“What of you?” she asked, obviously still trying to be a good conversationalist. No doubt his grandmother had told her to.
“I appreciate some performances more than others.” He raised a brow as he moved closer, hoping to suggest he wasn’t referring to music or any other polite society event.
“Such as?” Her head tilted slightly as though curious as to his answer.
He reached her side and ran a finger over her shoulder and down her arm. “Such as the one playing right now.” He kept his voice low as he continued. “I wonder if you’ll let me closer.” He edged nearer. “If you’ll allow me to kiss you once more.”
Sophia’s eyes grew wide. “Oh?” If he wasn’t mistaken, she sounded rather breathless.
That made two of them.
He tilted his head, ready to take her lips with his, wondering how far he might take this kiss. When her hand moved against his chest, his body tightened with anticipation, only to realize that hand was firmly pressed against him with an entirely different purpose than he’d wanted—to halt him.
A glance at her face confirmed it. She was having none of this. She took a step back. Then another.
“I’ve appreciated our time together this evening.” She looked deliberately at the drink he still held. “But I would like to check on your grandmother before the hour grows too late.”
She dipped into a curtsy and was gone before he could think of a reason to protest.
He scowled, realizing he didn’t care for the sensation of failure. Especially not at something he was supposed to be good at—playing the role of scoundrel.
The enigmatic Miss Sophia Markham was proving to be more of a challenge than he’d anticipated. Damn if he didn’t look forward to their next encounter.
Chapter Five
Sophia woke the next morning, a knot of dread lodged in her stomach. She gave into her mood and tugged the covers over her head, not wanting to face the day.
No doubt the earl intended to convince the countess to dismiss her based on her behavior last night. She’d tried to be friendly and interesting during supper, but the earl had deliberately attempted to provoke her.
It confused her when he acted like such a scoundrel. How could that man be the same one who’d held his grandmother’s hand and declared his affection for her with no worry over how his behavior would be perceived? The man who had spoken to her of the stars and his travels had been different as well. Which man was true?
His reputation was known far and wide and bandied about in polite society as a well-known fact. Who was she to wonder if it was a falsehood?
Besides, what reason could he possibly have to encourage the rumors of his exploits? No advantage of doing so came to mind. If anything, she thought he’d prefer to act in a manner that would make his grandmother proud.
Of course, Sophia knew the countess loved him dearly. They shared a special bond. It would take more than his outlandish behavior to dim their affection.
With a sigh, she pushed back the covers. Lying here wondering if she needed to pack her bags wouldn’t change the outcome. Better to proceed with the day. Until she was dismissed, she had duties to attend to.
Most of all, she wanted to find out how the countess fared. Sophia had looked in on her the previous night but the light was out in her room, suggesting she already slept.
As Sophia dressed, she considered Elliott’s behavior throughout the past week. Something was off, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. Finally, it struck her. He didn’t act like a man whose sole purpose in life was to have a good time. Rather he moved through his days with determination, his thoughts seeming to be on weightier matters than whom he might ravish next or where to find the liveliest entertainment.
If he were truly a rogue, wouldn’t he have followed her to her room last evening or tried to accost her in the middle of the night while she slept? She’d heard stories of maids and governesses who awoke in the dark of night to find the master of the house on top of them.
She couldn’t imagine Elliott doing any such thing. His careless acts—those he did without forethought—always reflected his kindness and respect for others. It was his deliberate movements, such as the way he’d advanced on her last night, that suggested improper behavior.
With a shake of her head, she reminded herself that her opinion didn’t matter. She was a companion in this household. Not a guest. Not a relative. She was paid to be here, and she’d fare better if she could remember that.
It had been her choice to become a companion. After living with the extremes of her mother’s broken-hearted existence and her aunt’s bitterness, she was certain this was the best option for her. She couldn’t risk being hurt and living as unhappily as they had.
She glanced in the mirror to make certain she was presentable, tucked a loose curl of hair into her chignon, pinched her cheeks to help hide the fact she’d had a restless night, and left her room, hurrying down the stairs.
Only to run directly into Elliott.
He reached out to catch her, holding her bare arms.
“I’m terribly sorry, my lord.”
“I’m not.” His easy smile drew her notice, causing a slow heat to fill her.
His green eyes were clear and he smelled wonderful—nothing like a man well into his cups the previous evening would smell.
He continued to hold her lightly, and she couldn’t find it within her to step away. Not when he looked at her as if pleased to see her.
That couldn’t be the case. She’d refused his advances last night when she knew he wanted her gone. Why wasn’t he angry or at least annoyed?
As though aware of the questions circling her thoughts, the warmth in his gaze cooled as a layer of reserve shuttered his expression. He reached up to slowly run a finger along her cheek then down her neck. The corner of his mouth tilted up, but she recognized it to be a false smile.
Why did he act this way?
The answer came easily but still unwelcome—to convince her to leave.
