My Seductive Innocent

by Julie Johnstone

  Must you? her mind screamed, yet she inclined her head for him to do so.

  “Mr. Stephens, who worked for your husband on board his ship Woodwind, was kidnapped at the London Docks, along with your husband, the night the duke was last seen. Ravensdale intended to sell your husband on the slave market in Algiers, and Mr. Stephens tried to save your husband and was taken for his efforts.”

  Without thinking, Sophia bounded out of her chair, almost knocking Amelia over. “This is wonderful,” she exclaimed. But as she looked at the people around her and saw jaws going slack and brows furrowing, she giggled nervously. “Don’t you see? If this Mr. Stephens escaped, Nathan might have, too. Or if not, I’m sure Mr. Stephens can tell us what ship to look for, and we now know where they are likely going.”

  Amelia rose and slid her arm around Sophia’s waist. “Dearest, he’s not finished. Please. Sit down.”

  Amelia’s dire tone made Sophia’s knees buckle. She would have fallen to the floor if not for Ellison catching her in his arms. She turned her head sideways and gawked. Nathan’s cousin was a dull comparison to her glorious husband. The cruel thought made her want to shrink away from her own mind.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him, though he knew not what she had been thinking.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Sophia,” he replied.

  When had he started calling her by her first name?

  He traced a hand down her cheek, and it reminded her so poignantly of one of Nathan’s gestures that tears pooled in her eyes. “There now,” he murmured. “Sit back down.”

  She slumped into her chair and choked out, “Go on.”

  “Mr. Stephens and your husband had been attempting to escape together and were seconds from making it off the ship when your husband turned back to save a woman who was being abused by Ravensdale in plain sight.”

  Sophia swallowed. “Yes, he would do that.”

  Sir Richard gave her an understanding look. “Mr. Stephens informed me that the duke was hit in the leg with a dagger standing right there on the gangway, and when he went down, and surely knew there was no way for him to move fast enough to flee, he told Mr. Stephens to go without him. And he did.”

  Fury boiled her blood. Nathan would have never left anyone whether it meant he sealed his own death or not.

  Sir Richard’s eyebrows drew together. “Your Grace, Mr. Stephens is a good man. He feels terrible about leaving the duke behind, but he knew, as your husband did, that they would both be killed if he stayed. Mr. Stephens had to make a quick decision, and he thought, understandably so, that if he could manage to escape and find someone friendly to his cause to bring him back to England, then he would have enough knowledge to lead us in the direction of your husband.”

  Shame curled in her belly that she had judged Mr. Stephens so readily, but joy burst inside of her. “Then this is as I said! You know the name of the ship and you know where this pirate is going!” Tears of relief streaked warm tracks down her face. “I’ll search for him with you!” She dashed a hand at her tears as she looked at Sir Richard.

  His face turned ashy, and he inhaled a quick, audible breath.

  “Oh, Sophia!” Amelia sobbed and hugged her.

  “What is it?” Sophia struggled to disentangle herself from the weeping Amelia.

  Sir Richard cleared his throat and tugged a hand through his hair. “I regret to inform you that Commoner’s Revenge was sunk near Saint-Malo while trying to escape capture by Worthington. It is my most lamentable duty to tell you that there were no survivors. Your husband is dead.”

  The ringing that had been a dull hum became a deafening roar. Sophia pressed her palms to her ears for a moment before speaking. When she peeled her palms away, she said only one word, loudly and with a force that made Amelia jerk beside her. “No.”

  Sir Richard gaped, and she had the sudden urge to slap him. He nodded. “I’m afraid so. Ravensdale fired on Worthington, and he returned fire to avoid being killed.”

  “No!” Standing, she glared at Sir Richard. He was a stupid man. A fool! How had she not seen it?

  The Duke of Aversley startled her when he grasped her elbow. She tried to pull away, but he swiveled her to face him, and his viselike grip was inescapable. His eyes held a depth of sorrow that made her chest feel as it had been ripped open and crows were pecking unmercifully at her heart.

