One Night Scandal (9 page)

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Authors: Christie Kelley

Tags: #Historical romance, #Fiction

BOOK: One Night Scandal
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He stopped at the door and shook his head. “No, you cannot help me.”
“I can help you find your true love,” she said softly. “The woman you are supposed to spend the rest of your life with. The one who should be your wife.”
“How?”
“Come to the table.”
He hesitated a long moment before turning around and walking toward her worktable. She sat in one chair while he took the one across from her. A little shiver of excitement caused a tremor to race through her.
“Give me your hands,” she said, holding her hands out on the table.
He gripped her hands. Feeling the strength of his hands and remembering the way they skimmed across her naked body, increased her quivers. She had to clear away the tantalizing thoughts.
“Think about love,” she whispered, closing her eyes. She focused on his thoughts and the emotions coursing in him. The feeling of being off-centered and dizzy rushed over her as she concentrated.
Instead of the usual images of a person, blackness was all she saw.
Clearing her mind again, she focused solely on him. Again, there was nothing but darkness. She could see nothing. First Lady Cantwell and now Nicholas? She didn’t understand why this was happening with only some of her clients. Just yesterday she’d read a friend of Jennette’s with no difficulties at all.
“Well?” he asked impatiently.
“Hush. Sometimes this takes a few minutes. Just continue to think about love.”
Again, nothing but blackness filled her mind. She must be losing her powers. She could never reveal that her skills were diminishing. To do so would mean the ruination of her small business.
If she truly couldn’t see anyone for him, what would she tell him? Even though she didn’t want to watch him court another woman, she did want him to find happiness with a proper woman. Quickly she tried to think of one acceptable woman for him. A lady who would love him and help him get over Jennette.
“Miss Amanda Wainscott,” she whispered. Amanda was a kind girl of nineteen and would come to love Nicholas. She was perfect for him.
“Miss Wainscott?”
“Yes.”
“Are you certain?” He stared at her with a disbelieving frown.
“Absolutely. She is the one for you.” Sophie released his hands and opened her eyes. “She is a fine young lady and your father will accept her.”
He moved his hand across the table and caught hers again.
Sophie couldn’t take her eyes off his face. What was it about him that drew her toward him like a moth to the flame of a candle? He was handsome, but there was more to it than that. There was a loneliness in his eyes that she understood. And pain there, too. Pain that she couldn’t divine and he would not tell her about. She should tell him the truth about her vision, but she needed to give him hope.
Something she had lost completely.
“I suppose I shan’t be seeing you much now. You will be busy courting Miss Wainscott.”
He frowned and nodded slowly but refused to release her hand even when she attempted to pull away. “I suppose I will.”
“You should leave now,” she whispered. “I have a client arriving in ten minutes and must get ready for her.”
“Sophie,” he started, then paused. “Neither of us was prepared for our first night at your home. And even though you told me you took precautions after that night, they can sometimes fail. If you find yourself with child, please let me know. I will not betroth myself to another until I know for certain.”
She closed her eyes against the pain of that thought. “Of course.”
He squeezed her hand a final time then released her. “I shall take my leave now.”
“Good-bye, Nicholas.”
“Good day, Miss Reynard.”
 
