Temptation Has Green Eyes

by Lynne Connolly

  Still, she kept her distance. She gave him a chilly nod. “Mr. Hayes.”

  “Do I not merit a ‘John’? We are old friends, after all.”

  If she succumbed to that, it gave him permission to use her first name. It would give him tacit permission to call a marchioness “Sophia,” and he could take advantage of that. She’d ignored his earlier use of her name, as to object would have been undignified and petty, but she wouldn’t give him explicit permission. She didn’t reply, and tilted her head. He stood between her and the booths, as no doubt he knew.

  Breathe.

  She forced a breath in, and then another. “I’m not Sophia Russell any more. As no doubt you know.”

  A tinge of sadness entered his bright eyes. They were blue, not as deep and rich as Julius’s, but with an icy touch that chilled. Even now, when they were filled with warmth, that edge of coldness remained. “Of course.” He executed a low, graceful bow. “My lady.”

  She inclined her head graciously, praying the pulse frantically beating in her throat didn’t show in the soft light. Flambeaux—flaming torches set in sconces—lit these paths, but the effect was deliberately limited to give lovers the privacy they craved. He was standing between her and escape.

  “I have to congratulate you on your good fortune,” he said. “But to my demerit.”

  Rising from his bow, he took a step toward her. If he leaped at her, French would have to run to the booths. Could she get there and back in time?

  Sophia fought not to retreat. “Thank you,” she murmured. She’d have to walk toward him to get away, so she stayed where she was and recalled her father’s training. She removed her emotions and observed him. Studied him.

  He was handsome, shorter in height than Max, with less…vitality, somehow. Max had an energy that was apparent in everything he did. John kept his thoughts to himself, so she had never been sure what he was about to do or say.

  He wasn’t a monster, after all. Slowly his image had grown and developed in her mind until he became everything that was evil. As she breathed easier, her reason started working again, as if a blossom opened deep in her heart.

  She would stay and exchange a few cold words with him, making it clear she didn’t want to know him anymore.

  He watched her and he broke into a smile, as sweet as she remembered. Before that day, he’d amused her, persuaded her that she loved him. “I have missed you, Sophia. More than I can say. And yet I feel responsible for your…hasty marriage.”

  He’d used her name anyway. She wouldn’t encourage it.

  Now she’d forced rationality back into her head, she could assess his thoughts and she could almost see them, as if he’d written them down. Had she married Max because she couldn’t have John?

  “I’m not unhappy.” Yes, she was, but he didn’t need to know that. Would never know it if she could prevent it.

  “I see. And of course, the chance of becoming a marchioness is not to be sniffed at.”

  She frowned at that gentle hint of…what? Did John want something? Patronage?

  He gave her a small bow. “I’m currently working as a political secretary to a man of rank. I do hear more than I used to, and I wasn’t uninformed then.”

  A shadow crossed his eyes, or was that because he’d tilted his head farther to the left? He glanced at French, but the maid stood her ground, watching him warily. Sophia had put off the clothes she’d worn the day John had attacked her and told French to get rid of them, not wanting to see them again.

  “May we have a moment’s privacy?”

  Sophia glanced at French and nodded. That gave her maid the opportunity to move past John, on the right side, ready to run for help should she need to. Fortunately, French seemed to have some sense and did exactly that.

  John lowered his voice to an intimate level, but Sophia refused to venture any closer, as his tones invited. “What passed between us the last time we met… Sophia, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I cannot undo what I did. I can only pray I didn’t do too much.”

  He flicked a glance up at her face. She kept her expression steady and waited for him to continue.

  “I was carried away, and I thought you wanted what I did. I would have stopped before your father interrupted us, I swear, but nothing has affected me that deeply before.”

  She didn’t believe him. He had shown no intention of slowing down, had resisted her when she fought him. She repressed her shudder.

  “I regret so much what I did. It placed you out of reach, ensured that I would never win you.” Not to mention losing his lucrative place in her father’s company. “More than anything in the world, I wanted you. I still do, but believe me, I will only act as your friend. I’ll never behave inappropriately again, I swear.”

  “I doubt our paths will meet.” Her heart pounded harder. An apology at last, but did he mean it?

  “I fear they might.” His mouth turned down. “My new position puts me in places where it’s possible we’ll see each other. I wanted to speak to you in private to assure you that I will never, ever, behave like that again.”

  A spark flickered in the depths of his eyes and then was gone, leaving Sophia wondering if she’d imagined it.

  “Uninvited, unwanted. I frightened you and I’m more sorry for that than for everything else.”

  She found her voice. “Shocked.”

  John’s words sounded like a true apology, and after all, they’d only completed the act once. Out of all the times they’d spent alone together, only once had he attempted to go too far. She’d enjoyed his kisses and caresses before that last time, and he’d always stopped when she’d asked him to.

  Already she was halfway to forgiving him, but she couldn’t be sorry she hadn’t married him. John’s persuasiveness could carry him far. She appreciated his thoughtfulness in speaking to her before she met him in public. If that was all he wanted.

  So far her marriage hadn’t proved an unmitigated success. John had been kind, thoughtful, respectful, even, until that last time.