  “Yes,” he said with a finality that made her sway in his grip. He took her other arm, as well. “Stephens would not lie, nor would Worthington. When Worthington docked in Saint-Malo for emergency repairs, Stephens made his way to Worthington’s ship and told him that Scarsdale had been on board Commoner’s Revenge. Worthington searched the waters for any signs of life. He even had locals help him search. Scarsdale is gone.”

  “No!” She tried to break free of the duke’s hold once more. If she just kept repeating that Nathan was not dead, then it would be so. “No! No! No!” she screamed until she was sobbing and sagging against the duke’s chest. Her world spun so quickly she was sure she would faint. She longed to faint. She wanted to slide into oblivion and never return.

  “Your Grace,”

  Sophia struggled to open her eyes to no avail. Her lids wouldn’t budge.

  “Your Grace,” the voice came again, insistent and annoying.

  Sophia tried to lift her arm to bat the person away, but her arm was heavy as the barrels Frank had made her roll from the kitchen to the bar.

  “Your Grace, the Duke of Scarsdale says I must get you out of bed and dressed. It has been two days.”

  Sophia’s eyes flew open at those words. Reaching up, she gripped a startled Mary Margaret. “I knew it!” she cried, tears instantly leaking out of her eyes.

  Mary Margaret wrinkled her brow. “Knew what, Your Grace?”

  Sophia blinked, trying to clear her blurry vision. “I knew he was alive! I knew if I just kept hope in my heart everyone else would be proven wrong.”

  Mary Margaret’s frown deepened, and the lady’s maid scampered back as Sophia shooed her out of the way. She tried to stand but her body didn’t want to cooperate. “What have you done to me? I cannot go to Nathan like this.”

  Mary Margaret pressed a hand to her mouth, a soft cry escaping her clamped lips.

  “Help me stand,” Sophia snapped, irritated at her maid’s behavior.

  Instantly, hands came under both of Sophia’s arms. “Your Grace, perhaps you should sit for a minute until the laudanum wears off completely.”

  Sophia searched her foggy memory for who had given her laudanum, and she dug out a picture of the physician, Amelia, the Duke of Aversley, and Ellison standing over her with worried looks. She nodded. “I’ll sit just a minute, and then I’ll go to him.”

  Mary Margaret blew out a sigh but said nothing while turning on her heel. She made her way across the room and came back carrying a tray laden with bread, cheese, and hot chocolate. Before her lady’s maid could even put the tray down, Sophia picked up a chunk of bread and tore into it with her teeth. She was ravenous. She couldn’t remember the last meal she had consumed, nor could she recall the last time she had wanted to eat.

  After a few more bites, the trembling in her limbs subsided. She pushed the tray away, stood up with care, and took a few tentative steps. Her limbs felt steadier already, though not as strong as usual. Still, she could hardly care! Joy exploded inside of her, and she clutched Mary Margaret to her impulsively. “He’s alive!”

  “No, Your Grace.” Mary Margaret’s voice was gentle but firm. “He’s not. You misunderstood me. I was referring to the new Duke of Scarsdale.”

  A burning flame spread from her head to her stomach, and whatever small control she had on her emotions broke under the weight of her grief.

  Ellison.

  “He cannot call himself that!” she screamed, knowing even as her wail vibrated the room that he could. Fury boiled up from her belly to nearly choke her. She shoved past Mary Margaret and flung open her door with a bang. Behind her, Mary Marg
aret called frantically, and as Sophia bounded down the stairs, her lady’s maid caught up with her and grasped her arm.

  “Your Grace, you are in your bedclothes.”

  “What do I care?” she demanded, breathless with rage. “How foolish it would be to cling to etiquette when my heart has been ripped from my chest!”

  Wordlessly, Mary Margaret draped a wrapper around Sophia’s shoulders. “He would not want you to go about like this. He would want you to clothe yourself in dignity.”

  He! A whispered word, not even her husband’s name. Not even in normal tones. “Say. His. Name.”

  “The Duke of Scarsdale.”

  Sophia could not quell the rage. “Nathan. Say it. His name was Nathan.”

  “Nathan,” Mary Margaret said in a trembling voice.

