze slid nervously from his and the way she politely avoided his touch, it appeared he was wrong.
She did not deny him, though. Later that night, after they had dined and spent an increasingly tense evening playing a few hands of cards, when Ives came to her, she did not repulse his advances. But he was aware every moment of the need to proceed cautiously. She was like a wary animal ready to burst into flight at the first hint of danger. He wooed her and gentled her as he had the previous evening and their eventual mating was every bit as sweet, as explosively powerful as it had been the first time.
Though it went against his own desires, after several minutes of lazy kissing and lingering caresses, he left her and headed for his own cold, lonely bed. He would have been cheered to know that Sophy watched his departure with mixed emotions, relief and an odd regret that he would not remain with her throughout the night.
On Wednesday, Ives took Sophy to meet several of the tenants and their families. Seeing the neat farms and well-kept cottages, the smiling faces of the residents, the way entire families would rush to envelop their gig when they arrived, laughing and eager to speak and meet with the lord’s new lady, she could not help but remember the disgraceful state of Simon’s farms and the sour, bitter faces of his tenants. Ives was obviously a good steward of both the land and the people who farmed it. And that night when he came to her, as she lost herself in the dizzying passion he seemed to rouse so easily, she admitted that he seemed to be a good steward to his wife, plowing strongly into her and sowing his seed deeply....
It had been decided that they would return to London on Thursday, and so, the next morning, there was quite a bustle about the house. Early that morning, her trunks were repacked and, along with Ashby and Peggy, sent on their way to London. After a leisurely breakfast, Sophy and Ives set out for London a few hours later.
The return trip to London was very different from the journey out. Sophy was relaxed and, while not comfortable in her marriage, at least not fearful. Her mistrust was still alive, but her fears of the marriage bed had been greatly diminished. In fact, to her growing consternation, she was discovering that she actually looked forward with growing relish to her husband’s nightly visits. To her chagrin and no little dismay, memories of their lovemaking had the disconcerting habit of suddenly popping into her mind when she least expected it, making her breasts tingle and a damp heat surge in her loins.
There were many practical things to talk about on their ride to London and by the time the outskirts of the city came into view, they had decided upon several things. It would be simpler and less disruptive if Ives, and those members of his staff he deemed vital to him, removed to the Grayson town house on Grosvenor Square. His own house would be shut up and the staff sent back to Harrington Chase.
Edward’s death had changed the entire outlook for Marcus and Phoebe. Ives was confident that he and Sophy would be named trustees of her father’s estate, and the problem of Edward’s raids on the remaining Grayson fortune would be halted. Marcus, with Ives and Sophy’s help, could finally learn how to handle the reins of his vast estate.
Life for Phoebe would continue as it was for now. In due course she could make her debut into society, and Sophy was quite positive that she would make an excellent match. As she told Ives, Phoebe possessed not only a pretty face and delightful manner, but a huge fortune, even after Edward’s depredations were taken into account. It was understood between them that Phoebe would live with them and Anne at Harrington Chase. Marcus, Ives had murmured, would of course, always be welcome to join them.
Arrangements for when they left London, which would be occurring in less than a month, were a bit more tricky. It was unlikely that Marcus would be willing to abandon Gatewood for an indefinite period of time and live with them at Harrington Chase. At nineteen, Ives and Sophy agreed, he was too young to be simply turned loose on the estate with no family or guardian for company.
Ives considered the problem for several miles, then said slowly, “I see that for the next few years, we shall have to divide our time between Harrington Chase and Gatewood. It is the only solution. I cannot abandon my own home, and yet I cannot in fairness expect Marcus to abandon his. What do you think? Will it suffice?”
Her heart full, Sophy had merely nodded, too moved by his thoughtfulness to speak.
Their arrival at Berkeley Square was greeted with great fanfare; the coach had barely halted and Sophy helped down, when the front doors were thrown wide and Marcus, Phoebe, Anne, and even Lady Beckworth tumbled down the steps to greet them like the commonest inhabitants of London.
