by Monica Burns
“Oh now you sound like Sybil,” Lady Granby pouted in disappointment. “Between the two of you, I shall have no fun.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Elizabeth you don’t like gossip when it’s about you,” Lady Harwood scolded. Her frown fierce, she glared at her friend. “Just because you thought you saw Lord Devil with Lady Shively this morning doesn’t mean you—oh dear lord…”
The color drained from Lady Harwood’s face as her words trailed to a halt and she slowly turned toward Sophie. Genuine mortification had frozen the woman’s expression into one of openmouthed horror making it clear the woman’s words had been unintentional. Stunned, Sophie found it impossible to move as pain streaked its way along every nerve ending in her body.
“Good heavens, Sybil, look what you’ve done now.”
The smug note in Lady Granby’s voice as she scolded her friend made Sophie look at the woman. Malicious amusement shone in Lady Granby’s dark eyes, and her expression was that of a cat that had just finished a nice bowl of cream. Blindly, Sophie reached for the watch pinned to her bodice and looked at the time in order to gain several seconds to collect herself.
A forced smile on her lips, Sophie rose from her seat. Still seated, Lady Granby narrowed her eyes in puzzlement, and a distinct look of disappointment cut across the woman’s face at Sophie’s indifferent reaction to the gossip. Determined not to give the woman any more fodder for the scandal sheets, Sophie widened her smile.
“I do hope you’ll forgive me, but I must cut our delightful visit short. As I mentioned earlier, I have a luncheon engagement,” she said quietly, as Lady Harwood immediately sprang to her feet and took a step toward Sophie.
“I am so terribly sorry, Lady Devlyn,” the young woman said with a sob in her voice. “I have a habit of running on, and I didn’t—”
“It’s quite all right, Lady Harwood. It’s unlikely this Lord Devil, whoever he is, was the man Lady Granby saw,” Sophie lied as she reached out to squeeze the younger woman’s hand.
With her smile still pasted on her face, Sophie skirted the sofa and walked to the morning room door. It opened soundlessly as she turned to the two women.
“I do thank you for coming and regret that my luncheon plans have cut our visit short.” Sophie tried to sound disappointed, and from Lady Granby’s frustrated expression, she knew she’d succeeded. Her smile still on her lips, Sophie glanced again at the watch pinned to her dress. “Oh dear, if I don’t change now, I shall be late for my appointment. I do hope you don’t mind if Alfred shows you out.”
Not waiting for their response, Sophie moved quickly across the hall toward the stairs. Her hand on the bannister, she heard the front door open and glanced over her shoulder. Quentin strode into the house, his gaze meeting hers. The cheerful smile curving his beautiful mouth made Sophie’s stomach lurch. How could he possibly be guilty of an early morning meeting with her stepsister when he could smile at her like that?
She forced herself to smile at him then continued up the stairs. As she turned away, she caught a brief glimpse of his frown and saw him take a step toward her. In that split second, her visitors entered the foyer and forestalled him from following her. The sound of Lady Granby’s simpering voice as she greeted Quentin scraped its way over Sophie’s already bruised nerve endings.
Eager to flee the scene, she made her way up the stairs at a moderate pace to create the illusion that she was unaffected by her visitors. Once she was out of sight, she leaned against the wall with her hand pressed into her stomach as if to will away her nausea. The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her jerk away from the wall and continue down the hallway.
“Sophie.” The familiar note of command in Quentin’s voice made her stop. Without hesitating, she pasted another smile on her face and turned around.
“I thought you were having lunch at your club, since I agreed to attend Lady Shelton’s luncheon,” she said.
His expression grim, Quentin closed the distance between them, and with one hand cupping her elbow, he silently ushered her into her bedroom. Determined not to let him see how much her visitors had upset her, she tilted her head to one side as he closed the door behind them.
“Whatever is the matter?” she exclaimed with just the right amount of confusion.
“What did that Granby viper tell you?” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. Startled by his insult of the woman, Sophie eyed him with surprise.