  She might as well have slapped Sophia in the face. His name, from her maid’s quivering lips, had the stinging effect of a well placed hit. Sophia stood there opening and closing her mouth, tears pouring down her face. Her maid was right. This display would not have made Nathan happy. He would have wanted her to act with grace, even in the pits of despair. Yet, when Ellison appeared at the bottom of the stairs and glanced up at her, all reason fled and despair took its hold once more.

  “You.” She spat the word. “You should not be the duke. Nathan was the duke. Nathan!” She crumpled to the floor, drew her knees to her chest, and laid her forehead against her knees. “Nathan should be duke,” she repeated again and again until it sounded almost like a tune swirling around her.

  Ellison’s footsteps grew louder as he drew near, and he kneeled beside her. She tensed and refused to look up and acknowledge him. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “You’re right. I should not be the duke. I’m nothing compared to the man Nathan was, and I know it as well as you do.”

  Her heart twisted at his tortured words and his apology to her. He’d apologized to her! She was being utterly wretched and cruel, and he’d humbled himself to her. Suddenly, all her anger drained away, and only deep sorrow remained. She glanced up and locked gazes with him.

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m sure you will make a fine duke. Forgive my outburst.”

  He held out his hands, and she took them and allowed him to help her stand. “You are part of our family now, Sophia. There’s no need to worry that you will have to go back to the life you had.”

  She stared at him blankly for a second, and then his insinuation registered. She clenched her teeth in irritation. Perhaps she was being touchy. Still... “I’ve not given a single thought to what might become of me.” Except for the thousands of moments she had thought about how Nathan would never caress her again. Never make her laugh again. Never exchange barbs with her again. He’d never decorate his home for her at Christmastide again. A large, immovable lump formed in her throat. She swallowed and spoke. “I do not care what becomes of me.”

  Ellison gave her a doubtful look. “Well, Scarsdale cared. And his solicitor is downstairs now in my study waiting to speak with you.”

  His study! Her nostrils flared that he so easily took over Nathan’s home, but then, it was no longer Nathan’s. She drew the wrapper tightly around her. “I’ll be there in a moment. Let me dress for the day.”

  With Mary Margaret’s help, it didn’t take long to don a gown, and as she put on the light-blue morning gown, it struck her that she would need to have black gowns to wear for mourning. She worried her lip, unsure whether she should ask Ellison’s permission to purchase black gowns or not. When she had a moment alone with Amelia, she would inquire as to what she should do.

  When she entered Nathan’s―no, Ellison’s―study, Amelia, the duke, and Lady Anthony were all seated there.

  Lady Anthony glared at her with reproachful eyes. “We’ve been waiting half an hour for you.”

  Before Sophia could decide whether to apologize or not, Ellison spoke. “Mother,” he clipped, “if you cannot be civil, then I suggest you leave the room.”

  Lady Anthony stared at him as if she didn’t know who he was. Sophia barely knew Ellison, but from what Mr. Burk had told her, Ellison had succumbed to his mother’s dictates his entire life. Good for him for not doing so any longer! At least the tiniest sliver of something good was coming out of Nathan’s death.

  Ellison quickly introduced Sophia to Nathan’s solicitor, Mr. Nilbury, and once she was seated, he cleared his throat and sat behind Nathan’s desk. In her heart, everything here would always be Nathan’s, whether he was gone or not. Mr. Nilbury spoke at length of different legal matters that didn’t seem to concern her, and her mind drifted to Nathan. She outlined the curve of his jawbone, his broad shoulders, his wide chest, and the length of his long, powerful legs. She trembled, recalling his drugging kisses and featherlight touches.

  “Sophia!”

  Amelia’s voice snapped her out of her remembrances. She blinked and glanced at Amelia. “Yes?”

  “Have you any questions about what Scarsdale left you?”

  Heat flooded Sophia’s face as she looked around the room and found all gazes on her. She hurried past Lady Anthony’s hostile glare and latched on to Mr. Nilbury’s friendlier visage. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Could you please explain it to me again?” She refused to admit that she’d been daydreaming.

  “Certainly,” he replied. “The former Duke of Scarsdale left you two unentailed properties: a townhome in London on Mayfair and a country home in St. Ives.”