Laughing at their exuberant greetings, Sophy and Ives were swept into the house, everyone talking at once. Her eyes smiling, Sophy said, “My goodness! If I had known that just a few days’ absence would arouse such enthusiasm for my presence, I would have left you more often.”
Marcus grinned at her. “We have missed you,” he said, “but that is not why we are so relieved that you are home.” His eyes suddenly lit with excitement. “Sophy! It is the most famous thing! A robber broke into the house last night!”
Chapter Twelve
“A robber!” Sophy repeated, aghast, her smile fading. “You must be bamming me.”
“Oh, no, he is not,” chimed in Lady Beckworth, her plump cheeks quivering with indignation. “A robber did break into the house! Only the fact that Marcus was unable to sleep and had gotten up to go to the library for a book saved us, I am sure, from being murdered in our beds.”
Frowning, Ives herded everyone out of the main hallway and into the sitting room. “What happened?” he asked Marcus.
His eyes shining, Marcus said excitedly, “I was just going down the hall when I noticed a light coming from beneath Sophy’s bedroom door. It was deucedly strange. I could not think of a reason for a candle to have been left burning in her room, but I never suspected a robber, I can tell you! And he never expected me either! I do not know which one of us was more astonished when I opened the door—I was simply going to snuff out the candle and go on my way—when I found myself staring at a fellow wearing a black domino and a mask. He was in the act of sweeping some of Sophy’s crystal perfume bottles into a sack, and before I had time to think, he had snuffed out the light and flung himself at me, bowling me over.”
Marcus unconsciously rubbed his temple, and closer examination revealed a slight bruising. “He swung the sack at my head and hit me so hard, I nearly passed out.” Marcus looked crestfallen. “By the time I righted myself and my head cleared, he was gone.”
“How very, very interesting,” Ives said thoughtfully. “Do you know for certain if anything was stolen?”
“Not very much that we can tell,” Marcus replied. “Emerson and the housekeeper had the servants check. They discovered a few things missing—a small pair of silver bowls and a silver candelabra from the dining room, and several of the jeweled snuffboxes from Father’s collection in the library.” He looked apologetically across at Sophy. “But Sophy, your room is a sh
ambles! We can only guess that I surprised him before he had time to go more thoroughly through the rest of the house.”
“Has Sophy’s room been straightened already?” Ives asked sharply.
An uncertain expression crossed Marcus’s face. “No. The maids were just starting to do that when your man, Ashby, arrived. When he heard the news, he asked me to stop the servants and to lock the doors to Sophy’s rooms. Said you would like to see it just as it is.”
Ives smiled. “One can tell a great deal by viewing the, er, remains.”
“But how did he get in?” Sophy asked, her features still shocked. “Have you been able to discover that?”
It was Lady Beckworth who answered. “Oh, indeed we have, my dear. The door to the conservatory was found standing wide-open, the key on the ground. One of the servants must have forgotten to lock it last night before we retired for the night, although they have all denied doing it.” She shuddered delicately. “To think that we might all have been murdered because of such a little oversight.”
“Have you sent word to Bow Street?” Ives inquired.
Marcus shook his head. “No. Again, it was Ashby who suggested we wait until you and Sophy had returned.”
Ives nodded. “Very good. I shall see to it, but for now, I suppose we should view the damage.”
Flanked by Phoebe and Anne, who each held tightly to one of her hands, Sophy followed Lady Beckworth up the stairs. Ives and Marcus were right behind them.
“Oh, Sophy,” Phoebe began in quivering tones, “I am so glad that you are home! When Lady Beckworth woke us and told us what had happened, Anne and I were terrified. To think that a robber was actually in the house!”
Holding on to Sophy’s other hand with a death grip, Anne blurted out, “We were so scared! Once your brother had awakened Emerson and the footman, and they had searched the premises to make certain the intruder was gone, I was too frightened to go back to my own room. Phoebe felt the same even after Marcus assured us that we were safe. Lady Beckworth kindly let us sleep with her for the rest of the night.”
For Love Alone Page 19