Sophy stared directly into a pair of intense dark eyes. She took a deep breath. “I have come, Madame, because I have discovered my late father bought a certain piece of real estate.” She pulled the ribbon-bound deeds from her reticule. “He then gifted a certain Marie-Simone Bertine a life-interest lease on the property. I want to know why.”
There was a long pause. A half smile glimmered at the corner of the woman’s lips. Perfect lips, sculpted in ruby, curved round flawless ivory teeth.
Finally, she spoke. “It would seem Nicholas van ‘Outen was a trifle old-fashioned. ’E kept some secrets from ’is daughter.”
Sophy could hear the amusement in the woman’s voice. She felt her mouth open, then shut with a snap. “That is preposterous nonsense. I handled all my father’s business affairs. He kept no secrets!”
“Mais non. You knew nothing of this arrangement.” Madame Bertine shrugged off Sophy’s vehemence dismissively, then changed the subject altogether. “You should wear red,
ma chérie.
It would suit you. You have such lovely skin.”
Sophy glanced at the woman suspiciously for any signs of mockery. Seeing none, she sighed. “I am in mourning, Madame Bertine.” She touched her black silk gown lightly. “Black is a cold, dignified color. One to gain respect in a man, not love. It’s not a color to entice or excite.”
“What an extraordinary girl you are. With your dramatic coloring, and dressed accordingly, you could entice
les hommes
like bees to a flower.”
Sophy fought the urge to throw back her head and laugh hysterically at this absurd conversation. “I already have a husband.”
A husband whose heart belonged to his business.
If only...
Madame Bertine nodded slowly, as if her thoughts were not really on Sophy’s reply. She was silent for a long while. “Red is a very bold color. It stands for something. It makes a statement.” She lost the thoughtful look. “I associate it with the strong emotions, passion, anger, desire,
l’amour.
”
Sophy felt a lump form at the back of her throat. She swallowed. Fixed her eyes on her wedding ring as a focus.
“I do not know that a marriage of convenience, a business arrangement, requires strong emotions. Though I do like heads to turn when I enter a room.”
No, only one. Seth’s head. If I were in a daring low-cut red satin dress, then he might take me in his arms, press his lips to mine, stir again those strange, fluttering sensations. If only...
“If you want a man to long for you, find yourself a motif. One he will associate only with you. When he sees it, even if you are far away, he will think of you.”
Madame suddenly became interested in the fringe of her shawl. She gave a small sound that might have been a sob. “I surround myself with ‘earts. The ’eart ’as always connoted affection.”
Sophy’s eyes widened as a sudden realization struck her, igniting a flame of suspicion in her mind. She gave Madame Bertine an astute look.
Father’s lacquered cigar box had an arched floral crest pierced with hearts! How could she have been so blind? She tried to suppress her inner excitement, but her high color belied her outward calm.
“Were you my father’s lover?”
Madame Bertine gave another Gallic shrug, and straightened the rug over her knees. “I’ave been the lover of many men, my child. Nicholas van ’Outen was but one of them.”
“But he must have meant more than the others. He bought this house. You live in it!”
“Ah,
mais oui
. Marie-Simone catered for ‘is needs.” Her eyes met Sophy’s with a suddenly troubled expression. “Nicholas van ’Outen was an honorable man. He would not jeopardize his social standing and risk gossip by taking a mistress while ‘e ’ad a daughter at ‘ome. So ’e compromised ‘is principles and set me up in a business ’ere in Greene Street.”
She laughed gaily as Sophy looked puzzled.
“I see you do not know what I am talking about. It does not matter,
ma fillette.
Follow the dictates of your ’eart, rather than the logic of the mind, and you will win the prize.”
Sophy closed her eyes, expelling a long breath. She clasped her hands together and defied the logic of her mind. “Madame, could you help me? Could you teach me how to win my husband’s affection?”
Chapter Four
“I
n spite of Lincoln’s death, there seem to have been...”
Seth let Richard Carlton’s voice wash over him as he idly surveyed the scene below. Suddenly, his idleness vanished. His fingers dug into the polished sill. Surely that was Sophy!
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He would recognize that distinctive walk anywhere. A skip, then a hop. There was nothing sedate about his wife. She bounced. Like an excited pixie.
“—the meaning of freedom remains unresolved....”
Seth craned his neck, searching the crowded street for another glimpse of the woman. A tantalizing swirl of skirts and then she was gone.
Frowning, Seth stared up at the piling masses of clouds, then down at the slowly moving line of carriages. He was sure it had been Sophy. What the hell was she doing in Greene Street?
“—nothing but a ceaseless round of parties these past seven months celebrating the end of the war. Do you agree, Seth?”
“Definitely. Richard, I’m sorry, but I must go. Just remembered something important I must do. I’ll have a look at the inventory lists another time.”
Seth did not wait for Richard to call a servant. He had collected his walking stick and bowler hat and was clattering down the stairs before the agent had a chance to reply. At street level, he realized how importunate he must have appeared. He glanced again at the ominous clouds, and his mouth thinned.
