Two Shades of Seduction

by Monica Burns

“Ledgers?” his brother-in-law demanded harshly. “She told you about the ledgers?”

  “She did. In fact, my lovely wife bartered with them. She offered me the opportunity to use those damned books for revenge if I agreed to marry her,” Quentin said with a grimace of self-disgust.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Stunned disbelief whitened his brother-in-law’s face. “So that’s what she meant when she said revenge serves no purpose except to steal one’s soul.”

  “What did you say?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. His brother-in-law frowned in puzzlement.

  “I said, so that’s—”

  “Yes, I heard you,” Quentin growled softly as his gaze swung back to Sophie.

  She’d read the letter. Had she kept it? Did she realize he’d put all of his heart into every word he’d written? He closed his eyes for a brief moment as hope crashed its way through his veins. Was it possible Hamilton was right? Maybe Sophie did love him.

  The sight of Sir Archibald pushing his way deeper into Sophie’s circle of admirers made Quentin bite back an oath. Of all men surrounding his wife, Sir Archibald was the one Quentin despised the most. If Sophie knew what the bastard had said about her at the opera, he was certain his wife wouldn’t have a thing to do with the pompous jackass. Bloody hell, he was going to choke the man for even looking at her.

  Sophie smiled at the man, and a sudden urge to pulverize the man swept through Quentin. His patience at an end, he ignored Hamilton’s warning not to do anything rash and made his way through the crowd toward the edge of the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several people whispering and nodding their heads in his direction. No doubt, they were eager for a scandal. Well, he was about to give them one. As Milliard, swung Sophie toward him, Quentin stepped forward and forced the couple to come to an abrupt halt. Sophie’s partner glared at him, while Sophie stared at him in appalled disbelief.

  “I’ll finish this dance with my wife, Milliard,” he growled. “And she will be removing your name off her dance card for the rest evening.”

  “I say—”

  The man abruptly stopped speaking the moment Quentin eyed the man with every bit of the cold fury he was struggling to contain. With a hasty bow in Sophie’s direction, Milliard walked away. Without a word, Quentin pulled Sophie into his arms and swung her back into the throng of dancers. She was stiff in his arms, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was holding her again. They danced in silence for more than a minute before he cleared his throat.

  “I want to come home, Sophie.”

  He pulled her close as she stumbled slightly. Amazement widened her beautiful hazel eyes until they narrowed into icy chips of contempt. It was the same frigid look he remembered from the night he’d fallen from grace.

  “As you wish,” she said, her gaze pinpointing a spot over his shoulder. “I shall leave Devlyn House at your disposal and stay with Spencer.”

  “No,” he said softly, “I want to come home to you.”

  Sophie stiffened against him then quickly tried to push herself out of his embrace. Prepared for her response, he simply tightened his arms around her. They continued to whirl around the dance floor, and Quentin was acutely aware of her anger by the way her fingers were digging into his arm. They didn’t speak as they made another complete circle around the floor. Suddenly, she looked directly at him.

  “I want a divorce,” she said with quiet determination.

  Caught off guard, his chest tightened until it constricted his lungs and made it almost impossible to breathe. His eyes met hers, and he saw a flicker of emotion in her gaze that encouraged him to take a leap of faith.

  “No. Agreeing to a divorce only serves to humiliate me further.”

  “Humiliate…” she sputtered, clearly unable to say anything coherent.

  “Yes, humiliation, Sophie. My circumstance is a deplorable one,” he said in a terse tone as he remembered the scandal sheets in his coat pocket. “It’s obvious to the entire set that the Countess of Devlyn loathes her husband, while he on the other hand adores his wife.”

  With a loud flourish, the musical number ended, and Quentin applauded the musicians along with the other dancers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophie staring up at him with a look of dismayed shock, her face pale and drawn. Certain she was on the verge of fainting Quentin cupped her elbow with his hand and looked around the room for his brother-in-law.

