Jean Luc shook his head and pointed ahead. “That’s France, my friend. I’m almost home. Do you know what I’m going to do when I get there?”
Since Jean Luc was not married but had a woman whom he loved deeply, Nathan had a fairly good idea. “I imagine you will be asking Isabella to marry you.”
Jean Luc grinned, and then his smile faded. “What if she has married another? It’s been fourteen months. I’m sure she thinks I’m dead. Aren’t you worried your wife has found someone else?”
The thought had crossed his mind, but he had dismissed it with a single memory of the way she had looked when she had told him she loved him. He saw her shining, love-filled eyes every night when he went to sleep. She had loved him. She would have mourned him. He was sure of it. And he would wager his life that she would not seek out the company of another man so quickly.
“No,” he finally said, his voice thick with emotion.
A deep voice came from behind him. “It must be nice to have such faith in a woman.”
Nathan turned and smiled at Worthington. “It’s a feeling I never believed possible for me.”
Worthington moved to the railing. He popped the cork off a jug, took a long swig, and handed it to Nathan. “I’ve been saving this. It’s my father’s finest whiskey. I took it when I left because he told me he’d drink it when looking down at my grave. He was sure I’d end up there for my foolishness in becoming a privateer.”
Nathan took the jug and drank. The whiskey warmed his throat as it went down, then swirled into his belly with a satisfying burn. “What were you sure of?”
“I was sure that if I kept on the course I was, I would no longer be able to live with myself. I’d lost my honor. Becoming a privateer who captains a ship that hunts down slavers gave me my honor back. I like to have a drink of my father’s whiskey every time I return home.”
Nathan passed the jug to Jean Luc and then looked out to the sea, thinking on how things change. He’d never been as shocked to see anyone as he had been when Worthington had boarded the slave ship and overtook it. And Worthington had further shocked him when he’d confessed to thinking he had killed Nathan, since it was Worthington’s ship that had sunk Ravensdale’s ship. He was supremely glad Worthington had become a privateer. He’d likely not be standing here now, if he had not.
Jean Luc passed the jug back to Nathan, and when he did, his friend nudged him in the arm and winked. “I wager I know the first thing you will do when you return to Whitecliffe.”
“I’d wager you’re incorrect.”
“Don’t try to tell me you don’t plan to take your wife to bed.”
Oh, he did. Most definitely. But first he was going to tell her he loved her. And then he was going to tell her again. And again. And again. And then he was going to beg her to forgive him for being so foolish as to have stayed silent the very first time she had told him.
Becoming an Incomparable had been far easier than Sophia had imagined. It had taken her precisely one week of careful observation to come to the conclusion that most people in the ton were vain, caustic aristocrats who were desperately bored and hungering for something different than what they knew. So she gave it to them.
When most of the ladies would agree with whatever one of the yapping, pompous gentleman of the ton was saying, Sophia would disagree. When other ladies spoke of the weather, or embroidery, or the pianoforte, she spoke of politics, poetry, and the future of England. Coming from a lower class, she had a burning desire to one day see those class differences obliterated. She was careful to temper those opinions when she spoke, of course, but not so careful that those around her didn’t understand that she thought simply having a title and money did not make one person better than another.
Her behavior, which might have gotten someone else ostracized or cut directly, drew ladies to her because they were in awe of her boldness, and drew men to her because they were in awe of her beauty, or so they said. She knew better. They perceived her as unattainable; therefore, she was a prize to be won.
She was slyly propositioned many times a night but always answered with a kind smile and a little shake of her head. Eventually, she became the most whispered-about person in the ton and wagers started to fly on who would win the hand of Scarsdale’s widow.
Only Amelia and Madame Lexington knew that Sophia did not want a husband. And no one knew that she desired a lover to obliterate the memory of Nathan’s hands on her body. She fervently prayed her plan would work, because while she could control her thoughts of Nathan in her waking hours, when she slept he filled every second of her dreams. And what was sweet in dreams tormented her when she awoke.
