by Jo Goodman
Sophie replaced the poker. "You have noticed they are often in each other's company."
"I could not fail to notice. It has been that way for as long as I have known them." He saw her puzzlement and spoke to ease it. "They were only a few years ahead of me at Hambrick Hall."
"The Society of Bishops." Sophie sank into her chair. "Is that it?" she asked, her voice reed thin. "Were they members of the Society?"
"Not were. Are. Once inducted, one is always a member."
"Friends for life, we have confessed? That is what your mother said about the Compass Club, is it not? North. South. East. West. Friends for life, we have confessed. All other truths, we'll deny. For we are soldier, sailor, tinker, spy. I am not certain I comprehend the difference between you and the Bishops any longer." Sophie briefly picked up the ledger she had been studying and used it to make her point. "If theft is an acceptable course of action, then it seems one does not have to stray far to commit murder. Surely you must see the irony of assisting Northam in laying a trap for a thief this evening."
East actually reared back a fraction. Sophie might as well have struck him with the flat of her hand as thrown those words at him. "Perhaps it was a mistake," he said quietly, "to bring these here."
"Perhaps it was."
Nodding, East leaned into the space separating them and collected all the account books. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Sophie had raised her hand as though she meant to stay him. It hovered a moment before falling back to her lap.
Eastlyn rose and placed the books on the mantelpiece. He began gathering his clothes. "I mentioned Barlough's name to you before," he said, "when we were discussing the Society at Tremont Park. I told you he was archbishop when I was at Hambrick."
"I remember." Sophie's response was stiff. Her eyes followed East's progress as he collected his clothes.
"You expressed a certain curiosity about the Bishops the following afternoon at the lake."
"And I heartily regret it." The timbre of Sophie's voice deepened, lending weight to her next words. "Sworn as enemies of the Bishops." Her slight smile held no humor. "By your own admission, little has changed since you and your friends made that oath. I would never willingly say or do anything to provoke you into confronting them again."
East's voice was not much above a whisper. "I imagined that you would trust me to make it right."
Sophie fell silent a moment, slowly shaking her head. "At what risk to you?" she asked finally. "Should I want justice for my father when your life might be forfeit?"
Eastlyn sat on the edge of the bed, his cravat dangling between his fingertips. "There is more here than justice for your father, Sophie. More even than the fact that these men are profiting from the opium trade they publicly oppose." He dropped the cravat and took up his stockings, ignoring the patent curiosity he glimpsed in Sophie's features. He continued dressing, pulling on the stockings and buttoning his breeches at the knee. He was smoothing his shirt, adding the cravat and positioning the stiff collar points, when Sophie could no longer restrain herself.
"What more can there be?" she asked.
"Offering favors for profit. Selling secrets. Blackmail." East's dark glance pinned her back in her chair. "Slavery."
Sophie's mouth opened, then closed again.
East buttoned his waistcoat. "I am not saying that any one of them is worse than another. It is the whole of it that must be stopped." He ran a hand through his hair. "I did not wed you with the intention of turning you out in widow's weeds. I freely confess that I am rather fond of this life and have no wish to hurry it toward an end. I cannot promise you that I will not take risks—it would be tantamount to promising that I will not draw another breath—but I swear I will exercise my best judgment in every matter that is put before me."
The ache in Sophie's throat made it difficult to speak. Swallowing did not ease it. She watched East shrug into his frock coat, then collect the ledgers and place them in the crook of his arm. Her eyes stung but remained dry.
Eastlyn's long stride took him to the door quickly. He had already given the glass knob a quarter turn when he heard Sophie coming up behind him. Her bare feet padded lightly on the floor. She stood just inches at his back, close enough for him to feel the heat of her body. He imagined that her fingers were pleating the sash of her robe and that her lower lip was drawn in just the narrowest fraction as she worried it.
"Leave the ledgers here," she said quietly.
