“But why? You have always been impulsive, Dominic, but why marry this woman?”
Dominic shrugged. In truth, he could no longer remember why he had married Sophia.
It had seemed so obvious in France. She needed protection from Lord Hammond, a man
Dominic loathed. They had fun together, especially in bed. If he couldn’t marry a
woman like Jane, it might as well be Sophia. And, above all, it was one more blow
against the Huntingtons.
All that had made a strange, wild kind of sense in Paris. But somehow, on their journey
home, it had all been turned upside-down in his head. Sophia didn’t seem like a Huntington,
some faceless enemy. She only seemed to be—Sophia. A beautiful woman who bore the
marks and scars of her own past and fears.
He couldn’t make sense of that imperceptible shift yet. But he did know that he didn’t
like his father’s anger toward his new wife.
“Sophia is my wife now,” Dominic said. “We have to make her a part of this family,
Papa. When you come to know her, you will see that she is different. And you know
how much the Huntingtons will hate the gossip.”
“Different!” his father snorted. But he did quit his pacing. He leaned his fists against
the edge of his desk and closed his eyes. “I will be civil to her. Your mother wouldn’t
stand for anything else. You know how she is
always going on about manners. And you are quite right about the gossip, I suppose.”
Dominic grinned. He knew his father would understand the part about spiting the Huntingtons,
if nothing else. “Mama does temper the barbarian in all of us. That’s all I ask. Give
her a chance.”
His father slowly nodded. “Very well. Shall we go in to tea then? I have to greet
your wife.”
They made their way to the drawing room where the ladies were waiting. Isabel played
a Mozart concerto at the pianoforte as their mother rearranged the tea tray.
Sophia sat across from her, staring out the window with a faraway look in her eyes.
When he had left her, she seemed a bit nervous but happy. Now when she turned to look
at him, she hardly seemed to see him.
Mystified, Dominic went to take her hand. Surely he would never understand the mercurial
moods of his new wife. But he did look forward to trying.
Q
uelle scandale! Are the SCs at it again? After a period of quiet respectability, London’s
favorite family of the theater seems to be coming to life again. First D SC marries—to
London’s famous eloper Lady S, who we are told was seen in the company of that dashing
Lord H many times on the Continent. Sources tell us there was a great romance going
on there that went very wrong. Surely there is much to that tale we have not yet heard?
And now word has arrived that perhaps the youngest SC pup ran afoul of the French
at the Parisian card tables. Must these poor writers—and the rest of London—be wary
of their purses when they face him over whist?
We are all agog to see what happens next. Perhaps the beautiful Miss I SC will run
off with the Turkish ambassador…
Sophia shoved the newspaper away from her untouched breakfast plate as anger flared
up inside her. She had always hated the tittle-tattle of the
Town Talk
column, the anonymous bits of gossip, rumors, and party chatter
that appeared twice a week. But her mother had followed them avidly, living in dire
fear that the Huntingtons might appear there, and Sophia had gotten into the habit
of reading them.
Before she married Jack, she had found herself mentioned there a few times. Descriptions
of her gowns and her dance partners, mostly. Surely they had had a gleeful time documenting
her elopement, but she hadn’t been there to read it. She had never cared what they
said about her.
But it was different now. She cared very much what they said about Dominic and his
family. She had to prove herself to them now, and trailing fresh scandal in her wake
didn’t seem like a good way to do that.
This seemed to be Lord Hammond’s doing. Why else would they have mentioned him in
their scurrilous column? She had been foolish to think he could be left behind in
Paris. His influence in London was too great.
She glanced across the table at Dominic. He was calmly—too calmly—drinking his coffee.
He watched her with no expression on his face.
“You read the papers already, didn’t you?” she said.
Dominic shrugged. “I always read the papers first thing in the morning. It’s useful
to keep up with the theater reviews.”
“But you saw today’s
Town Talk
?” Sophia persisted. His very calmness seemed to drive her anger higher. She crumpled
the paper into a ball and tossed it on the floor.
