Lily’s delicate brow furrowed. “I thought you were more of a romantic, Sophia. I thought you believed in passion.”
“I do, but we must be very careful not to let our hearts rule our heads, or sometimes we can get ourselves into trouble. Pierre is a foreigner, and no one here can truly recommend him as a—”
“You’re a foreigner, Sophia. I didn’t think that would matter to you, of all people.”
Sophia waved her hands, trying to backtrack. “That’s not what I mean.... It doesn’t matter that he’s from another country, it’s just that...that we don’t know anything about him. He could be a criminal for all we know.”
“A criminal! He’s not a criminal, Sophia. I would know if he were.”
“How would you know?”
“Like I said before, we communicate with our hearts. It’s like we are connected by some magical cosmic force.”
Oh, Good Lord.
“You still haven’t told me what happened between you,” Sophia said. “Did he...? Did he kiss you?”
For a long moment, Lily gazed off into the distance, then she flopped backward onto the bed again. “Yes. And it was wonderful.”
Sophia stomach churned with anxiety. “You’ve kissed him? Lily,”—she tried to speak gently—“that was not wise. You should not have been alone with him.”
Lily made a face. “Oh, pooh, Sophia. You were alone with James before he proposed. That night at the political party. I saw you go into the conservatory with him.”
Sophia swallowed uncomfortably. “That was different. I’m older than you.”
“It’s no different. You were an unmarried young woman, and the rules are the same.” She waved a hand flippantly through the air. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Everyone does it.”
“No, they do not! And if they do, they certainly don’t speak about it!”
Lily frowned at her. “Sophia, this is not at all like you. You’re usually so relaxed and modern about everything.” She sat up, a look of concern clouding her expression. “Is it Pierre? Do you not like him?”
Raking fingers through her hair, Sophia struggled to reply. “I don’t know enough about him to like or dislike him, and neither do you for that matter.”
Lily sat on the bed for a few more minutes, looking morose, as if Sophia had just stuck a pin in her delirious bubble of euphoria.
Good, Sophia thought, not allowing herself to feel guilty about it.
“I thought you’d understand,” Lily said, sounding altogether brokenhearted.
Sophia sighed and touched Lily’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I do understand how you feel. It’s just that...I think you need to be cautious before you allow yourself to fall too deeply in love with a complete stranger.”
“Is it because he has no title?”
“Of course not.”
“It will matter to Mother, you know, and to James. They would never allow me to be with him because of it.”
Sophia merely nodded. “It’s not something that needs to be worked out now. There’s plenty of time.” But it would be worked out, Sophia thought with grim determination.
“Would you talk to James for me?”
“About what?” she asked. “Pierre?” This couldn’t be happening. “I don’t know Lily.... I can’t promise that now.”
Lily gazed at Sophia, a look of intense disappointment in her eyes, then she managed a smile and inched off the bed. “I understand. Truly I do. Maybe you can think about it, because I would not want to.... I would not want to disappoint my family. But I would need at least one person on my side, no matter what happens.”
Shaken and distressed by everything Lily had said, Sophia bid her sister-in law good night, giving her a kiss on the cheek before she left the room.
As soon as Sophia saw Lily disappear down the hall, she picked up her lamp and took off in the opposite direction to Marion’s bedchamber.
“Marion!” She rapped hard on the dowager’s door. “Open up! It’s urgent!”
The door opened and Marion stood glaring. “What in God’s name is going on?”
“I need to talk to you. It’s about Lily.”
The angry lines in Marion’s face deepened. “What is it?”
Sophia gathered her robe together and entered the room. “You have to tell James the truth about Pierre.”
“I will not,” Marion replied haughtily.
“This is serious, Marion. James must know the truth. Everyone has to know, at least everyone in this family.”
Marion’s face grew tight with fury. “Why? It’s a scandal from years ago! Why taint all of them with it now, and risk losing our exalted place in the world?” She slammed her open palm down on the desk beside her. “I should never have trusted you! I knew you would not understand what any of this means.”
Sophia took a step closer to her mother-in-law. “I understand very well what it means, Marion, and you were lucky to have told me, because if you hadn’t, you would never know what I am about to tell you.”
Marion struck her with an ice-cold glare.
Sophia would not be warned off. “It’s Lily. She’s in love with Pierre.”
Chapter 25
Marion backed up as if she had been punched. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I come here in the middle of the night to lie about something like that?”
“It can’t be true. He’s her...her half-brother!” Marion covered her mouth with a hand. She looked like she was going to be ill.
“Are you absolutely sure he’s your husband’s son, Marion? Did Pierre speak to you at all? Did he mention who he was, or allude to the blackmail?”
“No, not once,” Marion replied. “It was as if he didn’t know me at all.”
Sophia set down her lamp. “Well, maybe he doesn’t know he’s a relation. Perhaps Genevieve never told him.”
“He must know.”
“But why would he kiss Lily if he thought she was his sister?”