Disappointment filled her. Why did he want her gone so badly? Surely the little he’d become acquainted with her hadn’t made him dislike her that much.
From what she could perceive in this moment, with the warmth of his finger trailing along her skin leaving tingles in its wake, she had two choices.
She could either comply and leave, as he so obviously wanted her to do. Or she could choose not to let his forward behavior bother her. That would be easier said than done when his touch, his glances, his smiles—the genuine ones—set her heart racing.
One fact at the heart of the matter guided her decision. She wanted this position. She adored the countess and enjoyed spending time with her. The older woman was so different from both her mother and her aunt. Sophia felt valued here, and the countess seemed to like her.
For the first time in a long while, Sophia was happy. She had to find a way to stay in Elliott’s good graces so she could keep her position.
“Are you going to see your grandmother?” With a bright smile, she stepped away from his finger, trying to ignore how bereft she felt without his touch. “That’s where I was going as well. May I accompany you?”
Without waiting for an answer, she moved down the hall, glancing over her shoulder to see him standing right where she’d left him. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
“Yes, of course.” A frown now marred his brow.
She turned to hide her smile, pleased she was keeping him off balance as much as he was her. Perhaps this day held more hope than she’d thought.
~*~
Later that morning, Elliott considered each word carefully as he penned a message at the desk in his library to one of his associates.
Writing down information was always a dangerous endeavor. One never knew who might intercept the message, yet it needed to contain enough details to be helpful. Meeting with each and every person with whom he needed to communicate wasn’t practical. He’d already been overextended in his activities since his return home.
/> That was surely the reason Sophia had gotten under his skin. He’d been thinking of her, and when she practically fell into his arms in the hall, he’d been delighted. But playing the role of rogue with her had become a chore as it required significant effort.
Her reaction this morning had been surprising. She’d ignored his advances as though not bothered by them at all.
He tapped the top of his desk, pondering the moment again, trying to focus on her odd reaction rather than the softness of her skin.
No matter how he felt toward her, she remained a threat to his identity. The simplest way to remove that threat was to remove her. Unfortunately, that was proving to be far more difficult than he’d expected.
Suddenly aware of a presence at the door, he looked up to find Codwell waiting patiently, holding a silver tray with a message. At Elliott’s nod, the butler walked to his desk and held out the tray. “This arrived for you, my lord.”
The symbol on the front identified it as having been sent by Prime Minister Gladstone. “Thank you.” He took the missive reluctantly. He didn’t know what it contained, but no doubt it held either unwelcome news or additional work.
Codwell had been with him long enough that he knew a few details of Elliott’s work. He never asked questions but occasionally offered bits of gossip and rumors that crossed his path from other households.
If the ton realized what their servants knew and how often they shared it with others, they’d more closely guard their secrets. Didn’t they wonder what the footmen discussed as they waited for their lords and ladies at balls or what was whispered between maids who crossed each other’s paths on their daily jaunt to the market?
It was impossible to hide everything, but Elliott did his best. He trusted Codwell and knew he could count on his discretion. Elliott had no doubt the servant knew who’d sent the message, regardless of who’d delivered it.
“If I may mention a trivial matter, my lord?”
Elliott looked up at Codwell’s request. “Of course.”
“It might be best if you avoid pouring your drinks into the palm. The plant doesn’t care for it.” He nodded toward the pot Elliott had emptied his drink into the previous night.
Codwell was correct. The palm appeared wilted, as though ill from too much alcohol. Elliott had felt the same on more mornings than he cared to count. Now, he did his best to dump the liquor rather than drink it so he didn’t feel as the plant obviously did.
“I have taken the liberty of placing a decorative pitcher on the side table and another beside the fireplace with the hopes that they will provide you with an alternative.”
Elliott nodded in amusement. “Well done, Codwell. We wouldn’t want to kill any plants, would we?”
“I believe that one was a gift from your grandmother. She would be disappointed with us if that occurred.”
Elliott chuckled. Codwell was right. Luckily, she didn’t come into the library often. He hoped she didn’t visit until the palm recovered.
A soft knock at the open door caught his attention.
Sophia cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but your grandmother is hoping for a word with you in her withdrawing room when you have a moment.”
Elliott stared at Sophia, wondering what she’d overheard. This proved that he needed her gone. Keeping secrets was no easy task, especially not with a curious, intelligent woman living in his house.
But he knew beyond a doubt he was going to miss her when she was gone.
~*~
Dalia looped her arm through Sophia’s as they walked along Bond Street. “I’m so pleased you suggested this outing.”
“When the countess requested I pick up a few things for her, I thought it would provide the perfect opportunity to spend time with you.” She smiled at her cousin. “Plus, I know you know the best places to find everything on my list.”
Dalia laughed. “Ah. The true reason is revealed. I am only here for your use.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
“It’s quite all right. I have another purpose as well.”
“Do tell.” Spending time with Dalia and her sisters always brightened Sophia’s mood. She enjoyed their company. They reminded her how to relax and release her seriousness.
