by Claudia Dain
“I certainly felt as if I were begging,” Penelope said, smiling a bit reluctantly. “I don’t know quite how I find myself with Iveston, even now, though I do love him deeply, which is also a bit of a surprise, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Sophia responded.
Penelope, her black hair up in quite a becoming manner, just a few curls trailing across her shoulders, looked quite happily confused by the whole manner of her marriage. Well, she was young yet. She’d work it out in time.
“I suppose I may confess that I did think Edenham would be the best choice,” Penelope said softly, but by no means in a whisper. As it was her wedding breakfast to Iveston that was being celebrated, and as at least four people could possibly have heard her confession, Sophia raised an eyebrow and waited. “Oh, Iveston knows all about it,” Penelope continued in response to the eyebrow. “I don’t have any secrets from him. What would be the point?”
Yes, very young. And clearly unscarred by life’s little adventures. Sophia had a great many secrets from a great many people, and could not see anything to be gained by vomiting them up all over Town. But then, she was no longer young, and even when young, she had never been as young as Penelope was now.
“I understand completely,” Sophia said, and she did. “I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear that I always believed Iveston to be an ideal choice for you. I’m so pleased that you saw that for yourself and managed to deliver him to the altar.”
“It was like that, wasn’t it?” Penelope asked on a whisper, laughing. “It was an awful bit of work, let me tell you, and he was most obstinate for far longer than made any sense at all, but I did manage it.”
“You most certainly did, and managed it quite well. You are content, darling? Truly content?”
“I am,” she said, her dark eyes glowing, smiling devilishly. “But Iveston and I have discussed it fully and we have decided that we are each going to give you a gift, because we both know, no matter what you may say to the contrary, that without you we should not have found each other. We are quite firm about it, Lady Dalby. We are going to give you a gift.”
“Well, if you’ve decided quite firmly, then I simply must graciously accept, mustn’t I?” Sophia said with as straight a face as she could manage. “May I enquire what it is to be?”
“Oh, but you must have guessed,” Penelope said. “It’s something of a family tradition now, and we shouldn’t like to break form with tradition. Iveston is to give you a lovely Chinese porcelain, and I, because practicality must rule the day, even in gifts, have arranged for a spectacular black lacquer cabinet in which the porcelains may be displayed. You approve?”
Sophia grinned and took Penelope’s charming chin in her hand and said softly, “I quite approve. And you are so right. If I’m to receive porcelains every week, I must have a proper place for them, mustn’t I? Trust you to think of it, Penelope. But where are all these porcelains and black lacquer cabinets coming from? Not the shops?”
“Oh, no,” Penelope said. “From the Elliots, the American branch of the family, though Lord Cranleigh did have a store of exotic items packed away, a legacy of his travels abroad. But two Elliot ships have come in, just two days ago from New York and six days ago en route from China. You can imagine the joy in the house, having such an impromptu reunion, and just in time for the wedding.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Sophia said, searching the room with her eyes. “And what did you think of the Elliots?”
“Not at all what I should have expected,” Penelope said, toying with the end of a black curl. “I have little experience of Americans, none really outside of your nephews.”
“Which would not be at all the same, would it?” Sophia said lightly.
“No, I don’t suppose it would,” Penelope said, nodding, considering. “But where are the men of your family? I know they were invited.”
“Gone off to France, darling, along with all the rest. My brother, my son, my nephews, even Lord Hawksworth. Didn’t Amelia tell you?”
“I don’t think she knows,” Penelope whispered, looking across the vast room to where Amelia stood with Louisa, her cousin and sister-in-law by marriage. “They don’t get on very well, from what I understand. My brother George is so reasonable and so affable compared to hers, from what I gather.”
“Oh, don’t believe everything you hear, darling. I think that once you’ve become closely acquainted with Lord Hawksworth you will find him a most affable man. Sometimes sisters do not see their brothers in the most flattering light.”
