“I take one taste of what I have been without and everything I learned disintegrates.”
Lavinia lifted a brow. “Are you talking about the tea?”
“Not just.” Sophia’s droll smile felt heavy on her lips.
The door swung open, revealing the duchess and the dowager. Sophia set down her tea as Thea rushed toward her with open arms.
“Dear, dear Scandal,” Thea said, drawing Sophia close, “you have returned.”
“To hear,” Sophia said, “you betrayed my trust.”
Thea drew back and eyed Sophia with her haughtiest Duchess expression. “As you are breathing and in one piece, I would say we did the right thing.”
Emma, the Dowager Duchess and kind, former-madam, drew Sophia into a second embrace. “Harrison wrote you’d been hiding among Quakers.” Emma laughed. “Now that is what I call a scandal.”
“One former Quaker.” Whose presence she already missed. “The others were a mottled collection of humanity.”
“Fascinating.” Emma invited them all to sit. “Tell us more.”
Sophia made a quick tale of her flight—the disguises, the stops, the encounter with Polly.
“Yes,” the dowager said. “Polly has been acting as Thea’s maid.”
“Thank you.” Sophia exhaled. “At least someone has benefitted from my folly.”
She went onto describe the farm, the attack, and her unwilling ingestion of laudanum. When she finished, Thea and Lavinia exchanged glances.
Lavinia cleared her throat. “Are you sure you’ve told the whole?”
Sophia nodded.
“Well,” Lavinia said, “What happened between you and Randolph before the attack and the laudanum is not quite clear.”
Sophia raised her brows. “I know.”
“Leave her be.” Thea shook her head at Lavinia. “Not every man can be your Max. Randolph is a lying rogue and he deceived her—what more do we need to know?”
Lavinia folded her arms. “Do you not remember Randolph’s expression? He loves her—I would swear on my life.”
Thea flashed an annoyed expression. “I will only admit he displayed genuine distress.”
“I fear…” Sophia dropped her eyes to her lap. What, exactly did she fear?
“No matter what you fear, you are the bravest woman I know,” Lavinia said. “You always said the earl wouldn’t allow—“
“Goddamn the earl.” Years of carefully locked frustration snapped.
Lavinia drew back in surprise.
“Sophia,” Thea asked, “what aren’t you telling us?”
“How much did Hugh” —Sophia cleared her throat— “Randolph reveal?”
Lavinia and Thea exchanged a raised-brow glance. “He said the man they called Kasai had agents seen in London and they would come after you.”
Sophia rose from her seat and walked to the window. The bustle down below soothed. “True. The earl used his talent for ruthless diplomacy for the East India Company. He made enemies. What is more, Randolph trained under the earl.”
“Ah,” Thea said. “When Randolph said your father was in diplomatic service, he meant your father was a spy—and Randolph is a spy as well.”
Sophia nodded. “I shackled myself to the embodiment of everything I loathe.”
“Oh, Sophia,” Lavinia said.
Sophia held up her hand. “No pity. Please.”
“If pity you reject,” Emma said, “How do you feel about action?”
Sophia turned. “I am listening.”
“Wynchester’s brother is alive,” Thea said. “And Wynchester does not yet know.”
Sophia cocked her head. “Lord Eustace? Alive? But how?” And why the hell hadn’t Randolph told her?
Lavinia explained. “Max and Sullivan recognized Lord Eustace when they saw him at the brothel the night I went to confront that bastard who accused me of killing my husband. Lord Eustace was traveling as translator with an emissary of Kasai’s. The emissary was later found dead.”
“Traveling with Kasai’s emissary? No one simply travels with an emissary of Kasai.”
“Especially,” Lavinia said, “when the emissary was the guard Max thought he had seen murder Lord Eustace.”
“Staged death.” Sophia’s neck tingled. If Kasai was English, who was to say Lord Eustace was merely a translator…
“Will you tell me what you know of Lord Eustace’s character?” she asked Thea.
