The ugliness roared to life, filling him to the brim, shutting out sight and sound. Who in their right mind would want to continue this joke of a bloodline? Who but some title-hungry, grasping little leech would want to marry someone who could be utterly disgusted with his own father’s behavior and yet had managed to trap himself into becoming just like the man?
He stumbled as he attempted to stand. Lurching upright again, he pulled open the door and strode down the hallway. Udgell appeared just as he reached the front door. “I’m going out,” he growled at the butler.
“Very good, Your Grace. I’ll have Evans saddle Z—”
“Move.” Adam yanked open the door himself and stalked outside.
“Your Grace, your coat!”
Ignoring the servant, barely able to hear him anyway with the roaring in his ears, Adam kept walking. Cold air blasted against him, but only on the surface. Inside he felt boiling and molten, putrid and seething. He knew better than to drink so much, but that was likely why he’d done it. So he would feel the way he deserved to.
Once he’d left the ankle-deep snow of the much-shoveled drive, he began sinking to his knees. The going was harder, but the fight suited him and he continued on. Eventually either the heat inside him would burn him up, or his outside would freeze. If either outcome stopped him from thinking, he didn’t care which happened first.
* * *
“I think trousers are better suited for ice fishing. Don’t you?” Sophia asked, tucking her borrowed shirt into her borrowed pants.
“I think you’ll freeze, regardless.” Milly carefully brushed out and folded the riding habit, and put it into the very sparsely filled wardrobe. “There are things worth freezing for, but I wouldn’t name fish as one of them.”
Sophia grinned. “But I’ve never been ice fishing. And it’s just out at the lake, so if I begin to freeze I’ll still have time to return indoors.”
“Unless you fall through the ice, as you’ve done once already.”
Abruptly the conversation didn’t seem quite so amusing. With a hard swallow, Sophia shrugged off her uneasiness and buttoned up her waistcoat. “I believe the odds are now in my favor. And I didn’t fall through the ice; I fell into the river after the mail coach fell through the—”
“Oh, no,” Milly interrupted.
The sharp edge to her voice made Sophia turn around. “What is it?” she asked, joining the housekeeper at the window.
A lone figure, stark black against the white of the ice and snow, stood halfway across the lake. Even from this distance, the elegant lines of his jacket bespoke a gentleman—and there was only one of those in residence. “That’s Adam.”
“He isn’t even wearing a coat,” Milly agreed, her tone worried.
As she watched, the figure sat down cross-legged on the snow-covered ice. “He isn’t wearing gloves or a hat, either.” Turning around, Sophia stomped into her boots.
“Sophia, you shouldn’t,” the housekeeper said, sending her an alarmed look. “He—His Grace—can be … unpleasant.”
“Not if he’s frozen to death.” Shrugging into her jacket, she hurried for the door.
Downstairs she found Udgell pacing in the foyer, the duke’s heavy caped greatcoat in his hands and a frown on his usually impassive face. “Miss Sophia,” he said, abruptly coming to attention.
“What happened?” she asked, noting that the usually busy front of the house seemed to be empty of servants.
“I … couldn’t say, miss.” He tucked the coat behind his back. “Do you require anything?”
“Oh, bother,” she muttered, grabbing her heavy cloak and fastening it on, then reaching behind the butler for the duke’s coat and folding it over her arm. “Give me his gloves,” she instructed, pulling on the ones she’d borrowed from Evans the groom.
“But—”
“Don’t argue, Udgell. And have a hot bath drawn in His Grace’s rooms.”
He handed over the gloves. “Very good, Miss Sophia. Shall I send anyone with you?”
“No. I’ll wave at the house if I need assistance.”
The butler nodded, then pulled open the front door. “He seemed very … unlike himself. It’s happened once or twice before, and … it isn’t pleasant.” He blanched. “And you must please never repeat that.”
“I won’t.” She had no idea what the butler or Milly meant by “unpleasant,” but it couldn’t be good. “Hurry with the bath,” she returned, remembering how very good that had felt after her unexpected dunking in the river.
