Lady Whistledown Strikes Back (44 page)

“Thank you.” She pulled her hand free, slightly embarrassed by the gesture.

Why couldn’t she have

fallen in love with a man like Thomas? Life simply was not fan:. She gestured to a chair. “Won’t you

be seated?”

Thomas took it, watching with a complacent air as she took the chair opposite his.

“How was your visit with your mother?”

“Fine. Though it would have passed more quickly had you written more often.”

“More often?” she exclaimed. “But I didn’t write at all.”

“My point exactly,” he said in a dry voice.

She managed a smile. “I warned you that I was not a very enthusiastic correspondent.”

<> “Yes, you did. I suppose I just thought …” His smile dimmed a little, his gaze became searching. “Sophia, I know that Easterly has returned.”

For some reason, her cheeks heated. “Yes, he has.”

“I see. I had hoped he would not have to return in person … but that is neither here nor there. I trust you have already talked to him about the annulment?”

Oh yes, they had “talked.” They had “talked” and kissed and come darn close to doing Other Things, as well. “We haven’t quite agreed on … things.”

Thomas’s brow lowered. “Perhaps I should send my solicitor around to see him, just to expedite—”

“I beg your pardon?” Sophia blinked. “Are you suggesting I cannot handle my own affairs?”

He regarded her with surprise for a moment, then suddenly relaxed, smiling a little. “I see what it is.

You are overset. And it’s no wonder. Your emotions are in disarray since Easterly’s return, and that is only natural.”

Really? She wondered what was the correct amount of emotional disarray caused by a passionate kiss while hiding hi a dark closet? “I’m sorry, Thomas, but my disarray is perhaps a bit more—”

He held up a hand. “Please. In this instance, I believe I know you better than you know yourself.”

Sophia’s mouth opened, then closed. When had Thomas gotten so
arrogant!

Surely he hadn’t always been that way. She shifted hi her seat, a little uncomfortable at how matters were turning. “Excuse me, but I am perfectly able to interpret my own feelings and thoughts. There is no reason for you to think

you need to do so for me.”

She had meant it as a gentle rebuke and hoped he would not take it amiss.

He chuckled. “Sophia, I believe we are beyond the point of pretending that we do not know one another far better than that. Now come, tell me all about Easterly’s return. I vow, but I did not think he would come back to England himself, but I suppose my letter left him feeling—”

“Your
letter?”

“Why, yes. I took the liberty of sending him a missive describing how his efforts on behalf of your request would be to his benefit.”

Sophia could not believe what she was hearing. “You sent my husband a letter about my personal efforts—”

“Yes, well—” Thomas straightened in his seat a little. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“If you didn’t think I’d mind, why didn’t you ask my permission?”

His face reddened. “Now see here, Sophia, I have a stake in this too.”

“You? What makes you think that?”

“What? Come now. You cannot pretend that we have not been much in each other’s company of the

last several months.”

“I don’t pretend anything. We have become very good friends, or so I thought.”

She began to wonder if he spoke about her like this when he was with his friends at White’s. Perhaps that was the reason so many people were whispering about the two of them. “Friends and that is all,” she stated firmly.

“Sh! I will not hear another word.” He smiled kindly, as if to alleviate the words of their pomposity.

“I am a patient man, Sophia. I will wait until the annulment is done and Easterly leaves once again.”

Max leave … Sophia had to swallow to unlock her throat. Surely he wouldn’t.

Not now that she…

Not now that she what?
she asked herself. But her cowardly heart did not answer.

Thomas crossed one booted foot over the other, his gaze never leaving her face. “I have heard about

the incident with the bracelet. An unseemly affair, though I supposed one should not be surprised, considering everything.”

That blasted bracelet. “I don’t know what you heard, but I assure you the real case is much different

than the rumors being bandied about.”

“It is a pity that Easterly has once again allowed his reputation to be so damaged.”

<> Sophia could not take another moment of it. In the past, she had rather enjoyed Thomas’s
air
of certainty. But now she found it supremely annoying.

Had he changed? she wondered. Or had she?