Greene Street was definitely not a place for an innocent young woman. Even Bishop Simpson proclaimed there were as many whores in the vicinity as there were Methodists!
Could Sophy have seemed so untouched, so innocent, if she was indulging in an illicit affair? He couldn’t—didn’t want to — believe it. Headstrong and spoiled, perhaps, but he knew his wife was fiercely loyal. So what was she doing in the area?
Sophy ran downstairs light-footed and flung open the door of the dining parlor. All round the room the gaslights were blazing, and the table was set with an astounding array of crystal and silver. In the center of a simple floral decoration burned one scarlet candle.
Her mouth curled. Seth would soon be home. She felt excited and no longer afraid. It was as if she had shed the last shrinking of anxiety about the future like a discarded skin and was now emerging with wings. A conqueror about to discover a new and unknown land.
There was a wild elation at the knowledge of the marriage act as explained by Madame Bertine. Exhilarated, Sophy spun in a pirouette. As though released by a spring, her wide-skirted gown of stiff corded black silk followed her body’s movement.
The mere contemplation of such delight was too much for her to face just now. She had to push it away from her, hold it off like some dazzling dream that she must not think of yet, Now there was dinner to consider. Now she must join the company in the drawing room.
The cold drizzle had started during the ride back to the house on Fifth Avenue and, an hour later, with the rising of the wind, it was battering at the window of the large drawing room. A maid had just drawn the heavy brocade drapes when Seth came into the room.
A faint chill washed over Sophy at the grim expression on his face. His brows were straight dark slashes in a face so pallid that it might have been hewn from marble. The glance he swept her felt like iced water as the magnificent blue eyes glimmered with strong emotion.
Concentrating almost fiercely upon his wife, he seemed unmindful of anyone else in the room. The silence stretched, broken only by the tap of his cane as he came to her, dragging one leg and leaning heavily on his stick.
The clear shining of the wall sconces seemed to gather about his shapely head in a nimbus of light. The brilliance of it was entangled in the piratical darkness of his hair and there seemed sparks in his jewel-bright eyes.
Forehead furrowed, Sophy stood staring at him through her mothwing lashes. There is nothing wrong, she repeated over and over to herself. Why then was her heart beating so madly that it constricted her breathing?
Their eyes locked.
Seth studied her face with the innate fierceness with which he had applied himself to the preservation of the Union. Abruptly, he felt idiotic, like a madman trapped in the nightmares of his own mind.
He drew a breath, torn between reason and instinct. His wife’s misty gray eyes were wide and shy, her soft lips quivering, ready to broaden in a smile at the slightest provocation. He found himself staring at those lips, waiting.
Sophy clasped her hands together, as they went up instinctively to quell the tumult in her breast. Something flickered in the pools of his eyes, and she felt some of her apprehension dissipate. She smiled, and once more that magical transformation took place, giving her face light and warmth. It was as if the sun had come out.
“Isn’t it splendid? Uncle Heinrich, Cousin Pieter and Cousin Bernard called, in this weather, too, to see how we have settled in. They are to stay for dinner.”
Seth started, his eyes slanting to the van Houten brothers. He shifted a cramped knee, and the preoccupied expression left his face.
“Hello, sir.” He held out his hand, with a brief flash of the smile that Sophy so longed to see. “Pieter.”
His grip appeared strong and confident, but tonight the poor man looked worn-out. He moved with a queer jerking motion as if he were manipulated by strings. Sophy longed to ease his suffering.
The warmth was still in his countenance when he greeted the younger sibling. “How are your designs for a steam engine that runs on roads coming along, Bernard?”
Despite his harsh appearance, Seth had the gift of inspiring confidence. The boy’s ruddy complexion deepened a shade. At fourteen, Bernard van Houten retained the snub nose and the chubbiness of youth, but his mouth and chin were determined to the point of obstinacy, and he had the same direct gaze that characterized his cousin.
“I am working on a prototype using compressed air, piston rods and valve gears.” A thought occurred to him. “Have you seen the hydraulic elevator that Mar. Otis has constructed at Haughwout’sDepartment Store?”
“No, but if you would care to come down to the plant room at Weston’s Textiles, you can inspect our new rotary engine; which is driven by gears.” Seth’s eyes, alight with unholy amusement, met Sophy’s. “If she has nothing better to do, I am sure Sophy would love to accompany you.”
He was speaking lightly, but there was something in the look of his eyes that made Sophy uncomfortable, and she felt a sudden sense of relief when dinner was announced.
A few minutes later, a large uncovered dish was placed in front of Seth. He blinked at the huge crusty pie filled with chunks of beef and redolent of fresh vegetables and herbs.
Sophy’s spirits soared, and her eyes danced as his gaze followed the dish of potatoes mashed with butter, cream, sautéed cabbage and a sprinkle of chopped young onions, which the maid placed in front of her.
“One of the reasons I called so late, Sophy, was because I knew you would invite me to a meal,” Pieter confessed, accepting a good-size portion of pie on his plate.
