“Come with me now, James,” she said, as quietly and calmly as she could. “No matter
what he’s doing here, we don’t need to engage him.”
“I didn’t cheat in that card game in Paris, no matter what anyone says,” James said
fiercely. He looked down at
her, and his eyes glowed with a hot fire. “I’ve done some stupid things, I admit,
but never that.”
“I know,” Sophia said, and truly she did know. James would never do such a thing.
He was young and quick-tempered, but he had the same personal code of honor his brother
did. It was all part of Hammond’s game.
“Come with me,” she said. “I need to find Dominic, and I don’t want to walk across
this room alone.”
James gave a reluctant nod, as she knew he would. He wouldn’t leave her alone in the
crowd when Lord Hammond was somewhere near. She held on to his arm as they made their
way across the crowded lobby. She smiled and exchanged a few words with the people
who stopped her as they passed, and she held on to James the whole time. She felt
how tense he was and saw the way he scanned the crowd, but he stayed with her.
And they didn’t encounter Lord Hammond. But they did meet Sophia’s brother.
“Sophia,” he said casually, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, as if he had seen
her only last week. “You’re looking grand. It was quite amazing to see my little sister
up on the stage tonight. You did an admirable enough job, I daresay.”
Sophia had to laugh. Her brother had never been much of a theatergoer, so she was
sure he wouldn’t know an “admirable” performance if it slapped him on the face. Even
now his gaze was drifting away from her to study the other women in the room.
But his wife was beaming with pleasure, her cheeks as pink as her ruffled gown. “It
really was such an enjoyable play, Mrs. St. Claire,” she said shyly. “Will we see
you often at the Majestic?”
“I am not sure,” Sophia answered. “I am just playing understudy for my sister-in-law,
who was, sadly, injured. But I am glad you enjoyed the play.”
She chatted with Edward’s wife about some of the latest London news, the new style
of hats, and Court happenings with the queen and her family, as James and Edward pretended
they were somewhere else. Sophia surreptitiously kept her eye on the crowd around
them until, just as she had feared, Lord Hammond made his appearance. As always, he
had a lady on his arm, a beautiful young redhead dressed in widow’s black but dripping
with diamonds.
Suddenly she felt an arm slide gently around her shoulders, and she half-turned to
find that Dominic had come to her side. He gave her a small, reassuring smile, and
she felt calmer in an instant, even as Hammond came closer to them.
“Ah, the happy newlywed couple,” Hammond said with an affable smile. His eyes were
cold as he looked at Sophia, and she was even more glad to have Dominic close to her,
holding her up. Edward and his wife made their excuses and moved away to find some
wine. “Allow me to be among the first to offer my best wishes. I am so glad your dear
brother and his wife invited me here tonight, Mrs. St. Claire, so I could congratulate
you in person.”
“That is very kind of you,” Dominic said smoothly. “Considering our last meeting at
Madame Brancusi’s was not so cordial.”
Sophia sensed how stiff James was on her other side, as if he held himself on a tight
rein. She only hoped his control lasted.
Hammond waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Bygones should be bygones, should
they not? Young Mr. St. Claire here was in his cups, and I’m sure he has learned his
lesson now. Unlike others.” He glanced around the crowded lobby. “Your father has
such a success here with his theater. The Majestic is always the talk of London. Why,
they even say the queen has talked of taking a permanent box. I’m sure the new Mrs.
St. Claire will be a great asset here.”
“She already is,” Dominic said.
“Of course. I only hope the two of you, and your family, will be very happy. And that
you will never come to regret your marriage. That can be so easy to do in hastily
contracted unions.” As if he had said what he intended to say, Hammond gave them a
short nod and turned to walk away, the black-clad lady’s arm linked in his. They vanished
together into the crowd.
“Well, that was short and simple,” Dominic said.
“The bastard,” James growled. “What did he mean by all that?”
Sophia nodded, but the bright evening was dimmed like the footlights at the end of
a play, and she knew she had to find a way to keep Hammond away from her new family
and this theater that they loved so much.