  The moment he saw Hamilton across the room, he beckoned to the younger man with a jerk of his head. Aware of the numerous looks of curiosity directed at them, Quentin quickly led Sophie off the floor in the direction of her brother. They were only a few feet away from Hamilton when a familiar voice drifted its way over Quentin’s shoulder.

  “My dear Sophie, I’m delighted to see that you and Devlyn have reconciled.” Eleanor said with barbed amusement. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven us for that tiny misunderstanding?”

  Anger hardened Quentin’s muscles as he halted in midstride. He was certain Sophie would have continued forward without him if it hadn’t been for the throng of people blocking her way. Instead, she stood motionless at his side, the tension in her body holding her rigid as an oak tree.

  Slowly, Quentin turned to study his wife’s profile. Although her face was still pale, there was a quiet dignity about her that filled him with pride. He caught her hand in his and carried it to his lips. Sophie flinched, but didn’t look at him as he kissed the back of her hand. He turned his head to meet Eleanor’s bitter gaze.

  “The misunderstanding was neither small nor forgivable considering it was a complete fabrication,” he said coldly.

  “Really, Devlyn, how can you be so cruel as to accuse me of lying,” Eleanor said with a look of umbrage on her face as she glanced around at the small crowd avidly listening to their exchange. “We both know the misunderstanding was mutually…beneficial.”

  “For something to be mutually beneficial, Lady Shively, both parties must be willing participants.” Quentin eyed her with icy contempt. “And we both know that while numerous parties from all stations of life have enjoyed your generous offers of comfort, I am fortunate never to have been one of them.”

  Eleanor’s head jerked back at the caustic insult, her face white with humiliation and anger. Like a hunted animal, she glanced around the crowd looking for a friendly face. When she failed to find one, she looked back at Quentin and a poisonous expression crossed her face. Instinct warned him she was about expose the truth of Sophie’s parentage, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

  “I think enough has been said this evening, Lady Shively, particularly if you value your son’s future,” he warned softly. “The sins of a parent should never be visited on a child, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Eleanor blanched again as defeat shadowed her features. She nodded sharply in agreement before she made her way past the group of spectators. As Eleanor disappeared through the ballroom exit, Quentin turned back to Sophie. The small crowd around them disappeared as they realized the small drama had come to an end. He bent his head toward Sophie when she didn’t look at him.

  “We need to talk, Sophie. Let me take you home.” His words triggered a small shudder in her.

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head as she met his gaze. “Not tonight.”

  “Tomorrow then.”

  “No. Please, Quentin, just let me go.”

  Before he realized what was happening, Sophie walked away from him. He started to follow her, when a strong hand gripped his arm and held him back. Quentin turned his head to see his brother-in-law keeping him from following Sophie. He frowned, but Hamilton shook his head.

  “Let her go, Devlyn. She needs time.”

  “How much time,” he growled.

  Quentin turned his head back in Sophie’s direction hoping to see her looking back over her shoulder. His wish was a futile one as he saw her encircled by her admirers. Hope had surged through him the moment she’d called him by his given name.

  Now, the sight
of her holding court again crushed that hope. Hamilton gestured that they move to a more secluded spot in the ballroom, and Quentin followed his brother-in-law’s lead. From a small alcove, Quentin kept his eye on Sophie and her entourage.

  “You need to give Sophie time to consider what happened here tonight, and the fact that you’ve turned the ledgers over to the authorities.”

  “I haven’t told her about the ledgers.”

  Quentin grimaced at the expression on his brother-in-law’s face. Hamilton clearly thought him an idiot, and with good reason. If Sophie believed he still had the ledgers, it was reasonable to assume she would think his revenge was more important to him than she was.

  His jaw tightened as that realization sank its way into his brain. There was a strong possibility that Sophie might believe he’d staged his humiliating snub of Eleanor for her benefit. Damnit to hell, what could he do to make things right with his wife?

  “I see you understand your dilemma,” Hamilton said with a resigned sigh. “Might I make a suggestion where my sister is concerned? Send her a goddamn note explaining you’ve disposed of the ledgers.”

