Two Sinful Secrets (23 page)

If only he could quit thinking about her…

He was shaken out of his brooding by the sound of light footsteps hurrying along the
corridor outside. The office door flew open, and his sister Isabel rushed in amid
a flurry of lace ruffles, feathers, and red-gold curls. Her cheeks were pink from
the bright day outside, and her green eyes sparkled. They had thought about sending
her back to London with James, but she had a leading role in two plays here and no
reliable understudy, so she had stayed.

Dominic had felt uneasy at her staying after what happened to James, but he was glad
she was there now. His spirits revived at the sight of her, as they always did. Isabel
was the family’s baby, their pride, their bright spirit.

“Issy,” he said as he pushed back from the desk and stood up. “What a nice surprise.
I thought you weren’t scheduled to rehearse until later this afternoon.”

“I’ve come to tear you and Brendan away from your never-ending work. You haven’t had
time to enjoy Paris at all,” Isabel said happily. She went up on tiptoe to kiss his
cheek, and the feathers on her bonnet tickled his chin. “Good heavens, but you do
look a fright today, Dominic! Whatever were you doing last night?”

“Issy…” Dominic began sternly. But he was saved from making up some elaborate lie
to explain his bruises when Isabel stepped back and laughed.

“Never mind,” she said. “I am quite sure I don’t want to know. But I think it’s terribly
unfair you all get to have adventures when I am stuck at the hotel embroidering with
Mrs. Smythe.”

“Mrs. Smythe is meant to be your companion while you’re here, since Mama couldn’t
come,” Dominic said. “She came very highly recommended.”

“Recommended as what? A jailer at Newgate?” Isabel protested. “I am in
Paris
! I want to have some fun, just a little bit, before we go home. So I need your help.”
She gently touched the lapel of his waistcoat, a coaxing smile on her face.

Dominic laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to hug her. “I always have
time to help you. As long as what you want isn’t too scandalous.”

“Of course it isn’t. I leave the scandal to my brothers, as you all seem so good at
it. I only want you to take me shopping before rehearsal this afternoon. I need to
find gifts for Mama and Lily.”

“And perhaps a hat or two for yourself?”

Isabel laughed. “Of course. I want all my friends to be wild with envy over my new
French couture when we get home.”

“I suppose a shopping trip is in order then,” Dominic said. He wasn’t getting any
work done anyway. Perhaps Isabel’s company would distract him.

Isabel clapped her hands. “And tea while we’re out? Somewhere nice?
Without
Mrs. Smythe?”

“Very well, tea also. Perhaps Brendan will join us.”

“Only for tea. He’s such an impatient bear when it comes to shopping. Oh, I almost
forgot! The concierge gave me this to give to you. It was delivered a little while
ago.” Isabel reached into her beaded reticule and took out a letter to hand to him.

Dominic took it from her slowly, almost as if it could come alive and bite him. Only
his name was written across the front in a small, neat, anonymous script, but it smelled
faintly of Sophia’s perfume.

He tore it open and quickly read the words printed
there. “Thank you for your invitation. I will meet you at the Café de Paris on the
Boulevard Italiens at nine, if that is convenient for you. Sophia Westman.”

Dominic laughed ruefully. So Sophia didn’t have any sense when it came to seeing him
again. And it seemed they had both gone mad, because he knew he would definitely be
there to see her at nine.

Luckily he was not performing that night, but Isabel was. And Brendan would have to
be at the theater to keep an eye on her, so both of them would be far away from the
Boulevard Italiens.

“Who is it from?” Isabel asked, trying to peek at the note.

Dominic refolded it and stuffed it quickly into a desk drawer. “None of your business,
Issy.”

Isabel laughed and spun away to peer out the grimy office window. “One of your
amours
, then. I hope she’s very pretty.” Suddenly a frown flickered over her face. “How
very strange.”

“Strange?” Dominic said, pausing as she shrugged into his coat.

“Yes. That same man was standing out there when I came in.”

