Two Shades of Seduction (29 page)

He stopped himself from reciting the remaining observations in his head. The society sheets had also been quick to note Quentin’s subsequent internment at his club. He glared at the men surrounding Sophie. He wanted to horsewhip each and every one of them for preying on his wife.

There was little doubt in his mind that Sophie was oblivious to their real intentions. It didn’t help matters when he allowed his imagination to run wild. The image of her with another man caused a red mist of fury to blur his gaze. It was not without a struggle that he managed to control his anger or the desire to storm across the floor to collect Sophie and carry her back to Devlyn Keep. Then maybe he could convince her he’d not been lying about Eleanor. The thought of Sophie’s stepsister made his fury grow darker.

Music filled the air, and he saw Sophie accept the arm of one of her suitors. With a growl, Quentin watched the man lead his wife onto the dance floor. He’d taken a step forward when a hand grasped his arm.

“I don’t think that’s advisable at the moment.” The sound of Spencer Hamilton’s voice made him turn his head. “From all the gossip I’ve heard, I’ve a feeling she’s apt to cut you dead with just one look.”

“I won’t give her the chance,” Quentin ground out between clenched teeth as he turned back to watch his wife circling the floor with her suitor.

“This from a man who’s about to be named in a divorce suit.” His brother-in-law’s words made Quentin jerk his head back in Hamilton’s direction.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“She mentioned it to me the other day.”

Hamilton’s sympathetically spoken words sucked the air out of Quentin’s lungs. As he watched his wife gliding around the dance floor in the arms of another man, his chest constricted with pain. If she’d gutted him and strung him up to drain, his agony would be no less. Did she really think he would simply turn over like a dog and surrender her so easily?

“I won’t give her one,” he rasped with a slight shake of his head. “I’m not about to part with her.”

“Well that’s a relief.” His brother-in-law’s eyebrows were raised slightly as he bobbed his head. “I was hoping the scandal sheets were right.”

“Scandal sheets?” Quentin knew exactly what his brother-in-law was referring to, but he avoided the other man’s gaze by looking back at his wife surrounded by vultures.

“You’re in love with her.”

Quentin didn’t acknowledge the observation and frowned with growing irritation. It hadn’t taken Sir Archibald Milliard any time at all to force himself into Sophie’s little sphere. Folding his arms across his chest, Quentin glared at the group paying court to his wife. Bloody hell, she was actually laughing at something Sir Archibald had said. His jaw tightened as he contemplated the things he wanted to do to the man.

“She’s in love with you, you know.”

Startled, Quentin turned to look at Sophie’s brother. He wasn’t in the mood for games, especially where Sophie was concerned. His brother-in-law’s words rang with confidence, but it was the certainty on the younger man’s face that made Hamilton’s statement so powerful.

“How the hell do you know that?” he snarled in a low voice.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” His brother-in-law’s words turned hope to despair.

“Then you’re mistaken. Sophie despises me.”

“No. It’s not just the way she looks at you when she thinks no one is watching. It’s the pain and longing in her voice when she says your name.” Hamilton shook his head slowly.

“I find it difficult to believe Sophie gives a damn as to whether I exist or not.”

“Oh, she cares, but whatever happened between the two of you hurt her so deeply she’s not willing to consider any reconciliation.” The question in his brother-in-law’s voice made Quentin swallow hard as he remembered the night he’d lost everything that ever mattered to him.

“Eleanor.” The word was a crackling sound of his anger and fury.

“What does Eleanor have to do with this?”

“She managed to convince Sophie that I’d betrayed her.”

“Sweet Jesus.” Hamilton blew out a breath of fury. “How in the hell did she do that?”

“Let’s simply say that Eleanor arranged for Sophie to witness a scene of betrayal straight out of one of those operatic masterpieces my wife loves so much.”

Quentin winced as he remembered the cold look of contempt on Sophie’s face when she’d entered the library. Arms folded across his chest, he gripped his forearms in the same manner he wanted to grip Eleanor’s neck. No. Death would be too quick for Eleanor. The idea of torturing the bitch was much more appealing.

