Two Shades of Seduction (25 page)

“You seem to have little regard for Devlyn’s loyalty or honor,” Sophie said in a defensive tone. She almost closed her eyes in despair. What in God’s name had provoked her to make such a statement? Perhaps a wish that it were the truth? Her heart clenched as she remembered the scandal sheets from the past week.

“Do you really expect people to believe it was a
love
match,” Eleanor sneered. “How charmingly delusional you are.”

“I can assure you it wasn’t a love match, and I put little stock in gossip,” Sophie said in a firm voice as she suddenly realized it was the truth.

She’d accepted her fate, and when Quentin turned to a younger mistress, she would be grateful for the few happy memories she was making now. Without flinching, she met Eleanor’s contemptuous gaze, and her throat swelled shut as a knowing smile curved her stepsister’s mouth.

“Good lord, you’re in love with him.” Eleanor’s gleeful words hit Sophie with all the force of a physical blow. Cold with fear, she did everything she could to keep her features composed and unreadable.

“Clearly, you’ve had too much punch already this evening, Eleanor.” Sophie kept her voice low as she denied the accusation in the face of her stepsister’s cruel glare. “What in heaven’s name makes you think I’d be in love with Devlyn?”

“Because I know you, Sophie.” Eleanor sniffed with disgust.

“I find it difficult to believe
you
, of all people, would think yourself privy to my thoughts on any subject,” Sophie bit out. “Particularly when we both know you bear no love for me.”

“Ever the martyr, my dear. Truth be told, I’m surprised Devlyn hasn’t wandered already. I’m certain there are any number of women who are simply waiting for him to replace his aging wife with a much younger mistress.”

“Are you hoping to audition for that role, Eleanor?” she asked in a cold voice. “If you are, might I remind you that you failed to secure Devlyn’s affections several years ago. What makes you think anything has changed?”

Sophie bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood as the room went deathly quiet. What in God’s name was she thinking to respond to Eleanor’s vicious taunts in a public setting? It was best she ended this small drama before it escalated into something far uglier. Her jaw set with determination, she sidestepped Eleanor and headed toward the door. An icy finger scraped down her back as she felt dozens of eyes following her departure. Tomorrow the gossip columns would be rife with tonight’s exchange, and she had no one to blame but herself. She should have known better than. She’d just reached the door when Eleanor called out to her.

“Take care, Sophie. The minute Devlyn realizes you harbor the illusion he’ll return your affections, the man will run from you like a fox from the huntsman.”

Eleanor’s words ripped through Sophie like a jagged knife, but she didn’t even stumble as she walked out of the powder room. Her stepsister might have guessed Sophie’s secret, but what Eleanor didn’t know was that Sophie had accepted her fate from the moment she realized she was in love with her husband.

Her only regret was that she’d not told Quentin the truth about her having been born out of wedlock. Tonight. She’d tell him tonight. The truth would make little difference when her world crumbled the moment the morning’s first scandal sheet arrived at Devlyn House. She’d made a bargain with the devil, but all the pain in the world couldn’t destroy the happiness she’d experience in the past few weeks. Holding her head high, she headed toward the lobby of the Alhambra to spend one last night in her husband’s company before her world fell apart around her ears.

§  §  §

The noise in the Alhambra’s main lobby was deafening. The crush provided Quentin with one more reason to despise the opera. He wanted nothing better than to escape this wild zoo of humanity. An acquaintance caught his eye, and he offered a nod in the direction of the man before deliberately looking away.

The last thing he wanted to do tonight was to add fuel to the gossip mill running rampant since their arrival in London almost a month ago. No matter where he and Sophie went, someone was trying to find out more information about his marriage, and he was damned if it was anyone else’s business.

Another man acknowledged him from across the lobby, and Quentin heaved a grunt of exasperation as he nodded and looked away. If Sophie didn’t return from the ladies room shortly, he’d create a stir by fetching her with little regard for the sanctity of the room itself. At least they’d have some privacy in their box.

“
Devlyn
. I say, is that you, old man?”