“Good management of a household leads to domestic happiness.” Heinrich’s voice carried its own conviction. “Sophy was never interested in sensible things like crewelwork and watercolor painting or the pianoforte, so we were relieved when she made friends with Marcel and learned to cook.”
“Much better than stuffing her head with all that mathematics, politics and financial knowledge, which is neither attractive nor necessary in a woman,” Pieter teased, with considerable glee.
Bernard simply enjoyed the food. It was, after all, no use trying to slip the least word into the conversation with Sophy and Pieter becoming immersed in one of their endless arguments on women’s rights.
Sophy glanced at Seth, who had a mouthful of pie and was chewing with enjoyment. He was satisfyingly engrossed in the meal. There was no reason to dissemble, so she took up her cousin’s taunt, a fire of righteous indignation heating her words.
“Don’t be so idiotic, Pieter. The winds of change are already blowing. It won’t be long before women take their rightful place in society.”
The suppressed fierceness in her voice caught at Seth. He looked up, met her misty gaze. She stared at him as if they shared an immediate, unspoken secret. It was a spark, like the new electricity he had seen demonstrated once, a spark that jumped the space from wire tip to wire tip.
For a moment something very soft and vulnerable flickered across his face before a ghost of a smile creased his cheek. Tonight, sentiment betrayed him. Sophy. Her laughter compelled him to share it. Her glance compelled his to meet it.
Pieter grinned at his cousin, his eyes challenging. “Women are all fools, even the smart ones. No, especially the smart ones. They are so determined on outmaneuvering their men that they cause themselves, and everyone else, endless trouble.”
The spell broken, Seth returned his attention to his laden plate.
“How can you say that?” Sophy demanded. “Women react as they do because men give women indulgence as a substitute for justice. I tell you it is not good enough!”
Seth found himself at once irritated and bemused by his wife’s philosophy. Because she used her tongue as a weapon? Because there was an element of truth in her assertion? Perhaps because of the deeper truth, that no man can entirely relinquish all remnants of his own masculinity.
Catching Bernard’s eye, Seth gave him a conspiratorial smile and put a forefinger to his lips. “Why not?” His tone was one of innocent inquiry.
Surprise flashed across Heinrich’s face, and he practically choked on a piece of asparagus.
“Why not?” Sophy tried to restrain her sudden surge of annoyance, failed and launched into her argument. “A woman’s entire future depends on her husband!”
Seth’s eyes, which had been communicating with Pieter’s over the top of her head, came back to her. What a little firebrand she was, so easily touched to the quick, changeable, lashing out.
Never lose your advantage.
Of course, the colonel had been talking of the battlefield, but the advice was apt here.
“Just as it should be. How else are we to keep our wives in their place? If this idea of universal suffrage gets out of hand, we’ll find women dictating terms to us, and what will happen then?”
“Anarchy and revolution!” Pieter contributed.
“Can you imagine it?” Seth murmured, with an air of masculine amazement that set Sophy’s teeth on edge.
Pieter drained his wine and announced in sepulchral tones, “This movement must be nipped in the bud.”
“Just think what would happen if women were entitled to vote? The infection would spread. Next they’d be wanting to become doctors and lawyers!” added Bernard with enthusiasm.
Sophy, seeing him seething with barely suppressed delight at the gathering dispute, felt decidedly annoyed. Bernard was too young to have any opinions on the matter. And, if he did, he was young enough to change. It would be one of her projects.
“But that is iniquitous! It leaves women with no choice, no pride, no...” She trailed off, realizing she was being baited.
A serene smile touched her lips. “Odious creatures. Do not tempt me into an argument. You promised, Cousins, if I fed you, not to mention universal suffrage or discuss the role of women.”
Seth caught the tranquil smile, and his heart leaped. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps seeing her in Greene Street had been a figment of his imagination. The mask of politeness that had been clamped down upon his face suddenly split into fragments, and he laughed.
“Promises and piecrusts are made to be broken.”
This time, everybody laughed.
“Isn’t Sophy an angel to put steamed fruit dumpling on the menu?” Bernard appealed to Seth a little later, licking the last dollop of cream from his spoon.
“A veritable angel indeed,” Seth agreed, turning to Sophy, watching the mobile curve of her mouth.
All his doubts came rushing forth, sucked back by memory. The inconceivable happened. The words that had plagued him for hours in his mind sprang from his lips.
It came as quite a surprise to Sophy when he leaned forward and asked, his voice rich and warm, “How did you get on in Greene Street?”
His question had been quite casual, but it had an instant effect.
Utterly shocked, Heinrich van Houten nearly choked on the portion of dessert that he had just placed in his mouth. He managed to splutter just one word, “Sophy!” as if the sky had fallen in.
Bernard made a peculiar sound. Seth thought it was a quickly stifled chuckle. Pieter preserved a tactful silence.
Sophy felt the heat flow into her cheeks as she recalled the scene with Madame Bertine. Swiftly averting her eyes, she played for time. She looked down at her spoon, rubbing her thumb against the embossed silver handle. Her lashes rose.
“Greene Street? What do you mean?”