“And you couldn’t avoid it?” Hamilton’s voice held a sharp note of condemnation.

“I was too drunk to realize what was happening until it was too late,” he bit out in a defensive tone of voice. “And the circumstances were so damning, I couldn’t convince Sophie of my innocence.”

“I see,” his brother-in-law murmured in a thoughtful voice.

“No, you don’t see.” Quentin glared at the other man. “Imagine how Sophie must have felt when she came upon a scene that not only humiliated her, but involved a woman who’s always been as cruel as possible to her. I’m surprised at Sophie’s resilience, considering your family’s brutal treatment of her.”

“I agree. My sister’s stronger than I ever gave her credit for,” Hamilton said with a hint of remorse in his voice. “And if I hadn’t already realized you have my sister’s best interests at heart, I would know it now.”

“I’ll always do whatever it takes to ensure her happiness,” Quentin said with the same amount of conviction that was in his heart.

“Even watching her fall into the arms of another man?”

“That will never happen,” he snarled, knowing how easy his words could be proven false.

“No? Take a close look, Devlyn. Those aren’t just ordinary men surrounding my sister. They’re some of London’s wealthiest men who would think nothing of making Sophie their mistress.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m dogging Sophie’s heels? Wherever
she
goes,
I
go.” Quentin rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “I even turned the ledgers over to Scotland Yard the morning after our falling out.”

“Ledgers?” his brother-in-law demanded harshly. “She told you about the ledgers?”

“She did. In fact, my lovely wife bartered with them. She offered me the opportunity to use those damned books for revenge if I agreed to marry her,” Quentin said with a grimace of self-disgust.

“Sweet Jesus,” Stunned disbelief whitened his brother-in-law’s face. “So that’s what she meant when she said revenge serves no purpose except to steal one’s soul.”

“What did you say?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. His brother-in-law frowned in puzzlement.

“I said, so that’s—”

“Yes, I heard you,” Quentin growled softly as his gaze swung back to Sophie.

She’d read the letter. Had she kept it? Did she realize he’d put all of his heart into every word he’d written? He closed his eyes for a brief moment as hope crashed its way through his veins. Was it possible Hamilton was right? Maybe Sophie
did
love him.

The sight of Sir Archibald pushing his way deeper into Sophie’s circle of admirers made Quentin bite back an oath. Of all men surrounding his wife, Sir Archibald was the one Quentin despised the most. If Sophie knew what the bastard had said about her at the opera, he was certain his wife wouldn’t have a thing to do with the pompous jackass. Bloody hell, he was going to choke the man for even looking at her.

Sophie smiled at the man, and a sudden urge to pulverize the man swept through Quentin. His patience at an end, he ignored Hamilton’s warning not to do anything rash and made his way through the crowd toward the edge of the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several people whispering and nodding their heads in his direction. No doubt, they were eager for a scandal. Well, he was about to give them one. As Milliard, swung Sophie toward him, Quentin stepped forward and forced the couple to come to an abrupt halt. Sophie’s partner glared at him, while Sophie stared at him in appalled disbelief.

“I’ll finish this dance with my wife, Milliard,” he growled. “And she will be removing your name off her dance card for the rest evening.”

“I say—”

The man abruptly stopped speaking the moment Quentin eyed the man with every bit of the cold fury he was struggling to contain. With a hasty bow in Sophie’s direction, Milliard walked away. Without a word, Quentin pulled Sophie into his arms and swung her back into the throng of dancers. She was stiff in his arms, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was holding her again. They danced in silence for more than a minute before he cleared his throat.

“I want to come home, Sophie.”

He pulled her close as she stumbled slightly. Amazement widened her beautiful hazel eyes until they narrowed into icy chips of contempt. It was the same frigid look he remembered from the night he’d fallen from grace.

“As you wish,” she said, her gaze pinpointing a spot over his shoulder. “I shall leave Devlyn House at your disposal and stay with Spencer.”

“No,” he said softly, “I want to come home to
you
.”