At the sound of his name, Quentin turned his head to see Sir Archibald Milliard pushing through the crowd to reach him. Groaning inwardly at the sight of the man, he tightened his lips. Schoolmates at Eton, the man had been a thorn in his side ever since. Milliard considered himself a wit, but Quentin found him nothing short of boring.

Dark hair already thinning on top, and his middle section already beginning to sport a paunch, Sir Archibald was the epitome of a man who considered himself a connoisseur of all things, but had truly mastered none. A moment later, Quentin found his hand grasped by Sir Archibald’s beefy one.

“I say, Devlyn, you’re the talk of the town.”

“Am I?” He deliberately drawled his reply to indicate distinct boredom. It didn’t have the effect he’d hoped as Sir Archibald plunged on with his babbling.

“Of course you are. Why everyone’s talked of nothing else. It’s one thing to have an older woman for your mistress, but
good god
man, to marry one?”

“I wasn’t aware that age had anything to do with marriage,” Quentin bit out at the man’s callous statement.

“Well of course it does. No respectable man would marry a woman twice his age.”

Anger made Quentin grit his teeth. Either the bastard was a complete ass or he was being insulting. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let anyone talk about Sophie the way Milliard was. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned into the man.

“My wife is not twice my age and even if she were, it wouldn’t be any of your concern. So unless you—” Sir Archibald acted as if he’d not heard a word, his gazed fixed on something over Quentin’s shoulder.

“
Good god
. Who is that ravishing creature?”

Quentin turned his head to see Sophie heading toward them. She did look ravishing, but he was damned if he wanted Sir Archibald noticing. Her chin was tilted at a stubborn angle, and her cheeks were flushed with color. Damnation, something had happened. He could see it in the stricken look in her hazel eyes. Although there was a smile on her lips, there was a fragile air about her. Beside him, Sir Archibald elbowed him and laughed.

“I should have known better, Devlyn. Giving up your lightskirts wasn’t something you could resist. You’ve excellent taste as always, my man. She’s exquisite. When you tire of her, let me know.”

Muscles tight with raw fury, Quentin barely restrained himself from dropping the man to the floor with a hard, right jab. As Sophie reached them, he took her hand and raised it to his lips.

“Well, Countess Devlyn. Shall we go to our box?”

Beside him, Sir Archibald started violently. Without bothering to introduce Milliard to Sophie or even bid the man goodbye, Quentin tucked her arm in his and pulled her toward the stairs. As they moved through the crowd, he noticed Eleanor emerge from the corridor that led to the ladies room. There was a cold look of triumph on the woman’s face as she met his gaze, while tension flowed from Sophie’s body into his.
Fuck
, Eleanor had said something to hurt Sophie. Quentin clenched his jaw.

“Who’s upset you?” He already knew the answer, but he wanted her to confide in him. She flashed a quick glance in his direction before looking away.

“It’s nothing.” With a graceful move, she lifted the front of her skirt as they started up the stairs to the second level of the theatre. “As usual our marriage is fodder for gossip and curiosity.”

“Why do I think Eleanor has something to do with that?” His question made her stumble slightly on the stairs, but he managed to hide her hesitation by keeping a firm grip on her elbow.

“My stepsister, when presented with an audience, is someone who takes pleasure in causing pain. Tomorrow the papers will be filled with rumors.”

“We’ll ignore them. The scandal sheets will find something else for the grist mill soon enough.”

She nodded her head in agreement, but the shadows didn’t leave her beautiful eyes. Whatever Eleanor had said to Sophie had cut deep. His jaw tightened as he experienced a violent urge to throttle Eleanor. Ushering his wife into their box, he realized it was the second time in the space of five minutes that he’d been filled with the violent urge to protect Sophie at any cost. As they took their seats, he saw the crowd stir and look upward at them. A tremor shot through Sophie, and he leaned toward her.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

His words brought a flush of color to her cheeks. For the first time since she’d rejoined him in the lobby, her eyes were no longer haunted by some unknown burden. Her laughter made him grin as he realized how much he enjoyed seeing his wife happy. Flicking open her fan in an elegant gesture, Sophie shook her head as she smiled at him.