Emma and Thea mirrored one another’s dark expressions.
“Wynchester,” Thea said, “was blind to Eustace’s nature; I was not. Lord Eustace is without conscience or shame.”
Sophia returned to the grouping of chairs to kneel eye-level with the duchess and dowager. “Is Lord Eustace smart and brutal enough to take on the identity of a butchering mercenary?”
Thea blinked, and then blinked again. “What are you saying, Sophia?”
“I am not saying; I am speculating.” Her heartbeat sped nonetheless.
“There were,” Emma wrapped her arms around her waist, “stories about Lord Eustace. Accusations made by the village children.” Her eyes shadowed. “Horrible accusations, but never any proof.”
“I knew none of that,” Thea said.
“My duke,” the dowager said, “paid reparations and asked for silence.”
Thea took a deep breath and turned to Sophia. “Lord Eustace subjected me to sly taunts and subtle slander. One night, after I suffered a spectacular gaming loss, Lord Eustace accused me of theft—his word against mine. The theft was severe enough to force Wynchester to choose between his one, living heir, and the wife who could bear him his next. He sent Lord Eustace to India. But Wynchester never fully believed me—his choice was solely calculated on propagation of the name. Lord Eustace’s death has haunted him.”
“If Lord Eustace returns,” Sophia said, “Wynchester will have his much-desired heir.”
Thea nodded. “Between Wynchester’s guilt about sending his brother to his death and the joy of his brother’s miraculous restoration, I fear Lord Eustace will have Wynchester utterly at his mercy.”
“And Lord Eustace,” Sophia added, “will have access to the highest levels of government.”
“I cannot allow Lord Eustace to influence Wynchester,” Thea said. “We’ve been devising a way for me to return without thoroughly sacrificing my pride.”
Sophia grasped Thea’s hands. “Would you do that?”
“Should anything happen to Wynchester, Lord Eustace will become the Duke and both Emma and myself will be at his mercy.”
“Yes, I understand,” Sophia said, her gaze boring into Thea’s. “But are you willing to return—for Wynchester’s sake?”
The resolve in Thea’s eyes dissolved. She looked as lost as Sophia had ever seen.
“Many would suffer with Lord Eustace at the helm of the dukedom. My fear cannot be the reason he wins.” She swallowed. “I must try.”
Sophia had always believed Thea and the Duke would come back together. Just a few days ago, her reaction would have been hopeful joy. Thea’s bleak look was one she now understood. She’d felt the same the moment she’d become aware of the laudanum.
“I should tell you something.” Thea took a deep breath. “The day the duke and Max dispersed the rioters outside Vaile house, we kissed. It was” —she cleared her throat— “pleasant. But too much had happened for me to return. He acceded almost against his will to my request we stay with Emma. If I arrived, baggage in tow, a few days—or weeks—before he finds out about Lord Eustace, he would be more than a little suspicious.”
“So,” Lavinia picked up Thea’s trailing explanation, “our idea is a Fury soiree. The duke will be invited and Thea will challenge him to a wager. She will do everything she can to let him win.”
Sophia closed her eyes and leaned back against the chair. “I believe I should acquaint you with a pair of my father’s dice.”
The discreet knock of Emma’s butler sounded on the door.
“Enter,�
� Emma called.
“An afternoon report on His Grace has been delivered.”
Thea straightened her skirts. “Go on.”
“A morning appointment with his secretary. Entertained a minister of Parliament from Blackwood. Spent the afternoon at his club, and returned home” He cleared his throat, “readied for sleep.”
“Drink,” Lavinia mouthed.
“His plans for tomorrow?” Thea asked.
“A meeting with Lord Randolph is first on his schedule.
Randolph’s name was a hot rod to Sophia’ spine. “A meeting with Randolph? When?”
“Do not,” Lavinia said, “even consider confronting Randolph. Wynchester will find out Thea is getting reports on his whereabouts.”