Dominic peered over Isabel’s shoulder to the street below. It was the usual Parisian
daytime tangle of horses and carriages, servants hurrying on errands, well-dressed
couples, and yapping dogs on leads. But amid all the color and movement was one dark
spot of stillness. A man leaned against the railing of the wrought-iron park fence
across the street.

He was a tall, portly figure swathed in a brown tweed coat, with a cap pulled low
over his brow. A rolled-up
newspaper was tucked under his arm, but he made no move to read it. He seemed to be
watching the crowds as they flowed around him.

And watching the theater.

Dominic’s hand instinctively curled into a tight fist, and he slid Isabel away from
the window. There was no law against just standing on the pavement, of course, but
after what had happened to him last night and Lord Hammond’s strange threats, he was
wary of any odd behavior.

“Do you know who he is?” Isabel asked.

“I’ve never seen him before,” Dominic answered, still studying the man. He was very
still, as if he was carved from stone, but Dominic somehow sensed he was indeed watching
the theater. Dominic’s instincts hummed on alert.

“Maybe he’s a spy from another theater,” Isabel said. She sounded far too excited
at the prospect of thespian espionage. “He’s going to break in tonight after everyone
leaves and steal our scripts for the next show. And then…”

“Issy!” Dominic interrupted. He had to laugh, despite his suspicion of the man lurking
outside. “You’re much too bloodthirsty, you know.”

Isabel pouted. “What do you expect? I’m an actress. I need excitement. And judging
by your very colorful bruises, Dominic, I am not the only one. Is he still there?”

Dominic glanced back out the window. The man was indeed still there, chatting with
a maidservant. The girl pointed at the stage door, and the man nodded.

“Yes,” Dominic said grimly. “Wait here for a minute, Issy. I’ll be right back.”

Isabel caught his arm as he turned away. “Are you going to confront him? Oh, let me
come, too!”

“Certainly not. You’ll stay here and wait for Brendan. And I’m hardly going to
confront
anyone. I’m merely going to see if the man requires directions.”

“I always miss out on the fun.” Isabel frowned, but she did plop herself down on a
chair by the desk and crossed her arms as if settling in to wait. “At least I can
see from the window if there’s a fight.”

“There won’t be a fight,” Dominic said.
Not another one.
Not on a public street right outside the theater in broad daylight.

He made his way out of the theater and onto the busy street. It was a beautiful day,
sunny and warm, and everyone was hurrying past on their errands. Except for the man
leaning against the park fence, the newspaper under his arm. Dominic saw his gaze
flicker toward him as he stalked closer.

Dominic leaned against the fence next to the man and folded his arms across his chest.
“You have some errand at that theater?” he said casually, as if he was merely making
idle conversation.

“
Non
,” the man said briefly, but Dominic could hear the man’s flat English accent. He
looked burly and muscular under his cheap tweed jacket, like many of the boxers Dominic
faced in the ring.

“Just enjoying the day?”

“Something like that. You have a problem with that?”

Dominic suddenly swung around to face the man, not backing down. “Just as long as
you don’t enjoy yourself in the vicinity of my sister or any of my family.”

“I don’t know what you mean, monsieur,” the man said sullenly. But Dominic saw the
tick of the muscle in his jaw.

“I have seen you before,” Dominic said quietly. “And you have the look of a hired
man about you. But I warn you, hired or not—I will take down anyone who hurts my family.
Just so we are clear.”

Dominic started to turn away, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a sudden movement.
The man’s beefy fist started to swing up, but Dominic spun around on the balls of
his feet and caught him with an uppercut to the jaw that sent him reeling back into
the fence. A passing lady shrieked.

“I mean what I say,” Dominic said. “Tell your master that as well.”

Then he strode back into the hotel, leaving the hired thug bleeding and cursing behind
him.

S
ophia climbed the marble front steps of the Café de Paris and stepped through the
etched glass doors, feeling unaccountably nervous as she left the rain-swept streets
behind. The sunny day had suddenly turned wet late in the afternoon, and she had briefly
had the wild thought to use the weather as an excuse to beg off this supper engagement.

Which was utterly ridiculous. She had been attending social occasions since she was
a child, had met and talked with any number of people, had learned to deal with any
awkwardness. Why would she worry about going out now?