“Either you’re trying to make me forget that we’re the sole topic of conversation this evening or that brandy you had before we left home has dulled your senses.”

“So in other words, my being a scoundrel makes it impossible for me to pay you a sincere compliment.” He heard the irritation in his voice, and she looked at him in surprise.

“No, not impossible,” she said quietly as she reached out to touch his hand in an apologetic manner. “I’m simply under no illusions as to my attractions.”

“You have many attractions, my darling wife. The kind that make other men sit up and take notice,” said with renewed anger as he remembered Milliard’s comments.

“Now I’m certain you’re teasing me.”

“I assure you, I’m not,” he bit out. “Just a few moments ago, the man standing next to me in the lobby said you were ravishing. And he was right.”

Her eyes widen in surprise as he took her hand in his and turned it over to examine her wrist. The round opening in her evening glove revealed a small circle of skin large enough for his finger to press into. Following the edge of the silk circle, he trailed a path across her skin with his forefinger. She trembled at the touch and he smiled.

“Is it so difficult to believe that a man would find you exquisite, Sophie?” he asked quietly. “Even your husband?”

Hazel eyes wide with surprise and puzzlement, she didn’t answer. A sudden, overwhelming need to convince her of his sincerity swept through him. In a quick move, he turned her hand over and lifted it to kiss the back of her hand.

“I am a fortunate man to have you at my side, sweetheart. There is no other woman worthy of the Countess of Devlyn title,” he said with a quiet sincerity that startled him.

“Thank you, Quentin.” Her hand trembled in his as she bowed her head. “I’ve never had a nicer compliment.”

“Not even the one I paid you by suggesting I escort you to the opera?” he said with a wry smile. “After all, it was
my
idea that we attend this evening.”

“I think such a sacrifice qualifies more as a marker to exact some punishment from me in the future.”

She laughed and gently pulled her hand from his. He didn’t like the fact that he was no longer touching her. Holding Sophie’s hand in his created a sense of peace and calm he’d only ever experienced in her presence. He leaned closer to press his hand against her knee.

“I’m here because I want to be,” he said with quiet sincerity. As her gaze met hers, he frowned as he caught the glimpse of tears shimmering in her eyes.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m simply happy.”

She smiled at him, and he raised her hand to his mouth again. The sudden dimming of the lights in the theater forestalled him from saying anything further as the orchestra struck up the first notes of the evening. For more than a half hour, he sat with growing impatience at the caterwauling coming from the stage. Bloody hell, he was definitely going to call in his marker on the torture he was enduring tonight. He smiled slightly as he contemplated all the delicious things he was going to do to his wife as her penance for his attendance tonight. For at least the tenth time, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sophie glanced in his direction.

“For heaven’s sake, Quentin. All your fidgeting is distracting,” she whispered. “I know you’re not enjoying this, just go. I shall be perfectly fine here by myself.”

“My fidgeting is simply because I’m waiting for the proper moment to seduce my wife in a public place.” His words made her gasp softly as she glanced at him.

“You’re mad,” she said as she kept her gaze focused on the performance in front of them.

“No, Countess, not mad. Simply adventurous. Think about it. You enjoy my fingers sliding through those dark curls between your legs. What if I were to touch you like that, here, this very moment.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said in a strangled voice.

“It would be exciting, don’t you think. Think about the danger of it.”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Why not? What if I were to draw you into the darkness behind the box curtain here and make love to you within earshot of all these people.”

“Now you’re being absurd.” He watched her breasts as they rose and fell at a rapid pace. Although she kept her gaze on the stage, he knew the opera wasn’t holding her attention.

“I don’t recall you thinking it absurd last night when I was sucking on those glorious nipples of yours.”

“Oh my God, why are doing this?”

“Because I like knowing you desire me, Sophie.” The soft rasps of her breathing ignited a heat inside him he was certain would never be quenched. “Are your nipples hard like I like them, my darling wife?”

“Quentin, please,” A barely audible moan passed her lips.

“Are they?” he demanded as a sudden uncontrollable need for her rolled through him.