by Katy Madison
"You should apply to Keene."
"I suppose I might do it myself. I do understand how banking works. I have helped my father for some years, although all of it was done by the mail."
"Sophie, Mrs. Davies, it is terribly improper for you to be here." Not to mention that Keene might shoot him again.
"I did not come alone. My maid is outside in the hackney. I wished to bring her in with me, but I was afraid the driver would not wait. And it is not as if you do not know me. I thought you must be a good friend of my husband, since he brought you to the wedding. I was not sure I shouldn't apply to his other friend for assistance, but I did think he did not like me overmuch. Since you were so kind as to offer advice, I thought . . ."
Sophie raised her blue eyes to his, and Victor wondered how Keene could resist the appeal in them. "You are his friend, are you not?"
"Something like that."
She crinkled her pert nose and Victor thought how long it had been since he'd had a woman in his apartments, so very near his bed. But she was Keene's wife, and he didn't think she understood in the slightest that a woman calling on a man implied a great deal. Her excuse of coming up to London for clothes seemed flimsy in light of the fact that in a few months new clothes wouldn't fit.
On the other hand, she had made no overt moves to suggest she had come with the intention of seducing him. Her red cloak remained tied at her neck, the hood draped over her head. Victor floundered, confused.
Was it an excuse to come to his apartments? She seemed so very innocent and sincere. She was a pretty thing, perhaps not in his first taste of women, but not the sort he'd kick out of bed for lack of appeal. How could Keene stand the delay, knowing she was his for the taking? Victor reached out and touched her shoulder. "Sophie, you do understand what people would think if they knew you were here alone with me?"
She blinked rapidly several times. "What should they think besides I am calling on a friend of my husband's?" She paused as if waiting for him to explain further. Then, in a more hesitant voice, she asked, "If I am not safe with you, who should I be safe with?"
"It's just not done."
She stepped back and turned. "I did not realize. I should go, then."
Victor wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her straight to Keene, except he feared his reception. "Yes, you should go."
"Very well. I guess I shall try staying at the Limmer Hotel. Is that a good place? Because I did find this letter from a friend of Keene's who had stayed there."
"No, you do not want to stay there." It was a good place for gentlemen to stay, especially those inclined to follow the fancy, but not for a single lady or a married lady on her own. What would everyone think if they caught whiff of her presence in a hotel, while Keene resided in his town house? "You should go straight to your husband's home."
"Please, I should not wish him to know I am here. I wish to surprise him, when I have improved my appearance."
She didn't need to improve her appearance, although now that Victor thought about it, her cape was rather outdated and very similar to one his grandmother wore.
"I mean, he did not expressly forbid my leaving the country, but he did not bring me with him, either." Her eyes glistened in a way that made all the rational thoughts in Victor's head melt into pools at his feet.
He knew she had been disappointed when Keene left her. Her bravado in coming to town on her own touched something in him. Why couldn't Keene have explained it to her? "He did not wish you here because of your condition."
She frowned. "My mother must have spoken with him."
"Yes, she did."
"I do seem to be getting better. I have had much less trouble of late."
It was Victor's turn to frown. In his opinion, pregnancies didn't get better, just bigger. Although he supposed she might be referring to her fainting on her wedding day. "Have you fainted again?"
"No, I have not."
"You did explain to Keene why it happened, did you not?"
"Well, yes, but he seemed quite angry with me." She bit her lip.
"You did not expect him to be pleased."
"No-o," she said.
A knock thudded. Victor frantically grabbed her arm and pressed her into the bedroom, shutting her in before edging back the outside door.
TEN
Amelia slipped into the nursery behind Keene. She stood in the doorway while he retrieved Regina from her crib.
"George let her nurse have the afternoon off. She had a death in her family."
Keene hitched the baby against his shoulder. "Does she need to be fed?"
"I don't know."
Fortunately, the baby's cries turned to sniffs and whimpers. But if her own mother didn't know what to do for her, who did?
Amelia pleated her fingers in her plain, white muslin gown. "He means to have me sent away."
Keene looked at the pinched expression on her face. Amelia looked bewildered. She didn't cross the floor to retrieve her child from his arms. Did she lack maternal instinct? Was she too fastidious for the muss and fuss of a baby? Her expression twisted in a grimace.
"I would go, but he will not let me take Regina with me. When I hold her he becomes furious. I offered to go to the country to his estate, but he bade me leave her. What should he do with her? He will not see her himself." Amelia's soft delivery was offset by the note of panic in her voice.
Was she shying away from caring for her daughter for wanting to please George? If so, he was being totally unreasonable. "We'll talk with him."
"I cannot. I have tried. I don't know what to do. He speaks to me of divorce, but he will not let me take her with me. I try to stay and endure his hate."
"He is hurt, Amelia."
"I know. I do not think he would harm her, but I don't understand why he would separate me from her."
"Because it would hurt you. Because he is jealous of your affection for your daughter."
Her eyes searched his.
Keene supposed he should admire her calm tone, her reserved demeanor when she was so obviously distressed. He had found her demure approach fascinating before now.
Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I see."
"Let me talk to him."
Amelia crossed the floor and held out her arms for the baby.
Keene held onto the girl. "No, I want to talk to him about his daughter."
"He will not like it. I keep her from crying around him."
"Let me try it my way."
* * *
Relief flooded through Victor when he only found Sophie's maid at the door. The woman stood nervously in front of him.
"The cabbie says he ain't waiting no longer."
"Tell him he shall not receive his fare then—Sophie didn't already pay him, did she?"
Letty shook her head.
Sophie cracked the door behind him. "Letty?"
"Go back and tell him she shall be with him momentarily."
Letty pressed her lips together in a frown and turned to do as she was bade.
"Sophie, you need to leave now. Your cabbie is growing impatient."
She slipped out of his bedroom and headed for the door. "Very well."
He stepped onto the landing after her. The least he could do was make sure she made it to her hack safely. As she put the envelope she carried back into her reticule, Victor noticed a crony of his standing on the street below.
He couldn't risk Sophie being seen leaving his apartments by someone who later might learn she was Keene's wife. He grabbed her arm and jerked her back inside. Her eyebrows arched in question. He put a finger to his lips.
As surreptitiously as possible he peered over the railing. He didn't want his friend to see him and come up.
Unfortunately, his friend seemed to be engaged in a lengthy conversation with another person who's back was to Victor. His palms grew damp. He probably knew the other man, as well. She'd taken a horrible risk in coming here.
"What is it?"
"There are men I know
out there."
"So, they don't know me."
He shut the door rather than risk her stepping out while his acquaintances were still on the street.
Victor stared into Sophie's startled blue eyes and realized she was too innocent to know how much trouble she could get into wandering about London alone. "Is there no one you could apply to who could guide you about the city?"
She shook her head.
"I implore you, madam, please go to your husband's home."
"No, I will not. If he wanted me there, he would have brought me with him."
Victor suspected it wasn't as simple as that. Much as he hated the idea of guiding her about, he couldn't let Sophie stumble around London unescorted. He prayed that Keene wouldn't kill him when he learned she'd come to his place.
"As soon as they leave, I'll escort you to Grillion's Hotel. I can't let you wander about town alone."
"It's all right. I'm sure I shall manage quite well on my own."
Victor peeked out the window several times. The men lingered an extraordinarily long time. What could they be discussing?
Sophie protested, but he refused to move from in front of the door until it was safe.
He saw Sophie's maid return, her face a mask of impatience.
He opened the door for her.
"Where is she?"
Victor winced. At the same time, he heard the steady thump of feet on the outside stairs of his apartments. He grabbed the maid, shoved her behind him and forced both of them into his bedroom. "Do not come out until I call you."
He called for his man to dismiss the cabbie as he looked out to see who was climbing the stairs now.
* * *
Keene rubbed his face. How could he make George understand? He couldn't even get George to take the baby in his arms. What hope was there for the child? His stomach clenched in rage and hopelessness.
He'd lost his brother, nearly killed Victor and despaired of salvaging his friendship with George. Each day eroded his respect for him. He wanted to fly home to the country and find comfort in Sophie's arms. Yet, her charade tore at him.
The trouble was, he understood her fear. He understood George's rage. He understood his father better than he ever had before in his life, but he couldn't condone their behavior.
Now, Victor he didn't understand, but at least there were no secrets between them, or very few. After the tension-filled atmosphere of George and Amelia's house and the silence of his own, Victor's company would be soothing.
The only problem was Victor already had company. Keene glimpsed a woman on the stairs ahead of him. He hesitated. He hadn't see the woman's face from his vantage point on the lower stairs, but he thought she looked vaguely familiar.
In the street a hansom cab waited. How odd. Did she mean to stay only a moment? Victor's valet emerged and passed him on the stair as he made his way down. "Excuse me, sir."
Keene waited until the man came back up after dismissing the hack. He followed the man through the door.
Victor greeted him with an expression of near panic on his face.
"Is something wrong?" asked Keene.
"I'm entertaining. Go away."
"I shouldn't keep you from your liaison. Perhaps we could meet later?"
Victor crossed the room, pushed on Keene's shoulder as if he would forcibly push him out of his home. "I'll call on you."
The valet disappeared into his quarters.
Sweat beaded Victor's brow. Keene watched the furious pulse at the base of his friend's bare neck. Victor's nervousness intrigued him.
Keene cocked his head sideways. Teasing his friend seemed infinitely preferable to the heavy burdens he carried around with him. "Who exactly are you entertaining?"
"A lady," said Victor.
Keene crossed his arms. It wasn't like Victor to be so secretive. And who could he be entertaining in private? At his own apartments? With the exception of a few of the eligible young misses available this season, Victor's name hadn't been coupled with anyone else's of late. "Come, now, I shan't tell anyone."
"Leave."
"So very rude, sir. You know my deepest, darkest secrets."
Keene knew many of Victor's secrets, too. There had been Amelia, although at the time Keene hadn't harbored the slightest suspicion of the extent of events that occurred between them.
