Dear Stranger (2 page)

His expression had cooled to the point that the man standing in front of her now bore little resemblance to the one who had stripped her of her senses just moments before. How could he remain so unaffected by their embrace after all the wonderful things he had done? Her uncertainty grew when he raised his hands to his mask, only to change to shock when he removed it. Her breath escaped with a strangled gasp.

The man she’d been kissing, the man she had practically begged to take her, was not Henry Hearst.

Her mind whirled with confusion. How was this possible? How could she have mistaken this man for Henry? True, they did look alike. Many of his features were similar, but he carried them differently. Whereas Henry’s expression was normally open and friendly, this man had an air of authority and haughtiness about him. The mask may have hidden some of that, but it hadn’t hidden the fact that his eyes were darker than Henry’s.

How blind could she have been? She’d noticed the deeper blue of his eyes. He’d even told her he didn’t know who she was, yet she’d still thrown herself at him.

She took another step back to put some much needed space between them.

“I thought you were someone else.” The excuse was feeble at best, but it was all she could manage when she finally found her voice.

“That much is apparent,” he said. Silence stretched for a long moment. His gaze swept down her figure and she saw a muscle tic along his jaw. When he met her eyes again there was a new determination in his expression. “But now that you know I am not him…”

He moved to close the distance that separated them and she knew he was going to kiss her again. Worse, with her body still craving his touch she feared she was going to let him. She had to get away before that happened—she was supposed to be salvaging her family’s reputation, not damaging it further.

She turned to escape, but had only gone a few steps when she ran straight into someone else. Strong male hands grasped her arms and steadied her.

“Sophie?”

She looked up into the face of Henry Hearst. He looked at the other man, his surprise clear, then back at her.

“What are you doing out here with my brother?”

His brother?
That would explain why the two men looked so much alike. Sophie groaned inwardly as she realised the full import of what had just happened. Simply being alone with Richard Hearst, the notorious Earl of Dearbourne, could ruin a woman’s reputation. And to be found by Henry, of all people!

She could only stare at him. What could she say? That she’d come out to the garden to beg him for a kiss and had ended up doing so much more with his brother?

Dearbourne stepped forward and Sophie waited for his damning words.

“It was a simple case of mistaken identity. This young lady, Miss…?”

“Crandle,” Sophie managed.

He raised an eyebrow at that, but continued. “Miss Crandle saw me come out here and, thinking I was you, followed.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “To the maze, where no one could see you?”

“Don’t be a fool, Henry, you know I find these things suffocating. All those mothers throwing their daughters at me. I came out here for a moment of peace. When she didn’t see me, Miss Crandle thought I’d gone into the maze. I heard her call your name and came to investigate. We were on our way out when you arrived.”

“Is that what happened, Sophie?” Henry asked, looking down at her for confirmation.

Grateful for the lie Dearbourne had provided, Sophie nodded.

“I thought he was you,” she said. “He removed his mask when I thought you were jesting with me.” She managed a quick glance at the earl before facing Henry again. “You never told me your brother was in town. Or that the two of you look so much alike.”

“Yes, well, he wasn’t until today.”

“It would be wise for Miss Crandle to return to the ball,” Dearbourne said. He didn’t need to add what a disaster it would be if it were discovered that she’d been outside, alone, with him.

Henry kept his attention on her and she couldn’t help but think that he knew what had really happened. “You really shouldn’t have come out here, Sophie. One never knows when there are unscrupulous men lurking about,” he said, aiming a hostile glance at his brother.

Sophie nodded, anxious now to get away. Her thoughts were a tangled mess and her body still thrummed from the feel of Dearbourne’s hands and mouth on her.

“Of course,” she said. “I didn’t think. I’d heard the gardens here were lovely and thought there would be more people about. I’ll just go now.”

She knew she was babbling. It was something she did when she was nervous. Dropping a quick curtsey, she turned and hurried out of the maze. She made her way back to the house at a much slower pace than when she’d given chase to the Earl of Dearbourne, allowing herself some much needed time to regain her composure before returning to the ball.

