My Seductive Innocent (35 page)

Ellison’s footsteps grew louder as he drew near, and he kneeled beside her. She tensed and refused to look up and acknowledge him. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “You’re right. I should not be the duke. I’m nothing compared to the man Nathan was, and I know it as well as you do.”

Her heart twisted at his tortured words and his apology to her.
He’d
apologized to
her
! She was being utterly wretched and cruel, and he’d humbled himself to her. Suddenly, all her anger drained away, and only deep sorrow remained. She glanced up and locked gazes with him.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m sure you will make a fine duke. Forgive my outburst.”

He held out his hands, and she took them and allowed him to help her stand. “You are part of our family now, Sophia. There’s no need to worry that you will have to go back to the life you had.”

She stared at him blankly for a second, and then his insinuation registered. She clenched her teeth in irritation. Perhaps she was being touchy. Still... “I’ve not given a single thought to what might become of me.” Except for the thousands of moments she had thought about how Nathan would never caress her again. Never make her laugh again. Never exchange barbs with her again. He’d never decorate his home for her at Christmastide again. A large, immovable lump formed in her throat. She swallowed and spoke. “I do not care what becomes of me.”

Ellison gave her a doubtful look. “Well, Scarsdale cared. And his solicitor is downstairs now in my study waiting to speak with you.”

His study!
Her nostrils flared that he so easily took over Nathan’s home, but then, it was no longer Nathan’s. She drew the wrapper tightly around her. “I’ll be there in a moment. Let me dress for the day.”

With Mary Margaret’s help, it didn’t take long to don a gown, and as she put on the light-blue morning gown, it struck her that she would need to have black gowns to wear for mourning. She worried her lip, unsure whether she should ask Ellison’s permission to purchase black gowns or not. When she had a moment alone with Amelia, she would inquire as to what she should do.

When she entered Nathan’s―
no, Ellison’s
―study, Amelia, the duke, and Lady Anthony were all seated there.

Lady Anthony glared at her with reproachful eyes. “We’ve been waiting half an hour for you.”

Before Sophia could decide whether to apologize or not, Ellison spoke. “Mother,” he clipped, “if you cannot be civil, then I suggest you leave the room.”

Lady Anthony stared at him as if she didn’t know who he was. Sophia barely knew Ellison, but from what Mr. Burk had told her, Ellison had succumbed to his mother’s dictates his entire life. Good for him for not doing so any longer! At least the tiniest sliver of something good was coming out of Nathan’s death.

Ellison quickly introduced Sophia to Nathan’s solicitor, Mr. Nilbury, and once she was seated, he cleared his throat and sat behind Nathan’s desk. In her heart, everything here would always be Nathan’s, whether he was gone or not. Mr. Nilbury spoke at length of different legal matters that didn’t seem to concern her, and her mind drifted to Nathan. She outlined the curve of his jawbone, his broad shoulders, his wide chest, and the length of his long, powerful legs. She trembled, recalling his drugging kisses and featherlight touches.

“Sophia!”

Amelia’s voice snapped her out of her remembrances. She blinked and glanced at Amelia. “Yes?”

“Have you any questions about what Scarsdale left you?”

Heat flooded Sophia’s face as she looked around the room and found all gazes on her. She hurried past Lady Anthony’s hostile glare and latched on to Mr. Nilbury’s friendlier visage. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Could you please explain it to me again?” She refused to admit that she’d been daydreaming.

“Certainly,” he replied. “The former Duke of Scarsdale left you two unentailed properties: a townhome in London on Mayfair and a country home in St. Ives.”

Amelia put a gentle hand on Sophia’s arm. “That’s where our country home is. Scarsdale redid the property last year, as no one had visited it since his parents’ deaths.”

Sophia nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Nilbury.”

He furrowed his brow. “But, Your Grace, that’s not all. You also have been left an income of two thousand pounds a year.”

She could not have heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard him, you insufferable piece of rubbish!” Lady Anthony hissed.

Sophia’s jaw dropped as much from the news of the money as Lady Anthony’s words. “That cannot be correct.”