“Might Ah join ye?”
Sophia blinked out of her daze and scooted over in the circle of people she stood among to allow the tall, handsome redheaded man to saddle up to her. She knew of him, but they had not been properly introduced. But as his light-blue eyes drank her in, she was suddenly supremely glad that Jemma, who was less concerned with English rules than even Sophia was, had invited the self-made railroad tycoon—who the ton gossiped was ruthless in business and unparalleled as a lover—to her grandfather’s home for her ball. Sophia also had the annoying thought that Nathan’s eyes had been more compelling in all their simmering darkness, but she shoved that thought away and concentrated on the feeling of intrigue that was stirring.
Lord Barnes tried to step between them, but Mr. Frazier cut him off with the grace of a fox outmaneuvering a pack of hounds.
“I think Lord Barnes might have been trying to speak to me,” she said in a low voice, not wanting the odious man to hear her. She was only trying to ferret out if Mr. Frazier was interested, not bring Lord Barnes back to her side. Frankly, she was glad he no longer stood beside her. Earlier, the gentleman had not understood why it mattered if poor children were used as chimney sweeps. She may want a coldhearted lover but not a stupid one.
Mr. Frazier leaned toward her, and his scent—a pleasant enough one of leather and soap—surrounded her, but also stirred a memory of Nathan’s scent of pine. She shoved that blasted memory to the ground, too, and then mentally stomped on it.
“Dae ye really caur?”
It took her a moment mentally to translate his thick Scottish brogue, but when she did, she said, “No. I found him to be tedious.”
“Ah fin’ ye ta be fascinatin’.”
She waited for her pulse to speed up as it had the first time Nathan had fastened his dark, brooding gaze on her, but her heart beat the same steady rhythm. Perhaps it was best that her heartbeat did not increase. She didn’t want a man to affect her as Nathan had. If what they said about Mr. Frazier was true, then he would be perfect for her. And he was extremely attractive in a way that was quite opposite Nathan’s suave, aristocratic looks, which suited her, as well. Whereas Nathan had possessed dark beauty, Mr. Frazier had light eyes, ginger-colored hair, and a fair complexion. And his brogue certainly would never remind her of Nathan’s cultured speech.
“You do not even know me,” she replied, fully turning toward him so others would not hear their conversation. “So I’m curious exactly what it is about me you find fascinating.”
He grinned, a lopsided smile that made a dimple appear on his chin, and would have made him seem harmless if his razor-sharp eyes hadn’t held hers so. He leaned close to her ear. “We need privacy fur me ta teel ye that.”
She’d been in the Duke of Rowan’s home several times as she and Jemma had become friends, and it was not far from her own. She glanced toward where she knew the study was, considering what to do.
Don’t do it, said that despised inner voice, the one that had been quiet for the past week. She was going to kill that inner voice if it was the last thing she did.
“Meet me in the library in ten minutes,” she whispered. “And be discreet.”
He gave a barely perceptible nod and then departed to the other side of the ballroom where she watched as he asked Lady Spencer to dance. He led her to the floor to swir
l her around in graceful effortlessness.
“I’m glad that odious man is gone,” Lord Barnes said. “Did you see how rudely he shoved me out of the way to stand beside you? What was he saying to you, anyway? I hadn’t realized you even knew him.”
Everyone was now looking at her, which made her want to stomp her heel on Lord Barnes’s foot. Preferably when his foot was bare and she had on boots. Jemma hurried over and linked her arm through Sophia’s. “I introduced them. He is a personal friend of my grandfather’s.”
That was a dangerous lie that could get Jemma in all sorts of trouble, but Sophia was eternally grateful. Jemma smiled brightly at her, which she took as her cue to elaborate the rest of the story. “I was considering investing in the railroad and he wanted to make an appointment to speak with me about it.”
Everyone nodded in understanding except Lord Barnes. “Why would you bother your pretty head with things of that nature? You have a man of business, I’m sure. Let him take care of such things.”