* * * *

Richard watched as the delectable Miss Sophie Crandle departed. It had been a blow to his pride to learn that the intoxicating woman who had been coming apart in his arms had thought he was his staid younger brother. When he’d stopped it hadn’t been out of concern for Henry. No, he’d wanted Sophie to know that he, and not his brother, was the one claiming her. He had started to follow her when she’d tried to flee from him, and if Henry hadn’t intruded he’d be willing to bet she would have let him continue.

“What are you playing at, Henry?” Frustration had him not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Why would Miss Crandle be out here looking for you? I thought you fancied yourself in love with Ellen Westing.”

Henry bristled at the mention of the other woman.

“My private life is exactly that, Richard. Private. And I do not care to have you interfering in it.”

“Is this just a dalliance?”

He could see Henry was offended by the accusation. “If you must know, I plan to ask Sophie to marry me. And I’m asking you now to stay away from her.”

With that, Henry turned and stalked back to the ball.

Richard exhaled a harsh breath. Henry’s admission bothered him more than it should, and not just because he believed that his younger brother was in love with one woman while planning to marry another. He’d never placed much stock in Henry’s romantic notions. If Sophie Crandle was who he thought she was, he should be applauding Henry’s practicality.

Richard had heard the stories about the scandal surrounding Sophie’s mother. Her family had disinherited her after she’d eloped with someone who’d only recently made his fortune in trade. The Turners had wanted nothing more to do with her, despite the fact that Crandle’s wealth had increased substantially with each passing year. They’d lived outside society’s acceptance until their death in an accident last year. Sophie’s presence at tonight’s masquerade must mean her mother’s family had welcomed her into its fold, which would have gone a long way towards easing her entrance into society. As the younger son, Henry didn’t have much of an income and his interest in Sophie no doubt meant she had inherited her father’s fortune.

He didn’t care that Henry had chosen not to marry Ellen Westing, but there was no way he was going to allow his tame brother to claim the passionate Sophie Crandle for himself. He would have to find some other heiress to marry.

His decision made, he donned his mask again and returned to the ballroom. He had intended to bide his time, to keep an eye on Sophie until he could fill in the missing details about her current situation. That changed, however, when he saw Henry approach her. He was forced to watch while she laughed at something he said as he led her into a quadrille.

He was struck with the irrational urge to drag Henry away from her and smash his hand into his smug, smiling face. Instead, he made his way to where the musicians were set up at the far end of the room to have a brief word with the conductor. Several matrons tried to capture his attention when he was done, but he sidestepped them all. His attention remained fixed on Henry and Sophie as they moved through the patterns of the dance.

She was taller than most of the women there. Her hair was a rich black and her dress a deep blue—both emphasised her ivory skin, a fair bit of which was showing. It was impossible to forget the way she’d looked when he’d pulled down that dress and bared her pale breasts.

After what seemed like an eternity, the dance finished and he moved to intercept them before Henry could return Sophie to her aunt. He ignored his brother’s obvious displeasure and directed his attention to Sophie.

“I neglected to tell you how lovely you look tonight, Miss Crandle,” he said as he bowed over her hand, pleased at the blush that rose to her cheeks. “May I have the pleasure of this next dance?”

The opening notes of the waltz he had paid the conductor to play had started and he didn’t wait for her response before tucking her hand into his arm and leading her out. He said nothing when she glanced back at Henry, but the tell-tale sign that she worried about his brother’s reaction irritated him.

He knew they were being watched, but he ignored everyone else. It wouldn’t be the first time society had whispered about him.

“This is most improper,” Sophie said. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” Despite her protest, she stepped into his arms.

“As Henry’s brother, everyone will assume he introduced us.”

“I hope so.”

They danced in silence, their movements fluid and perfectly matched. After the intimacy they had already shared, being so close to Sophie wreaked havoc on his senses. He longed to pull her close to him, but somehow managed to maintain a respectable distance. That didn’t stop him from remembering how she’d felt pressed against his body. How she’d writhed against him and moaned when he’d touched her, as he longed to now. And her scent—the slight trace of lavender mixed with something else he couldn’t identify—almost drove him mad with desire. It was all he could do not to lead her through the doors that would take them out to the gardens so they could continue where they had left off.