“Your Grace, I assure you I am never mistaken in matters of money. Your husband was one of the richest men in England. True, he inherited a great deal, but he was the most astute businessman for whom I have ever had the honor of working.”

“I cannot take so much money.”

Mr. Nilbury appeared flummoxed for a moment, but then he gave his head a decisive shake. “Oh, but you must. It was your husband’s greatest wish that you never need worry about money again. He came to see me the morning he disappeared. He said that he wanted to make sure you and your brother were taken care for the rest of your lives should anything ever happen to him. He wanted to leave an amount that would ensure you’d be more than comfortable with or without a husband. I do believe he assumed you’d never remarry.”

Desperate not to cry in front of everyone, she bit her lip until it throbbed in time with the pulse in her neck. He must have loved her, too, if he’d not wanted her to remarry. Anguish wrapped around her like a cocoon. “I will never remarry. The memory of him is all I will ever need.”

“What a fine actress you are,” Lady Anthony said, her voice cold and bitter. “You must be some sort of temptress for the fool to have left you that much of my son’s inheritance.”

“Mother!” Ellison snapped and rose from his chair. “That was Scarsdale’s money to do with as he wished, and he rightly wished to ensure his widow was taken care of. Please cease the nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” she fairly shrieked. “Nonsense!”

“Good Lord, Lady Anthony,” the Duke of Aversley thundered. “You act as if your son has been left destitute. That money Scarsdale left to his wife will not be missed in the sea of vast and deep fortune in which your son now floats. Try to contain yourself. Your behavior is vulgar.”

Her face twisted into an ugly visage, wiping everything pretty away. “I’m vulgar?” Lady Anthony pointed at Sophia. “She’s a common wench who grew up in a tavern with a drunkard for a father and a half brother whose mother abandoned him, but
I’m
vulgar!”

Hurt pricked Sophia that Nathan had shared so much of her private affairs with his aunt, but rage shoved the hurt to the background. Sophia rose up and stood ramrod straight. “
You
are vulgar,” she said in a quiet, firm voice. She was determined to make Nathan proud and be a worthy widow. That meant not descending to his aunt’s level. But her pride—God help her there was a good deal of it—would not allow her to quit the room without saying anything. “You know, you are pretty until one gets to know you. But once the cruelty flows from your mouth, you are quite the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.”

She marched to the door but paused there and turned back to face everyone. “Your Grace, I’d ask a carriage be sent round to collect me. I wish to depart immediately for my new home.”

Ellison opened his mouth to speak but Sophia cut him off, not wanting him to give her the option of staying. He was a kind, good man but if she had to live under the same roof with his mother one of them would surely kill the other. “Amelia, if you would not mind giving me a private moment, I have a request of you,” she said.

“It would be my pleasure,” Amelia replied as she stood. When she passed Lady Anthony, she frowned at her fiercely, and Sophia’s insides warmed at the new friend she had gained. She’d only ever had one friend in her life, so a second was very welcome, indeed.

Once she and Amelia were in the privacy of her bedchamber, she turned to her new friend. “I need to learn to be a true lady. The kind Nathan would have been proud to call his duchess. Will you help me?”

Amelia worried her lip for a moment. “I will, but dearest, you didn’t mean what you said about never remarrying, did you?”

“Of course I meant it,” Sophia replied. “You cannot know this, but he never told me he loved me.”

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said, her voice hitching.

“Don’t be sorry.” Sophia hugged herself and, for one brief second, recalled his lips running across her collarbone. “When I learned he was dead so many thoughts kept streaming through my mind, and one of them was that I would never know for certain if he loved me. But now I know, Amelia. Don’t you see?”

Amelia shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“He took the time to make sure I was going to be well provided for the rest of my life. He even thought of my brother. And the solicitor said he was sure Nathan didn’t think I would ever remarry. He loved me. He did not want me ever to marry another man, and I will abide by his wishes. It is the least I can do after everything he did for me.”

“But Sophia,” Amelia cried, “you are so very young! I vow he would not have expected you to be alone the rest of your life.” She gripped Sophia’s hand. “You’re distraught right now, but you’ll change your mind. You’ll see.”