East pivoted slowly on his heel and leaned back against the door. Sophie was precisely where he had imagined her to be, fingers and lip engaged in the activity he had seen in his mind's eye. He took the books from under his arm and held them out to her.
Sophie's hands trembled slightly as she accepted them. "There is one ledger for each of the gentlemen you mentioned?"
"Yes."
She nodded. "Tremont. Harold. Pendrake. Harte. Barlough."
"And Helmsley."
"Another Bishop?"
"Yes. He was at Hambrick before Tremont. Dunsmore is the only one who was never a member of the Society."
"Yet he is part of their circle."
Eastlyn did not answer immediately. He pointed to the ledgers instead, his eyes on Sophie. "Read them," he said. "Then tell me if you think he is part of it or apart from it."
Chapter 15
Colonel John Blackwood's angular features were set thoughtfully as he tapped the bowl of his pipe against his palm. He regarded his visitor over the rim of his spectacles and wondered at her calm demeanor. He could not imagine that she came by it easily. If it was meant to impress him, it did. According to East, this angel's face concealed a steely spine. "Will it offend you if I smoke?" he asked.
"No. I enjoy the fragrance." Sophie's eyes darted to the leather pouch on the table at the colonel's side. "I sometimes packed my father's pipe for him."
The colonel smiled; it seemed to him that her memory was a fond one. "And lighted it on more than one occasion, I suspect."
Sophie nodded. "My father must have thought it a very good lesson to indulge me. I coughed wretchedly, of course, and I believe the color in my face was an alarming shade of gray. Still, I am nothing if not stubborn. Papa stopped allowing me to light his pipe when it no longer made me ill to do so."
Blackwood opened the leather pouch and withdrew some tobacco. "When I was a boy I used to climb to the attic to partake in the secret ritual. Where did you go?"
"The stable loft. Not at all sensible, I know." Sophie was not strictly speaking of the risk of fire, but she did not explain that to the colonel. There was no proper way to relate the story of her first glimpse of a young man's bare arse as he tumbled a scullery maid. If the colonel wondered at her blush, he would not have the answer for it from her.
The colonel lightly tamped the tobacco in his pipe bowl. "We have exchanged pleasantries," he said. "Shared anecdotes. Perhaps it is time that we come to the purpose of your visit. Eastlyn would not countenance it, so it is left to me to suppose that he knows nothing of it, or that you are here in opposition to his wishes."
"He is unaware. We have not spoken for nearly a fortnight."
One of the colonel's graying eyebrows lifted slightly. It was his only indication of surprise. "Is that at your insistence or his desire?" He lighted his pipe and puffed. A blue-gray halo of smoke encircled his head.
"A little of both," she said. "I have not wished to see him, and he has not forced me to. I know very well that he has certain skills that allow him to come and go as he pleases. I am unaware of any locked door that presents a challenge to him." Sophie's fingers absently smoothed a wrinkle that had appeared at her knee. The hem of her lavender silk gown fell softly into place at her feet. "Do not misunderstand. I have not barred him from my home. I have only asked that he not press me."
"Not press you? In what manner do you mean that? He is your husband."
Sophie did not miss the colonel's disapproving accents. "Can you appreciate that I wish him to remain so? He
has had a certain course of action set in his mind for some time. I am only trying to come to terms with it. Quite frankly, Colonel Blackwood, East is rather more convincing than I wish he might be." Her smile was faint. "But I suspect you already know that. You have depended upon his talent for persuading others, perhaps even nurtured it."
"He is an effective negotiator."
"It is not only words that serve him," Sophie said. "Eastlyn studies his opponents as if they were pieces on a chessboard. He understands all the ways they can be moved. He knows their strengths and their vulnerabilities. If the soundness of his argument does not persuade, he is quite willing to bring other pressures to bear."
"It is a good strategy," the colonel said.
"It is dangerous."
"It is not without risk."