This was exceedingly odd. Everything she knew of Adam Baswich spoke of a very powerful, clever man who somehow in the chaos of London managed to stay several steps ahead of everyone else. People didn’t cross him, because his vengeance was rumored to be devastating. The first time she’d seen him, when he’d first appeared at the newly opened Tantalus Club, he’d actually frightened her a little.
That night, when he’d arrived with people who’d wanted to take over the ownership of the club, when he and the Marquis of Haybury had nearly come to blows over a friendship Haybury blamed Adam for destroying—he’d seemed dark and dangerous and very, very controlled. But then he’d actually aided their cause. And a year later he’d helped Keating Blackwood, stood by him even when most of London turned its back.
In the months since Keating and Camille’s marriage she’d seen Adam only rarely, but nothing had alarmed her enough to keep her from traveling to Yorkshire for his holiday party, despite his reputation. Sophia frowned. Yes, Haybury had said that the duke couldn’t be trusted, and Lady Haybury—Diane—had cautioned her about being so far from the haven of the club, but she’d already lost its protection. And until this moment, she’d been very pleasantly surprised.
She was out of breath from trudging through the snow by the time she crossed onto the lake. Adam hadn’t moved, despite the fact that he must be frightfully cold. “Adam?”
Still nothing. Frowning, Sophia shook out his heavy coat. Then, holding her breath, she draped it over his broad shoulders. He didn’t explode into motion or begin shrieking like a bedlamite, so she trudged around in front of him.
His head was bowed, his eyes closed. “Adam? Greaves. Your Grace!”
“You shouldn’t be out here.”
Oh, thank goodness. “Neither should you. I brought your gloves.” She held them down to him. “Here.” When he didn’t move, she sank down on her knees in front of him. Immediately freezing wet dug through her trousers and into her skin, but for the moment she ignored it.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice low and very, very level.
“Because you went outside without your coat and sat down in the snow.”
Gray eyes opened. Because she’d worked at The Tantalus Club for eighteen months, and even though he showed no outward sign other than a slight redness in his eyes, she recognized that he’d been drinking. A great deal. Considering that it was still early afternoon and she’d left his company only an hour earlier, the amount of and speed with which he must have imbibed were rather alarming.
“But why are you here?” he repeated, emphasizing the last word.
“Here on the lake? Because you’re here, you’re my friend, and you saved me from drowning and freezing. I’m having a bath drawn for you.” Sophia blew out her breath. “Here in Yorkshire? Because my life is about to be destroyed, and I was lonely and I wanted to see Cammy again and be happy before I trudge off to my new, miserable life.”
“I had nothing to do with it? With you coming to Yorkshire?”
She tilted her head, studying him as closely as he’d abruptly begun studying her. “Well, you invited me, and at a moment when I was feeling very sorry for myself. It was especially nice because Lucille Hampton—I share a room with her—was beginning to drive me mad with all her complaining about how dull and empty London becomes over Christmas. As if I didn’t know that just as plainly as she did. At least she had plans to spend the holiday with her cousin, who’s a solicitor, of all things
. They will talk each other’s ears off, I’m certain, which is better than her deafening me. I mean, I don’t begrudge her having family, but that definitely makes me less sympathetic to her complaints.”
She knew she was prattling, but his hard expression had eased a little, so she continued. “Before I received your invitation I’d thought to have a turkey and potato dinner with the rest of the employees remaining at the Tantalus, and then draw names and exchange gifts. Last year I gave a pretty faux pearl necklace and ear bobs, which went to Emily Portsman. I received a tin of Macassar oil, which was clearly meant for one of the Helpful Men. Mr. Jacobs traded me for a scarf, which I could at least use. Th—”
Adam reached forward, grabbed her by the lapel, and dragged her up against his chest. His eyes glinting, he closed his mouth over hers.
