Kane, Samantha - Brothers In Arms 4 (18 page)

Ian could only nod. He looked at Derek, suddenly longing for the other man

desperately. He needed to talk to Derek, to tell him about Sophie, to share this god-awful guilt eating him alive.

“Go on,” Brett said softly. “Freddy and I shall go and join the throng of your new wife’s admirers.”

Ian looked at him gratefully and walked slowly up to Derek where he leaned

against the wall in lonely exile.

“Come to toss me a few crumbs?” Derek asked with his usual asperity. Then he

winced and did something very un-Derek-like. He apologized. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Ian.

That was uncalled for.”

“I’m glad you came.” Ian’s voice was soft. He didn’t feel like sharing this

conversation with the rest of the room.

“I heard her father’s little speech before the wedding. Quite the charmer, eh? What a swine, and Sophie’s only role model. Are you sure your little bride isn’t,” he paused to tap his head, “a little unstable?”

“Derek,” Ian said with disappointment.

Derek looked away and took a drink of champagne. “The vows, was that your

idea?”

It took Ian a moment to realize what Derek meant. “You mean how Sophie was

looking at you when she said them? No, I had nothing to do with it. I wasn’t even sure you’d come, and I didn’t see Sophie today before the wedding.”

Derek looked at him, perplexed. “How did she know it was me? We’ve never met.”

“I don’t know.” Ian took a deep breath, the image of Sophie making those sacred promises to him and Derek causing a tightness in his chest. “I’ve never even talked to her about you, about us.” He shook his head and covered his eyes with his hand.

“Derek…” He couldn’t go on as his voice choked.

“Ian, Ian, what’s wrong?” Derek straightened and touched his arm in concern. “Are you all right?”

Ian shook his head again. “No, no I’m not.” He looked at Derek’s beloved face full of worry and felt his emotions settle a little. “I’ve got to talk to you, out on the terrace.”

He moved off toward the doors and felt Derek follow.

Once on the terrace, Ian placed both hands on the railing and leaned over, taking several deep breaths to steady himself. Derek leaned his back against the railing next to him.

“What’s going on?” Derek was as serious as Ian had ever seen him, and Ian realized he must look quite shaken.

“It’s about Sophie.”

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Derek snorted. “Well, it’s your wedding day. I thought everything was about the bride on her wedding day.”

“She was raped, Derek. More than once apparently, as Kate understood it.” Just

saying the words made Ian feel like he was going to throw up.

Derek reached over and gripped Ian’s forearm tightly. “When?”

Ian didn’t look at him, just shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

Sophie refused to speak to me according to Jason, who got it from Kate, whom Sophie swore to secrecy.”

Derek exhaled in amazement. “Could this turn into more of a tragedy? Or is it

comedy? No, tragedy, with our own Ophelia.” He placed his hand on his chest and threw out the other hand dramatically. “‘Get thee to a nunnery!’” he cried softly, and then he froze.

Ian was alerted to Sophie’s presence by Derek’s sudden stillness. He looked up and saw her horrorstricken face.

“I…I was worried,” she whispered. “Ian looked so upset, and…” She sobbed and

quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Ian took a step toward her. She backed away.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” she cried out. “Does everyone know?” She glanced frantically behind her at the open French doors. “Do they?” She spun on her heel and raced back along the terrace for the doors, Ian close behind her.

“Sophie!” Ian called out, chasing her. He heard Derek right behind him. When he rushed through the doors, he heard people calling out and had to push through them trying to get to Sophie. He burst out of the crowd in time to see her stop in front of a weeping Kate.

“I thought you were my friend!” Sophie accused her, crying so hard the words were an anguished howl. She ran out the drawing room doors.

“Sophie!” Kate cried after her. Ian rushed after Sophie, leaving Kate to her

husbands.

* * * * *

Derek wanted to follow Ian, but knew it was not a good idea. He was frustrated

and angry, and this helpless feeling in his gut pissed him off. In the silence that followed Sophie’s and Ian’s dramatic exits, he resorted to one of his favorite defenses, sarcasm.

“And thus ends Act One of our tragedy, ladies and gentlemen,” he said harshly.