"You think there is some difference," Sophie said. "I do not. I was at the French Ambassador's ball a fortnight ago. I have some idea of the risk that Lord Northam took that night in his attempt to catch the Gentleman Thief. If there were no danger in that enterprise, how do you explain that he was shot but a few days later?"
Blackwood removed the pipe from his mouth and expelled a long breath. "So you know about that."
"The gossip circulated more quickly than the rumors of my engagement," she said. "I would have had to have been on the Continent not to have heard of it—the North American Continent."
The colonel tipped his pipe to her in the manner of a salute. His slight smile was not without humor. "Then you also know that he is recovering."
She nodded. "I have it from Lady Northam herself."
"Elizabeth came to see you?"
"Yes. It was at Eastlyn's request, I think, though she did not tell me that. It was all accomplished quite smoothly in the guise of a social call, yet the timing of it made me suspect there was more purpose than was revealed. I suppose he meant her presence to allay my fears."
Blackwood nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps he reasoned that if you could see how Elizabeth is doing in the wake of her husband's shooting, you would know it could all be managed."
"That occurred to me. Of course, Lady Northam did not know there was this other aspect to her call. I believe East told her only that she should try to persuade me as to his fine character."
"It seems that he very much wants to be in your good graces again," the colonel said, "if he sent in Elizabeth. You must allow that it has a certain desperation to it."
Sophie nodded, her brief smile faintly rueful. She moved closer to the edge of the chair, but did not stand. Her folded hands were leached of color at the knuckles. "I am desperate also, Colonel," she said quietly. "I would not have come otherwise. I do not fully understand how you are involved in the activities of the Compass Club, but I know each man has great respect for you. If you were to tell East that he must—" She stopped because Blackwood was holding up one hand, already shaking his head.
"There are some things I can never tell any one of them," he said. "You would be sadly mistaking their independence or resolve if you thought it were otherwise. They are not horses that can be reined in."
"But you command them."
"Command?" He shook his head. "You are in the wrong of it there. I assign them certain duties. That is all. East tells me you know about the proposed settlement in Singapore and what he was asked to accomplish on behalf of the Crown. It should have been an unexceptional assignment. It has been vastly complicated, perhaps even compromised, by the actions he has taken on your behalf."
Sophie did not shrink from the colonel's dark, appraising glance. It was as if all the strength that had been drawn from his limbs was now focused in his eyes. "Had I known it would come to this, I would not have left Tremont Park so willingly. Has he told you about the ledgers?"
"Of course. Are they still in your possession?"
"Yes. I thought he would come for them when I was not at home, but he left them with me."
"Can you not suppose why?"
"He wants my approval."
The colonel's slight smile mocked her. "Your approval? You mistake him very much if you think that is what he wants. Tell me, Lady Sophia, what did you find when you examined the accounts? Eastlyn says you have some experience with managing the finances of Tremont Park."
"I saw there were certain commonalties in the accounts. Money associated with the same investments. Many losses or gains in the same ventures."
"Could you identify the ventures?"
She shook her head. "It seemed to me that much of it was in shipping, but Eastlyn mentioned other things." The colonel waited her out, and she went on. "The selling of secrets. Blackmail. Favors for profit." Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. "Slavery."
"That's right. The one that disturbs you most is the only one for which there is no penalty. Slavery, like the opium trade, has produced a great deal of debate on its financial merits and moral poverty. What it has not produced is a law prohibiting it. What else did you understand from your review of the ledgers?"
"There was a considerable amount of money exchanging hands."
"What did it mean to you?"
Sophie hesitated. "I attached no particular meaning to it."
Blackwood let that pass, though he suspected she understood more than she was willing to tell him. "Do you recall Eastlyn's first meeting with you at your Bowden Street address?"
Although bewildered by this change in subject, Sophie nodded. "Yes. Of course."
Finished with his pipe, the colonel placed it on a silver tray at his side. He said casually, "I believe he proposed to you on that occasion. And you refused him."
"Yes."