 
Nicholas spent the next two days attempting to discover some information about Miss Wainscott. Although, he wondered why he bothered. Sophie’s reading of him made no sense. He had no desire for Miss Wainscott. Shouldn’t true love also mean desiring your partner?
In his heart, he’d known from the first time he met her, that Sophie would never marry him. With her background, she would consider herself below his station. And if that was the case, he should move forward. He still needed to marry. If Sophie had been correct with all his friends’ matches, shouldn’t he trust her?
With that in mind, he’d attended one ball just to watch Miss Wainscott. She danced with several men but allowed each of them only one dance, except for Lord Claybrook, whom she danced with twice.
Something felt wrong about her but he couldn’t determine what. There was one person who could help him with this matter. He walked into White’s hoping to find Somerton there. Scanning the room, he found Somerton speaking in hushed tones with Lord Brentwood.
Nicholas strolled toward the men. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Somerton, when you have a moment, I need to speak with you.”
“We’re done here,” Somerton said, then turned back to Brentwood. “Remember what I said, Brentwood.”
“Thank you, Somerton.” Lord Brentwood rose and nodded to Nicholas. “Good day, Lord Ancroft.”
Somerton leaned back in his seat. “Have a glass of whisky, Nicholas.”
Nicholas poured a small amount and then refilled Somerton’s empty glass. “What do you know about Miss Wainscott?”
Somerton scowled. “I thought you were interested in discovering the owner of the earring. I doubt Miss Wainscott was in Venice recently.”
“I was but Miss Reynard is now assisting me in finding a suitable match.”
“Is she now?” Somerton grabbed his whisky and drank it in one gulp. “And she believes Miss Wainscott is the one for you?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting,” he said before filling his glass again. “The last I’d heard, Miss Wainscott was all but engaged to Lord Claybrook.”
Nicholas sipped his drink as he thought. Perhaps Sophie was wrong about this match. “But is it a love match or a financial match?”
Somerton shrugged. “I would not be privy to that information.”
“I see. But I assume they would both attend Northwoods’ ball at the end of the week.”
“Why don’t you ask the man?” Somerton inclined his head toward Lord Claybrook’s seat in the corner.
“I believe I shall.” Nicholas sauntered over to Lord Claybrook and smiled down at the young viscount.
“Claybrook, how are you?”
Claybrook’s eyes widened. “Very well, Ancroft.”
Nicholas took the seat next to him and made some staid conversation about the weather and politics. Finally, he directed the conversation toward the Season. “I have heard Northwoods’ ball is set to be quite the thing. A perfect time to catch a bride.”
Claybrook smiled. “So the rumors are true, then.”
Rumors? “To which rumors do you refer? There are so many gossips’ tongues wagging.”
“That your father will disinherit you if you don’t choose a wife this Season. The betting book has already taken a full page of wagers on who will be your bride.”
How the bloody hell did that rumor get around so quickly? His father had only informed him of the decision a few days ago. Nicholas supposed there was no denying the truth, not that he had any plans of marrying yet.
“Ah, that rumor,” Nicholas said casually. “My father has impressed upon me his desire to see me wed this year. So which beautiful lady is supposed to become my bride?”
“The odds, so far, are in Miss Justine Littlebury’s favor.”
Nicholas glanced over to the book, where Somerton appeared to be placing a wager. On Nicholas’s marriage? He would peruse the book before leaving.
“Miss Littlebury seems an odd choice to me,” Nicholas finally commented. “I have met the girl but once.”
“Apparently, once is enough to make a marriage.” Claybrook laughed. “Besides, you did dance with her twice at the Hartfields’ ball.”
True enough, but no one needed to learn that he’d done so out of pity for the young lady. The poor girl was standing on the side of the dance floor almost completely ignored by the other men in the room.
“And what about you?” Nicholas pried. “Rumors are that you shall be betrothed before the week is over.”
“Speculation, that is all,” Claybrook replied, pushing back his chair. “I must be off. Will I see you at the Northwoods?”
“Absolutely.”
Nicholas waited until Claybrook left before strolling to the betting book. He turned the old book around and glanced down at the entries. Claybrook was correct that Miss Littlebury seemed to be the odds on favorite. Curious what Somerton placed a wager on, Nicholas scanned the list until he found the entry.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
Somerton had wagered one thousand pounds that Nicholas would marry Miss Sophie Reynard before the Season ended.
He was going to kill Somerton.
Chapter 9
 