  Amelia put a gentle hand on Sophia’s arm. “That’s where our country home is. Scarsdale redid the property last year, as no one had visited it since his parents’ deaths.”

  Sophia nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Nilbury.”

  He furrowed his brow. “But, Your Grace, that’s not all. You also have been left an income of two thousand pounds a year.”

  She could not have heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard him, you insufferable piece of rubbish!” Lady Anthony hissed.

  Sophia’s jaw dropped as much from the news of the money as Lady Anthony’s words. “That cannot be correct.”

  “Your Grace, I assure you I am never mistaken in matters of money. Your husband was one of the richest men in England. True, he inherited a great deal, but he was the most astute businessman for whom I have ever had the honor of working.”

  “I cannot take so much money.”

  Mr. Nilbury appeared flummoxed for a moment, but then he gave his head a decisive shake. “Oh, but you must. It was your husband’s greatest wish that you never need worry about money again. He came to see me the morning he disappeared. He said that he wanted to make sure you and your brother were taken care for the rest of your lives should anything ever happen to him. He wanted to leave an amount that would ensure you’d be more than comfortable with or without a husband. I do believe he assumed you’d never remarry.”

  Desperate not to cry in front of everyone, she bit her lip until it throbbed in time with the pulse in her neck. He must have loved her, too, if he’d not wanted her to remarry. Anguish wrapped around her like a cocoon. “I will never remarry. The memory of him is all I will ever need.”

  “What a fine actress you are,” Lady Anthony said, her voice cold and bitter. “You must be some sort of temptress for the fool to have left you that much of my son’s inheritance.”

  “Mother!” Ellison snapped and rose from his chair. “That was Scarsdale’s money to do with as he wished, and he rightly wished to ensure his widow was taken care of. Please cease the nonsense.”

  “Nonsense?” she fairly shrieked. “Nonsense!”

  “Good Lord, Lady Anthony,” the Duke of Aversley thundered. “You act as if your son has been left destitute. That money Scarsdale left to his wife will not be missed in the sea of vast and deep fortune in which your son now floats. Try to contain yourself. Your behavior is vulgar.”

  Her face twisted into an ugly visage, wiping everything pretty away. “I’m vulgar?” Lady Anthony pointed at Sophia. “She’s a commo
n wench who grew up in a tavern with a drunkard for a father and a half brother whose mother abandoned him, but I’m vulgar!”

  Hurt pricked Sophia that Nathan had shared so much of her private affairs with his aunt, but rage shoved the hurt to the background. Sophia rose up and stood ramrod straight. “You are vulgar,” she said in a quiet, firm voice. She was determined to make Nathan proud and be a worthy widow. That meant not descending to his aunt’s level. But her pride—God help her there was a good deal of it—would not allow her to quit the room without saying anything. “You know, you are pretty until one gets to know you. But once the cruelty flows from your mouth, you are quite the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.”

  She marched to the door but paused there and turned back to face everyone. “Your Grace, I’d ask a carriage be sent round to collect me. I wish to depart immediately for my new home.”

  Ellison opened his mouth to speak but Sophia cut him off, not wanting him to give her the option of staying. He was a kind, good man but if she had to live under the same roof with his mother one of them would surely kill the other. “Amelia, if you would not mind giving me a private moment, I have a request of you,” she said.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Amelia replied as she stood. When she passed Lady Anthony, she frowned at her fiercely, and Sophia’s insides warmed at the new friend she had gained. She’d only ever had one friend in her life, so a second was very welcome, indeed.

  Once she and Amelia were in the privacy of her bedchamber, she turned to her new friend. “I need to learn to be a true lady. The kind Nathan would have been proud to call his duchess. Will you help me?”

  Amelia worried her lip for a moment. “I will, but dearest, you didn’t mean what you said about never remarrying, did you?”

  “Of course I meant it,” Sophia replied. “You cannot know this, but he never told me he loved me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Amelia said, her voice hitching.

  “Don’t be sorry.” Sophia hugged herself and, for one brief second, recalled his lips running across her collarbone. “When I learned he was dead so many thoughts kept streaming through my mind, and one of them was that I would never know for certain if he loved me. But now I know, Amelia. Don’t you see?”