Because she was meeting with Dominic, of course. The man she had made love with, twice,
in a rush of hot, thoughtless need. Dominic, whom she had been so intimate with, as
intimate as two people could be, yet who stayed so unknown to her. She wished she
could read him better, as she could her opponents at cards.

This supper seemed like a sort of olive branch on his part, a chance to be with each
other, maybe come to know each other a little better. No wonder she was rather nervous.

She felt as if she stood poised on the precipice of some steep, rocky cliff rather
than on the threshold of a luxurious restaurant. She was about to jump down into something
completely unknown, something she had never seen before.

“May I take your wrap, madame?” a maid asked, as Sophia paused just inside the door
of the foyer.

“
Oui, merci
,” Sophia said, letting the girl take away her hooded cloak. As she turned, she glimpsed
herself in one of the tall, gilt-framed mirrors. For a second, she didn’t recognize
herself.

Camille had persuaded her to leave off her black for the first time since Jack died
and splurge on a new gown from one of the shops on the Champs-Élysées. It was a vivid
rose-pink silk, cut low off the shoulders and trimmed with loops of ivory satin ribbon
and silk flowers. Her hair was piled high on her head and pinned with more roses.
Since she had no diamonds or pearls, she had tied a pink velvet ribbon around her
neck.

She looked at the same time like her old self, the Lady Sophia Huntington who danced
at London assemblies and debutante balls, and like someone completely new. Someone
she didn’t yet fully know, but whom she seemed to glimpse in Dominic’s eyes when he
looked at her.

Sophia smiled at her reflection and spun around to hurry toward the dining room doors.
It was time to jump, to see what the future might hold if she could dare to be bold
again.

Two liveried footmen opened the glass doors for her, and she stepped out onto the
top of a short flight of red-carpeted stairs that led down to the main room. It was
a beautiful, plush space, a deep cave of dark red velvet and
gilt, lit softly by gaslight, that spoke of discreet pleasures and quiet comforts.
An orchestra played on a small balcony above, a soft concerto that blended seamlessly
with the environment.

Everywhere there was the gleam of diamonds, the soft sound of laughter, the clink
of heavy silver on china, and the smell of gardenias and champagne.

It was its own small, luxurious world, and as Sophia studied it all, she could see
how Dominic would belong there. Just as he belonged in the theater, or even in her
bedchamber. He was changeable, just as she was, and no one space could contain all
of him.

“Madame?” The major-domo, a tall, sternly thin man in dark evening clothes, stepped
forward with a bow. “How may I assist you?”

Sophia suddenly realized that several of the people seated near the doors had turned
to look at her, curiosity written on their faces. She could no longer hide behind
her black clothes.

She didn’t even want to hide, not any longer. She wanted to be free to be herself
again. Dominic had given her that.

Sophia tilted up her chin and smiled at the major-domo. “I am here to meet Monsieur
Dominic St. Claire.”

“Of course, madame. He is already seated, if you care to follow me.”

As Sophia trailed behind the man through the dining room, she noticed other people
watching her and heard the soft murmur of their whispers. She nodded and smiled at
groups she knew from Camille’s club, and for an instant, some of them looked stunned,
as if they had not quite recognized her.

But Dominic knew her immediately. She saw him rise from behind a table tucked into
an intimate little corner, and he watched her as she moved closer. For a moment, his
face was completely expressionless, his eyes shadowed, and her confidence faltered.
Was this going to be the awkwardly polite supper she had feared? The overly-drawn-out
farewell to something that had barely begun?

Then he smiled. Not a polite, careful smile, but a wide, piratical grin that seemed
to draw them together in their own little secret circle. He stepped around the table
and held his hand out to her as she approached.

Sophia slipped her gloved fingers into his, and he raised them to his lips. And suddenly
she realized there was nowhere she would rather be than here with him. She knew it
was most imprudent to feel safe with him, of all people, but she couldn’t seem to
help it. He made her feel fun again; alive again.

“Thank you for meeting me tonight, Sophia,” Dominic said as he drew out a chair for
her. “You look very beautiful. Pink suits you.”