“He kissed her? Oh, dear Lord.” Marion collapsed onto the bed. “Are you certain?”
“Lily told me herself. She obviously has no idea what she’s doing, and we can only hope that he doesn’t either. To think otherwise is purely...well—”
Marion waved a hand in the air to hush Sophia. “We will all be ruined! All of us! What are we going to do?”
“What you should have done years ago. You must tell James right away. He will be able to handle this.”
Marion began to weep. “I can’t tell him.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because I’ve kept it from him all this time. He knows nothing about his father’s secret marriage, or the fact that he might not even be the rightful duke, and he will despise me for not telling him.”
Sophia didn’t mention the fact that Marion’s relationship with her son wasn’t exactly rosy at present. “He will despise you more if you continue to keep it from him when Lily is now in danger. Marion, you must tell him. For the sake of your daughter.”
Her mother-in-law turned her face toward the darkened window. “There must be another way!”
“There isn’t, and we don’t have time to plot and scheme. There’s been enough of that and look where it has taken you. The situation is out of control now, with Lily involved, and you cannot continue to deal with this alone. You need help. You must trust James. He is the duke, and he is strong. He will know how to take care of this.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so.”
Marion hesitated. She bit her lip. “All right. I’ll tell him. For Lily’s sake. But I must have you there with me when I do, for I don’t know how he will react. It will be a shock, to be sure.”
Sophia nodded and helped Marion up off the bed. “I know it’s late, but we should go now. James will want to take action first thing in the morning.”
A few brief minutes later, they were standing outside James’s bedchamber, and for the third time that night, a door was knocked upon in a frantic manner. “James? It’s Sophia. I’m here with your mother. We must speak to you.”
He did not answer immediately, so Sophia knocked again. “James? Please open up.”
Still, he did not answer. Sophia turned the latch and opened the door for herself. Carrying the lamp, she walked into the room, but found the bed empty. It had not even been slept in.
It was nearly midnight when James and Martin entered the London house. The servants, who had been notified by telegram that the duke and his younger brother were on their way to the city, scurried to see to the luggage and make sure that His Grace and Lord Martin were given a proper welcome.
James handed his greatcoat to a footman and gestured for Martin to follow him to his study. He immediately went to the side table to fill two glasses with brandy.
“You’re sharing?” Martin said with some surprise as he accepted the glass. “What’s going on, James? You’ve invited me to come to London without a moment’s notice, nor an explanation as to why we are even here. You barely spoke on the train, and now you want to drink brandy with me? Something is definitely not right. This isn’t my last liquid meal before I’m sent to the gallows is it?”
Exhausted, knowing he would not get any sleep if he tried, James gestured toward his younger brother. “No gallows for you tonight. Though I will admit to considering such a tactic when I received that last letter from Aunt Caroline.”
Martin yielded with a nod and a look in his eye that held a hint of an apology.
“The truth is,” James said, “I need you here with me. I need someone I can trust.”
“And you thought of me?” Martin inclined his head. “I find that difficult to swallow.”
James sat down by the roaring fire and crossed one leg over the other. His brother sat down across from him. “I need a family member, Martin. Someone who knows how to tell lies and keep secrets, and I reckon you’ve mastered the art of both while you were at Eton.”
Martin put on an innocent air. “Why in the world would you think that?”
“Because I learned the art well enough myself at your age. Moreover, from what you tell me—and from what I’ve struggled to forget about myself these past few years—we have very similar dispositions.”
Martin looked down at the brandy as he swirled it around in his glass. His voice was quiet, pensive. “I thought you were ashamed of me, James.”
James reached out and touched his brother’s arm. It would never have dawned on him to do anything like that before he’d met and married Sophia, and that fact resonated noisily in his mind.
He was not quite sure what to say, then found himself wondering what Sophia would say at this moment.
“I was never ashamed, Martin,” he replied. “Frustrated, yes, only because I felt I couldn’t reach you, but that was my own fault. I have never tried to be a brother to you. I’ve always kept my distance, not just from you but from Lily and Mother, and I know now that I must find a way to change that. I must find a way to talk to you, so that when there is something wrong, we will discover what it is and fix it, rather than try to bury it.”
“You’ve changed,” Martin said, still looking down at his glass.
James only nodded.
“It’s Sophia, isn’t it? She’s brought something different to the house. It’s not like it was. I knew it the moment I stepped inside.”
Hearing those words.... Hearing Martin say it....
James felt a deep surge of emotion rise up within him. His heart began to ache, and he breathed shakily.
Martin filled the silence with a few softly spoken words. “She’s special, James. You chose well.”
He nodded again, only because he wasn’t sure he would be able to speak. Here he was, conversing openly with his brother, whom he had never, in all his life, really talked to before. And they were talking about Sophia, who James loved. Loved!
The frightening thing was, she had the power to reduce him to this. To reduce him almost to tears, and he was still pushing her away, like he had always pushed everyone.
