My Seductive Innocent (20 page)

“Of course,” he said, but he withdrew his arm from underneath her head and then got out of bed. She watched him retrieve his clothes in tense silence, all the while wondering if he would say any more. Sitting up, she clutched the sheet to her breasts as Nathan moved to a chair and paused in pulling on his boots to look at her once again. “I’m sorry if I seem cold.”

She plucked at the sheet, wishing she could take the words back and hold them until later, so they could have had a bit more time with his guard down as he held her. “I suppose you think me foolish,” she said, trying to imagine how he must picture her.

“I don’t think you foolish at all. I think you are full of eternal optimism for life, despite the hand life has dealt you. I wish I could share in that hope.”

She scrambled out of bed and gathered the sheet around her as she did. Padding across the floor to Nathan, she knelt in front of him. “You can. Start with me. Hope in me. Give me your heart and I’ll fill it up.”

“Ah, Sophia.” He ran a finger along her jawbone. “I am going to give you my name, my protection, and my fidelity, but you don’t really want my heart. It’s a black thing.”

“Stop saying that,” she scolded. “I’ve seen the good in you.”

His hand dropped away from her face, but his gaze bore into her. “You see an illusion. I’m not good. If you knew what I’d done in my life―”

“Tell me,” she interrupted. “Tell me your worst.” She was going to show him that his past would not make her turn away from him.

“You want to know my worst?” His voice had grown low and harsh, and his face twisted into a sneer. Despite herself, a tremor of fear raced through her. Yet, she nodded.

He leaned very close to her so that their noses almost touched and all she could see was the swirling depths of his eyes. “When I was sixteen I slept with my best friend’s mother at his birthday celebration. I knew she was lonely, and I took advantage of her. I took her in her bedchamber while her husband, who worshipped the ground she walked on, was below stairs celebrating their son’s birthday with all their guests.”

Sophia swallowed hard, fighting back the mental image flooding her mind and the nausea filling her stomach. He wanted her to be shocked and disgusted. She refused to fall into his trap. There had to be more to the story than what he’d just told. “When did your parents die?”

“God, Sophia.” A hollow laugh filled the room. “That doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” she insisted. “I’m sure you were lonely, too. Had they died very close to that time?” He probably hadn’t been thinking clearly in his grief. Though his mother was unkind and his father absent, Sophia was sure he had grieved them.

“Not long before,” he admitted, “but that’s no excuse for what I did.”

The anguish and remorse he felt for what he’d done was apparent on his twisted face. “I disagree,” she said firmly. “Grief doesn’t totally excuse your actions, but I imagine when you lose someone you love, grief clouds your judgment.”

“I didn’t love my mother.”

It was said in such a cold, matter-of-fact way that Sophia’s breath caught in her throat. He had loved her; he just didn’t want to admit it. The bitterness, likely instigated by his unreturned affection, was apparent in his words but more so in how stiff he had become. She swallowed the urge to argue with him. “Well, I’m sure you loved your father and that loss must have hurt.”

“The eternally hopeful one,” he said instead of answering her. A wry smile played at the corner of his lips, but it did not touch his eyes. “I’ve some business to attend to before dinner, but I’ll see you shortly.”

Sophia nodded and watched as he slipped out of the room. Kneeling still, she let her mind recall every detail of earlier when he had held her in his arms and taken her with such tenderness. Now a smile pulled at her lips. He could not hide his gentle, caring side in the moments they came together with nothing more between them than air.

Standing, she strolled to the washbasin while humming a tune she recalled from years ago. She took her time carefully cleaning away the smeared traces of her given innocence on the inside of her thighs, and then she slipped on her gown and hurriedly put herself back in order. She wanted to find Harry and tell him not to divulge any more secrets of their past. She didn’t want Nathan’s eternal pity. What she wanted was his love.

As she made her way down the ornate staircase, she spotted Harry coming through the terrace door with a grin on his face. “Harry!” she called, then rushed to greet him. “I want to talk to you.”

Before she got all the way down the stairs, he met her halfway and flew into her arms to hug her with such force it felt as if her ribs might break. “Guess what?” he asked in a voice brimming with the kind of enthusiasm only children possessed.

“What?”

“His Grace promised to teach me how to ride horseback, and he’s already s-started instructing me on how to fence. He says I’ll need these skills so I can fit in at school.”