“Refreshments will now be served.” He turned and retreated to the terrace.

Derek stood there for a moment once he was outside, completely at a loss as to

what he should do. His indecision and uselessness made him furious. He swung

quickly around, throwing his fist at the wall. Instead of brick, his hand met the flat palm of another outstretched hand with an unsatisfying smack.

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“Ow!” Freddy cradled his abused hand on his chest. “God damn it, Derek, that

hurt! I should have let you break your damn hand on the brick.” He shook his hand fretfully in the air, trying to soothe it.

“Yes, you should have,” Derek growled unsympathetically. “I don’t need you or

Brett shoving your noses into our business, Freddy.” He glared at the young duke.

“Whatever pieces of wisdom you think you have to impart, stuff them. I’ve heard your opinions about Ian’s wedding already and don’t need a reminder.” He transferred his glare to Brett, who was standing silently next to Freddy. Just then Jason came storming out the doors.

“How about my wisdom, Derek? Stop feeling sorry for yourself and act like a man.

Ian and Sophie need you right now.”

Derek couldn’t stop the incredulous look he gave Jason. “I hardly think Sophie

wants to meet me right now, Jason. This is something she needs to work through with Ian alone. He is her husband now, for better or worse.”

Jason made an impatient gesture. “Of course, you’re right, I didn’t mean that,

although it certainly shows a level of understanding on your part that surprises me. I meant Ian needs you to act like his partner here. To take charge of removing these wedding guests from your house with as little upset as possible. To minimize whatever damage Sophie’s outburst may have caused and to make sure they have the time and privacy they need.”

Derek was horrified. “Handling the public is Ian’s job, Jason. I am not good with people, you know this.” He shook his head decisively. “If you need someone beaten up, I’m your man. Avoiding scandal and soothing ruffled feathers? Not on my best day.”

“I’m sorry, Derek, but it’s time to grow up.” Brett finally spoke. He was

sympathetic, but firm. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t want to. This is obviously something that distresses Sophie in the extreme, and Ian as well. Even before Sophie’s tearful exit, I could see that Ian was very upset. Like it or not he has someone else who needs him now, perhaps in some ways more than you ever did. He needs you, Derek. Be there for him.”

“You’re right, all of you.” If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Derek might have been amused at the expressions on his friends’ faces. “You needn’t look so shocked. I’ve been doing a great deal of soul-searching lately.” He narrowed his eyes as Freddy opened his mouth to speak. “Yes, Freddy, I do have a soul. I realize I’ve made this whole situation worse with my behavior, and I told him last night I’m going to make a sincere effort to live with Sophie.” He straightened his shoulders, and then he shot his cuffs and checked his cravat. “And so I shall go and play peacemaker and dutiful host, two roles that do not sit well with me. But I shall do it for Ian.”

Without looking at his friends again, Derek walked purposefully back into the

drawing room. The next two hours were grueling, but he smiled until his face felt stiff, grinding his teeth all the while. It seemed as if he had to answer the same questions about Sophie and Ian over and over. He wasn’t a good liar, so he stuck as close to the 90

At Love’s Command

truth as possible. He told everyone that Sophie had been nervous about the wedding and meeting all of Ian’s friends for weeks, and that the pressure simply got to the poor girl. She was, after all, a country-bred girl who had never been away from her father’s house. He could feel his bile rise over all the things that went unsaid in that explanation, but it was no one’s business but theirs, even if all these people were their friends.

When the door finally shut on the last of the wedding guests, Derek breathed a

huge sigh of relief. He leaned back against the wall next to the stairs, too tired to climb them.

“Sir,” Montague said next to him, and Derek nearly jumped a foot in the air he was so startled.

“How on earth do you do that?” he snapped at the butler.

“Do what, Mr. Knightly?”

“Sneak up on a person so quietly. The War Office could have used you against

Napoleon.”

Montague didn’t even crack a smile. “Shall we prepare a light supper for Mr. and Mrs. Witherspoon? Neither of them ate much after the ceremony.”

Derek’s eyes closed briefly in resignation. More decisions. “Ah, yes, all right. That sounds good. Yes.”

“Very good, sir. Where shall we serve it?”