Sophie stiffened against him then quickly tried to push herself out of his embrace. Prepared for her response, he simply tightened his arms around her. They continued to whirl around the dance floor, and Quentin was acutely aware of her anger by the way her fingers were digging into his arm. They didn’t speak as they made another complete circle around the floor. Suddenly, she looked directly at him.

“I want a divorce,” she said with quiet determination.

Caught off guard, his chest tightened until it constricted his lungs and made it almost impossible to breathe. His eyes met hers, and he saw a flicker of emotion in her gaze that encouraged him to take a leap of faith.

“No. Agreeing to a divorce only serves to humiliate me further.”

“Humiliate…” she sputtered, clearly unable to say anything coherent.

“Yes, humiliation, Sophie. My circumstance is a deplorable one,” he said in a terse tone as he remembered the scandal sheets in his coat pocket. “It’s obvious to the entire set that the Countess of Devlyn loathes her husband, while he on the other hand adores his wife.”

With a loud flourish, the musical number ended, and Quentin applauded the musicians along with the other dancers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophie staring up at him with a look of dismayed shock, her face pale and drawn. Certain she was on the verge of fainting Quentin cupped her elbow with his hand and looked around the room for his brother-in-law.

The moment he saw Hamilton across the room, he beckoned to the younger man with a jerk of his head. Aware of the numerous looks of curiosity directed at them, Quentin quickly led Sophie off the floor in the direction of her brother. They were only a few feet away from Hamilton when a familiar voice drifted its way over Quentin’s shoulder.

“My dear Sophie, I’m delighted to see that you and Devlyn have reconciled.” Eleanor said with barbed amusement. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven us for that tiny misunderstanding?”

Anger hardened Quentin’s muscles as he halted in midstride. He was certain Sophie would have continued forward without him if it hadn’t been for the throng of people blocking her way. Instead, she stood motionless at his side, the tension in her body holding her rigid as an oak tree.

Slowly, Quentin turned to study his wife’s profile. Although her face was still pale, there was a quiet dignity about her that filled him with pride. He caught her hand in his and carried it to his lips. Sophie flinched, but didn’t look at him as he kissed the back of her hand. He turned his head to meet Eleanor’s bitter gaze.

“The misunderstanding was neither small nor forgivable considering it was a complete fabrication,” he said coldly.

“Really, Devlyn, how can you be so cruel as to accuse me of lying,” Eleanor said with a look of umbrage on her face as she glanced around at the small crowd avidly listening to their exchange. “We both know the misunderstanding was mutually…beneficial.”

“For something to be mutually beneficial, Lady Shively, both parties must be willing participants.” Quentin eyed her with icy contempt. “And we both know that while numerous parties from
all
stations of life have enjoyed your generous offers of comfort, I am fortunate never to have been one of them.”

Eleanor’s head jerked back at the caustic insult, her face white with humiliation and anger. Like a hunted animal, she glanced around the crowd looking for a friendly face. When she failed to find one, she looked back at Quentin and a poisonous expression crossed her face. Instinct warned him she was about expose the truth of Sophie’s parentage, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“I think enough has been said this evening, Lady Shively, particularly if you value your
son’s
future,” he warned softly. “The sins of a parent should never be visited on a child, wouldn’t you agree?”

Eleanor blanched again as defeat shadowed her features. She nodded sharply in agreement before she made her way past the group of spectators. As Eleanor disappeared through the ballroom exit, Quentin turned back to Sophie. The small crowd around them disappeared as they realized the small drama had come to an end. He bent his head toward Sophie when she didn’t look at him.

“We need to talk, Sophie. Let me take you home.” His words triggered a small shudder in her.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head as she met his gaze. “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow then.”

“No. Please, Quentin, just let me go.”

Before he realized what was happening, Sophie walked away from him. He started to follow her, when a strong hand gripped his arm and held him back. Quentin turned his head to see his brother-in-law keeping him from following Sophie. He frowned, but Hamilton shook his head.

“Let her go, Devlyn. She needs time.”

“How
much
time,” he growled.

Quentin turned his head back in Sophie’s direction hoping to see her looking back over her shoulder. His wish was a futile one as he saw her encircled by her admirers. Hope had surged through him the moment she’d called him by his given name.