“I bother because my ‘pretty little head’ is not an empty little head. Now, if you will excuse me,” she said sweetly over the subtle, and not so subtle, laughter coming from the other gentlemen in the group.
She got ten steps away when someone grabbed her arm from behind. She turned to find Amelia, whose brow was drawn together. “Where are you going?”
She refused to lie, though she knew Amelia would not approve. “To the library to meet Mr. Frazier.”
“Why?”
Sophia’s cheeks heated instantly.
“Oh, Sophia!” Amelia bit her lip and lowered her voice as people moved around them. “You cannot mean to take a lover?”
Sophia refused to be embarrassed. “I mean to do exactly that,” she said in hushed tones.
“Please don’t do this! Give yourself more time. Your wounds are raw and your hurt great. Doing this will not erase your memories of Scarsdale. Whether you like it or not, you loved him, and taking a lover will not change that.”
Sophia’s heart pounded so loudly that it drowned out the music. She took a long, deep breath. “I need a new memory to layer over the ones of him or I will go mad. Can you not understand that?”
Amelia bit her lip again but finally nodded. “I do. I wish I could say I didn’t, but I do. And if you decide he is the one, what then?”
“Then I will invite him to come to my home.”
“Tonight! Can you not wait and give yourself time to sit with the decision?”
“Of course not tonight.” The very idea suddenly made her tense. “Tomorrow night.”
That was better. If she decided he was the one and did not act upon it quickly she might back out. And besides, she was going to go stark raving mad if she could not rid herself of the memory of Nathan caressing her body and bringing her to ecstasy. This had to be the answer.
Upon stepping foot on the London docks, Worthington offered Nathan his coach, since Nathan, of course, would not have one waiting, as his family and servants thought him dead. He’d wanted to personally tell each of them, so he had asked Worthington to keep the news to himself until Nathan had the opportunity to do so. Which was why, when he did take his first step onto English soil in fourteen months, he strode straight for his old office to see if his cousin was there and could direct him to Sophia.
As he passed the docked ships, he was reminded of the night Ravensdale had kidnapped him. Worthington had vowed Ravensdale had drowned, but they had also believed Nathan to be dead. Ravensdale could be alive. The man was certainly cunning enough. After reuniting with Sophia, Nathan would hire an investigator to ensure Ravensdale was, indeed, deceased. And he would have the man track down anyone who might have worked for Ravensdale. He was going to personally see to it that they ended up at Newgate for what they had done to him.
As he walked toward the office, he considered where Sophia might be. He had left her very wealthy, so he knew she and Harry were provided for, and he had left her the townhouse in Mayfair as well as the country home in St. Ives. Knowing his little minx, she was probably living in St. Ives, as he could not see her among the brittle set of the ton by choice. Yet, he hoped she had found a reason to come to London anyway because that meant she was very close.
When he strolled through the door of his office, he almost collided with Stephens, who was looking down at some papers. Nathan was so happy to see the man alive that he hugged him straight away.
Stephens looked up, and shock registered on his face. “Your Grace! My God!” The man turned white. “You’re alive!”
Nathan grinned. “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you sound!”
Stephens’s brow furrowed as he gaped at Nathan. “I told everyone you were dead.”
Nathan clapped a hand on his back. “Understandably so.”
“I watched the ship go down.” His voice had dropped to an awed whisper. “And they searched for hours for your body. Captain Worthington was relentless in the search.”
Nathan nodded. “I know. It was actually Captain Worthington who ended up rescuing me in the end, but that’s a story for another day. I was fished out of the water in Saint-Malo by a corsair who had claimed to be helping in the search. Really, he was gathering anyone he found alive and not too wounded, to enslave on his ships.”
“Good God,” Stephens whispered. “I left you.” He paled even more.
Nathan squeezed the man’s shoulder. “I told you to leave me. It was the only thing that could be done. So forget it. I did the minute you stepped off the ship.”
Stephens let out a sigh. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you, for trying to save me in the first place. Now, is Ellison here?”