He had left again without saying good-bye. Oh, he wanted to make it right. If only he knew how. If only he knew how to let go of the fear of loving her and the fear of being loved in return. Fear of the great beyond.
Martin leaned back in his chair. “You still haven’t told me why we’re here, James. All I know is that you want me to lie and tell secrets, and that sounds bloody interesting.”
James found it in himself to snicker. “Interesting, yes, and I hope that’s all it will be.”
“It’s nothing dangerous, is it?”
“I won’t know until I find out who the devil Pierre Billaud is, and why he was keeping a letter in his side table drawer—a letter addressed to Genevieve La Roux.”
Martin’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Should that name mean something to me?”
“I doubt it, but it means something to me.” James leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, rolling the brandy glass back and forth between his palms. “I think it’s time, Martin, that you learned something about our late father.”
He had done it again. He had gone off to London without saying good-bye, and this time without telling anyone why he was going. That morning, the butler had informed Sophia that His Grace had left shortly after dinner the night before, and had taken Lord Martin along with him, which Sophia found surprising, given James’s desire to keep his distance from his siblings.
She also found it disturbing that he had left so quickly, considering her last conversation with him, when he accused her of writing love letters to Pierre Billaud. As if she would prefer him to her own husband, who she passionately adored—though she sometimes wished she didn’t.
Was that why James had left? Because he still did not believe her about the letter? Because he was angry with her for admitting to keeping a secret from him and couldn’t bear to be in the same house with her?
She supposed he had good reason to leave. She would be hurt, too, if the tables were turned.
But was her husband even capable of being hurt, she wondered as a dull, throbbing ache settled into her heart. He had revealed nothing so sensitive as that in his study the previous day, when he’d handed the letter to her in a detached manner.
The morning passed slowly. Marion slept, and all Sophia could do was pace in her room while she tried to decide what to do. She wasn’t certain how urgent this problem was at present. Pierre had left with the other guests, so there was no danger to Lily now, and for all she knew, James might return on the evening train that very night and she could talk to him then.
She hoped Marion would still be willing to tell him the truth.
Oh, James, why did you choose yesterday of all days to leave?
Quite unable to stand another minute in her boudoir feeling powerless, Sophia left to go to the luncheon table. She sat there for quite some time with no one to talk to until finally food arrived.
“Watson,” she said to a footman standing against the wall, “where is everyone?”
The man bowed slightly before he spoke. “The dowager requested lunch in her rooms, Your Grace, and Lady Lily.... She is expected at any moment.”
Sophia gazed across the table at Lily’s empty plate. “It’s not like her to be late for luncheon. Could she be unwell?”
“I don’t know, Your Grace.”
Smoothing her napkin out on her lap, Sophia wondered if Lily was napping, catching up on the sleep she’d missed the night before.
Sophia picked up her fork and tried to begin her meal. Her appetite, however, was utterly absent. For some reason, she was worried, and she could not possibly eat without knowing where Lily was and exactly what she was up to.
“I shall go and look in on
her,” Sophia said with a polite smile, placing her napkin on the table and pushing her chair back. “Just to see if she’s all right. It was a busy week you know, Watson, and everyone is quite exhausted.”
He held the door open for her as she departed.
Gathering her skirts in her hands, she whisked up the stairs, hoping to find everything as it should be: Lily in her room, merely dawdling. If she was dawdling, it was probably because she was kissing her pillow and calling it Pierre.
Sophia had to admit she would be relieved to find that that was the case. She wanted to believe that most of what Lily had told her the night before had been mere fantasy. The alternative was too disturbing to contemplate.
She reached her sister-in-law’s door and knocked.
Silence.
She knocked again.
When still no answer came, Sophia entered the room. It was empty.
“Lily?” She glanced around the tidy bedchamber. With everything that had happened with Pierre, Sophia couldn’t help but be worried. She walked to Lily’s large, oak wardrobe and opened the doors.
Gowns were missing.
Sophia’s heart skipped a beat. Instantly, she picked up her skirts and hurried from the room in search of Lily’s maid. “Josephine!” she called down the corridor as she headed for the front staircase.
Mrs. Bealer, the housekeeper, appeared in the main hall and stopped at the bottom of the staircase, looking up. “Your Grace? Whatever is the matter?”
“Where is Josephine?” Sophia asked as she flew down the stairs.
“She went to the village this morning.”
“Was Lady Lily with her?”
“No, Lady Lily asked to be left alone. She was very tired, Your Grace, and wished not to be disturbed.” Yet Lily’s room was empty, clothing was missing. Her maid off to the village…
Comprehending the possible implications of what was happening, Sophia labored to calm herself. It wouldn’t do to have every servant in the household knowing that Lily might have eloped with a stranger who might very well be her own brother. Lily would be ruined. Worse than ruined.
To Marry the Duke (American Heiress Trilogy Book 1) Page 23