“Perhaps because they so seldom stand in one,” Penelope said abruptly, and then laughed. “Oh, but there are the Elliots. Have you met them? I’ll introduce you, shall I? I do think you’ll get on well together, both being Americans as you are.”
Sophia could only look at Penelope, convinced she meant her words and wondering how she could be so uninformed. Youth again, she supposed. Youth was a vast excuse and covered so many sins; it was extremely unfortunate that it did not last a lifetime.
“Before I must share you,” Penelope said, “I did want to make certain that you received proper payment in agreement of our bargain. My father did make mention of it, telling me that he was taking care of it all, but I did want to make certain. You did make it all possible, Lady Dalby. I shall never forget it, or you.”
Sophia looked deeply into Penelope’s black eyes, eyes so like her own, yet sheltered in a way that Sophia had never been. There was a loveliness to innocence, to shelter and protection and ignorance as to how difficult life could become so very quickly. Perhaps the loveliness of innocence was rooted in its very fragility. Certainly, it was to be treasured for as long as it lasted.
“That is most kind of you to say, Penelope. I shall never forget you and this moment either. Rest assured, I have been compensated. Lord Prestwick is as honorable and forthright as his daughter.”
Prestwick, true to their bargain, had sent his man round with the deed to the land on Stretton Street that morning. The plot on Stretton Street was partly in answer to the very last remnant of her innocence being stripped from her so long ago.
That land was now hers. Lord Westlin had wanted it, and she had it. Delicious. But truly, annoying Westlin was merely a side issue, a pleasurable one, but still a side issue. The plot bordered the entire length of Devonshire House, which was a lovely and well-deserved irony. She had boxed them in, quite as fully as she had been boxed in when she’d arrived in London those many years ago, young and alone and in need of family.
Family by way of the Spencers had been denied her.
As Georgiana Spencer had married the Duke of Devonshire, and as the duke was not at all pleased with his wife for her deficiency in producing an heir, taking in a young half-breed from America had been deemed a risk the Spencers were not willing to take. The duke must be appeased, however and whenever possible. Sophia had been refused admittance, and so she had been thrown back upon the streets of London to make her way as best she could.
And so she had made her way as best she could, and she had done very well at it.
She was having her revenge in well-managed bites, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.
It was as Penelope was leading her through the throng toward where the Elliots were standing, looking quite definitely American in their stance and general bearing, that Lord Ruan caught her eye from across the room and began to move in the same general direction.
Lord Ruan, quite unexpectedly, had not parked himself upon her doorstep in the past four weeks, but had been scarcely seen. She had wondered at it initially, having thought they were surely on their way to a most pleasant dalliance, and then she had put him from her mind. Seeing him now thrust him very forcibly back into her thoughts and into her path. She could not quite decide how she felt about that, though she did feel a slight quickening in her breathing and a single, weak flutter in her heart.
He was a most stellar-looking man with quite a unique air about him. There was that. That alone would have be
en enough, but that he had another more mysterious quality about him, something of immense strength and perhaps even sorrow shading his piercing green eyes. Well. It was enough to intrigue any woman.
And then the Elliots were before her and Penelope was managing the introductions quite nicely, until things skipped slightly out of her hands, as things were wont to do when one did not quite know the players in the game as well as one might have done.
“Lady Dalby,” Captain Jedidiah Elliot said, his grey blue eyes sparkling. “Sophia. It is good to see you again.”
“You know each other?” Penelope said just as Iveston came up behind her and put a hand upon her waist. She leaned into the pressure of his hand slightly. It was utterly charming.
“I’ve heard stories about Sophia, Lady Dalby, all my life,” Jedidiah replied.
“Darling, I can’t possibly be that old,” Sophia said serenely. “We met briefly two years ago, when Captain Elliot was on his return from his first trip to China. But I have not had the pleasure of meeting the other Elliots. Mr. Joel Elliot, is it?”
“It is, ma’am,” he answered, bowing curtly, a huge smile on his face. “Though it’s captain as well. My first ship, my first time in a London port, my first meeting of the famous Sophia Dalby.”