“At school?” Sophia asked with surprise.

Harry nodded. “He’s g-going to send me to Eton. It’s where he went.”

Sophia grinned. “Harry, you hardly stuttered just now.”

He nodded. “I know! His Grace taught me a secret.”

“Did he?” She looped her arm through Harry’s and tugged him down the stairs to the first open door she could find. She froze. The room appeared to be a female’s sitting room, judging by the color scheme of fuchsia, white, and light green. A beautiful silk material covered several pieces of furniture, and there were no less than three full-sized portraits of the late duchess.

Harry snorted. “His Grace’s mama really l-loved herself. Mr. Burk, the stable master, told me there are f-fifteen life-sized portraits in the house of her.”

“My, you’ve been busy,” Sophia teased.

“You too,” Harry said. “When you didn’t come down after your fittings, Lady Anthony sent me back outside. She said you were busy servicing His Grace. Did you shine his boots?”

Sophia’s cheeks burned so hot she wanted to fan herself. “No. We had to talk about a few things.” How could that horrid woman know what they’d been doing? Or that Nathan had even been in her room? Maybe she had meant something else with her words.

Sophia tried to calm herself. It didn’t matter what his aunt thought. In a few days, she would be Nathan’s wife. The woman could not harm her.

“Tell me the secret Nathan taught you about your stuttering,” she said, changing the subject.

“If I tell you the secret it wouldn’t be a secret, but guess what?”

The way Harry grinned at her made Sophia’s heart ache with joy. “What?”

“His Grace used to stutter as a child. His mother would make awful fun of him for his problem, so that it g-got to every time he t-talked to her, it would take him an eternity to get the sentence out. She t-took to sitting him in a chair in front of all the s-servants’ children and they would throw small rocks at h-him each time he stuttered.”

Sophia barely muffled the sob that choked her. If a heart could break in sympathy, hers had just shattered. “Nathan told you all that?”

Harry shook his head. “Just that he stuttered, and then he told me not to feel ashamed ’cause it was just a m-matter of concentrating on the words and the secret.”

“Who told you about his mother and what she used to do to him when he stuttered?”

“Oh, Mrs. Prichard, the downstairs kitchen maid. I wandered in there to get a snack and she filled my belly up with cookies and my ears up with history. I feel very bad for His G-Grace. That’s even w-worse than Frank teasing me.”

Sophia nodded. “Yes, it is. I don’t think Nathan’s mother was a very nice person.” Sophia glanced at the portrait nearest them. The duchess had been stunning on the outside, but the inside had been ugly. Suddenly, Sophia didn’t mind not being beautiful if it meant she had a heart.

“Incredible, wasn’t she?” a grating voice said from the doorway.

Sophia’s back stiffened at the arrival of Nathan’s aunt. She didn’t want to take any chances the woman would say something wicked about her in front of Harry, so she patted him on the hand to get him to look at her. “Go wash up before dinner. You wouldn’t want Nathan to see you at the dinner table with grubby hands.”

“Children do not eat with adults,” Lady Anthony said in an acidic voice. “And besides that, you needn’t worry about Scarsdale being offended by the child’s grubbiness.”

“Why is that?” Sophia asked, giving Harry a shove to send him on his way.

Harry was barely out the door when the aunt said, “Because, my dear. He won’t be back for dinner.” She grinned rather maliciously at Sophia.

The idea of having to sit through dinner with Nathan’s aunt without him there made Sophia wince. “Did he have to leave to attend to business?”

Lady Anthony smirked. “The business of being a man. You may have serviced him earlier today, but apparently, you did not quench his appetite.”

Anger surged through Sophia, thankfully allowing no room for embarrassment. “I don’t have any notion what you mean.”

“Come, my dear. We are soon to be related. Let us be truthful, if nothing else. I saw Scarsdale go into your bedchamber and not come out for quite a long time. Do you mean to tell me you were simply talking?”

“I don’t mean to tell you anything,” Sophia said through clenched teeth.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry. I fear I’m getting us off to a rather bad start.”

The lightning-flash change in her demeanor stunned Sophia. Lady Anthony’s words were sweet and soft, and a beatific smile lit her face. The woman let out a disgruntled sigh. “I’m angry with Scarsdale and I’m letting my anger seep out onto you. That’s not fair. I did my best to raise him to be a good man when my sister died, but so often I fear I failed.”