Dominic watched it roll across the carpet before he looked back at her, his brow arched.
“I did see it. They often mention the St. Claires. Surely you’re accustomed to being
gossiped about, Sophia.”
“I’ve been gossiped about all my life. I hardly notice
it anymore,” Sophia answered. “But your siblings are the subject of today’s tittle-tattle!
James and poor Isabel. And it’s all my fault.”
“I agree that it’s unfortunate Issy’s name got dragged into the matter. She’s a young
lady, and even for an actress these days, it’s important to be thought respectable,”
Dominic said coolly. “But James has to learn to be more careful, or he’ll have to
get used to being thought a rake.”
“They are doing more than calling him a rake!” Sophia burst out. She couldn’t sit
still any longer. She shoved her chair back from the table and paced the length of
their small dining room, the hem of her dressing gown whipping behind her. “They are
calling him a cheater.”
“Only in the most obscure way possible.”
“Everyone will know very well what they’re saying. And there is only one way they
could have gotten that particular piece of gossip—through Lord Hammond.” Sophia paused
next to the window to peer outside. It was a warm, bright day, and the blue morning
sky seemed to mock her dark mood.
She felt like such a fool for thinking even for a moment that her marriage would make
a man like Hammond go away. It had only made him angrier at losing something he wanted.
“I should not have done this,” she murmured.
She heard Dominic rise from the table. He came to stand behind her, and she glimpsed
his reflection in the window glass, his hair tousled, his dressing gown loosely wrapped
around his lean body, as he rested his hands on her shoulders.
“There will be some new rumor tomorrow,” he said. “Some earl’s daughter will run off
with her music teacher,
or a duke will marry a rich, vulgar American. James, and even Issy, will get over
it.”
“But if it was Lord Hammond’s doing, you know this is only the beginning. And they
would never have mentioned a man like him without his complicity,” Sophia said. “He
has much influence in Society. If I have hurt you by bringing him into your life…”
“Sophia.” Dominic gently turned her in his arms and held her by the shoulders as he
looked down into her eyes. The calmness that had made her mad earlier now made her
feel a little steadier. She was no longer alone.
Even if a part might wish she was. She wasn’t accustomed to her choices’ affecting
anyone else, especially not someone she feared she was coming to care for far too
much.
“Sophia,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Many people have tried to hurt my family over
the years, but they have never succeeded. We have thick armor, and so do you. Hammond
might try, but he will find he is just like the rest—he can’t touch us. Gossip is
nothing.”
Sophia wasn’t completely reassured. Gossip wasn’t always nothing. Sometimes it was
like a slow-eating poison, seeping into everything that was good in life and turning
it twisted and dark. “We can’t let such rumors spread,” she said. “They have a tendency
to grow and grow until they’re no longer recognizable at all.”
“Then surely the best way to stop it is by showing everyone we don’t care,” Dominic
said. “By going about our business.”
Sophia nodded, and she felt Dominic’s hand slide under her chin to tilt her face up
to his. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw set in that hard line she had come to mistrust.
“Unless you are worried about what
your
family will think about your name appearing in the papers,” he said. “About them
seeing your name paired with the St. Claires.”
Sophia broke away from him and turned to pick up the papers she had scattered on the
floor. In moments like that, she wondered what her husband was thinking, what he was
trying to tell her.
She wondered if she knew him at all.
“If I cared about that, I would never have married you,” she said. “Surely they can
no longer care what I do.”
“Of course they must care what you do,” he said. “You will always be a Huntington.”
Sophia slowly rose to her feet, the papers clutched in her hands. A shiver tickled
up her spine.
A Huntington.
Was that what he thought of her? Was that all she was in his mind?
“I’m a St. Claire now,” she said quietly.
He was silent for a long moment, leaning back on the window ledge to watch her as
she straightened the breakfast things. There was no point to moving around plates
and cups the maid would just clear away, but Sophia had the sudden urge to be busy.
“Are you done eating?” Dominic said. “You hardly touched your food.”
