Two Shades of Seduction (17 page)

“Thank you,” his brother-in-law said quietly. The suspicion in the young man’s face eased somewhat as he stepped forward to kiss Sophie on the cheek. “I’ll visit you as soon as I can, Phee.”

“Promise me you’ll not tell Father you knew about my marriage, Spencer.” She caught her brother’s hand in a deathlike grip, and Quentin saw his brother-in-law winced.

“I’ll be fine, Phee. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“Promise me, Spencer,” she demanded fiercely. “You will suffer his wrath if you admit to helping me. Please promise me.”

“Perhaps Sophie is right Hamilton. It might be better to deny any knowledge of our marriage.” Quentin arched his eyebrows at the younger man. “It might even be wise to not visit the keep for a couple of weeks so the baron doesn’t suspect your involvement.”

“Very well, I won’t say anything, and I’ll hold off visiting for a while. But for the love of god, Phee, will you let go of my hand before you break it.”

“Oh Spencer, I’m so sorry.”

Sophie immediately released her brother’s hand and kissed his cheek with a contrite expression. Hamilton grinned at her and gave her a quick hug. With one last hug of his sister, he nodded at Quentin then walked down the aisle and out of the church. Sophie’s gaze remained riveted on her brother’s back until he left the building. It was as if she were saying goodbye. The moment his brother-in-law vanished from sight, Quentin lightly touched her elbow causing her to jump. For the first time, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking as he stared into her hazel eyes.

“Come, we need to sign the registry and the license.”

Nodding, she allowed him to escort her into the recesses of the church. When they had finished completing all the necessary paperwork, Quentin guided her out to the small curricle Fischer had hitched his horse to earlier that morning. When Sophie was seated in the vehicle, he circled around to the opposite side. Two brown pieces of luggage were strapped to the back of the curricle where there had been nothing before his arrival at church. Surely, this couldn’t be everything she owned. She had to have found a way to send all of her things to the keep.

Quentin climbed into the vehicle and sat next to her. The small seat they shared forced his hip to press into hers. It was a pleasant sensation he couldn’t remember ever feeling with any other woman before. Reaching for the reins, he clucked quietly to the horse as he lightly slapped the animal’s hindquarters with the leather. The horse broke out into a brisk trot, and he looked at his bride.

“I take it you’ve sent the rest of your things to the keep already.”

“My things?” Sophie’s reserved expression reflected puzzlement.

“The luggage behind us,” he said with a jerk of this head toward the rear of the vehicle. “Surely, that’s not all of your possessions.”

“I had few things to bring with me.” Although her reply was soft, there was a brittle timbre to it that made him frown.

“From your exchange with your brother in the church, I am assuming you didn’t tell your father about our wedding plans.”

“He would have locked me in the house.” She shook her head. “I left a letter for him in my room.”

Quentin nodded his understanding as he drove the curricle around a sharp turn in the road. Ahead of them, Devlyn Keep rose up to greet them. The massive stone structure had once served as a mighty fortress against marauding knights. It gave the impression of forbidding darkness, but the interior had once been warm and inviting. When his investments matured in a few weeks, he would begin to restore it to its former glory with Sophie’s help.

A smattering of oak trees lined the road leading up to the keep, their leaves only recently unfurled. Spring had come early this year, and there was a nip in the air that declared winter wasn’t quite ready to release its grip. Quentin pulled the curricle to a halt in front of the grey-stoned dwelling. Obviously waiting for them, the front door opened and Fischer, along with the rest of the staff emerged to greet them. Climbing out of the vehicle, he moved around to the opposite side and assisted Sophie out of the small carriage. He smiled at her as their eyes met, but her dispassionate expression didn’t change. With a grunt of frustration, he ushered her toward Fischer and the others.

“This is your new mistress, the Countess of Devlyn,” he announced then looked in the manservant’s direction. “May I present Mr. Fischer. He’s been with me since before my father died. He runs the household, but I’m certain he’ll appreciate your guidance.”