  Why had he done it? Had he thought she wanted him to take her by force? Or was she so repellent that men had to force themselves to take her?

  Probably, she thought with an inward sigh. So far the two men who had shown any interest in her were either too enthusiastic or not enthusiastic at all. One had terrified her, the other bewildered her. Max had made her want him, had eased her fears, and then left her completely alone.

  “I was shocked,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “What made you do it?”

  “A demon,” he growled and put his hand to his head, giving his wig a twitch. “I wanted you, but I lost all sense of propriety. It was my fault entirely. Hotheaded youth, that was all. I was foolish.”

  She could accept that, intellectually. With her head she understood, but her body still screamed at her to run, to get away. “And your reason for approaching me tonight was…?”

  “Because I have burned to apologize to you, but events separated us. I believe your father arranged your marriage to keep you away from me, and I bitterly regret that.”

  “And the rumors?” The ones that had nearly destroyed her reputation, brought her down, and put her father’s business in danger. If he couldn’t control her, why would people assume he could manage their investments?

  “That was not me, I swear it. I would never spread such scurrilous gossip.”

  If John had obtained a political secretary’s position, that spoke to his discretion. What if it wasn’t he who’d told her friends that she’d let him seduce her?

  “So I have you to thank that I’m now a marchioness.” She gave him a slight smile, one she hoped appeared condescending and aristocratic. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His smile was broader. “I didn’t want you to meet me somewhere you didn’t expect and have a fit or something. Like Lady Danvers’s ball next week.” He shrugged. “I should be attending that, and other events too.”


  My, he had come up in the world. He didn’t sound sorry for that. She presumed political secretaries would go to some of the larger gatherings, if only to collect information for their employers.

  Lifting her skirts, as if to take care not to touch him, she gave him what she hoped was a gracious nod and stepped forward, her heart working double-time. “I doubt you’d have given me an apoplexy. What happened between us may be termed unfortunate. Nothing more. Let us forget it, pray.”

  Not that she ever would, but he didn’t have to know that.

  He moved out of the way, and she sailed back to the booth where Julius and Helena were waiting. Julius gave her a raised brow and a, “Better now?” to which she nodded. She could even drink her wine.

  Chapter 8

  When she came down the stairs one evening a week after meeting John at Ranelagh, Sophia found her husband waiting.

  She was attending yet another ball and not looking forward to it one bit, but she’d manage. This endless succession of routs, balls, and entertainments meant she spent the days replenishing her wardrobe and the evenings attending the functions. Sometimes she read about herself in the newspapers the next day. After the first time, she learned to accept it, if not like it.

  The constant round of activity bewildered her. Before, she had a purpose, but now she wasn’t sure what she was doing. And that was what she said to Max when she saw him in the hall, ignoring his broad-shouldered handsomeness as best she could.

  “Why do we do this?”

  “What?” He brushed a fleck of dust off his sleeve and glanced at her. Then stilled, his hand not moving and his gaze fixed on her. He perused her, head to toe and then back again, and for some reason she shivered. It wasn’t a cold night.

  She groped for the banister rail and went down the remaining steps with caution, until she reached him.

  His handsome face broke into a smile. “You look lovely tonight. I like you in green.”

  “I match your eyes,” was all she could think of saying. Stupid, but it came out so quickly she couldn’t stop it. She’d chosen the fabric for this gown because it reminded her of his eyes. Like it or not, her husband attracted her as no other man.

  He flicked a glance over her head to the pier glass on the opposite wall. “So it does. Although that wasn’t the first thing I thought of when I saw you.” He put his hands on her waist, drew her closer, and lowered his head.

  His lips met hers. She’d assumed he wanted to kiss her cheek, as he had in the past weeks from time to time. But he didn’t. He took her mouth.

  They couldn’t nestle close. Her hooped petticoat wouldn’t allow it, but she stretched up to meet him and opened her hand on his cheek, the bristles prickling her palm.

  His lips moved as they kissed. Bliss. He tasted her when she opened her mouth shyly against his, slid his tongue around her lips and moaned a little, the sound vibrating against her skin, deliciously teasing.

  The kiss finished slowly, and he drew away from her slowly, gazing at her. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  That moment was so perfect, Sophia had forgotten the presence of the servants, something that usually inhibited her behavior. At home with her father, although the house was much smaller, they had fewer servants, and Sophia always had them knock before they entered a room. But Max had the aristocratic way of ignoring the domestics, unless he wanted something.

  With a flourish, he held out his arm. She placed her gloved hand on it in the approved manner. He liked her. He thought she looked attractive. So why wasn’t he coming to her bed?

  Sophia had no idea why, but perhaps the way to entice him back was to make friends. Men disliked disturbance. Her father hated it. So undertake her duties cheerfully, support him, deal with her problems, and smile through it.

  Not that she’d beg. She did that as much for her own pride as she did for him. She had her standards, and they didn’t include spending the day in idleness.

  Max helped her into the carriage. “Is there anyone we should be talking to tonight?” she asked him, once she’d settled her skirts.

  He was gazing at her. She shifted as her body heated uncomfortably.

