After Innocence (26 page)

Edward stiffened.

But Suzanne broke in smoothly, touching her husband’s sleeve. “Benjamin, nothing happened. I know my daughter, and she would not deceive us—just as she would never allow herself to be truly compromised.” Suzanne smiled reassuringly.

Benjamin regarded his wife. “She has assured you of that?”

“Yes. And I am certain that we can weather this small scandal, if there even is any scandal at all.” Suzanne smiled again, at Edward. “Mr. Delanza, you must be exhausted; why do you not come inside for some refreshment? And you must be tired, too, Sofie. Dear, why don’t you go upstairs and have Clara draw a bath? I will have some hot food sent up to you. You need not come down to supper, not after such an ordeal.”

Sofie knew her mother realized the truth. She could not fathom Suzanne’s motivation in supporting her lie. It did not matter. She was relieved that Suzanne was taking charge of the affair, diverting Benjamin from the role he was ready to assume as an enraged stepfather. Sofie did not wait to hear Edward refuse Suzanne’s offer of hospitality. “I am more than tired,” she said. She nodded at Edward, knowing she must now act as if on the Shakespearean stage. “Thank you, Edward, for seeing me home safely. And I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you.”

He bowed briefly. His words were mocking. “It was my pleasure.”

Sofie fled.

Sofie lay in bed, wrapped in a thick cotton robe even though it was seventy-five degrees out, a perfect and balmy summer evening. But she was chilled through and through, to the very bone, to her very heart. It had occurred to her that she would never see Edward again.

She told herself that she would survive, but she did not believe it.

Sofie turned onto her side, cuddling her pillow. Perhaps she had been wrong to reject his proposal. Perhaps it would be better to be his wife even if he did not love her, than to lose him forever. Already Sofie missed him more than she would have ever thought it possible for her to miss anybody.

Had she not boldly seduced him, he would still be a part of her life. He would still be her friend, her champion. Tears filled Sofie’s eyes, but she could not regret the night they had spent together. Unquestionably those memories would last a lifetime. But so would the terrible, aching yearning and the grief of his loss.

“Sofie?”

Sofie sat up to face Suzanne, whose gaze was piercing. She closed the bedroom door and came to sit down beside her daughter on the bed. Sofie was tense, knowing how easily her mother lost her temper. But Suzanne did not shriek or yell. She said, “Are you all right?”

Sofie meant to nod her head yes. Instead, she shook her head no and a big tear trickled down her cheek.

Suzanne embraced her. “I know you did not tell the truth.”

Sofie clung. “I am sorry. We decided we must lie.”

Suzanne stroked her back, then pulled away. Her own eyes were red. “I would like to kill him!”

Sofie dared to look her mother in the eye. “It was not his fault. I seduced him.”

Suzanne started, appearing appalled.

“I love him,” Sofie said, in self-defense.

Immediately Suzanne cried out, sweeping her into her arms, crushing her there. “I wanted to protect you from him! I wanted to spare you this! Oh, God, Sofie, I know how you must feel!”

Sofie wept yet again, in her mother’s arms. When she had finished crying, Suzanne handed her a handkerchief. Sofie wiped her eyes, then saw that Suzanne had been crying, too. “Mother?”

“Your father broke my heart, too. Many, many times.” Suzanne fought for composure. She sniffled. “I
knew
Edward was just like him.”

“He asked me to many him,” Sofie said.

Suzanne froze.

Sofie’s eyes filled with tears again. “Of course, I said no. But I am not sure I did the right thing. I miss him so. Perhaps I should—”

“No!”

Sofie started.

Suzanne gripped her shoulders and shook her hard, once, twice, three times. “You have already been a fool! Do not be a fool again!”

“I love him. I know he doesn’t love me, but—”

“Sofie, no! He will destroy you if you marry him, exactly the way Jake destroyed me!” Suzanne shrieked.

“You are probably right,” Sofie said, but in her heart, she did not quite believe it.

“I am right. There is no probably about it. You would not be able to stand the other women. To lie in bed alone, night after night, listening to the clock ticking, counting the minutes, waiting for him to come home, praying that he will? To finally confront him at dawn, when he is wearing another woman’s scent? I will not let you do it, Sofie.”

Sofie sucked in her breath. Vividly she recalled that day at Delmonico’s when Edward had told her that he could not be faithful to a wife.