He could almost feel Henry’s eyes boring into his back, and knew there would be no way to accomplish that goal. He could be patient, however. Not for long, but he knew Sophie would be worth the wait.

“Thank you,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

“It is always a pleasure to dance with a beautiful woman,” he said, unable to stop himself from drawing her an inch closer.

She sucked in her breath, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her beautiful breasts rose above the edge of her bodice.

“No, not for the dance. Thank you for not telling Henry about what happened outside. I hope we can forget our misunderstanding and begin anew from this moment.”

He twirled her around quickly, and missing a step she stumbled towards him.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” he said, his mouth not far from her ear.

He felt a surge of satisfaction when he saw a shiver of awareness go through her. She recovered her balance and drew away from him, but he could see the heat that coloured her cheeks.
That’s right, Sophie
, he thought.
I’m going to make sure you don’t forget our very memorable meeting.

Their eyes met and held. He hadn’t been sure of their colour out in the garden, but now he could see hers were a dark green. Cat’s eyes that tilted slightly at the corners.

It took him a moment to realise that the music had stopped and people were staring at them in speculation. He led her back to her aunt, who was deep in conversation with another woman and didn’t appear to notice Sophie’s return.

“Until next time,” he said, dropping a kiss onto the back of her hand.

Those lovely green eyes widened at the contact. Smiling with satisfaction, he took his leave.

Chapter Two

After that first meeting, it seemed to Sophie that she saw the Earl of Dearbourne wherever she went. Balls, routs, even a dinner with one of her aunt’s friends. She did not, however, repeat the mistake she’d made on the night they met. He and Henry were clearly brothers, but she found it impossible to believe she had ever mistaken Dearbourne for his brother. As well as the differences in their features, there was something about the way he carried himself that commanded attention. An air of authority that his brother lacked. And the way he looked at her… Lord help her, but she was aware of him in a way she had never been with Henry.

It didn’t help that Henry still hadn’t kissed her, which meant she was no closer to knowing whether she could accept the marriage proposal she knew was coming. The situation was, in fact, worse because now she couldn’t stop thinking about the earl and the kiss they had shared. She’d even started dreaming about him, and in her dreams he was doing deliciously wicked things that went far beyond kissing.

Two weeks had passed and she was in her bedroom reading when a maid informed Sophie that she had a visitor. Her spirits rose at the news—it had to be Henry. She’d mentioned that her aunt would be away from home when she’d seen him the night before at the Henderson’s rout. Perhaps today would be the day he proposed. And, if he did, she meant to ask him for a kiss before accepting.

Ignoring the uncertainty that assailed her at the thought of kissing him, she hurried downstairs to the drawing room, a welcoming smile firmly in place. That smile faltered, however, when she found the Earl of Dearbourne waiting for her. Her mind went immediately to the heated dream she’d had the night before and it was a moment before she could speak.

“This is a surprise, my lord.”

His smile was enigmatic. “You were expecting, perhaps, my brother?”

The question flustered her. “He didn’t say he planned to call today.”

It wasn’t a lie, but they both knew she’d been hoping for just that. She wanted to ask Lord Dearbourne what he was doing there, but was almost afraid of what his answer would be. A small part of her actually wished her aunt was home to act as a buffer for this meeting. When Aunt Jane had taken her in last summer, after her parents had died in a boating accident, she’d made it clear that, as a condition of being welcomed into the Turner family, Sophie was expected to act with propriety at all times. Given the freedom she’d experienced during her childhood and youth, she normally found her aunt’s constraints stifling. She’d initially baulked when her aunt had all but ordered her to consider Henry Hearst’s suit, but it hadn’t taken her long to discover that she genuinely liked him. Aunt Jane saw Henry as the answer to clearing away the last of the whispers that still surrounded Sophie because of her parents’ elopement. Dearbourne’s attention, however, was placing her chance of acceptance at risk.