"You softened the refusal with some refreshment, I think. Lemonade, perhaps. I seem to remember that it was lemonade."
Sophie frowned. "It may have been. I don't understand what that—"
The colonel interrupted her with a glance. "East came here afterward. In a short time he was unwell. I believed then, and I continue to believe it now, that he was drugged. Given the dealings of your cousins and the dependency of Lady Dunsmore, a tincture of opium is most likely to have been used. What I do not understand is the why of it. Can you explain it to me, Lady Sophia? Who was desirous of drugging him, perhaps seeing him made the fool, or exposing him to foul play when he had not all of his wits about him?"
For a moment, Sophie could not move. Shock held her still and drained her face of color. She could not think, let alone think clearly. What she was hearing the colonel say made no sense, and yet she had a memory of Eastlyn's long fingers curled around a glass of lemonade and her own voice inquiring if the taste of it was to his liking.
She forced herself to work backward from that moment and return to a few minutes earlier when she was in the house with Harold. He had pressed her to tell him what answer she meant to give to Eastlyn, and she would have none of it. He had paused long enough in his harangue to permit her to request refreshment, then had at her again. Sophie recalled the maid arrived very quickly with the service. Too quickly? But what did that signify except—
Sophie's handclasp broke apart as she stood. "I must go," she said. "Will you send word around to my husband that I must see him?"
The colonel realized that whatever conclusion Sophie had drawn, she was not going to make him privy to it. He counted it as a good sign that she had determined she must see Eastlyn. "Of course, I will send someone to his home. You may depend upon it." He wheeled his chair to Sophie's side and escorted her to the door of his study. "Tell me, Lady Sophia, have you come to realize what it is East wants from you?"
She looked down at the colonel's raised face and nodded faintly. "My understanding," she said softly. "It is all he ever needed."
* * *
Lady Gilbert excused herself from the sitting room soon after East's late evening arrival. She made a show of yawning widely and leaning on her cane heavily to indicate her deeply felt fatigue, but she refused both Sophie and East when they offered her assistance to her bedchamber.
"She's a pec
uliar piece of work," East said. "Did she give you a wink and a nod?"
"Yes."
"I suppose she believes it is an improved state of affairs that I am here tonight. I am wondering if she is correct."
Sophie poured two fingers of whiskey at the sideboard and carried the tumbler to Eastlyn. "I hope she is." She handed him the drink. Her fingers brushed his. There was no mistaking the current that ran through them at this brief contact. His eyes darkened, and that same change was apparent in her. "I have missed you."
"I required only your invitation."
She nodded. "I know. You will think me perverse, but there were times I wished you would storm the gates. When I heard North was injured... I thought that it might easily be—"
Eastlyn shook his head. "I wasn't there."
"It was kind of you to ask Lady Northam to call on me. She thinks very well of you." Sophie was not fooled by East's pretense of ignorance. "I believe she meant to persuade me that you might even make a fine husband."
"I did not ask her to do that," he said quickly. "I had only hoped that she would get me out of Dutch, since I seemed wholly incapable of managing the thing myself."
This confession raised Sophie's faint smile. She sat on an upholstered bench situated at a right angle to East's wing chair. She faced the fireplace while he enjoyed direct benefit of the heat only where his long legs were stretched before him. "The ledgers are here," she said, pointing to the table just inside the room.
East did not follow the direction of her gesture. His eyes remained on her face, on the curve of cheek and jaw that were bathed in firelight. "I saw them when I came in. Do you mean for me to have them, Sophie? To do with them as I want?"
"Yes." She drew in a breath and released it slowly. "It is not because I wish you to do anything, but because I understand you must. I love the man that you are, East. I do not think I fully understood the consequence of those words until this afternoon. It is unfair of me to say I love you and then demand that you act in every way contrary to what you believe. I know you tried to tell me the very same, but I couldn't hear you then. If it is true that rage can blind a person to his actions, then it is no less true that fear can make one deaf to reason."