“Nothing of importance.”
“Then why did you look so stricken in the foyer just now?” he snapped.
“Stricken? More like disbelief,” she scoffed with a sudden spurt of anger. “The woman thought to personally share an absurd piece of gossip.”
“Fuck.” Quentin shoved a hand through his hair, and she stared at him in surprise at his anger. “I was afraid that was why the woman was here. It’s not true.”
“What’s not true,” she asked quietly.
“Eleanor has been spreading rumors that she and I had a tryst in the park early this morning.”
“Oh,” Sophie said quietly, uncertain as to what to say. Quentin swiftly closed the distance between them to cup her face with his hands.
“It’s not true, sweetheart. None of it,” he said with an urgency that eased the heartache that had engulfed her just moments before. “I know that this rumor combined with Eleanor attaching herself to me last night gives me the appearance of a guilty man, but I’m not. I give you my word on that, and you know how much I value my word.”
The fervent plea in his voice warmed Sophie’s heart, and she turned her face into his hand to kiss his palm. The shudder that rippled through him startled her. Sophie looked at him and saw a troubled look on his face. It was as if he were deeply worried she wouldn’t believe him. One hand cupping the hand on her cheek, she smiled.
“I would be lying if I said I didn’t have my doubts as to the gossip, but I believe you,” she whispered and smiled as she realized how much he wanted her to believe him. “How could I not believe you when you plead your innocence so eloquently?”
“You, my darling wife are a saint,” he said as he kissed her deeply. When he raised his head, she laughed.
“I’m hardly a saint, when my thoughts are far from pure.” She smiled mischievously, and her eyes widened at the look of desire sweeping over his face. “No. No, Quentin, we mustn’t. I’ll be late for Lady Shelton’s luncheon.”
“We’ll send her your regrets saying you’re unable to leave your bed.”
“You know very well that would be a lie,” she said with exasperation.
“Hardly, my sweet, for I intend to keep you in bed until late this afternoon.” Quentin’s wicked smile made her laugh.
“You, my lord, are a scoundrel.”
“Of that there is no doubt,” he murmured as he swept her up into his arms and carried her to her bed. “And I intend to prove myself one all afternoon.”
With a sigh, Sophie rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, content to let him spend the afternoon proving his reputation was well earned.
Chapter 14
The powder room at the Alhambra was a cacophony of female voices that made Sophie wince. She really wished she was still at Quentin’s side, but a lock of hair had fallen down onto her shoulder and needed tending to.
An opening at the mirror appeared, and she quickly moved forward to adjust her hair. Although Rose was a quick learner, her maid had yet to master her hairdressing skills. Sophie grimaced at her reflection as she attempted to fix her hair.
Behind her, she saw a small group of women studying her with interest, their soft whispers and laughter made her believe she was the topic of their conversation. When she met the gaze of one of the ladies, the woman immediately glanced away, which only served to confirm Sophie’s fears. The scandal sheets had been particularly brutal this week, and her stomach lurched at the looks she was receiving. Determined to ignore her nausea, Sophie returned her attention to her hair, eager to escape what had suddenly becom
e a den of vipers.
Ever since the day Lady Granby and Lady Harwood had called on her, the gossip had carried an even sharper edge to it. The strain of it all had become so bad of late that she rarely wanted to go out. Although sympathetic, Quentin had played upon her stubbornness and pointed out that to hide would be tantamount to letting the gossips win. But he’d also been sensitive to her need for peace and quiet as well.
On more than one occasion, he’d insisted they spend a quiet evening at home. Sophie cherished those evenings, where they’d enjoyed companionable silence in the library until Quentin had insisted they go to bed. A flush filled her cheeks as she stared at herself in the mirror as she recalled the happiness of those dark nights of pleasure.
“Well, if it isn’t, Lady Devlyn trying to make herself presentable for her husband.”
The familiar sound of Eleanor’s voice wrapped around Sophie’s body like an icy blanket. Frozen in place, she met the vicious glare of her stepsister in the mirror. All too aware of the crowd of onlookers, Sophie forced a smile to her lips.