<> Thomas shrugged, his broad shoulders moving easily beneath the fine cut of his coat. “It doesn’t really matter if he took the bracelet or not. All the incident does is stress that the sooner he proceeds with the annulment and returns to Italy, the better it will be for you.” He smiled. “For us both.”

“Wait.” Sophia stood. “Thomas, I’m afraid you’ve made an error. We are friends and no more.”

His smile faltered a little. “Sophia! Don’t we get along well?”

‘Usually, yes.”

“And don’t we enjoy the same things—the theater, riding, and more?”

“Yes.”

“Well then …” His eyes softened. “Why not? I know your heart is still tender from Max’s thoughtlessness, but I can promise you this: I will never leave you.”

He meant it, she could see that he did. But it didn’t matter. “Thomas, I don’t feel for you what I should. And I can never marry without feeling love, real love. You and I… we can never be more than friends.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then released it. “I cannot accept anything less than what I had

with Max when we first met. I want all of that and more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. I’m afraid I can no longer see you. I’m sorry, but … This is better for us both. Good-bye.” Without waiting for more protestations, she turned on her heel and left, feeling as if a weight had been removed from her shoulders.

The next few days were a quandary of emotion. First of all, the man she’d asked to leave her, would

not. Thomas called every day. He sent letters. Poems. Flowers. Even a remarkably pretty ring. Sophia returned them all with a kind, but clearly worded note.

What was worse than Thomas’s refusal to heed her requests was that the man she
wanted
to visit her, made no appearance at all. It was maddening.

After two days, she enlisted the help of her brother.

“You must,” she insisted.

John looked up from where he sprawled in the best chair in the sitting room, cracking nuts from a dish

at his elbow.

“No, I don’t,” he said bluntly. “Besides, it’s a deuced stupid idea, driving over there and knocking on the door to see if he’s well. He’s a grown man, for heaven’s sake. He’ll think I’ve taken leave of my senses.”

“But no one has seen him for days.”

“He’s probably painting,” John said, cracking another nut. “You know how he gets when he does that.”

“But what if he’s hurt? Or if he fell? At least just go over there and just see—”

John’s frown made her sigh. After a moment, she brightened. “I know! Take him a gift of some sort. Then he won’t think it is strange that you stopped by.”

“A gift? You
have
gone soft in your head.”

“No, no! It’s the perfect excuse.” Her gaze flew about the room, landing finally on a new bottle of port. She brightened and scooped up the bottle. “Take this!

John, please do this. For me.”

“No.”

“I’ll have Cook prepare lamb with mint sauce.
And
plum pudding.”

John threw the last nut back into the bowl and then stood, giving her a disgusted look. “Give me that damn bottle. I swear, but you and Max are the biggest set of gudgeons I’ve ever met.” And off he went.

He returned a remarkably short time later with a very unsatisfactory report.

Yes, he’d gone to Max’s.

And yes, John had seen the man, but only for a short time. “And let me tell you, a bottle of port was not the thing to take him. He was already properly shot in the neck, and loading his guns was not a good idea at all.”

Sophia grabbed the back of the settee, her knees suddenly weak. “Shot?”

“No! Not like that.” John pinched his nose between his finger and thumb, then said in a voice of long suffering. “Sophia, Max was drunk.”

“Drunk?”

“Ripped. Soaked. Bedeviled.”

“But he
never
drinks!”

“Drew me up short, too,” John said. He shook his head. “Better leave him alone. He’ll come out when he’s good and ready.”

Sophia was forced to be content with that. She thought of visiting Max, but the idea of facing him in his own lodgings while he was tipsy did not seem to be a very logical thing to do. So she instead planned a huge, very busy day that would keep her mind occupied.

To her satisfaction, she found herself crawling into bed that night completely exhausted. A good sleep followed by a nice long visit from her cousin Charlotte would shake her doldrums. But though she could barely keep her eyes open, Sophia did not sleep well. Every time sleep teased her mind, an image of Max would rudely shove its way into her thoughts, where it would linger, dancing on her lids and taunting her in the most annoying manner.