Victor's nervousness made Keene want to pry.
"I'm not telling you her name."
Keene took a step toward Victor's bedroom where the "lady" no doubt hid.
Victor grabbed him. "No!"
The extreme response startled Keene. Up until now he was teasing, expecting that sooner or later Victor would tell him or at least hint at who was concealed in the other room. But suddenly it didn't seem amusing anymore.
"Why not? Are you ruining some young lady's life again?"
"No! I'm not ruining her. Please, I beg of you, do not open that door."
"Who is she?"
"She's married. Please leave."
"You should not have her in your apartments, then."
"I did not ask her here. She came on her own. I should not wish to risk being shot again."
"I would never tell anyone."
Victor didn't look reassured. Instead, he looked green about the gills. "Yes, I know, sir."
"Promise me you shall give me details later."
"Of course I shall. Later," whispered Victor.
Keene made to leave. He stopped halfway to the door. An inexplicable reluctance held him back. "Are you sure you are up to this, Victor? You look ill. Perhaps you are not healed enough for the exertion of making love to your mysterious guest."
Victor paled even more. "No, I'm not."
The response was not what Keene expected. "Good God, man, you act as if Princess Caroline has taken a fancy to you." Which was within the outer realms of possibility. Being caught with the prince regent's estranged wife could be a treasonous offense. Not that he would expect Victor to encourage the princess if she did take a fancy to him. Besides, her taste in men was much less refined.
"Worse," muttered Victor.
Who the hell was in there?
"I promise I shall tell you all about it," whispered Victor, his finger in front of his lips. In a louder voice he added, "I shall see you later."
It couldn't be Amelia. He'd just left her. At least he thought she had been there still when he left George. Was she seeking out her former lover?
Keene shook his head. It was possible. And why wouldn't she? With the way George was treating her and his hardening resolution toward divorce, what did she have to lose? "Tell me it's not Amelia."
"It's not Amelia," repeated Victor dutifully.
Keene shook his head, suddenly unsure whether Victor was lying to him or not. He headed for the door, not wanting to stay any longer. The woman arrived only slightly before him. It could be Amelia. The snatch of skirts and cloak he saw wasn't enough to persuade him that it was her, but then, Amelia was probably smart enough to disguise her appearance.
She could have left George's house before he did. He had been alone with George for a quarter hour or more before taking his leave.
Keene sank down on the steps outside Victor's apartment. He wanted Sophie. But with the weakness of his resolve around her, he needed to wait.
* * *
"Is Keene gone now?" Sophie peeked her head around the bedroom door.
Victor's knees buckled, and he bent over rather than fall.
"He's mounting his horse now." Victor's valet stood at the window.
"Are you all right?" asked Sophie.
"No. I'm near expiration from fright. Dear God, do you realize he would kill me if he found you here?" He'd been afraid that she would emerge from the room when she heard her husband's voice, and he would have to explain why she was in his bedroom. With the way he turned flippant in the face of anger, clearing up any confusion was bound to turn into a deadly proposition. "I feared you'd come out."
"Why would I do that? I
don't want him to know I'm in London."
Not that she cared if her husband knew she was in his bedroom, just that she wasn't in London. Victor's heart continued to pound in a mad cadence. This jolt of complete terror was not his idea of fun. He suspected he'd enjoy watching his ancestral home burn to the ground better, not that he wanted that, but at least it would free him from another of his anxieties.
"He wouldn't kill you, anyway."
"No, he might kill you instead." Then Victor would have another guilty burden to bear.
"Who is Amelia?" Sophie asked in an overly casual tone of voice.
Victor straightened. "George's wife."
Sophie drew on her hood and moved toward the door.
Victor grabbed her arm. "Let my man check to make sure the coast is clear."
Sophie rolled her eyes.
Victor wondered not for the first time if there wasn't more to Keene's relationship with Amelia than either of them were letting on.
* * *
A few days later, Sophie stood in front of the dressmaker shop's cheval glass. A seamstress pinned the new morning gown hem to the correct length, while Sophie studied her reflection. Her blonde hair curled around her head in close-cropped curls. She liked the ease of care, but wasn't sure the change hadn't made her look a little too boyish. It was too late in any case, and the little Frenchman who had cut it insisted it was both fashionable and flattering.
Letty had cried.
Since then, Sophie had seen several young ladies sporting similar styles. Victor assured her the change was pleasing, but her inquiries about whether or not Keene should like it were met with consternation, and a renewal of Victor's suggestion that she should inform her husband of her presence in town.
The seamstress begged Sophie to excuse her a moment.
Sophie looked critically at the new gown in a flattering shade of lemon. The soft drape of the material hugged her breasts and moved against her body in a revealing way when she walked. When she stood still the gown appeared deceptively demure. The style was simple and liberating. Her father would hate it. A twinge of guilt slipped through her consciousness.
"Oh, I love that gown. I want one just like it."
Sophie turned to see a young woman standing with her hands buried in a heavy, velvet-lined fur muff. "You like my dress?"
