His brother was the son of Mrs. Beaumont’s first marriage to Viscount Westwood. Max’s family was extensive and had a complicated history. She’d learn them all in time. Knowing their history from her father’s book helped. Tony was tall and lean, but with a no-nonsense air about him that reminded Sophia of his father.
Now he grimaced. “I do much to please my mother, including not attending City dinners with my father. I deeply regret that now.” He bowed over her hand while she laughed.
“It appears that all I have to do is get married to become the most desirable woman in London.”
Tony exchanged a smile with Max. “I’ve heard women say that before, but never with such untruth.”
Sophia enjoyed foolish compliments, playful ones. She added one of her own. “If you had remained in the army, you’d have rivalled the greatest general.”
Tony raised a dark brow. “Can you name one?”
“The Duke of Cumberland?”
He had a merry laugh. “Indeed. But he’s at the Court of St. James’s these days. I confess I’ve been avoiding a similar fate and looking for something interesting to do. Do you know anything? Ah, no, you come from the City. Not my idea of interesting.”
Sophia refused to make a stupid joke out of “Interest” and “Business,” although this man made her want to. So when the quartet began again, she gladly agreed to dance with him.
Only when they were half way through the piece did she realize that this was the first time she’d ever danced without a pause. Two men, one after the other. As if she were a debutante or the daughter of a duke.
Tony took her to meet other people then, including his mother, who she knew from the City. Lady Beaumont had a sharp, no-nonsense attitude Sophia appreciated, and she was happy to sit by her side and listen to her trenchant comments on the company. At last she was beginning to fit in. All she wanted was that, to be a part of this company and not avoided for no reason than that she wasn’t brought up with these people. That she was a merchant’s daughter.
If the family stood together, as Max had assured her they would, society would accept her.
Except when she stood to collect a glass of wine for her ladyship and one for herself, the same thing happened as always. People glanced at her, gave her considering stares, and turned away. They didn’t acknowledge her, but they didn’t ignore her either. A cold numbness invaded her.
On her walk to the supper room, her happy spirits evaporated into nothing. She hated dealing with this kind of smoke. If they turned their backs or cut her when she approached them, she’d recognize the shunning as a tangible thing and handle it. Go forward fighting. But this way she had nothing to fight against, like punching a wall of silk gauze. She could do nothing, and it angered her.
Persistence would win through. That and producing an heir for Max, someone who would be part of this. Part of them. Max had disappeared, no doubt using the opportunity to develop some deal or other. He never stopped working.
At least, that was what Sophia told herself. In truth, she had no idea, because their relationship hadn’t yet developed beyond the polite. It would, she promised herself. She wouldn’t allow him to keep her at arm’s length forever.
A single word heralded John’s presence at the ball tonight. “Sophia!”
A voice she knew but didn’t welcome. But she couldn’t afford to make a scene.
John bowed low. “I beg your pardon, Lady Devereaux. Our old acquaintance encouraged me presume too much.”
She didn’t make the same mistake, which was no mistake at all, and use his first name. “Mr. Hayes.” She would not yield and reveal her jittery nerves. “I trust you are well?” She couldn’t say it was good to see him, because it wasn’t.
“Extremely, thank you.” He dressed finer than he used to, a necessity in this company, but not nearly as grandly as some of the men there.
Max, for instance, had his emerald signet ring on tonight because it matched his coat, but the size of the engraved gem only emphasized the slenderness of his fingers. At the memory of their shielded strength she almost smiled. But not quite, because John would probably think her mad, laughing at nothing.
“My lady, your presence improves my health. I rejoice to see you so well.”
Sophia suppressed her embarrassed squirm at the flowery compliment. Over-flowery, neither truthful nor outrageous enough to amuse her. Where Tony had amused her with his pleasantries, John made her want to move away.
She inclined her head in what she hoped was gracious acceptance. “Thank you.” She was just taking a breath in preparation to excuse herself, when a voice broke in to their conversation.
“Why, Mr. Hayes, well met!”
Another man blocked her way into the refreshment room. Sophia didn’t know him. She thought about turning around, but that would be to admit defeat, so she stood her ground. He would step aside in a moment.
“Lady Devereaux, may I present Lord Alconbury?”
The man, dressed finely in dark brown velvet, bowed low as Sophia offered her hand for him to kiss. Devilishly dark and severely handsome. Also so tall she had to tilt her head to look up at him. His smile promised wicked delights.
He took it gently and kissed the air an inch above the back of her hand in the approved manner. “I’m honored, my lady.”
So relieved to meet someone who seemed genuinely pleased to see her, Sophia allowed the gentleman to accompany her to the refreshment room. “I’ve had some dealings with your husband,” he said, his low voice almost too quiet to hear. But he moved with confidence and let her place her hand on his arm.
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar—”
He paused and turned to her. “Lord Devereaux knows many people. Our paths have crossed a time or two. How are you finding the season, my lady? Your come-out was some time ago, so much of this must be new to you.”