His lips were cold and tasted of vodka, but she kissed him back. That mouth of his was more intoxicating than any liquor. Anyone watching from the house would see they were kissing. So much for his blasted sister not having more reason to be venomous. As he yanked on her leg to pull her sideways into his lap, though, she decided that this was worth the additional trouble.
“You didn’t come here to seduce me, did you?” he said after a long, delicious moment, making it more a statement than a question. “And you’re Camille’s dearest friend. That’s why I invited you. Not because of your hair.”
Her hair? Men said they liked her hair, but she’d always found it rather troublesome. “My mother said Hennessy hounded her because of her hair. As if that was her fault. As if it’s my fault that mine is the same color.” She pushed against his chest, giving herself a bit more space to look up at him. “Why are we talking about my hair?”
He took a deep breath, his expression hardening again, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer her. “My father favored women with red hair,” he finally said, his voice flattening again.
“Well, I beg your pardon, but that’s stupid. No one can tell a woman’s character or intelligence by looking at her hair. You mean he didn’t care who or what they were, as long as they had red hair?”
“Yes, that’s fairly accurate.” With an easier breath he ran his fingers through his own dusky hair. “My father was an unpleasant man.”
“So is mine.”
“Does anyone accuse you of being just like him?”
“None of his peers would dare do so,” she answered, “and none of my peers know him. Or they didn’t, until he stomped into the Tantalus a fortnight ago.” If someone had made that accusation to Adam, it had to have been his sister. No one else would have dared. And no one else’s opinion would have likely mattered to him, anyway. Her dislike of Lady Wallace deepened. Family wasn’t supposed to be cruel. Whether that was ever actually so or not, didn’t matter. “I have an idea,” she ventured, handing him his gloves.
This time he took them and pulled them on. “I’m drunk; not softheaded. You caught me at a weak moment. I don’t have many of them.” He held her hand as she stood up. “Now. You said something about a bath.”
When he pushed to his own feet he wasn’t quite steady, but that might well have been because his legs had to be half frozen. When he refused the offer of her shoulder, she backed away a few steps.
Was she the enemy now, because she’d seen a crack in his armor? Damnation, that was not her fault. “I’m terrified of spiders,” she announced.
Adam swung his head around to look at her. “Beg pardon?”
Sophia nodded. “Not merely shriek and climb onto a chair terrified. Vomit and faint terrified.”
“Why the dev—”
“Now you know one of my weaknesses. So stop being so blasted stubborn and let me assist you.”
“It’s not the same th—”
“I’m not going to say anything to anyone,” she cut in. “I certainly don’t have enough friends to risk losing them by telling their secrets willy-nilly.”
After a long moment spent gazing at her, Adam lifted his arm. “Come on, then.”
She tucked herself up against his side, sliding an arm around his waist to help him keep his balance. Whatever had happened, she seemed to have passed the test. For the moment, at least. But then … “Was this about questioning my character, or yours?”
“I’m not a very nice man, Sophia,” he commented, his tone, despite the slur of his words, much closer to its usual combination of jaded sarcasm and slight amusement. “I’m quite aware of that. Now you are, as well.”
Sophia wasn’t entirely certain that she’d gleaned the message he expected from this conversation. Because she very clearly saw a gentleman of wit and compassion who was attempting to be a better man than his father, who still felt trapped by the man, and who wasn’t entirely certain he was succeeding.
Telling him that, however, would be a very poor idea. Clearly he saw his … struggle, she supposed it was, as a weakness. Sophia shifted, taking as much of his weight across her shoulders as she could. She liked being here. And so she would attempt to ignore that anything untoward had just happened. She liked Adam Baswich—not in spite of his faults, but because of them. And because he hadn’t laughed when she’d suggested that they were friends.
* * *
The Jones brothers did indeed seem to know what they were about. After only three days, three sturdy, wide-bottomed sleds that looked more like river barges had been placed directly beneath the missing portion of the old bridge. From them rose a complex scaffolding of rope and timber, up which scampered a dozen men setting in large stones dragged up by two additional sets of workers on either side of the halved structure.