“I’ve always received reports—to prevent the scandal of a public meeting. I’ve merely asked for more detail.” Thea turned to the servant. “To know who is coming and going in your own house is only natural. Is it natural?”
The butler exchanged looks with Emma before answering.
“No, Your Grace.”
“That will be all for now,” Emma said.
The butler nodded and backed out of the room.
“Do you wish to confront Randolph?” Emma asked.
Sophia sipped her tea to stifle an over-fast answer. He’d given her laudanum and sent her away without warning. Did she need any more evidence to prove he had not fully remade himself in Earl Baneham’s image?
On the other hand, he’d taken her gown—a gesture revealing a surprising predilection to sentiment. What exactly was going on in his devious, plotting, unscrupulous, magnificently dear mind?
Lavinia turned back to the duchess. “Thea—if someone asked you a month ago whether or not Randolph would spend nearly a month on a Quaker farm, what would you have said?”
“I would have suggested the person toddle along straight to Bedlam.”
“Randolph is a master of lies and subterfuge,” Sophia said. And tenderness and passion.
Lavinia chimed in. “Perhaps he had to play a part for his mission.”
Thea leaned forward. “Having good reason for an action, does not excuse a lack of character.”
“I,” Lavinia said quietly, “have actions to my name I would like to disown. Don’t you?”
“We all do, dear,” Emma said, patting Lavinia’s knee.
“Your situation is different,” Thea said.
“Different how?” Lavinia asked.
“Just different.”
“Different,” Lavinia challenged, “because you love me and because you seek to understand why I made the choices I made.”
Why had Randolph made the choices he had made? Sophia felt a prickling feeling on her forearms. In her mind, she heard Randolph as if he were seated at her side: I am in unchartered waters. Perhaps he did not share the earl’s bad qualities, but he shared the earl’s weakness. She sat down her cup. Her.
Could it be—her heart swelled full and painful—Randolph had fallen in love? Could it be that by drugging her and sending her back to the Furies he thought he was answering her plea to let her go?
“I don’t like the look in your eye,” Thea said.
Emma glanced to Thea with a scowl. “Because you have not forgiven Wynchester, does not give you leave to encourage Sophia to share the same burden.”
“Enough, Emma.” Thea rose. “Excuse me.”
Emma prevented Lavinia from rising as Thea left.
“I will go,” Emma said. “If her return to Wynchester is to succeed, she must face things she has kept locked away.” Emma turned a knowing gaze on Sophia. “To you, I will say love is a great deal of trouble. You are only in true trouble if love comes without challenge and sacrifice.”
Sophia slumped back in the chair. If only she’d been right from the start. If only love did not exist at all.
Chapter Fourteen
Baneham’s Rules for Winning
“Always listen. Especially when the enemy is unaware.”
By Sophia’s calculation, Randolph would be occupied with Wynchester for at least three hours. She had timed her visit to her home on the Thames accordingly. She’d come by barge, and two hulking footmen were stationed just inside the servant’s entrance while the boat and oarsmen waited on the shore. Even if Kasai was watching, he would take no note of a grey-clad servant.
Her precautions had been unnecessary. The house was quiet and sealed. If her father’s enemies intended to search the house again, they had not yet bothered. And, since her servants were to return tomorrow to begin soiree preparations, now was all she had. She shivered. Despite the outside warmth, weeks of neglect had taken their toll. The house was dark and damp.
She had done a great deal of thinking in the night—and a great deal of planning, too.
Randolph had been wrong to drug her. Very wrong.
As she had been wrong to run. But when confronted with her folly, Randolph had said, I almost understand. She had decided she owed him the same courtesy. Her talk with Emma and the Furies had set her on the journey to understanding.
…And, the sights, so far, had not been comforting.
The only thing her long, restless night had made clear was a resolution to do everything she could to bring the Earl’s twisted game to an end. Which meant—she placed her hands on her hips—if Baneham had hidden something in this study, she would find it today.