Sometimes it was a memory from when they’d first met and their passions had run hot. Sometimes it wasn’t a memory, but a new, yet-to-happen moment, as sensual as her most fervid reminiscences.

Sophia struggled to stem the flow and tried her best to fall asleep. She grew more and more annoyed

until she finally sat up, gathered her plumpest pillow, and spent a vigorous ten minutes pretending it was the entirety of her life with Max as she pounded the stuffing from it. Feathers flew, yet still she pounded until, finally exhausted, she fell back in bed.

She brushed away the down and pressed her fingers over her eyes. Heavens, they had almost made

love, right there in a closet. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t seem to remember that she

was angry with him, that he’d all but abandoned her?

She sighed and dropped her hands from her eyes. Somehow, over the years, she’d forgotten the strength of the physical pull between herself and Max and remembered only the pain of being left behind. But there was something else she’d forgotten—how much she’d enjoyed those moments of raw passion, of damp skin and hot mouths, the feel of his bared shoulder pressed to her cheek as he thrust inside her…. She moaned, then kicked off the blankets. No more, her mind shouted.

Sophia took a deep breath and began counting backwards from a thousand.

She might have to count all night, but she didn’t care. Anything to keep from thinking about Max. It took her an hour and s£veral counts of a thousand and more, but finally Sophia managed to drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The sun rose, and with it, Sophia’s eyelids. It was horrid to be awake so early, but there was nothing for it. So she climbed from bed, bathed, dressed, and made plans for the day. She’d shop. And perhaps she’d make some calls, as well. She owed Lady Sefton a visit. Surely she could stay busy until Charlotte arrived.

Hours later, Sophia returned home just in time to greet her cousin. Charlotte looked pretty as a picture

in a blue visiting gown and hat with matching ribbons. Sophia barely waited until the footman had taken Charlotte’s things before she swept her into a hug.

“I’m so glad you could come! I am in dire need of good, logical, feminine conversation. Are you hungry yet? I ordered a light dinner to be served at seven.”

“That’s fine,” Charlotte said. “I just had tea and couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Excellent. I’ll have it brought to my room. I’ve been so looking forward to seeing you, but I must tell

you that I have set a rule for this visit.”

Charlotte’s brows rose, and she looked at Sophia inquiringly. “A rule?”

She had really grown into a beautiful woman, Sophia decided, hugging her cousin impulsively. “Yes, a rule. We can discuss clothes, hats, gloves, hemlines, jewelry, shoes, carriages, horses, balls, food of all sorts, women we like or don’t like, and which of the latest dances we most enjoy, but we are not going

to say one word about men.”

Charlotte appeared relieved. “I think I can do that.”

“Perfect!” Sophia took Charlotte’s arm. “Come and see the new gown I just purchased. It is blue with Russian trim, and it’s just the loveliest thing. Oh, and I have a pale pink silk gown with delightful red rosettes that I think would be just the thing for you.”

“For me? I couldn’t—”

“You can and will. I purchased it on a whim last month, but it is just not for me, and I so hate to waste things.” Still chatting, Sophia took Charlotte to her room to look at the gowns.

That was the beginning. They spent several delightful hours discussing fashions, what they liked and couldn’t abide among the latest trends, and who among their acquaintance had the worst taste. They were both shocked when the housekeeper came to announce that supper was being brought up, as it was almost seven.

A half hour later, Sophia sighed contentedly as she poured tea into the cups, then” finished plates still on the table before the fireplace. It truly was lovely not to have to talk about, wonder about, or in any way bother herself with thoughts of Max, rude, vain, foolish man that he was. Really, it was galling to think

of how he’d allowed his pride to ruin their relationship. She could almost find it in herself to pity the man. She opened her mouth to say as much to Charlotte, but then she remembered then” rule.

Charlotte must have caught her expression, for she paused in taking a sip of tea. “Yes?”

“Nothing. I was just—it was nothing.”

Charlotte looked as if she might disagree but thought better of it. She continued to sip her tea. The silence grew. Sophia decided that not having to think about Max was doing her a world of good. Heaven knew the man had occupied far too much of her thoughts of late, especially after her battle with all the memories she’d somehow saved over the years.