“Luckily she broke apart ragged, which makes fitting the new stones some easier,” the middle Jones brother, Harvey, commented from the rise overlooking the construction. “We could use some iron bars braced in with it, as the mortar hardens slow in the cold. That’ll be costly, though.”
Adam nodded, patting Zeus beneath him. “See to it. I have guests waiting.” And a shrinking amount of time for him to make a bridal selection.
“Aye, Yer Grace. I’ll test her first meself, come Monday morning. Or Tuesday, if we have snow tonight. My creaking knee says we will.”
Well, he wouldn’t dispute the man’s creaking knee, but he hoped it was wrong. Two or three more days, depending on the weather. Perhaps it was time for him to stop avoiding the house and enjoy the relative peace that still awaited him there. “Do your best.”
Staying about any longer would make it look like he had nothing to do, which he certainly did. Sighing, Adam turned Zeus and kneed the big black toward the windswept road leading to the manor house.
At just about the halfway point he looked up to see a lone rider approaching on the same path. The horse gleamed red-orange in the clouding sunlight, the mare’s hair dull in comparison to her rider’s.
“What the devil are you doing out here alone?” he asked, stopping in front of her.
Sophia adjusted the floppy gray brim of her borrowed groom’s hat. “My walking shoes are supposed to be finished today. Evans’s boots are beginning to pinch my toes.”
If she’d said a word about being worried that he’d lost his mind again, he would have ridden on without a word. But no mention of him at all—he hadn’t expected that, either. “That doesn’t explain why you’re alone,” he pressed, not believing her.
“I don’t require an escort. And Copper isn’t likely to run away with me if she has to plow through two feet of snow.”
“You should at least have the dogs with you,” he insisted, not certain why he wanted to argue, except that he felt disagreeable this morning, and she’d caught him unawares, and he still regretted that she’d seen him behaving like a lunatic out on the lake.
“I would have, but Udgell wouldn’t let them leave the house without your permission, and I didn’t feel like waiting for you to return. You have been away more than you’ve been present, you know.”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “I’ll speak to Udgell. He’ll do as you ask
from now on.”
“Don’t wallop him simply because you’re in a foul mood.”
That was enough of that. “You do not get to tell me what to do.”
She actually rolled her eyes at him. “Likewise. Now I’m going into the village. Good morning.”
He wheeled Zeus around to fall in beside her. “Then I’m going with you.”
“I don’t want you to come with me, Adam,” she stated, starting Copper off again at a careful walk.
“Why the bloody hell not?” he demanded, keeping pace with her, daring her to comment further.
“Because you agreed that we were friends. But I’ve realized that you were either making fun of me, or lying, or … or I don’t know what. But I don’t want to be in your company right now. I can go several other places and be yelled at or taunted or insulted or ignored without my expectations being dashed.”
“Your expectations of what, precisely?” he asked, ignoring the remainder of her argument.
“Of being treated like a … a regular, unblemished person, I suppose. The vicar will never see me that way, and I’m fairly certain he won’t allow anyone else to, either. I’m accustomed to disappointment, but I don’t like being angry. You’re beginning to make me angry. So just go away.”
Adam drew a hard breath in through his nose. “My sister said you came here with the intention of seducing me. That you’re after money and power and protection.” There. Criticizing her was better than looking at himself.
Sophia pulled Copper to a halt. For a moment she sat there, her head lowered. Finally her shoulders rose and fell. “Well. I suppose the game is up, then.”
That stopped him, ice forming in the pit of his stomach. “What?”
“I admit; I did come here to seduce you. I wanted to have a big house in Knightsbridge, with servants and jewels. I wanted everyone to know I was your mistress so when I walked into a grand ballroom, they would…” She frowned. “No, I can’t go to balls,” she muttered. “I mean, I wanted to be your secret mistress, so I could … Hm. Oh, there is the way that my disobeying Hennessy will cause my only friends’ livelihood to be destroyed. No, that’s not it.”
Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke Page 11