“How could you have done this to me?” Sophie shouted at her half brother. “Did you think I wouldn’t discover who placed that wager?”
Somerton’s smile only increased Sophie’s anger. She paced the room in frustration. How could her own brother have done such a thing to her?
“I placed a bet, that is all, Sophie.”
“No, you have ruined my life.” She’d had an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach since yesterday. Normally, that meant something dreadful was about to happen. But it wasn’t until Elizabeth called on her this afternoon and informed her of the wager that Sophie determined the source of her sense of foreboding.
“Since you have told me I cannot uphold your honor, I decided on another way to get the man to pay for what he did to you.”
“By trying to ruin me?”
“I am not trying to ruin you.”
“Indeed?” Sophie pressed. “Two of my clients have cancelled for today. Am I supposed to believe that is just a coincidence?”
“Yes.” Somerton crossed his arms over his chest.
“By interfering, you are putting my reputation in jeopardy. And risking our father’s wrath. He won’t take it out on his heir. But he would have no issue rescinding my allowance.”
“Sophie, I will support you if that happens.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t need your support. All I want is for you to stay out of my personal business.”
Somerton stood and then paced the small confines of her study. “I will do whatever I have to in order to protect you, Sophie.”
A knock scraped across the door. “Come in,” Sophie called.
Hendricks opened the door and glanced inside. “Excuse me, ma’am. Lord Ancroft is here to see you.”
Somerton stopped his pacing and glared over at her.
“Tell him I am not at home.”
“He is particularly insistent this afternoon, ma’am,” Hendricks commented.
The man was always particularly insistent. “I said I am not at home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced over at her brother and noticed the arched brow and smirk. “It is not what your dirty little mind is thinking,” she said to Somerton as the door closed again.
“Oh? Knowing Nicholas as I do, I doubt I am far off the mark. He should have asked for your hand.”
“He did.”
Somerton drew back with a frown. “He did? Then why haven’t I heard of a betrothal?”
“Because I rejected his offer.” She walked across the room, hoping the frustration spiraling through her body would stop.
“Why would you do that?” he asked softly.
“You know the reason. I cannot marry a man like Nicholas.”
“A man with a bastard?”
“No, you fool. A marquess!”
“He won’t care about your background,” he whispered.
Maybe not, but she knew others would care. “Just leave, Anthony. I cannot bear another minute of your company.”
“Very well.” Her brother left the room, leaving the door wide open.
Sophie pressed her hands to her temples. This day had gone exceedingly bad. Miss Wainscott had actually called on her today to find out before the Northwoods’ ball if Lord Claybrook was the perfect man for her. Instead of the blackness Sophie had seen with Nicholas, the vision for Miss Wainscott was completely clear.
And the only man for Miss Wainscott was Lord Claybrook.
Sophie would have to tell Nicholas that she had been wrong about her vision for him. But this time, she would be prepared. Since Lady Northwood was a client of hers, the woman had insisted Sophie attend her fancy dress ball. Wearing a mask would allow Sophie to remain anonymous and still watch Nicholas.
By studying whom he danced with and spoke with, she could determine a perfect match for him.
A commotion from the hall snapped her out of her musing. She strode to the entrance to find Nicholas pinning Somerton to her front door.
“Is your beautiful wife not enough for you, Somerton?”
Somerton laughed in a low deep tone. “Oh, she is plenty for me, Nicholas. And I would suggest you let go of me now.”
“Leave Miss Reynard alone.” Nicholas leaned in closer to him. “And never associate my name with hers again.”
Somerton angled his head to make eye contact with Sophie. He smirked at her. “And you wonder what made me place the wager?”
“Nicholas, leave Anth—Lord Somerton alone.” She’d barely caught herself from using Anthony’s Christian name.
Nicholas released Somerton and turned toward her. “Would you like to explain why this married man was in your study with the door shut?”
Sophie glared at Nicholas as her anger surged. “As a matter of fact, no. It is none of your business.” She did her best to ignore Somerton’s smirking face behind Nicholas.
“Did you hire the footmen as I suggested?” Somerton asked.
She waved her hand at Hendricks who stood like a statue aghast at the gentlemen’s behavior. “You can see that I have not. Why?”
“
This
is the very reason,” he said, inclining his head toward Nicholas.
“Just go,” she said, exhausted with the both of them.
“I believe I was leaving,” Somerton said with a laugh. “Good luck,
Sophie
.”
There were days she really wanted to strangle her half brother . . . and this was one of them. As the door closed behind Somerton, Nicholas advanced on her.
“Should I call for another footman?” Hendricks asked, finally recovering from the shock.
Now
the man has the sense to ask for additional footmen. Perhaps her brother was right that she should hire a few more. If Hendricks hadn’t worked for her since she was a child, she might consider replacing him after this. But she just could not do it.
“I can deal with Lord Ancroft.” She hoped. “Nicholas, I believe you should leave now.”
His slight smile brought a stab of fear to her. “First, we will talk.”
She backed up a step. “No.”
“Oh, yes.” He reached her position and clasped her elbow in a tight grip. “We have much to discuss.”
“Very well.” She walked into the study.
 