  Quentin nodded at Hamilton’s heatedly spoken instructions. The inspector at Scotland Yard had wanted to know how he’d come by the ledgers, but he’d refused to tell them. He had no intention of embroiling Sophie in what was certain to be a scandal when Townsend was brought to trial.

  It was bad enough that he’d most likely have to testify against the man. That alone would cause a flurry of gossip. But perhaps Inspector Harris might prove useful. The man had requested to see Quentin in order to ask a few more questions. If the inspector were to visit Devlyn House, it would ensure Sophie would discover he’d given up the ledgers.

  “A note from me might prove less effective than Scotland Yard asking to see me in regard to the ledgers.”

  “Scotland Yard,” Hamilton bit out. “Are you intent on terrorizing my sister?”

  “No. Inspector Harris sent word that he has a few more questions to ask me. I’ll simply instruct him to visit me at Devlyn House. Sophie will inform him I’m staying at my club, but will realize I’ve turned the ledgers over to the authorities.” Quentin’s explanation made his brother-in-law frown then nod his head.

  “That might work,” Hamilton said. “But so help me, God, Devlyn, if you hurt her, I’ll make good on that promise I made you that day at the woodcutter’s cottage.”

  “Understood.” Quentin clenched his jaw at his brother-in-law’s words. Any punishment Hamilton thought to administer wouldn’t touch the hell he’d fall into if he failed to keep Sophie safe. “Do you know what her plans are for tomorrow night? I’ve been reduced to watching my front door just to follow her when she leaves the house.”

  “She asked me to escort her to the opera.” Hamilton said with a wry twist of his lips.

  “Bloody hell, she knows I hate the theater.”

  “It’s why she decided to attend. She says it’s the one place she’s certain you won’t haunt her.”

  So she wasn’t completely immune to his presence. Relief sped through him at the knowledge. Could Hamilton be right? Did Sophie actually love with him? The idea bolstered his spirits immensely. The sound of his brother-in-law speaking interrupted his thoughts.

  “What did you say?” His question made Hamilton shake his head with amused annoyance.

  “I said you can use Revelstoke’s box at the opera since Sophie will be in yours,” Quentin’s brother-in-law said quietly. “The man is on the continent and offered me the use of his box whenever I like. It’s directly across from yours, and when you see me leave, you’ll be free to join Sophie.”

  “If she even lets me into the box.”

  “I don’t think she’ll protest your arrival. And even if she does, she won’t make a scene.”

  Quentin nodded his understanding. Tomorrow night he’d be given one last chance to convince his beautiful wife that he was innocent. And if she believed him, he’d make sure his lovely wife knew precisely how much he loved her. The thought that she might not forgive him made his body hardened with tension. He wouldn’t consider failure. It wasn’t an option.

  Chapter 18

  The front doorbell rang, and Sophie’s heart skipped a beat as she looked up from the weekly household accounts. Quentin. He’d come in spite of her telling him not too. A part of her desperately wanted the visitor to be him. The other half of her screamed it would be too dangerous to let him anywhere near her. When Thomas, the new footman, appeared in the salon doorway, he bowed slightly.

  “My apologies, my lady, an Inspector Harris from Scotland Yard is here to see his lordship. I told him Lord Devlyn wasn’t here, and he asked to speak with you.”

  “Send him in, Thomas,” she said with a small wave of her hand.

  Scotland Yard? She frowned in puzzlement before a chill swept its way over her body. Had her father realized Quentin had the ledgers and solicited a police inquiry? Her heart in her mouth, she stood up and moved to the center of the room. As the inspector entered the salon, she forced a smile to her lips.

  “How may I help you, Inspector?”

  “I was looking for his lordship, and I thought you might be able to tell me where I could find him.”

  “Of course, Lord Devlyn is at his club,” she said quietly. “Might I ask why you wish to speak with my husband?”

  “It’s quite routine, my lady. We’re investigating some ledgers he provided us with almost a month ago.”

  “Ledgers?” she rasped as she stared at the inspector in amazement. Dear God, Quentin had given Scotland Yard the second copy of her father’s books. And he’d done so either before or after that terrible night.