“The late duchess was your sister?”

Lady Anthony nodded. “Yes. Isn’t it funny how we married brothers? Everyone used to say so.”

“I hadn’t realized that was the case. I suppose it is quite ironic,” Sophia hedged, not wishing to bring out the other side of Nathan’s aunt with the wrong words.

“Oh, yes, my dear departed husband and Scarsdale’s father were brothers. Such a small world it is, hmm?” Lady Anthony strolled across the room to stand beside Sophia. She glanced up at the portrait. “People always stared at my sister. Do you know, as far back as I can recall, I cannot think of a time when we were out together that someone did not stop to stare at her or simply tell her how beautiful she was. It was very hard on her when she started to feel as if her beauty was fading.”

Sophia remained silent. Lady Anthony was quite pretty herself, but Sophia got the distinct sense that the woman had felt less than lovely in her sister’s presence.

Lady Anthony turned to Sophia and gripped her hand in a cold, bony grasp. “From the moment Scarsdale was born he had that same effect on people. They stared at him in awe and wonder, so very enchanted with the perfect duke. I think it quite perturbed my sister,” she said with a chuckle.

“Whyever would it bother her that her son was adored?”

“Why, because it was less adoration for her, of course. She got rather testy about it, actually. I didn’t have that problem. My son came out fat and slow, and now he’s a cripple. No one stares at him, except, of course, in pity.”

The woman’s vile words made Sophia’s stomach turn. It took her a moment before she was sure her voice would not tremble with disgust. “You mentioned that Nathan would not be at dinner?”

Lady Anthony’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “Didn’t he instruct you to call him Scarsdale unless you were alone with him?”

Sophia couldn’t fathom how she would know that. She was sure Nathan nor Harry would have told Lady Anthony. Perhaps the butler had told her? Sophia was not about to ask her, so she nodded. “Where is Scarsdale?”

Lady Anthony’s lips turned down at the corners and her eyes narrowed. “At his mistress’s home, of course. He summoned her here when he came last week.” The words had the precision of a carefully aimed dagger.

“No.” Sophia shook her head in denial, even as her stomach plummeted. “He said I’d have his fidelity.”

“Oh, my dear.” Lady Anthony hugged Sophia to her. “Scarsdale is a rake to the core. He doesn’t have a faithful bone in his body. That would mean he loved you, and rakes are above such emotions. But take heart, I’m sure he’ll be very discreet. Now my own husband...” She waved a hand in the air. “He was a terrible, cruel brute, but that is a story for another day. Shall we go in to dinner now? It’s really time, and I can start your lessons on how to be a proper lady so maybe Scarsdale will concede to bring you into Town once in a while and not keep you hidden in the country.” She grinned in a twisted, terrible way.

Sophia couldn’t move or talk. Her stomach turned and her head spun. And she was clammy. The room was stifling hot, and she wanted to shove Nathan’s aunt away and race out the door into the open air. Or maybe she wanted to go to bed. Was it true? Had Nathan lied to her? Had he said she would have his fidelity, then gone off and left her with his wretched aunt while he bedded another woman hours after bedding her?

Sophia wanted to scream in rage, but she had to keep control of herself. “I think I’ll check on Harry and retire for the night. I’m very tired from the trip.”

“Quite understandable. I’ll see you in the morning, and we can start our lessons.”

Sophia nodded and made her way out of the room and up the stairs. She passed her bedchamber and asked a maid where the nursery was, because she knew Harry was there. After seeing that he had a dinner tray and meeting the maid who was acting as a temporary nanny, Sophia made her way to her room, worry and sadness slowing her steps. She didn’t want to believe Nathan was with another woman, but her mind raced with terrible images.

When she entered her bedchamber, Mary Margaret was turning down the bed. Sophia’s eyes widened in horror. The towel she’d used earlier to wipe away her blood must have been removed by the maid. She blanched instantly, and without meeting the other woman’s eyes, she made her way to the bedside table where a full goblet stood, just as it had the previous night. After retrieving it, she tested the liquid and recognized the wine. Tonight, she didn’t even hesitate to drink the spirit. She needed something to slow her racing mind and calm her down.