She fixed her gaze on the elaborate ceiling. When the earl had commissioned the house, cherubs were common décor. The earl had requested gargoyles. They grinned down in evil glee. After Baneham’s death, she had been able to change the furnishings, but not the essence. The Earl was in every part of this house.
Every arch, every brick.
She had been so certain she would never leave this house. But was a home built to the earl’s vision the legacy she wanted to give her heirs?
If she could create a home, it would be light and airy, comfortable and warm. And it would have nothing of the earl built into its walls. She felt the earl’s house releasing its grip on her imagination. In its place floated the serenity she hadn’t known she lacked.
Exorcising the earl, however, couldn’t be fully accomplished with plans and resolutions. The hunt must commence. She worked the tinder and stone until sparks lit the char cloth within the small tin. She lit her candle from the flame and re-sealed the tin to smother the flame.
Strip by strip by strip she tested the floorboards—every one of them solid. She moved onto the window seats, the desk, the bookcases—nothing. She blew her hair out of her eyes and groaned. Hands-on-hips, she turned in a slow circle. What had she missed?
Her gaze shifted to the fireplace.
She tapped the wood around the mantle—it sounded solid. She leaned back and bit her nail. Baneham had designed this study. Wouldn’t he have created an egress in case of danger? A hiding place, at the very least. She knocked against the wood, slowly making her way down the side—and, for an infinitesimally small space between the paneling and tile, the sound changed.
With some effort, she found the trick and opened the panel. On her knees, she could barely duck within. She frowned, uncertain she wanted to know what was beyond.
Then, the distinctive sound of horse’s hooves sounded outside. Careful to keep herself hidden, she glanced into the courtyard. Charlemagne…and Randolph.
Her heart sunk.
…so much for Thea’s report.
He dismounted, tied his horse, and strode toward the entryway. He walked with purpose, a man of specific intent.
Though curious why he had intentionally concealed his schedule, she was not ready to face him. She blew out the candle and set the holder back on the desk. Making herself as small as possible, she crawled into the hole. She took a deep breath and replaced the panel.
She would be fine so long as no one started a fire.
She would be fine, so long as she didn’t sneeze from the dust.
She would be fine if she convinced herself the tickle agai
nst her arm was a stray hair and not a spider.
She closed her eyes hard, though the small space was already pitch black. She swallowed, straining to hear. Darkness flattened seconds into hours. When muffled voices approached, she wondered at first if she were imagining them.
But no. Two voices. The second was unidentifiable, but there were definitely two.
With silent breath, she pressed her ear to the panel. Randolph’s companion, whoever she was, was female. Helena? What would Randolph be doing with Helena?
Closer. She willed. Closer. In her mind, she reeled them in as if on a string—a tenuous connection between her and them. Concentrate. Concentrate…
Then, the door gave a telltale swish over her new wool rug. The clear sound of Randolph’s voice inviting Helena to enter rung in her ears.
…
Baneham’s Rules for Winning
“Ignore the specter of your sin, no matter how persistent.”
Randolph sighed with relief when Helena’s hack stopped beyond Sophia’s gate. Until she emerged and began to move like a wraith through the slight mist, he had not been sure Helena would answer the summons he’d left with her former landlady.
Helena—Baneham’s bastard daughter. Although they had worked together, he saw her in a new light. Seeing her was like seeing a ghost…in more ways than one.
For a long moment they remained fixed in their respective positions—she at the foot of Sophia’s entry, he at the top. Rage emanated from her like soot from a chimney. She lowered her hood.
“Helena,” he greeted.
“Helle,” she answered. “I have grown to like the name. Brings to mind the place my father sent me.”
He swallowed, internally shaking off her accusation. His guilt had made him vulnerable to her deception. He could not allow guilt’s gateway to open again. He had brought Helena here so the loss and speculation would keep her off balance, not him. And he had brought her here to force her assistance.
“Shall we go in?” he asked.
She swept past him as if she owned the place. And, had Baneham married her mother, she may very well have. Her attempt to dominate the space revealed much.
Lady Scandal Page 19