The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) (31 page)

George scowled. "I cannot forget that she is not mine."

Keene rubbed his forehead. "You needn't forget, if you can forgive."

"You don't understand."

Impatience burst through Keene. He understood. Why was it so hard for everyone to be honest? Why did Sophie persist in pretending she didn't understand his hints to spill the soup? For that matter, why hadn't he told George his own circumstances? Not that he'd ever lied except by omission. "I understand what it will be like for your daughter. God forbid there is ever another child."

"What do you mean?" asked George sharply.

"I mean I am not my father's son. Richard was his, but I was not."

He turned to the window. The gas lamps lining the street cast pale globes of light in a futile attempt to ward off darkness.

George's shocked gaze weighed on Keene.

"I'm sorry, I shan't make the Cocoa Tree tonight. If you'll put me down, I'll catch a hackney home."

George tapped on the speak-through
panel
to the coachman's box and directed his coachman to Keene's square. He slid the window shut. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

The carriage swayed on the cobbled streets. George slumped in his seat. After some time, he said, "I don't know how your father did it. He must be a better man than I to accept a child by another man and continue on with his wife."

"I don't know. He cared for me, raised me. Perhaps he knew before I was born. He never spoke to me about it directly, but I always knew I was a burden, not a blessing."

"The devil, you say."

"I don't think he should have minded so much if I were not his heir."

George reached across the open space and squeezed his arm. "Yes, it makes sense. I thought he disliked your way of life, but Richard was no better. And you two never looked alike."

A wave of sadness crept over Keene. "No, we didn't."

Sophie looked more like his half brother than he did. George stepped down from the carriage at Keene's house and walked with him to the door. "Are things well with Sophie and you?"

Keene shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose."

"I hope so. You deserve happiness."

"It doesn't come because one is entitled. I fear it must be worked upon."

At one time Keene had thought that regular funds would keep him happy, but the dowry draft still sat locked in his drawer. His father had carried through on his promise to support him and Sophie, but the money burdened Keene. When he had supported himself through gambling, there had been a certain freedom.

He climbed the stairs to his room. He opened the door to Sophie's bedroom and stood looking in. There were more and more nights when he peeked in to see her sleeping, her voluminous nightgown shrouding her too-perfect figure.

He hungered for her sweet smiles, her eager touch, her innocent blushes. But the blushes couldn't be so innocent. He longed for the days when she had followed him around like an eager puppy. All grown up, she was finding her niche in society. She was never restrained, but oddly enough, no one seemed to mind.

* * *

Keene leaned his head onto the back of the chair and stared at the trompe l'oeil paintings on the ceiling. If he squinted he could believe the ceiling was laid in recessed panels, rather than a flat expanse. He put the bottom of his fresh-from-the–cellar wine-cooled glass on his forehead.

It didn't help.

He'd taken to arriving home in the wee hours of the morning and waiting until Sophie woke before crawling into his own bed. The thin door between their rooms provided scant deterrent. Better to avoid the temptation altogether.

Fortunately, she was an early riser, even though she was out quite late at balls. She also possessed that enviable talent of falling asleep the minute her fluffy blonde curls hit the pillow. He knew: he'd peeked in on her too many times.

That took care of the mornings; then he urged the women to drive out to the park in the phaeton which only seated two comfortably. Then dinner to muddle through before they were off to one entertainment or another. Keene would escape to a gentlemen's club as soon as his control started slipping.

If he avoided being alone with Sophie, he could make it through the waiting period. He did the math in his head again. Sometime before his proposal in early January plus four months. If he could make it until May, perhaps the end of April, concealing her pregnancy would be impossible.

He didn't know if he could make it through the next twelve hours. He hated this collapse of his restraint.

Until recently he'd prided himself on his superb self-discipline, but his wife's reckless disregard of consequences must be catching.

Last night he'd drawn her into an anteroom and kissed her.

A huge mistake.

Noise on the stairs outside the library drew his attention. He'd left the door open so he could hear Sophie enter the breakfast room.

He set his glass on the table beside him and rose from his chair. Sophie paused outside the library door and adjusted her feathered cap in the looking glass opposite the door. She wheeled around, the train of her navy velvet riding gown twisting around her legs. "Keene."

"Going riding?"

"Yes." She backed away from him as if she expected him to deter her. "I know it is quite an unfashionably early hour, but this way I can give the horse his head."

"Give me a moment to change, and I'll accompany you."

She backed toward the front door. "That won't be necessary. I have a groom to go with me."

Why didn't she want him to go with her? Was she meeting someone? Her early morning ride was a stealthy thing. She hadn't even eaten breakfast. She'd been eager enough for his company last night, eager for his kisses. "Why not?"

"You haven't been to bed. I'm sure you're tired."

He folded his arms across his chest rather than grab her and shake the truth out of her.

Her shoulders drooped in front of him. "I know I should not ride early in the morning, but no one is about to see me."

"You might be thrown," said Keene sarcastically. How had she expected him to believe she was thrown in the first place?

"Oh, no." She opened the front door. "Brutus is too well trained." She clapped a hand over her mouth.

"You're riding my horse?" His seventeen-hand horse? She'd look like a child perched on his Brutus's back.

A groom walked his gelding down the street. A second horse stood docilely by.

"Well, Daisy is still at your father's. Oh, please, Keene, I don't ride him hard, and I am quite light, hardly a chore for him at all."

"I'll send for your horse."

"Does that mean you don't want me to ride Brutus?"