“Good evening, Eleanor.”
“How polite and proper you are. Quite appropriate for a woman of your age. Tell me, what on earth do you and Devlyn talk about?”
“I’m certain the topic of our conversations would bore you, Eleanor. You know I’ve never exhibited a talent for fashion and vicious gossip.” In the mirror, Sophie saw Eleanor narrow her eyes with anger.
“Which makes it all the more surprising that you managed to land Devlyn as your husband.”
“Surprising? What an odd word to use when describing my marriage to Devlyn.” Sophie’s fingers trembled as she tried to adjust her hair.
“Forgive me, my dear Sophie. Surprise is an understatement. I’m astounded.”
“Why? Because I succeeded where you failed?” Sophie said coolly as she met Eleanor’s gaze in the mirror.
The moment the words flew past her lips, a triumphant exhilaration swept through her. She knew the emotion made her no better than Eleanor, but it was impossible to ignore the elation surging in her veins. Her split second of enjoyment at Eleanor’s outraged expression vanished the moment she heard the gasps from the women surrounding them.
Her heart pounding in her chest, Sophie swallowed hard. She’d forgotten the numerous witnesses watching the small drama. The realization made her immediately regret her foolhardy reply. Although she tried not to, Sophie saw the color leave her face as the stared into the mirror. Behind her, Eleanor’s eyes narrow to slits that mimicked a poisonous snake.
“Succeeded? Any success on your part where Devlyn is concerned is no doubt the result of trickery. I confess I’m amazed at the idea he could be tricked into marriage so easily?
“There was no trickery involved,” Sophie said quietly.
“Do you mean to say that you somehow beguiled the Earl of Devlyn into marrying you?”
Eleanor clasped her hands and held them with dramatic emphasis against her breast. Several of the women in the room tittered with laughter, and Sophie winced at the sound. Whatever was she thinking to take on her stepsister in a battle of witty insults?
Tension made her movements stiff as she returned her attention to her hair. With as much speed as she could, Sophie quickly finished repairing her appearance. When she turned away from the mirror, Eleanor was standing in her way. Painfully aware of the eyes focused on them, Sophie forced a polite smile to her lips.
“Forgive me, Eleanor, but my husband is no doubt wondering what is taking me so long.”
“You make it sound as if Devlyn actually cares where you are,” Eleanor said with a mocking smile. Her words dripped with icy venom, and Sophie fought not to brush past her stepsister in hasty retreat.
“Why do you assume he doesn’t?” Sophie wanted to bite her tongue. She was only making things worse by responding to Eleanor’s taunts.
“Look in the mirror, my dear sister. Do you really expect anyone to believe Devlyn won’t stray when the first wrinkle appears? And Lord knows that day isn’t far off.”
“You seem to have little regard for Devlyn’s loyalty or honor,” Sophie said in a defensive tone. She almost closed her eyes in despair. What in God’s name had provoked her to make such a statement? Perhaps a wish that it were the truth? Her heart clenched as she remembered the scandal sheets from the past week.
“Do you really expect people to believe it was a love match,” Eleanor sneered. “How charmingly delusional you are.”
“I can assure you it wasn’t a love match, and I put little stock in gossip,” Sophie said in a firm voice as she suddenly realized it was the truth.
She’d accepted her fate, and when Quentin turned to a younger mistress, she would be grateful for the few happy memories she was making now. Without flinching, she met Eleanor’s contemptuous gaze, and her throat swelled shut as a knowing smile curved her stepsister’s mouth.
“Good lord, you’re in love with him.” Eleanor’s gleeful words hit Sophie with all the force of a physical blow. Cold with fear, she did everything she could to keep her features composed and unreadable.
“Clearly, you’ve had too much punch already this evening, Eleanor.” Sophie kept her voice low as she denied the accusation in the face of her stepsister’s cruel glare. “What in heaven’s name makes you think I’d be in love with Devlyn?”