Whereas Jedidiah, older than his brother by a year, was tall and of angular frame, Joel was more muscular and broader of shoulder. Jedidiah was possessed of straight brown hair that had a clear tendency to be shot with blond streaks, whilst his brother had dark brown curling hair. Jedidiah had grey blue eyes, quite like the seas off Ireland, and Joel a darkly rich brown. One would suppose that they were not of the same mother and father, yet they were. It was merely that Jedidiah had his mother’s coloring, very much in keeping with Molly, the Duchess of Hyde’s coloring, and as Sally Elliot was Molly’s sister, the situation was well explained. Joel looked very much like his father. But it was the third Elliot who had captured Sophia’s full attention. She had not expected her.
“My sister, Miss Jane Elliot,” Joel said with a cocking of his head. “She insisted that as I was coming to London she be allowed to grab a ride across. I’m going to leave her here while I go on to China. She was going to spend a few months with Aunt Molly, perhaps see a bit of England, and then return to New York on the first Elliot ship. Now that Jed’s here, she’ll be going back sooner than any of us thought.”
“And I’m to suffer for it,” Miss Jane Elliot said. She was quite stunningly beautiful with softly curling dark brown hair and huge dark brown eyes. There was something quite poetic about her brow and the angle of her nose was an artist’s dream. “I thought I might be here for at least part of the Season, but we had a leak below decks on the larboard and had to stop at Nantucket for repairs. Then we spent two weeks in the Azores, and now I’ve come to find the Season is nearly over and Jed ready to ferry me off. Arriving for Iveston and Penelope’s wedding has been a wonderful thrill, but it seems that it’s all that’s allowed me.”
“How absurd,” Sophia said. “I know Molly would love to have you for a year. There is no need to rush off simply because your brothers must.”
“We promised our father,” Jedidiah said. He was the more serious of the two, that much was obvious.
“And your mother, too, I should expect,” Sophia said, “but they could hardly have known that Miss Elliot would not have any time at all to experience the joys and intrigues of London Society.”
“Intrigues?” Miss Elliot asked.
“Joys?” Captain Joel asked.
“Father?” Captain Jedidiah reminded.
“There isn’t much use in mentioning fathers to Lady Dalby,” Iveston said. “She simply ignores their existence when there is an intrigue at her fingertips.”
“Lord Iveston, you are utterly wrong,” Sophia said, smiling. “I never ignore fathers. I give them most careful and most studious attention, and then I do what I want with their tacit approval, even if their knowledge of what they are approving is a bit faulty.”
Penelope coughed lightly and looked at the floor.
“I could never achieve Father’s approval,” Miss Elliot said. “He’s not here and Jed won’t move from his promise. I’ve tried.”
“I haven’t tried,” Sophia said softly, smiling at Jedidiah. Jedidiah shook his head repeatedly, but he smiled slightly in return.
It was all but settled. Jane would stay in England, and her brothers would sail across the seas without her.
THE Duke of Edenham had escorted his sister Katherine to the wedding. Katherine, he was pleased to see, was chatting happily with Molly, the Duchess of Hyde, who was glowing with happiness. Small wonder with Iveston finally married. He wasn’t sure what had happened there, but he knew Sophia Dalby had been at the heart of it. Good for her. If managing to get the difficult ones married entertained her, there were worse things. Certainly everyone seemed happy enough with the outcome. He could hardly quibble with happiness.
Edenham strolled the edges of the red reception room, exchanging a word or two with everyone there, knowing he was doing exactly what Sophia would want him to do and not able to stop himself. She was correct. He had spent too much time in mourning, as had Katherine. It was unhealthy, and it bred gossip.
He’d had far too much of gossip. Being a duke at a young age, he’d been gossiped about, naturally. And the gossip had been of the natural type. He’d barely noticed it. But upon the death of wife after wife, and even his child with his last wife, both dying in the same bed, in the same hour, the gossip had grown teeth and horns.