If she didn't go riding he would remain all alone with her, and that was dangerous. "No, you may go."

She hesitated a minute, then crossed to him and kissed his cheek. He clenched his arms tighter. "Go on, then."

He followed her to the curb and lifted her to the saddle. He cast a sharp glance at his groom. "Don't let her out of your sight."

"No, sir. I wouldn't, sir."

Keene watched the horses walk down the street. His hands itched to hold her waist again, his cheek tingled from the press of her lips and his blood was on fire. Sleep would elude him for a long time. Perhaps he should fetch her horse himself. It would give him a few days away to cool his fevered blood.

* * *

Sophie couldn't believe he'd left without so much as a by-your-leave. She hadn't even known until she and Amelia sat down to dinner four days ago, and Keene was absent. She wished she could forget he was gone and enjoy the parties. But almost unconsciously she scanned the other guests, looking for her husband.

Perhaps when the hour struck eleven and no further admittance could be gained to the exclusive assembly rooms, she could stop hoping he would show up.

"Might I have the next waltz?"

Sophie didn't need to swing around to know that Lord Algany was standing behind her. He had a habit of approaching from the back.

"But of course," said Sophie smoothly. He was a bit of a salve to her ego. Not that she wanted to be around him long. Too much salve left her feeling greasy.

"I hear your husband has left you all alone and retreated to the country."

Did everyone besides her know that Keene had left London? "He'll be back soon."

"Not too soon, I hope." Algany's gaze traveled over her face and held her eyes. "Might I say you are looking especially delicious tonight."

"You might say it, but I doubt I should believe it." Not that Algany wasn't sincere, but his lingering gazes, while similar to Keene's, did nothing for her. Keene had only to flick a sidelong glance in her direction and she was all aflutter. It wasn't fair.

"Of course you should, angel. You are the most refreshing woman I've encountered in a long time. How you maintain such an air of innocence quite intrigues me."

"I fear you are too jaded, sir."

"You are right, of course. It is why I am drawn back to you again and again, even though you do not offer this poor man any encouragement."

Sophie shrugged. "I am warned you are a very bad sort to encourage." Her smile probably softened the blow. Perhaps she should try the same tactics with Keene. Her refusals with Lord Algany only seemed to encourage him more.

"Folly. I should bring you nothing but pleasure. Who is this maligner of my character?" His ferret smile said he really had no interest in learning who slandered him. He extended his arm as the opening bars of a waltz began.

One thing that could be said was that Algany was an excellent dancer. They sailed about the floor in a way that made Sophie's heart lighten. It was hard to stay heavy of heart when one was light on one's feet.

She hardly noticed that the hour of eleven passed and only those members of Parliament who had been detained by late business or those whose carriages were already in the line outside on the street would be admitted. She smiled wider at Algany.

He pulled her closer, every now and then their bodies would touch on a turn.

"I shall step on you feet if we don't have a care," she warned.

"A small price to pay for the pleasure. Sophie, let me take you to supper. I know a lovely place that serves the most delectable fare. Quite discreet, too."

She shook her head. She should protest his using her Christian name, but he would only switch to an endearment. She glanced toward the entrance.

"He is out of town, isn't he?"

Her eyes shot back to Lord Algany's. She didn't answer.

"You know, jealousy can be a wonderful tool for a wife to bring a husband to heel." He lifted his hand from her waist and brushed his fingers across her cheek.

Sophie swallowed hard and wished again for the reserve to hide her true feelings. She shook her head.

"Of course, you must bring your dear Mrs. Keeting along. I should be happy to escort both of you to supper."

Sophie hesitated, looking at Algany. She glanced across the room to where Amelia stood near a wall, looking about as listless as Sophie felt.

Victor watched Amelia from across the room.

Algany's fingers traveled down her neck and he languidly placed his hand back on her waist. "Perhaps Lord Wedmont should like to make a fourth."

Algany spun her through a turn.

"While Keeting is still about town, he doesn't seem to have a care for what his wife is about."

Sophie hoped her expression didn't betray her knowledge of Amelia's situation. Algany's gaze was too sharp. But if he thought he could wheedle a secret like that out of her, he was mistaken. She pressed her lips together.

"And then there is the hapless watchdog, Wedmont. Although he looks rather hangdog tonight. I am never quite sure who he is to be watching."

"Lud, you do have an imagination. He is not a watchdog."

Algany raised an eyebrow.

Sophie began to feel she was out of her depth. Her heart was beating too fast. Keeping secrets had never been her strong point.

Algany had noticed the quick cadence of her breathing. His eyes dropped to her décolletage several times. "He is not doing a good job of watching you this evening, that is sure."

"Even if was to look after me—and he is not—what trouble could I get into here in Almack's hallowed grounds?"

"Why, none, of course." Algany's attempt at an innocent expression wasn't entirely successful. "But one could make plans, of course." He grinned, but didn't wait for her refusal. "Come, angel, you are rather flushed. Join your guardian, and I shall bring you ladies a glass of some of the sumptuous orgeat served here and you might discuss my offer of real refreshment afterward."

He led her to Amelia and bowed.

"Did you dance with Lord Algany again?" asked Amelia.

"Once tonight. Don't worry, I shan't do it again this evening."

What was the point? Keene wasn't here to scowl at her, then drag her away into an anteroom and make her crazy with his kisses. She'd had to push him away last time. Jealousy might be good for a show of possessiveness on Keene's part, but it hadn't lasted until they made it home. He hadn't even come in the house, just driven off to a club.