“Because I know you, Sophie.” Eleanor sniffed with disgust.
“I find it difficult to believe you, of all people, would think yourself privy to my thoughts on any subject,” Sophie bit out. “Particularly when we both know you bear no love for me.”
“Ever the martyr, my dear. Truth be told, I’m surprised Devlyn hasn’t wandered already. I’m certain there are any number of women who are simply waiting for him to replace his aging wife with a much younger mistress.”
“Are you hoping to audition for that role, Eleanor?” she asked in a cold voice. “If you are, might I remind you that you failed to secure Devlyn’s affections several years ago. What makes you think anything has changed?”
Sophie bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood as the room went deathly quiet. What in God’s name was she thinking to respond to Eleanor’s vicious taunts in a public setting? It was best she ended this small drama before it escalated into something far uglier. Her jaw set with determination, she sidestepped Eleanor and headed toward the door. An icy finger scraped down her back as she felt dozens of eyes following her departure. Tomorrow the gossip columns would be rife with tonight’s exchange, and she had no one to blame but herself. She should have known better than. She’d just reached the door when Eleanor called out to her.
“Take care, Sophie. The minute Devlyn realizes you harbor the illusion he’ll return your affections, the man will run from you like a fox from the huntsman.”
Eleanor’s words ripped through Sophie like a jagged knife, but she didn’t even stumble as she walked out of the powder room. Her stepsister might have guessed Sophie’s secret, but what Eleanor didn’t know was that Sophie had accepted her fate from the moment she realized she was in love with her husband.
Her only regret was that she’d not told Quentin the truth about her having been born out of wedlock. Tonight. She’d tell him tonight. The truth would make little difference when her world crumbled the moment the morning’s first scandal sheet arrived at Devlyn House. She’d made a bargain with the devil, but all the pain in the world couldn’t destroy the happiness she’d experience in the past few weeks. Holding her head high, she headed toward the lobby of the Alhambra to spend one last night in her husband’s company before her world fell apart around her ears.
§ § §
The noise in the Alhambra’s main lobby was deafening. The crush provided Quentin with one more reason to despise the opera. He wanted nothing better than to escape this wild zoo of humanity. An acquaintance caught his eye, and he offered a nod in the direction of the man before deliberately looking away.
The last thing he wanted to do tonight was to a
dd fuel to the gossip mill running rampant since their arrival in London almost a month ago. No matter where he and Sophie went, someone was trying to find out more information about his marriage, and he was damned if it was anyone else’s business.
Another man acknowledged him from across the lobby, and Quentin heaved a grunt of exasperation as he nodded and looked away. If Sophie didn’t return from the ladies room shortly, he’d create a stir by fetching her with little regard for the sanctity of the room itself. At least they’d have some privacy in their box.
“Devlyn. I say, is that you, old man?”
At the sound of his name, Quentin turned his head to see Sir Archibald Milliard pushing through the crowd to reach him. Groaning inwardly at the sight of the man, he tightened his lips. Schoolmates at Eton, the man had been a thorn in his side ever since. Milliard considered himself a wit, but Quentin found him nothing short of boring.
Dark hair already thinning on top, and his middle section already beginning to sport a paunch, Sir Archibald was the epitome of a man who considered himself a connoisseur of all things, but had truly mastered none. A moment later, Quentin found his hand grasped by Sir Archibald’s beefy one.
“I say, Devlyn, you’re the talk of the town.”
“Am I?” He deliberately drawled his reply to indicate distinct boredom. It didn’t have the effect he’d hoped as Sir Archibald plunged on with his babbling.
“Of course you are. Why everyone’s talked of nothing else. It’s one thing to have an older woman for your mistress, but good god man, to marry one?”
“I wasn’t aware that age had anything to do with marriage,” Quentin bit out at the man’s callous statement.
“Well of course it does. No respectable man would marry a woman twice his age.”
Anger made Quentin grit his teeth. Either the bastard was a complete ass or he was being insulting. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let anyone talk about Sophie the way Milliard was. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned into the man.