Stephens shook his head. “His Grace, I mean, Mr. Ellison has gone to St. Ives to get your widow, er, your wife, to sign some papers.”
Nathan grinned. “So Sophia is living in St. Ives?”
“I do believe so, Your Grace. I just returned from sea myself, and I only saw your cousin briefly. He left not an hour ago. Will you go there now, I suppose?”
Nathan scrubbed a hand over his beard and then through his long hair. “I think I may scare my wife if I show up looking like this. I’ve not had a proper bath, shave, or trim since the day I was taken. I’ll go by my townhome first.”
He actually had three townhomes in London. The largest one he was sure Ellison would be occupying, and although he knew Ellison was not there right now, his aunt might be, and she was the last person Nathan wanted to see. The second largest townhome, he’d left to Sophia, and he now knew she was not there. And the third townhome had been the one he bought for Marguerite, but she would not be in residence. He was sure if Marguerite had decided to linger there upon learning he was presumed dead, Ellison would have undoubtedly sent her packing when he learned of the townhome from Mr. Nilbury.
That home, if he had any luck, would still be stocked with some of his clothes, or maybe they would be packed up and stored in the house. Best of all, there shouldn’t be anyone around but his servants, so stopping in wouldn’t require a reunion with friends and family. Not that he didn’t appreciate his servants, he did. But he highly doubted they would have been too saddened over his loss. He intended to remedy how he had kept others at a distance, as well as many other things.
A short time later, he was in Worthington’s carriage and headed to his townhome. As the carriage rolled along, he considered how Ellison would feel about having the title and lands taken from him now that Nathan had returned. He was sure his cousin would be thrilled he was alive and glad to return to Nathan what was rightfully his, but he regretted that his aunt would likely be irritated. Knowing her, she had probably been happy to become the mother of a duke.
When Worthington’s driver arrived at Nathan’s townhome, he bid the man to wait. He planned to be here just long enough to clean up and change into fresh clothes. He knocked and had to chuckle when Moreland, the normally unflappable butler, answered the door and his jaw dropped opened.
Nathan stepped
through the threshold and patted the older man on the arm. “I’m glad to see Ellison retained you. Did he retain all the servants that were employed here?”
Moreland opened and closed his mouth but no words came out. He stared at Nathan, his eyes wide.
“He did,” came a familiar feminine purr from the top of the staircase. Nathan glanced up, and for a moment felt as if he was not seeing correctly. But a quick blink revealed that Marguerite was indeed standing in a pale-yellow gown on his staircase.
Nathan stared up at his former mistress, and his hands balled at his sides as he fought the urge to march up the stairs, drag her down, and throw her out on the street. He didn’t know how the devil Marguerite was still living here, but he had a suspicion. “I need a moment alone with Miss Mason,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Certainly, Your Grace,” Moreland replied, back to his unflappable self. “Shall I go upstairs to draw you a bath and prepare for a shave and cut?”
Nathan allowed a brief smile. “You always could read my mind, Moreland.”
As the butler ascended the stairs, Marguerite descended them, until she stood on the last step. Nathan stood on the black-and-white marble tile, and she tilted her head back and caught his gaze, a seductive smile pulling at her lips.
The difference between the sorts of people she and Sophia were was clearer in this moment than it had ever been. Sophia would be crying with joy to see him, running to throw her arms around him and profess her undying love. She would be trembling and showering him with kisses. Marguerite was already scheming to seduce him so she’d not be thrown out of his home. She’d never really given a damn about him as a man; she’d only cared about what he could do and provide for her.
She slowly licked her lips. “I would say I cannot believe you are alive, but who would know better than I that if anyone could conquer death, you could.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Welcome home, lover.”
Her touch repelled him. He wanted no touch but Sophia’s. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded as he removed Marguerite’s arms from him and took a step away. He could only think of one possible reason she could still be here, and she confirmed it with her slow smirk before she ever said a word.
My Seductive Innocent Page 30