“I’m not very hungry this morning,” she answered.
“Then shall we get dressed and go for a walk in the park? It’s a warm day, and I’m
not due at rehearsal until this afternoon. You have been too kind to run lines with
me every evening, and I think we should have a little treat.”
Sophia looked back at him. Was he offering a small
peace token? A morning spent together, just the two of them? “I would like that.”
“Good. We can get started on that ‘let everyone see we’re happy and we don’t care
about gossip’ business.” Dominic smiled and reached out to squeeze her hand.
We’re happy and we don’t care.
Sophia only wished that were true.
“You’re very right,” Sophia said as they strolled along one of the graveled footpaths
of Hyde Park. “It does feel good to get out of doors for a while.”
Dominic smiled and took her hand. “I told you it would be. Do you feel like an old
domesticated couple yet, with nothing better to do than go walking hand in hand in
the middle of the day?”
Sophia laughed. Some of her misgivings that morning seemed to have vanished, or at
least gone into hiding for a while, burned away by the sunny day. “Not quite old yet.
And domesticated—never. Not with you.”
“No? Shall we not spend all our evenings in front of the fire, me with my dressing
gown and pipe and you with your knitting? We might need to get a puppy to gambol about
on the hearthrug…”
Sophia laughed even harder, trying to imagine the cozy little scene. “It sounds like
a lithograph of the queen and Prince Albert, not something real. Besides, I don’t
know how to knit and dog fur makes me sneeze.”
“Ah, well. We’ll just have to stay with gambling clubs and theaters then.”
“That definitely sounds like more fun.” Sophia surveyed the park from under her lace-edged
parasol and
smiled at the picture-pretty scene. It seemed they were not the only ones with time
for strolling in the sun. Couples walked along arm in arm, whispering together quietly,
while children rolled their hoops along the path with shouts of laughter. Babies peered
out of prams pushed by nannies in their starched caps, while an elderly man was led
along by his resolutely cheerful daughter, as she told him what a grand day it was.
“I forgot how pretty the park is,” Sophia said. “When I used to come here, I had no
time to look around and see all this
life
. I was too busy trying to not listen to my mother’s lectures.”
“I haven’t been here in a long time either,” said Dominic.
“Because there are always rehearsals and meetings during the day? Or because you are
too tired to go out?” she said with a laugh.
“Rehearsals, usually. But now I can see its time to slow down a bit, learn to enjoy
life.”
Sophia smiled up at him, thinking how very handsome he looked in the sunshine, all
burnished gold. “How shall we do that, then?”
“Well, I would say finding a proper house is the first step,” he said. “And my mother
wants to give a party for us, to prove to all her friends that I really did get married.”
“A party?” Sophia said, surprised. She hadn’t been sure Dominic’s mother really liked
her; she knew his father did not. Would they really want to “show off” the fact that
their son had married Lady Sophia Huntington?
“I thought you liked parties,” Dominic said with a small smile.
“Of course I do. I’m just surprised your mother would want to give us a party.”
“My mother will seize any excuse to entertain. Unless you prefer to live quietly for
a while?”
Sophia studied his face. He watched her closely, as if he waited for something from
her. She hated not knowing what it was or what she should do.
“No,” she answered. “That sounds most enjoyable.”
Dominic nodded, and he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as they continued on
their stroll.
Ahead of them on the winding path, Sophia glimpsed two ladies. They were no different
from any other well-dressed pedestrians enjoying the day, an older woman in a conservative
dark green walking dress with graying black hair peeking from beneath the frilled
edge of her green-and-black bonnet, and a young lady in pink holding on to-her arm.
But Sophia knew with one glance that this was not just any older, rigidly dignified
lady.
This was her mother, a woman she had not seen in many months. The last time they had
met, her mother had been weeping as Sophia’s father slammed the door between them,
and she hadn’t heard a word from her since. Only that indirect message sent through
Elizabeth, that Sophia should look for a respectable husband who could reconcile her
to her family.