“Mr. Fischer.” Sophie stepped forward and offered her hand to the wirily built man as he bowed. “I’m certain it will be
I
who will need
your
guidance in how things are run at the keep.”

Pride swelled through him at Sophie’s gracious manner. She would be a credit to him and the Devlyn name. They continued down the short line of staff as he introduced Cook and the housemaid. As Fischer retrieved Sophie’s luggage, the other servants returned to the house. Quentin’s jaw tightened with humiliation at the inadequacy of his—no,
their
household.

“It’s a small staff, Sophie, but they are loyal, hard-working people.” The confession sliced into his pride as viciously as the knife that had left its scar on his cheek.

“Of that I have no doubt,” she said.

When he glanced at her, there was no hint of judgment or dismay on her face. To his surprise, she turned to follow Fischer to the back of the curricle where she quietly said something to which his manservant nodded his head. The older man proceeded to unload the luggage from the curricle while Sophie returned to Quentin’s side.

“Mr. Fischer appears quite devoted to you.”

“I would be lost without him.” Quentin cupped her elbow in his hand and guided her toward the front door of the keep. “He’s patched me up after more than one brawl and has always managed to make ends meet when we barely had two coins to rub together.”

As they entered the house, Caesar and Beast barreled out of the study to greet them. For the first time that morning, a smile curved Sophie’s lips as she moved forward to rub their large heads with obvious affection. The dogs jostled each other to receive her attention, and a soft laugh parted her lips. Bloody hell. He wanted her to smile at him not the damn dogs.

Irritation flooded him. He knew why she was shutting him out, and he didn’t like the reason why. Insulting her yesterday had not been his best moment. With a flick of his wrist, the animals obeyed the silent command and returned to his study. For the first time since he was a boy, he found himself without a witty remark or a seductive phrase to draw out into the open the woman he’d found so intriguing from their first meeting. This Sophie was a stranger. She’d completely shut herself off to him.

“Would you like me to show you to your bedchamber?” His question sent a flash of something indefinable across her face before that serene mask of hers settled on her features once more.

“No. You’ve fulfilled your part of our agreement, and I wish to do the same. I’d like to review the ledgers with you to answer any questions you might have.”

“I don’t believe that’s necessary, I—”

“It
is
necessary for me.”

The determined tilt of Sophie’s chin announced she wasn’t about to be swayed in her purpose. Quentin acquiesced to her silent demand by swinging his arm out in a silent invitation to precede him into the study. What the devil had he gotten himself into? He’d not expected marriage to be a battle of wills. Up until yesterday, Sophie had seemed quite manageable. Now he wasn’t so sure. It put him at a disadvantage, and he didn’t like the sensation one bit.

§  §  §

Sophie moved through the doorway into Quentin’s study. It was as powerfully masculine as she remembered. She pulled in a deep breath and removed her gloves as she waited for her husband to follow her into the room. Husband. The single word contained so much emotion. Particularly a number of feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge on any level.

As he walked past her, she breathed in the woodsy scent of him. The same one that had caressed her senses yesterday. She swallowed the knot that had swelled in her throat. The man didn’t even have to touch her, and she was ready to fall into his arms. Her lack of willpower where he was concerned appalled her.

The insults he’d leveled at her at the cottage had been more painful than she wanted to admit. The accusations had aroused emotions that frightened her. She’d already discovered how easily she melted in his arms. But his ability to injure her with just a few well-chosen words terrified her. It meant she needed to protect her heart well. Maintaining her composure was the only thing that stood between her and possible destruction.

Sophie watched in silence as Quentin came to an abrupt halt in front of his desk and stared at the satchel Fischer had placed on his desk just a few moments ago. He turned his head toward her and frowned.

“You said you had few things to bring with you,” he said with a frown.

“One piece of luggage was more than enough for my personal belongings. This one contains the ledgers I promised you.”

“You were able to fit everything you own into one bag?” The astonishment in his question almost made her laugh. She could only assume he was accustomed to women consumed with fashion and their appearance.