Jesus, couldn’t they make any decisions themselves? “Christ, I don’t know. Her

sitting room, the one attached to her bedroom? I’d think she’d feel a little less conspicuous there about now. She wasn’t feeling all that, ah, well after the ceremony.”

Montague smiled at Derek and Derek almost fell over in shock. He’d always

assumed the butler didn’t like him very much. He rarely addressed Derek directly and exuded an air of disapproval whenever Ian deferred to Derek’s preferences.

“If I may say, Mr. Knightly, you did very well with the wedding guests today.”

Derek looked up warily, expecting to see the sky falling at Montague’s unheard of praise.

“Thank you?” Derek responded, his confusion evident.

Montague cleared his throat. He seemed uncomfortable, but continued the

discussion in spite of it. “Mrs. Witherspoon needs all the support and companionship that we can offer her at this time, I believe.”

Derek was reduced to blinking wordlessly at Montague. The butler sighed. “I

recognize the source of her distress. I sincerely believe that you and Mr. Witherspoon will help her overcome it.”

“You recognize what?” Derek asked suspiciously.

Montague’s eyes refocused on a spot over Derek’s left shoulder. “My daughter

experienced something similar, if I am not mistaken.”

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Oh God, Derek thought, horrified. What do you say to a man who’s just told you

his daughter was raped? “I’m sorry, Montague.” He
was
truly sorry, he realized. “Is she all right now?”

Montague still refused to look at him. “I hope so, sir. She’s dead.”

Derek felt the color drain from his face. “Oh God, Montague, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Was it the…the attack?”

Montague finally looked at him and Derek flinched at the desolation in his eyes.

“No sir, it was by her own hand afterward.”

Derek couldn’t contain his gasp of horror. Involuntarily he reached out and gripped the other man’s arm. “We won’t let that happen to Mrs. Witherspoon, Montague.”

“No sir. We won’t.” He turned and walked several paces before he stopped and

turned back. “I shall have a light supper served in one hour’s time.”

Derek nodded mechanically. “Yes, thank you. That would be fine.”

“You’ll find them in the nursery.” Derek just nodded again. He was beyond

surprise at the man’s intuitiveness.

He started up the stairs before he realized he had no idea where the nursery was.

He hadn’t even known they had one. What the hell were they doing in the nursery?

* * * * *

Ian raced up the stairs after Sophie, calling her name. When he got to the first floor, she’d disappeared. He looked in every bedroom and couldn’t find her. As a last resort he climbed the stairs up to the little-used second floor, where an empty nursery from previous owners took up most of the space.

“Sophie?” he called from the top of the stairwell. He heard the faint sound of crying and walked quietly down the hall to the closed nursery door. He pushed it open and saw Sophie immediately. She was sitting on the floor in front of the window directly across from the door, her arms resting on the window seat, pillowing her head as she cried softly. Her legs were curled to the side and she managed to look elegant even in her misery. Did she understand her appeal? Ian didn’t think so.

He walked into the room, his steps echoing in the emptiness. The nursery was half as long as the house itself, its wood floor gleaming. The whitewashed walls glowed in the fading evening light. The room’s only furnishing was a small painted rocking horse in one corner, sweet and sad in its loneliness. Somehow it was the perfect setting for Sophie’s tears. Ian’s heart cracked a little more as with blinding clarity he realized Sophie had never had a haven like this in her own childhood.

“Will you send me back now?” Sophie asked in a raw, husky voice that made

things in Ian clench, things that had no business clenching in the current situation. He’d liked her voice the first time he heard her speak and had grown more enchanted with it with each successive conversation. The ragged sound of it now made him think of sweat and heat and breathless abandon, and he ruthlessly tamped down his attraction.

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“Never.” He spoke forcefully, clearly, and his voice seemed overly loud in the

echoing chamber. He watched as Sophie turned her head quickly to look at him, her shock evident. He crossed the room in long strides and went to one knee next to Sophie.

He ignored her slight flinch at his nearness. He understood it now, and he believed the only way to overcome it was for her to grow accustomed to it. Unbidden, Derek’s words from last night went through his mind. “Let her get used to it,” he’d said. At the time Ian hadn’t thought them useful.