But Suzanne would not let the subject drop. Her eyes welled with tears. “You are so naive. So naive, so young. Even if he were faithful in the beginning—as Jake was—do you really think you can hold the interest—the desire—of a man like that for an entire lifetime? Do you think you can compete with the likes of Hilary Stewart and so many others like her?”

“No,” Sofie whispered, paralyzed by the ugly scenario her mother had painted. Suzanne was right. Wasn’t she? She was merely Sofie O’Neil, small and plain and lame. Somehow, she had forgotten that.

“What makes you think that he would have even bothered to end it with Hilary at all if you had accepted his suit?” Suzanne said very bluntly. “Could you marry him knowing he keeps a mistress? Could you?”

“I am not marrying him,” Sofie said, her mouth trembling and turned down. Somehow she had forgotten that, during their brief relationship, Hilary had still been in his life, she had still been there for him at night. Sofie could not help remembering the passion she had witnessed once between them. She was sick.

“Ending it like this is for the best,” Suzanne said fiercely. “For the best! It should have never happened, but in time, you will forget.”

Sofie knew she would never forget a single instance of her life since Edward Delanza had first sauntered into it, but she did not say so. And if she had conceived during their brief but glorious liaison, their lives would remain linked, no matter how much of the earth separated them physically. Sofie hugged her knees to her chest, suddenly wishing desperately for what could only be considered by society to be the worst fate to befall an unwed woman.

“What is wrong, darling?” Suzanne asked sharply.

Sofie lifted her gaze. “What if I am pregnant?”

Once again, Suzanne paled. “It is unlikely, after one time.”

Sofie looked at her toes, curled under the sheets.

“It was just one time?”

“No.” Her voice was almost inaudible. Sofie was not going to reveal to Suzanne that Edward had loved her three times in a single night. Then she choked back another sob, because it hadn’t been love, not for him, it had been lust.

“When was your last monthly?” Suzanne asked, fear in her voice.

Sofie did not look up. “Less than two weeks ago.”

Suzanne’s jaw clenched and she lost the last of her color. Then she took her daughter’s hand. “Do not be afraid. I am sure you did not conceive. And if you did—” she inhaled “—you can go away to have the child. There is always adoption. No one need ever know.”

Sofie jerked. “Mother, if I am so lucky as to be pregnant, then I am having his baby. And I would
never
give the baby up.”

Their gazes locked, Sofie fierce and furious, Suzanne wide-eyed with trepidation. Finally Suzanne smiled and
patted her daughter’s hand. “Let us worry about that when the time comes, dear,” she said. “If it does come.”

Sofie nodded, looking away. Her pulse was racing now. And she was praying to God, whom she had stopped praying to long ago, when he had not brought Jake back to her, alive and free.
Let me have his baby,
she begged.
Dear Lord, let me have his baby. Please.

New York City—the fall of 1901

T
he diamond lay on the felt tabletop, as large as a man’s fingernail, directly beneath the hanging lamp over the five card players’ heads, sparking fire.

“Jesus, Delanza, are you out of your mind?” one of the players asked.

Edward lounged in his chair, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His jacket had been discarded hours ago, as had his necktie and cuff links. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his collar unbuttoned, his shirt wrinkled and barely tucked into his gray trousers. There was a heavy growth of beard on his face, and his eyes were rimmed red from either lack of sleep or the sting of too much smoke in the stuffy atmosphere. A voluptuous blonde, barely clad, hung on to his right arm, an equally well-endowed redhead was on his left. There were hundreds of private men’s clubs in the city, many of them catering to the most elite clientele, many of them highly respectable. This was not one of those establishments.

La Boîte had a notorious reputation as being frequented by the fringe element of society, and its ladies were thoroughly acquainted with every type of pleasure—and perversion—a “gentleman” might require. Edward had entered this establishment for the first time only a few weeks ago, but in the time since, he had become one of La Boîte’s best customers.

At the sight of the diamond, the women hanging on to him had gasped. The other players stared. Only Edward
seemed indifferent to the glittering jewel winking amongst the scattered greenbacks. Edward drawled, “I’m out of cash.” His words were slightly slurred.

“That gem is worth five times what’s in the pot!” a bearded rake exclaimed.

Edward did not reply. He stared impassively at the speaker, then eyed the table at large with his bored gaze. “Are we playing or not? If not, I shall take myself elsewhere.”