John is sending me away. I am ill and fevered, yet still he will not listen to my
pleas. Dear Lord, what am I to do now? I still love him so very much.
T
he Devil’s Fancy was practically empty. For the third night in a row.
Sophia tapped her fan against her palm as she walked through the rooms that were so
very quiet. Quiet, when they should be crowded and filled with laughter.
Dominic had said he was not worried on the first night things were empty, the night
after Lord Hammond appeared at theater and rumors were flying about the gossipy tidbits
in the newspapers. Dominic was caught up in the work of the theater, though, and didn’t
see what she saw tonight as she tried to oversee the club for him. Isabel had recovered
and returned to work, and Sophia didn’t have a new role yet, though William had promised
her one.
But there was little to oversee at the club, even though the manager had suddenly
quit. A few rakish old stalwarts playing cards; no one dancing. Surely it was only
a matter of time before the receipts fell off at the theater, too. And she realized
that, despite all her hopes in marrying Dominic, she had overplayed her hand. She
had underestimated the determination—and the power—of an opponent like Lord Hammond.
Being deprived of what he wanted—her—had only made him want it all the more. It had
made the game more exciting for him, the opposite of what she had wanted. And now
she had given him new pawns in her husband and his family.
Sophia turned to survey the room again. She didn’t
know
that this sudden fall-off in business was Hammond’s fault, of course, but some instinct
told her that it had to be. And now she needed her own battle plan, a way to fight
back.
“Mrs. St. Claire,” one of the footmen said. He came up to her holding out a silver
tray. Resting on it was a single note, a heavy folded sheet of expensive stationery
sealed with red wax. “This just arrived for you.”
Sophia’s hands turned cold. She reached for the letter as she would for a snake, taking
it carefully between her gloved fingertips. “Thank you,” she said. She broke the seal
and scanned the short missive for a signature.
Hammond.
Of course.
My dear Mrs. St. Claire—I would imagine you are having a rather quiet evening. Such
a shame at a lovely establishment like your husband’s, but such lulls can easily be
remedied, along with so much else. If you would like my advice on how to proceed,
please call on me at the Hotel Carlyle. Enclosed is my card with the direction and
room number.
As ever, I so much look forward to seeing your beautiful face. I can be a good friend,
my dear. Lord Hammond.
A calling card fell out of the letter’s folds.
Room 414
was neatly printed on the back.
Sophia violently crumpled the letter in her hand and tossed it into the nearest fireplace.
But she kept the card.
After the last of the customers left, Sophia made sure
the night’s meager earnings were accounted for, and she locked up the club to leave
for their lodgings. It would surely be a while yet before Dominic left the theater,
and she needed the time to be alone and think.
She had brought Lord Hammond into the St. Claires’ lives. She had to root him out
again.
On the way home, she watched out the carriage window as the other vehicles clattered
past on the street outside. She remembered how hopeful she had felt only a few days
before, at the theater. She had dared to hope that things were going well for them.
That they could truly be married.
Then her mother appeared, and Sophia was shown very clearly that the past could not
be escaped so easily. The barriers between her and Dominic were still there, so high
she could hardly see over them. Her family, the reckless mistakes of her past that
had brought Hammond into their lives—it was all there. It wasn’t going away.
Sophia closed her eyes tightly. Dominic had tried to be kind after they left her mother,
had tried to be understanding. She saw the pity in his eyes, and that only seemed
to make things harder. She could feel all her armor, her defenses, crumbling in the
face of his passion. But now she could tell he was preoccupied with something he kept
hidden inside, just as she did. Ever since Hammond appeared at the theater.
And the terrible thing was, she knew now that she loved Dominic. It had crept up on
her and wouldn’t be banished. So it was better to have that distance between them
now, so she could make things right for him however she could.
Sophia turned away from the window and dug through her reticule. In the bottom, she
found what she was looking for. The small pistol Camille had given her lay there,
deceptively pretty.