  “Ah…in what way?”

  “You’re a businessman,” she reminded him.

  He leaned back opposite her and crossed his legs. “So I am. No, there is nobody in particular. But it’s a big event, and there could be all manner of people there.” His attention sharpened. “One of the things I like about you is your intelligence.”

  And here she was enjoying his powerful body and handsome features. Ah well, it was a start.

  After seeing John at Ranelagh, Sophia had finally managed to get her experience with him into perspective. It had been the most unpleasant time of her life, but it had ended with no harm. Somehow she’d become stuck on it, made it more important than it should be, but now she could see it for what it was. A minor incident that had no bearing on whatever she chose to do with the rest of her life. Time to move on, to look forward to her new life.

  “Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind.”

  The dim light of the carriage revealed no more than the glitter of his eyes. “Perhaps we may continue what we started in the hall tonight when we get home.”

  Shock and pleasure held her frozen for a minute. As she opened her mouth to reply, the carriage drew up outside the house in Grosvenor Square where they were due to attend the ball.

  Torchères were lit outside the houses on this side of the square, and as they descended, link boys rushed over to light their way. As if they had more than half a dozen steps to take. Sophia laid her hand on her husband’s arm, feeling a fraudster. She shouldn’t be here, with people treating her like a princess, wearing clothes that would keep a governess in funds for years. Not only did she have a maid, but her maid had an assistant.

  Did anyone else here feel that way? As they went through to the brightly-illuminated hall, she glanced at the others present, who appeared nonchalant and careless. They would toss those exquisitely fashioned garments and fans at their servants and say they were tired of them. Sophia would be more likely to wear them until she’d worn them out. Not that she could, because after one season they were out of style. A waste, but as she knew only too well, a boon to the silk weavers of Spitalfields.

  So many guests made the spacious hall appear small. Candles guttered in the sconces, filling the air with the aroma of hot beeswax and perfumes blended to a mixture of sweet and musky.

  Max took the whole scene in at a glance. He assessed the people and put them into neat categories as she did when she sorted her papers into regulated stacks.

  She had to release his arm to remove her hat and cloak, but she performed the office quickly, afraid he’d leave her to her own devices. He’d probably assumed she could cope perfectly, since she attended grand dinners and balls at the Mansion House or the Guildhall, but while the functions appeared similar, she found one big difference. She knew few people here well enough to chat to as she did those she’d grown up with. The people who worked in the City of London, that precious square mile that had held her whole life up to now.

  This time he waited for her, finding someone to chat to while she disposed of her outer wear, and then came back to her, all attention.

  Maybe tonight they would begin their marriage properly. Anticipation filled her stomach with flutters. Pleasurable ones. Suddenly she couldn’t wait for the evening to end.

  Upstairs the quartet was striking up for a minuet, and after sweeping her an exaggerated bow that made her smile, Max led her on to the floor.

  The murmur of conversation surrounded them, and a hundred candles twinkled overhead. The floor was polished wood, and she wore a lovely gown. Cinderella she was not, but the magic of the occasion wasn’t lost on her.

  Nobody paid them particular attention. The couples around them swayed gently like a field of flowers. The quartet played a tune Sophia had learned in the schoolroom, and she was ha
rd put not to hum, as was her habit when she was happy.

  Her husband gazed at her as they danced, and she had eyes only for him. She was being too fond, but she didn’t care. She’d had too few times like this in her life, when a man paid her so much attention, and that after a toe-melting kiss.

  However long this lasted, she’d commit it to memory.

  The dance was stately and graceful. Although she wasn’t the best dancer, she didn’t care, because in her eyes, her partner was the finest male on the floor. His mouth curled in a half-smile, and when, finally, the quartet drew the music to a close, she sank into a curtsey as deep as was decently allowable. His bow was sweet.

  But her dream had to end, as all dreams did. For a husband to spend an evening at his wife’s side was to invite condemnation for behaving like a provincial.

  Someone waited for them at the edge of the floor, a man, dark-eyed, watching them intently. Discomfort stirred inside her.

  Max merely grinned and gave the man a short bow. “Allow me to introduce you, my dear. This is yet another of my reprehensible cousins. Antoninus Beaumont, only son of Thaddeus Beaumont. Thaddeus is married to my aunt Frederica.”

  Another of the Duke of Kirkwood’s cousins. “Oh, I know Mr. Beaumont! He’s a colleague of my father’s. I’m delighted to meet you at last, sir.”

  Antoninus Beaumont bowed. “If I’d met you before Max did, you might be Mrs. Beaumont by now. I’m sorry for the omission. I’ve been abroad far too long.”

  A charmer, then.

  “And do you return to the army?”

  Antoninus shook his head. “No, I fear not. My father has finally prevailed on me to come home. Although I confess I had enough of the army in peace time. I may join again once the government finally stops prevaricating.”

  “If the government didn’t prevaricate, we’d be sending the army to war with ploughshares for swords,” Max said dryly. “Have patience, Tony.”

  Tony shot his cousin a cynical glance. “Me? My mother will tell you I was the first to walk and the first to talk. My brother waited until he was good and ready, apparently.”