  “Yes, my lady. The ledgers contain a vast amount of entries that relate to fraud and theft. His lordship hasn’t elaborated how he came by the ledgers, and I was hoping to persuade him to tell us,” the inspector said in a matter-of-fact voice. “It would be most helpful to have a first-hand witness.”

  “I see.”

  “Would you happen to know anything about these account books, my lady?”

  Sophie’s mind was racing along like a train out of control. Quentin hadn’t just turned the ledgers over. He was protecting her as well by not telling the police about her involvement. Her eyes met the inspector’s inquisitive gaze. Did she dare tell him the truth? If she didn’t, would that put Quentin in jeopardy?

  She’d been struggling all morning with the memory of Quentin brutally humiliating Eleanor at the Manchester soirée the night before. Now this. It made her think she might have misjudged Quentin. A skeptical voice in her head mocked her with the memory of that night she’d found Eleanor at Quentin’s feet. She swallowed the knot in her throat. No matter what his offense, she couldn’t allow him to suffer any consequences for turning over the ledgers to Scotland Yard.

  “If these ledgers are the ones I think they are, inspector, then my answer to your question is yes.”

  “Yes?” Inspector Harris looked a bit surprised by her admission, and she waved a hand toward the sofa.

  “Please, won’t you sit down, inspector,” Sophie said quietly. “I am happy to tell you what I know.”

  More than an hour later, Inspector Harris closed his small notebook and rose to his feet. Sophie rose from her chair as well, and clasped her hands in front of her. The moment of truth had come. Would she be found culpable for the baron’s misdeeds? She took a deep breath as she looked directly at the inspector.

  “Do you expect to charge me as an accomplice to Baron Townsend’s illicit activities, Inspector Harris?” Her question caused the man to stare at her in surprise.

  “Of course not, my lady. Unless we find evidence that you profited from the baron’s activities, you’re innocent since Lord Townsend was forcing you to participate under the threat of physical reprisals.” The inspector stuffed his notebook in the inside pocket of his jacket then picked up his bowler hat. “I’m also certain the courts will look favorably on you for tracking the ba
ron’s illegal activities.”

  “Thank you.” Sophie exhaled a soft sigh of relief. “Should I expect to be summoned as a witness at my… Baron Townsend’s trial?”

  “I don’t know, my lady. It’s possible we won’t have to involve you, but I can make no promises.”

  “I understand,” Sophie smiled slightly.

  “If I might add, my lady, I can now appreciate why his lordship refused to tell us who gave him the books. It’s obvious he was protecting you not only from scandal, but from physical harm as well given the baron’s apparent tendency toward violence.”

  “Thank you for that, inspector. I appreciate your candor.”

  “Not at all, my lady, I’ll bid you good day.” The inspector bowed and headed for the door. “Oh, one more thing, my lady. If you will, please inform his lordship that I’ll meet up with him at a different time.”

  “I am happy to relay that message to my husband.”

  As the inspector left the salon, Sophie slowly sank down into her chair. Quentin had given up the ledgers. He’d not used them in a plot to ruin her father. Why would he do that? He’d told her that he wouldn’t be persuaded from seeking vengeance. And yet, he’d given away the one tool that would let him destroy the man who’d ruined him.

  Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she remembered the way Quentin had arrogantly forced Sir Archibald to release her so he could take the other man’s place. Despite her anger at his actions, a small part of her had remembered other times when his arrogant behavior had thrilled her. And as much as she hated to admit it, she hadn’t minded that Sir Archibald had been disposed of so neatly. The man was a boor, and she was growing increasingly weary of his presence.

  Sophie closed her eyes as the sound of Quentin’s voice echoed in her head. ‘It’s obvious to the entire set that the Countess of Devlyn loathes her husband, while he, on the other hand, adores his wife.’ She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out the letter Quentin had written to her. The parchment was crumpled and well-worn from her carrying the note with her everywhere. She unfolded the letter and stared at the words she knew by heart.