 
Nicholas slammed the door behind him. Anger and frustration coursed through his veins. He could think of only one reason why Somerton would have been here behind closed doors. And why he used her Christian name.
“Are you having an affair with your best friend’s husband?” he demanded.
Instead of the look of shock at his discovery, she only laughed. “Oh, yes, Nicholas. I have known Somerton for almost ten years, but I would wait until he married one of my dearest friends before falling into bed with him.”
Hearing her sarcasm, he felt like a fool. “I had no idea you’ve known him for so long.”
“I have known him far, far longer than I have known you.”
And obviously, they had not been lovers, he thought. So why did they seem so close? Their interaction was intimate and Somerton appeared protective of her. There was something between them, but what?
“What is Somerton to you?” he asked quietly, hoping she would offer him the truth.
“A very good friend,” she replied. “A man I can talk with who gives me advice when I need it since I don’t have a father to guide me.”
He glanced down at the rug and then back up to her. “You can come to me.”
“No, I cannot,” she said adamantly.
“Why not?”
“Nicholas, there is too much between us.”
Nicholas sighed and dropped into the same wing-back chair where he’d made love to her only weeks ago. “Sophie, I assume you heard about Somerton’s wager at White’s.”
“Yes, Elizabeth told me.”
“I see. Why would a man you consider a friend place such a bet?”
She pressed her hands to her temples as if fighting back the pain. Pacing the room, she said nothing for several moments. He wondered if she was trying to determine an acceptable lie to tell him.
“He knows about us,” she finally whispered.
“You told him?”
She stopped pacing and glared at him. “No, you told him.”
“I most certainly did no such thing,” he said, coming to his feet.
“Somerton gave me a pair of earrings as a birthday gift last year. The same earring that I lost in your bed in Venice. That is why he told you to come to me.”
Nicholas muttered a curse. “Well at least that explains both the wager and his protective attitude. I suppose he wants to call me out.”
“No, he would not do that.” She pressed her lips into a frown. “What are we to do, Nicholas?”
“Since you will not marry me, we apparently do nothing,” he said in a resigned tone. He brushed his hands through his hair. “The wager will blow over as long as we are not seen together. No one will believe that it is anything but an odd bet by Somerton.”
“Considering how few balls and parties I attend, it should not be difficult to stay apart. As long as you stop showing up on my doorstep and pinning viscounts against my front door.”
Her words make perfect sense, and yet, he had no desire to stop calling on her. He was drawn to her, fascinated by her. But she was right. They needed to have no gossips inventing stories about them. And the more time he spent in her company, the more he ached for her. Separating was the only option. No matter how much that hurt.
“Very well, then. I shall leave.”
She nodded and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Good-bye, then.”
Nicholas sighed and then walked out of her house. The only thing on his mind was getting mind numbingly drunk. He didn’t want to think about Sophie anymore. And he certainly didn’t want to desire her again.
He laughed harshly as he entered his carriage. The yearnings he felt for Sophie were unlike any he’d ever had for another woman. Even his infatuation with Jennette seemed like a distant memory. The only woman he could think of was Sophie. The only woman he wanted was Sophie.
He wondered how long it would take before he could crave another woman.
Would it be possible to want another after having Sophie?
 
 
Sophie arranged the mask on her face before stepping out of the carriage. The dark purple feathers of her mask accented the pale lavender silk gown Sophie wore. She was certain no one would recognize her. At least she hoped one particular man did not notice her tonight.
She had already decided that she would be as inconspicuous as possible. She hadn’t even told her friends that she would attend the ball. Her only reason for being here was to watch Nicholas mingle with some of the ladies during the evening.
She hadn’t seen him in a few days and missed the wretch already. She supposed watching him from afar would have to suffice tonight . . . and the rest of her life.
Walking up the steps to the Northwoods’ home, she wondered at her ability to stay unassuming when she arrived at the ball alone. Normally, her mother would pretend to be her aunt and chaperone her when attending such functions. Not that she went to many balls, mostly those of her closest friends.
Sophie quickly walked into the ballroom and to the refreshment table. A few people inclined their heads toward her but no one made a point of conversing with her. If only her father had acknowledged her. Then attending such a glorious ball would be part of her regular routine. No one would give her the cut direct at a ball and then run to her for advice the next day.
“Now, why didn’t you tell any of us that you were planning to be here?”
So much for remaining anonymous. She turned toward Avis with a smile. “Good evening, Avis.”
“Sophie?” she replied with a grin.
“It was a last minute decision.”
“I see. Did anyone in particular help you make this decision?”
“Avis, you are never this restrained. Ask me what you want to know.” Sophie picked up a glass of wine from one of the footman walking past.
Avis clutched Sophie’s elbow and led her to a deserted section of the room. “Are you still involved with Lord Ancroft?”
“Not in the manner you mean. I am only helping him find his perfect match.”
“Really? You’re helping your lover find a wife.”
“Yes,” Sophie replied. “Is it truly that hard to believe?”
Avis stared at her until Sophie felt forced to glance away. “So Somerton’s wager at White’s means nothing?”
“Not at all. You know how odd Somerton can be. He must have seen Nicholas and I talking and assumed the worst after all that nonsense about Ancroft’s father demanding his son marry this Season.”

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