He did not like being talked of. He did not like being stared at. He did not like being thought of as the duke who killed his wives.
He had not killed his wives. They had died. People died every day. It was only that more of his people died than any other, and on more days.
Katherine’s situation hardly helped matters. Her husband had been profligate and had, as these things went, been killed in a duel. And so they found themselves.
Hiding away did nothing to stop it. Very well, then. He and Katherine would face it. And by facing it, they would kill it.
Let the gossips talk of that, of how they, between them, killed every rumor circling their family name.
“Lord Dutton, how good to see you,” Edenham said pleasantly.
“Edenham,” Dutton said, his eyes slightly glassy. The rumor of Dutton was that he was again becoming a five-bottle-a-day man with energetic ambition. It looked to be entirely true. “A sprawling affair, isn’t it? Not at all like the backstreet intimacy of Staverton’s marriage to Mrs. Warren Tuesday last.”
“I suppose not. As this is a first marriage for both, and as Iveston is the heir apparent, I think that must explain it.”
“I suppose it must,” Dutton said, taking a long drink from his glass. Port wine.
“You attended the Staverton wedding?”
Dutton snorted, a most unattractive sound. “Hardly.”
“You know very much of it, having not attended.”
“Rumor only, which I find most usually reliable, don’t you?”
“I couldn’t say,” Edenham said, not at all impressed. Dutton hadn’t always been such a sot, had he? It didn’t seem so. But then, he and Dutton had never run in the same circles beyond the boundaries of White’s.
“If Sophia starts the rumor, then it’s solid, is what I’ve found,” Dutton continued, staring across the room to where Sophia stood. “She might make it up, but she makes it true. Eventually.”
Nonsense, most assuredly.
“Who’s she caught in her net, now? Who’s that girl? Do you know her?” Dutton asked, drinking again.
Edenham looked again and saw a girl. The girl.
She was exquisite.
He had never seen her before.
She was remarkable.
He took a step in her direction. And then another. And another.
Iveston and Penelope moved off to another group, making their rounds of the room, spending time with
each of their guests. Quite right. Most hospitable of them.
Edenham stood where Iveston had stood, Lord Ruan suddenly at his side, two Americans before him, cousins to the Blakesleys, that’s all he got of the connection, but it was a good one, wasn’t it? It would be a good match, though it was a bit surprising to find that she was an American.
Miss Jane Elliot.
He would marry Miss Jane Elliot of New York.
He couldn’t make a bit of sense of the conversation, was vaguely aware that the men were captains of merchant ships, that Miss Elliot might or might not be staying in Town, that Sophia wanted Miss Elliot to stay.
Yes. Stay.
I’m going to marry you.
It would not be difficult. He was a duke, after all, and he could marry anyone he chose, within reason. Miss Elliot was most definitely within reason. She was related to the Duke of Hyde, and that was good enough for him.
He stood, murmuring the right words at the right moment, aware somewhat dimly that Miss Jane Elliot did not seem at all impressed by him. She had not heard of him, surely, which was to his benefit, wasn’t it? No gossip to soil her ears, turning her against him before she even got to know him. She would not be afraid. There would be no hesitation.
Miss Elliot and her brothers were snatched up by Cranleigh, and they walked across the room to some distant spot. Miss Elliot had not seemed at all unhappy to walk away from him. No, she had gone readily enough, no lingering looks at him, no shy smiles, no virginal blushes as she endured his stare.
It must be the American strain. Certainly Sophia was very similar in her responses to men. Odd behavior for a woman when she held a duke’s attention, but he was prepared to discount it as a result of her early environment and certainly nothing so serious as a flaw in her nature.
Somehow, and it seemed to take an age, he got rid of Ruan and got Sophia alone in one of the corners of the room. There were still too many guests to have his conversation with her freely, and it was not wise in the least particular, but he could not seem to stop his tongue.
“I want your help, Sophia,” he said.