“No.” Sophia tugged her hand free. “No, I won’t. Would you remarry if your husband died?”

Amelia gaped for a moment, and then she slowly answered, “No, I would not, but that is different.”

“How?” She was getting rather perturbed with her new friend.

Amelia worried her lip once more. “Well,” she hedged, “it’s different because we married for love. We are in love.”

“I love Nathan. And he loved me. Now, either you will help me become a lady or you will not.”

“I’ll help you become a lady,” Amelia muttered. “But I most certainly will not help you live as a perpetual widow who refuses to allow herself to be happy. If I’m going to help you, I have one condition.”

Exhaustion overcame Sophia in a wave. Whatever Amelia’s condition, she was too tired to argue. “All right,” Sophia mumbled and stifled a yawn, though it was still fairly early in the day. “I accept your condition,” she said, not even caring at this moment what it might be.

“You do? But I haven’t even told you what it is yet.”

Amelia had such a look of astonishment on her face that Sophia almost thought she could have smiled.
Almost.
Her sadness refused to allow her lips to make the expression.

“At the end of your mourning, you must promise to come to London and let Colin and me present you to Society as I know Scarsdale wanted.” Tears shone in her eyes.

She fought back her own tears at the sight of Amelia, who she knew had been trying to be strong, breaking down. “All right,” Sophia agreed. “If that’s all, I need to pack now. I plan to leave today.”

“We’re going to leave, as well,” Amelia said with a sniff. “I insist you stay with us until we have your house staffed once again and you hire a companion. And if you are at our home, I can more easily help you do all that. Your brother is welcome, too, though have you thought about his education?”

Tears welled in her eyes again. She dashed them away but not quickly enough that Amelia didn’t see. Her friend clutched her in an embrace. “That was silly of me.” Her voice hitched. “Of course you want him with you.”

“No, that’s not it. I’d be happy for him to be with me, but he was supposed to go to Eton. Nathan was going to take him weeks ago.”

Amelia’s face went pale, but she gave her head a firm shake and squeezed Sophia reassuringly. “Then Colin shall do it in Nathan’s place,” she said with forced gaiety.

The offer touched Sophia but also made her heart throb with pain at the potent reminder that Nathan was never coming back. He would no longer be around to help her brother become a better man. She desperately wanted to be alone. “Do you mind,” she choked out, trying and failing to keep her voice steady, “if I start packing? I’ll meet you both downstairs in two hours.”

“Of course not. Do you want me to send your lady’s maid to you?”

Sophia turned her back on Amelia as tears leaked from her eyes and tracked down her cheeks. “No, thank you. I’ll call her up in a bit.”

Amelia squeezed Sophia’s shoulder. “It’s going to be all right.” Her strained voice hinted at her sadness. “You’ll see.”

Sophia nodded, because she knew that was what Amelia wanted, but in her heart she did not see how she would ever be happy again.

F
or the second time in the week that Sophia had been staying with Amelia and Aversley, she rode in their carriage seated opposite them and trained her gaze out the window trying desperately to hold her tears at bay. It seemed surreal that her first trip to London had been to attend Nathan’s memorial service. After a moment, the spasms in her throat died away and her nose quit tingling. She glanced dispassionately at Amelia and Aversley’s massive stone home that sat amid rolling hills. Twin lakes banked the house on both sides, and a forest rose up in the distance.

A month ago, she would have been awed at the grandeur of this home, but now she couldn’t muster up enough energy to feel anything but sadness. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She’d rallied enough energy at Nathan’s memorial service to briefly feel scared when she’d walked in the church and a sea of inquisitive faces had turned to gawk at her, but Amelia and Aversley had flanked her as she stood quietly in the church and her fear had given way once again to sadness. When the service was over, she had begged to depart quickly, keenly aware that she did not look the part of Nathan’s duchess, nor did she yet know how to act enough like a lady that she wouldn’t make him wince in his grave. Even when she’d been stopped at the door by Ellison and his mother, Sophia had felt only sadness. Her anger at Ellison was gone. He was a kind man who told her, again, that she was part of their family, even as Lady Anthony glared at her.