“As I said, I had few belongings to bring with me.” She shrugged.

Slowly, his gaze still fixed on her, Quentin circled the desk. When he opened the bag, he stared down at the stacks of green ledgers she’d filled the satchel with.

“
Christ Jesus
, Sophie. How many of these are there?”

“I think there are twenty-five in total, including the two I’ve already given you.”

“Twenty-five…” Quentin narrowed his gaze at her. “How long have you been tracking your father’s false entries?”

“Five years. I started keeping records shortly after he stole your fortune.”

“
God almighty
,” he rasped. “Do you have any idea what your father would have done if he had caught you with these?”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t have been pleasant.”

“Not pleasant…” A dark frown furrowed Quentin’s brow as he glared at her. “I should thrash you myself for doing something so foolhardy.”

“There is little point in quibbling over something that is said and done.” She pointed out in a crisp manner.

“Just because it’s over and done with doesn’t mean it wasn’t a foolish thing to do,” he snarled. “If you
ever
do something so ill-advised or dangerous again, I will see to it that you rue the day. Do I make myself clear?”

“Quite,” she said between clenched teeth.

For a man who’d just received a gift of gold in the form of information, he wasn’t acting excited at all. In fact, he was acting just like she imagined a husband would act when he discovered his wife had done something he didn’t approve of. He scowled at her for a long moment then closed the satchel.

“I’ll review these later,” he growled. “The truth of the matter is, the two ledgers you gave me are more than enough to regain my fortune.”

He set the leather bag aside then reached for the green account book sitting to one side of his desk. Quentin flipped open the book thumbing through pages until he’d reached the spot he was looking for. With an arrogant wave of his hand, he silently commanded her to join him on the other side of the room’s largest piece of furniture.

She hesitated for a moment, but as he lifted his gaze to meet hers, she knew better than to question his authority at the moment. The forbidding expression on his features made her realize he wasn’t about to let her argue. When she reached his side, he pointed to one of the entries she’d made.

“It says here your father uses two warehouses on Lilliput Road near the Royal Victoria docks. What does he normally store there?”

“Whatever his ships bring into port,” she said in puzzlement.

“Does he own the warehouses?”

“No, he rents out space from a Mr. Mearn. My father uses several of Mr. Mearn’s warehouses for storage of goods.”

“What about this entry.” Quentin pointed to another line. “Is this another warehouse your father uses?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “That one is owned by Mr. Appleton. My father uses his warehouse whenever Mr. Mearn is unable to accommodate any of the goods that arrive at the docks.”

“Good.” Quentin nodded as he studied the open ledger with a contemplative frown. “One of these two is certain to owe money to either the bank or an individual. I’ll see to it that Mearn or Appleton have no space available when your father has need of it. He’s about to lose one or two accommodating partners.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll either buy Mearns and Appleton out, or I’ll secure a large enough percentage of their business to ensure my shipments fill their warehouses, not your father’s. I have several shipments coming into port in the next three weeks, and I’ve been looking for warehouse space.”

“And if you own part or some of the warehouse you can either refuse my father space or make him pay a higher price.”

“Precisely. Either way he’ll suffer a loss, whether from selling his cargo for a lower price just to get rid of it or by paying me a higher price simply for the privilege of storing it.”

The simplicity of the plan made her believe it wouldn’t be long before Quentin had her father on the brink of financial ruin. An act she was party too. Guilt washed over her. He’d warned her about having second thoughts, and she’d assured him that she would not falter. She quickly reminded herself that her father’s business dealings were far from legal in the majority of cases, and he’d cheated many people out of their money. Still the taste of betrayal and revenge was bitter in her mouth.

“I seem to recall asking you before we married as to whether or not you would find the guilt easy to bear.”

The harsh, inflexible note in his voice reflected the resolute set of his mouth as she looked up from the ledger. Shards of glass could not have been any sharper in color than his green eyes. Sophie straightened her shoulders and met his gaze steadily.