She put Lord Hammond’s card next to the gun. Yes—she would do whatever she had to
now to repay Dominic’s kindnesses to her. Surely she had nothing now to lose?
Dominic was already back at their lodgings when she returned. He lay sprawled across
their bed dressed only in his trousers and his unfastened, rumpled linen shirt. The
lamplight gilded his bared skin and turned his tousled hair to pure molten gold. Her
handsome husband. Her heart ached as she studied him.
He looked up from the script he was reading and smiled at her. “How was the club tonight?”
Sophia returned his smile, but it felt brittle and strained, as if her face would
crack with the strain of it. How very tired she was. How very much she wished everything
could be different. That she could go back and be with Dominic after that first night
she met him and start all over again.
“Slow,” she said. She sat down at her dressing table and stripped off her gloves and
earrings. She slowly started to pull the pins from her hair as her headache grew stronger.
“How was the theater?”
“Issy was in good form, though moving a bit slower than usual. Father kept hinting
to know when you might take another role. Everyone was asking about you.”
“Was your father really? How kind of him.” Sophia remembered the magic of their nights
onstage, how rare and wonderful it was. She only hoped Dominic would remember, too.
As she reached for her hairbrush, she saw the worn leather cover of Mary’s diary sitting
on the edge of the table. She had finished the last page only that morning. Mary’s
tale had ended with shocking suddenness, trailing
off in smudged ink and tear stains as her husband sent her away. All her hopes had
crumbled to nothing.
What had been the end of her story? Perhaps it was better Sophia would never know.
She heard a rustle as Dominic left the bed. He crossed the room on his bare feet,
and as she watched in the mirror he came up behind her and started to unfasten her
gown.
“Is that Mary Huntington’s diary?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. I just read the last entry this morning.” As Sophia studied her husband’s half-shadowed
reflection, she came to a decision. She reached for the book and took his hand to
press it against his palm. “You should read it, too, Dominic.”
He looked back at her, his expression unreadable. “Should I look at it now?”
“If you like. I think I’ll try to sleep.” Sophia rose from the chair and let her loosened
gown fall away. She kissed Dominic softly on his cheek as he stared down at the book
in his hand.
She went to their bed and slipped between the covers. She wasn’t sure she really could
sleep, but she was so very tired she could feel darkness stealing over her even as
she closed her eyes.
She fell asleep to the soft sound of old pages slowly turning.
The sun was beginning to peek through the window when Dominic finished Mary’s diary.
As he set the book down carefully on Sophia’s dressing table, he was astonished to
find the night was gone and he was still in his own room.
Mary’s sadness, even as long ago as it had been, seemed to pervade everything. He
could hardly fathom her tale. It
was as if the hardened walls of bitterness that had always encased his life, the old
hatred of the Huntingtons, had dissipated around him. He hated the raw vulnerability
of their loss, but surely to know the truth was always better.
He had always been told that John Huntington ruined the St. Claire family after he
coldly cast Mary aside when she couldn’t give him an heir. That he had used his Court
connections to destroy his wife’s family. But now it seemed they had both been destroyed,
Mary’s husband and brother, through a royal duke’s ill-fated financial scheme. It
was neither family’s fault—and yet it was both.
And innocent Mary, who only wanted to love her husband, was the one truly destroyed.
By that very love.
Dominic went and knelt by the bed where his wife slept. The pale pink sunrise light
fell over her face, and he saw she was shockingly pale. Dark purple shadows lurked
under her eyes, and her brow was furrowed as if she had disturbing dreams.
And Dominic felt a pang of something he seldom experienced—remorse. Remorse for not
being what she needed, what she deserved. For assuming the worst, just as John had
with Mary.
He didn’t know the ending of Mary’s tale, but he did know he could make Sophia’s story
a happier one. If she would just give him the chance. He just had to figure out how.
He gently drew the blankets closer around her and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well
now, Sophia,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for not intending to be the husband you need.
I’m here now.”