Quickly there were murmurs of assent and the play continued. Edward barely seemed to care as one player revealed a diamond flush, which beat out the previously shown two pair. Edward turned over his hand, three of a kind, without expression. The winner whooped and raked in the pot, the large diamond disappearing into his pocket immediately. “You are mad,” he told Edward, grinning from ear to ear. “You have just lost a fortune.”

Edward shrugged. “Really? I don’t give a damn.” He lurched to his feet, an arm around each woman. When he had regained his balance, he inclined his head to the table of players. Then, the women in tow, he strolled quite drunkenly from the smoky, crowded room.

Suzanne hurried downstairs, for she was late, not that it made too much difference when it came to the opera, for many other parties would also arrive late. She paused in the foyer to glance at herself, to admire her sleeveless evening gown. It was held up by two small beaded and fringed straps. The satin bodice was almost starkly bare in contrast, and just opaque, but the flared skirt was fringed and beaded at the hem. The ivory color set off her dark hair, which she wore pinned up in order to show off her fabulous dangling pearl and diamond earrings. She’d had to cajole and finally seduce her husband into buying them for her—but he’d balked at buying the matching necklace she also wore. She had purchased that for herself … with some of Sofie’s money. She told herself that Sofie would not have minded if she had known.

Suzanne called, “Lisa? Where are you?”

Lisa appeared from within the salon, clad in a more modest evening gown of peach silk with small ruffled sleeves. Around her shoulders she wore a paler hued wrap.
Eight-carat diamonds sat on her ears, her only adornment. “I’ve been ready for the past half hour.”

Suzanne ignored that, pulling her own fringed shawl around her bare shoulders. “Let’s go.”

But Lisa did not move. “Don’t you think we should ask Sofie to come with us?”

Suzanne flinched. “She is in her studio, working.”

“She is always in her studio, working.”

“She would refuse to come.”

“Maybe not. Maybe not if I could speak with her.” Lisa smiled, but it was strained. “She is crushed, Suzanne. Before, she was happy with her work. She is not happy anymore.”

“She will get over it,” Suzanne said tersely. “I do not wish to discuss this, Lisa. I know what is best for my own daughter.”

Lisa’s face tightened. Her voice quavered. “Suzanne, we both know the truth about what happened. This is not right. He should make amends and do what is proper.”

Suzanne’s pulse quickened. “You may not approve of how I handled Sofie’s involvement with that man, but I did the right thing—and don’t you dare interfere or even put any stupid ideas into her head!” Her fists found her hips. “Have you not heard the rumors? He is not even allowed in polite society anymore, his behavior is so reprehensible. Why, last week he showed up at a gala to raise funds to finish the new wing at the Metropolitan Museum with
a painted
woman—one who was
half
-clad!”

Lisa’s shoulders were squared. “Perhaps he is unhappy, too.”

Suzanne was furious. “I advise you to mind your own affairs, Lisa,” she said coldly. “Sofie is my daughter. That man is out of her life, and I will not have him back in it.”

“She is my sister.”

“She is your stepsister, nothing more.”

Lisa gasped. “Perhaps I had better stay home,” she said, her bow-shaped mouth trembling. “I will not enjoy the opera knowing that Sofie is home alone and in such a state of mind.” With that, she turned and fled, tripping on the hem of her gown.

Suzanne looked after her in frustration. She did not want to stay home. She thought about Benjamin, who even now was ensconced in his study with a lawyer and two bankers. When he concluded his business, they would smoke cigars and drink brandy, or they might adjourn to a private men’s club. Perhaps, a few hours from now, he might seek her out in her bed for a brief interlude of restrained lovemaking, during which time she would fantasize about her dead first husband.

Suzanne regarded her reflection in the mirror, noticing with pleasure how lovely and desirable she looked. Suzanne had no intention of staying home, alone and bored, waiting for attention from her second husband, attention she did not really want. It was not really improper for married ladies to go to the opera or any other social event alone, not at her age. Suzanne decided that even if Lisa refused to accompany her, she would go anyway. Lisa was becoming far too impertinent for such a young miss, and the opera would be more enjoyable without her. Suzanne made a mental note to speak with Benjamin about arranging a suitable marriage for his daughter. Hadn’t she recently heard that a very poor but very eligible British marquis was in town, looking for a wealthy bride?