She didn’t object to his practical statement. “I wish more people would see it as such, my lord. I have no desire to force myself on anyone.”
“Indeed never think that way. They’ll respect you more if you disdain them and ignore them. You should be cruel to your servants and insist they work all the hours of the day. Build a reputation for carelessness. Never rise until noon, and never go to bed before two.”
He had a charming smile. Although not exactly handsome, he had an attractive countenance and a pleasant disposition. She laughed with him. “I’m afraid I’m too carefully brought up for that.”
“Then try.” He bent closer, but not so close that it disturbed her. But he could lower his voice. “Lady Devereaux, if you ever need a friend, I’ll stand for you.”
She blinked up at him, startled. He was exceedingly tall. “Why should you say that, sir?”
“Recently I heard information that might make it possible that you’ll need a friend.”
Giving a practiced smile, she refused to listen to such enigmatic pronouncements. “Truly sir, I have a husband and a father. Not to mention many other people I can rely on. I am not friendless.”
“If ever you are, come to me.”
He guided her to the tables and handed her a glass of wine.
“You’re very kind, sir, but I’ve only just met you.”
Her husband’s voice came from behind her. “Sophia, I wondered where you were. Are you ready to leave?” He sounded hard, unreachable once more. Totally unlike the soft voice he’d used earlier, after they’d kissed and in the carriage.
She turned around to face him. “We’ve only been here an hour. Are we promised anywhere else tonight?” They weren’t, but perhaps he’d received an invitation. Or surely they would stay longer.
“No.”
No question, no request, no excuse. Sometimes he’d go somewhere else and she’d return home, or she’d accompany Poppy or Helena to a different ball. But as Max glared at her, she knew he was making that option impossible.
What had happened? Her heart ached. The progress they�
�d made earlier in the evening had dissipated like smoke in the wind. Nothing left.
When she turned to take her leave of Lord Alconbury, he’d gone. Max hadn’t bothered to conceal his sudden frostiness.
Rather than create a fuss, she mustered what dignity she could and left with her head held high.
She had to use every bit of her self-control not to refuse Max’s help into the carriage. Of course his touch had its usual predictable outcome, triggering those now unwanted emotions of yearning and need.
He didn’t speak to her but observed her, tight-lipped, on the short journey back to their town house.
He helped her out with due punctiliousness and led her in. They went past a clearly startled footman who had probably not expected them back so early and straight into the breakfast parlor at the rear of the house.
The room was cold and unlit. Max paused to find the tinder box and light a branch of candles before he turned to her. The relatively dim light didn’t help to dispel his stern mien.
“You are not to talk to that man again.”
“What man? John Hayes? Believe me, I have no wish to talk to him, but if society sees me shunning him, it will add to the gossip.”
“No, not him. Alconbury.”
She glared at him. Alconbury’s arrival had come as a relief, breaking any presumptions John might have. “Why not? Is he a notorious flirt? Are you by any chance jealous, Max? I found him amusing and respectful. I will most certainly speak to him again if he wishes it.”
“I forbid it.”
Astonished, she dropped her mouth open. She closed it with a snap of her teeth and found her voice. “I beg your pardon?”
Max wasn’t the only person who could make his voice drip ice if they chose. She had had enough. “You cannot preserve me in aspic and then scold me for talking to men who at least have the courtesy of taking care of me. You are, Max, the most complete hand. I do not mean that as a compliment.”
“I am aware of that.” He came close enough for her to see the sparks in his eyes, enhanced by the flickering candles and the lighter flecks of color. But he looked dangerous and, with his ascetic features, almost otherworldly. An angry god. The emerald at his throat gleamed with malicious intent. If an emerald could be said to have intent. “However it is my wish that you do not speak to him again.”
Why should she? If he’d given her an explanation, then yes, she’d have considered it. But to present it as an order and to give no reason?
“Max, I’m asking you one more time. Why don’t you want me to speak with him? Give me a cause, rephrase your command, and I might consider it. But I am not the kind of wife who will meekly obey without question. Respect creates respect, and I’ve had precious little from you recently.”
He glared at her and then spun away, the skirts of his coat catching her gown and forcing her to take a step back. She firmly stepped forward, but kept close to the door. If she exited, she wanted the exercise dignified, not with him in the way. He took a few paces into the room and back again before he turned to face her.
“He’s a Dankworth.”
“What?”
“He’s the son of the Duke of Northwich. A Dankworth. They’re dangerous, and they would do anything to put the Emperors in a bad light.”
She hadn’t realized that. Her father’s book only concerned itself with the people they were likely to do business with. Northwich never struck either of them as a good prospect.
Then Lord Alconbury was the son of John’s new employer. But he was perfectly respectable, or he seemed so. “Why?” That sounded like Shakespearian tragedy rather than real life. She needed more than that.
“They’re Jacobites.”
She snorted. “Pooh, everybody knows that!” The Dankworths were long-established Jacobites, but since the rebellion had been put down so decisively, the Stuart faction hadn’t counted for much. “They’re a spent force. Not even welcome in France these days.”