After only a few minutes in Dalia’s company, her worry eased. The tension between her and Elliott was starting to wear on her. Their constant battle of wits over the past few days was both invigorating and exhausting.
“I wanted to hear how you’re getting along with the earl.”
“What do you mean?” Sophia cursed the heat filling her cheeks.
“Come now, Sophia. You danced with him. You had a private moment on the terrace with him. You live with him. And he is a scoundrel. All of that adds up to something. Is he behaving himself or do you have to beat him away with a stick?”
The mischievous glint in her cousin’s eyes had Sophia laughing. “It’s a good thing I know you are jesting.”
“I’m serious. You’re an attractive single lady. He’s one of the ton’s most eligible bachelors, well known for his roguish ways. I have no doubt you are a temptation he has difficulty resisting.”
“Please. I’m his grandmother’s companion. What interest could he possibly have in me?” Other than to convince her to quit. In truth, she was hurt by the idea that he wanted her to leave—hurt enough that she decided against sharing it with Dalia.
Her plan to ignore his advances had been successful the past two days, but it didn’t change her disappointment at his wish for her to leave.
“Fine then. Keep your secrets.” Dalia lifted her chin, a teasing light in her eyes. “Obviously, we’re not as close as I thought.”
Sophia gave her a gentle push with their linked arms as they walked. “You are being ridiculous.”
If anyone had secrets it was Elliott. Though she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, she’d heard Codwell’s comment about the palm in the library. The very one he’d been standing near the other night just before he’d refilled his glass. Had he truly poured his drink in it? Why would he want her to think he was over imbibing?
As she considered the matter, she became even more convinced there was more to the earl than met the eye. She vowed to watch him closer from now on to see what he was up to.
If she dared.
After all, watching him more risked increasing the attraction she already felt for him. Was she strong enough to resist it?
Dalia chuckled in response. “Very well then. If you’re not going to tell me anything exciting, let us proceed with our shopping. What is first on your list?”
With Dalia’s assistance, she purchased lace, buttons, and a different shade of red thread for the countess’s needlework project.
“Do you mind if we stop by the bookshop?” she asked her cousin. “A book we ordered came in.”
The bell of the shop tinkled as they entered. Sophia breathed in the slightly musty smell of books, loving the promise it represented. There hadn’t been bookshops in their small village in the country. It required great effort on her part to keep from wandering up and down the aisles to see what treasures awaited.
Concern for the countess kept her focused on her purpose. Sophia didn’t want to be gone long. The older woman seemed especially tired earlier and intended to rest while Sophia was gone. Sophia was anxious to make certain she was well.
The shopkeeper retrieved the book they’d ordered and slid it across the counter for her inspection. “Here it is.”
Sophia ran her gloved hand over the embossed, leather-bound cover in appreciation. She was looking forward to reading this and discussing it with the countess. “Yes, this is the one.”
“Truly? You’re going to read The Seven Curses of London?” Dalia asked as she picked up the book. At Sophia’s nod, she shook her head. “My sister, Lettie, talks about this book frequently.”
“Really? She liked it then?”
“She’s gone so far as to try to solve one of the problems the a
uthor notes. That’s how she and her husband met. At the foot of Blackfriars Bridge, where she was attempting to convince some of the young girls who worked in the factories to allow her to assist them.”
“How marvelous.” Sophia tried to imagine having the courage to do such a thing. “That is so brave. Do you think she would speak with me about it?”
Dalia narrowed her eyes. “You will lose at least an hour of your life by raising the subject. She’s impossible to stop once she starts.”
“Perhaps the countess would like to invite her to tea. I’m certain she’d enjoy hearing of your sister’s activities as well.”
“Do me the favor of not inviting me when that occurs. I have heard the stories too many times already.”
Sophia envied Dalia her large family. Though she knew Dalia sometimes felt she blended in with her sisters, loneliness would never be a problem with so many siblings.
After the shopkeeper wrapped the book and they departed, Sophia asked, “Do you ever have the desire to see if you can make a difference?”
Dalia was quiet for a long moment as they strolled along, her expression serious. “I confess the idea of another Season of the same balls and parties and musicals doesn’t hold the appeal it did last year. It all seems rather frivolous after you learn of the problems others face.”
“I can see why you might feel that way.”
Pausing on the walkway, Dalia added, “Please know that I mean no offense, but your life hasn’t been an easy one, has it? It sounds as if you and your mother and aunt got along on very little.”
“I didn’t mind going without so much as when Aunt Margaret made us feel guilty for taking pleasure in anything. Laughter was a rarity in our world after we went to live with her when Father died.” She realized now that her father was a combination of traits, not exclusively good or bad. Weren’t all people, including Elliott?
“I can’t imagine that.” Dalia shook her head. “I hope you are finding chances to enjoy your new life.”
“I count my blessings every day, and you are one of them.”
Tempting the Scoundrel (The Seven Curses of London Book 5) Page 5