“That could change.” He took a deep breath through his nose, like a dragon about to belch fire. His nostrils flared. “We don’t wish to be associated with them.”
“We? Do I not have an identity of my own, then?”
“Not in law.”
Fury filled her. If he’d asked, if he’d reasoned with her, she’d have listened, but he had not. He ordered, and Sophia never obeyed orders blindly. “My lord, I am not the meek and mild wife you imagine. I will not be commanded, and I will not accept your word without good reason. So far you’ve given me none. Ten years ago I might have listened to you, but that’s not enough. Jacobites!”
Time to leave. A family feud didn’t sound like anything she wanted any part of. Destructive and stupid. No merit at all. No profit in it.
With a flounce, she spun around and showed him what skirts really looked like when they were flared. Then she stalked out of the room and went to bed.
She dampened her pillow that night, but her tears were as much fury as frustration. She’d longed to get closer to her husband, but not at the expense of her independent spirit. Tonight he’d made advances that had given her hope, only to dash it later.
She would not let him or anyone else trample her into the dust. After years of defying and proving to her father that she was as good as any son, she wasn’t about to lose the battle to another man.
Chapter 9
John Hayes approached Sophia in the park the next day, when she was taking the air with only her maid and a footman for company. Sophia showed him a serene face. More to demonstrate to Max that she wouldn’t obey his strictures than because she was glad to see John.
Still not in charity with Hayes and angry with the way her body reacted by tightening in fear whenever she saw him, she understood she would have to conquer that emotion. The best way to do it was with familiarity. Only the social kind, naturally, but it would do.
Although the last thing she wanted to do was rest her fingertips on his arm, she did it, glad she was wearing gloves. That layer of fabric gave her another piece of distance. At least he couldn’t attack her here, in the fashionable hour at the park with much of society looking on.
“I’m pleased I found you in private,” John said. “I’m sorry, however, that we can’t speak somewhere quieter.”
She stared at him incredulously. “There is no chance of that. You’ve apologized for what you did, but I’m not sure I totally forgive you. It’s obvious you want to seek out my presence. After this, I’d appreciate it if you did not. Too much familiarity is as bad as too little.”
“We will meet, though.”
“I daresay, and give each other courteous nods. That will do. If you want to get back into my father’s graces, I have to tell you that you’re a lost cause with him. Give it up.”
“I know,” he said sadly. “I wouldn’t have upset him for the world.”
What about her? “Nevertheless, you have.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I will never cease to regret that day. I found you irresistible, and I offered you behavior I should never have allowed in myself. It was unthinking and instinctive.”
“Plenty of people seem able to resist me.” That, at least, was obvious.
She nodded to Lady Carter, currently driving past in her carriage. The lady nodded back.
Good. The initial doubts at her entry into society were dispelling. The longer she behaved as she should, the more they would accept her.
“Sophia, I need to tell you something. In my current position I heard some disturbing rumors, and I went to my employer for confirmation. He said it was so, and he wanted to see you.”
“Does this concern me, or is it society gossip?”
“It certainly concerns you. It also explains why the Marquess of Devereaux wished to marry you, and so quickly, too.”
Because he desired the arrangement with the Russells made formal without delay. Although now he didn’t appear too enthusiastic to further the relationship.
“
I can’t tell you everything because I don’t know it. Have you heard the rumors?”
“Which particular rumors?” There were always rumors.
“That you’re not your father’s daughter.” His words dropped like a stone into a frozen pond, shards of awareness smashing the surface.
Hearing the words and absorbing them proved two very different things. At first she laughed. Then she stared at him. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“That’s why some people don’t talk to you. Don’t bother to deny it. I know it’s true.” His blue gaze compassionate, John waited for her to respond.
Somehow she kept walking. “That is idiocy. I’m my father’s heir, his only…” She cleared her throat and began again. “My mother was the daughter of an earl, and my father is one of the wealthiest men in London. That is who I am. They are my acknowledged parents.”
She hadn’t realized how tightly she was gripping his coat. Deliberately she eased her hold.
He patted her hand. “That’s what I thought, and it’s certainly the legal case, although your father may leave his fortune where he wishes.”
She knew that, but she didn’t care. Once she’d thought he’d leave it to John, as long as he married her. But that one day changed everything, and now here she was, a marchioness. With an unknown father, if what John said were true.
Of course it was not. Gravel scuffed under her feet, the sound unnaturally loud.
“When I first heard the rumor, I scoffed too,” he continued.
They walked at a steady pace. At least she could glance away and angle her head so the broad brim of her hat concealed her hurt.
“But they are strong. I asked my employer about it, knowing him for a discreet man, and he gave me advice. He said to bring you to see him. He says he knows the truth, but he wishes to speak to you about it face to face.”
She dug her heels in to the path. John had to come to a halt or walk on without her. He stopped. With deliberate intent, she removed her hand from his arm and gave him a frosty smile.
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