All I Ever Needed (14 page)

"Oh? I should like to hear it."

"You must consider that I am calm because I
am
calm. I have not an excitable nature."

Eastlyn pretended to consider this, pausing a beat before announcing his own view. "No. That is definitely not the way of it here."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Leaning his shoulder against the mantel, East crossed his arms in front of his chest and regarded Sophie thoughtfully. Her face was bathed in the golden glow of the lamp. The light brightened the halo of her wild honey hair and softened the definition of her cheekbones and the line of her nose. "I entertained just such an opinion of you upon our first introduction," he said. "You were so lacking in animation on that occasion that one could be forgiven for overlooking you among the hothouse flowers. An orchid is a pleasant enough thing to cast one's eyes upon, yet one does weary of so much still perfection."

Sophie was quite certain that if he were not making her dizzy with his reasoning, she would have the resources to be insulted. Her eyes widened marginally as she absorbed his observation.

Eastlyn's chin came up slightly to indicate the window and the garden beyond it. "But on the occasion of our meeting there," he said, "I was persuaded that you have more to recommend you than the otherworldly beauty of a cultivated flower. I am not mistaken, am I, Lady Sophia? Your nature is not in any way as composed as you would have me think." He chuckled softly when she merely continued to stare at him, neither challenge nor surrender in her eyes. "You must go on as you see fit, of course, but as for convincing me that you are so imperturbable, you should know it is unlikely that I will ever come to believe it."

Sophie was silent for several long moments. Her eyes strayed to the window, then measured the distance back to where Eastlyn stood so casually at her fireplace. He was making no effort to temper his grin as he clearly interpreted the gist of her thoughts. She sighed. "I would do it, you know. Toss you out on your ear if I could decide how it might be managed. Then there is the matter of keeping you out. It is significantly more problem than I can apply myself to at the moment. This is not at all the usual thing."

Eastlyn's soft chuckle did nothing to settle Sophie's nerves. Belatedly she realized she had answered the question he had put to her, admitting in a rather backhanded fashion that she was more actress than unruffled by natural disposition, and that entertaining visitors in her bedchamber was in no way a common occurrence.

"Come," Eastlyn said. "Won't you sit? There is no reason why you should not be comfortable."

There was every reason, Sophie thought, and the marquess was clearly a bedlamite for pretending it was otherwise. Still, she dropped like a stone into the chair that was pressing at the back of her knees. She noticed he did not seek out a seat for himself, although her room offered him the spindle-backed chair at her writing desk or the bed. Both choices would have made further conversation awkward, the writing desk because her back would have been to him, and the bed... well, because it was her bed.

Sophie pressed the sash of her robe between her index and middle fingers, laying out the ribbon of cool silk on her lap. "You promised me," she reminded him. "A few minutes only."

"Yes," he said. In truth, he thought he would be gone by now, but her locked room had startled him and immediately presented a different line of questioning. "But first, I want to know why your door was locked."

"The most obvious answer is that I reconsidered the wisdom of letting you in and locked it myself."

"You might have reconsidered your invitation," he said, "but the rest of your obvious answer is a fabrication."

She flushed a little but held her gaze steady.

Eastlyn thought Lady Sophia might make a worthy opponent at cards if it were not that dissembling raised a pale wash of color in her cheeks. He called her bluff. "Produce the key."

Sophie shrugged lightly. "I merely presented you with an obvious answer, m'lord, not necessarily the factual one."

East's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sophie."

She was startled when he addressed her so familiarly. It was the custom of her family to give a full accounting of all three syllables of her given name, as though the diminutive were common or vulgar. Coming from Eastlyn, it sounded nothing of the sort. She shied away from describing it as intimate and settled for the less threatening term of friendly. Still, she was not disposed to give ground. "The condition of the door does not concern you, and as it presented you with so little an obstacle, it can be of no consequence."

He was having none of it. "You have been nowhere in society since we spoke in your garden. By my count it has been more than a month. I believe that represents a withdrawal of some proportions, even for you."

"How can you possibly make such a statement when you have made it abundantly clear that I have never been one to draw your attention? You have not the least notion of how often I appeared in society."

East hesitated, wondering what he should tell her. In the end he decided upon the truth, believing no sacrifice was made by it. "I have since learned something of your habits," he said, "and I know it has been almost your daily practice to take Dunsmore's children walking. In the past you also accompanied Dunsmore and the viscountess to dinner parties or poetry salons. You were occasionally seen at Almack's or in the audience at the Drury Lane Theatre."

Sophia's lush lips flattened into a thin, disapproving line, and her eyes became markedly cooler. "You will understand that I am not complimented by your interest."

"It is one of the few things I
do
understand, and I apologize for discomfiting you; however, the inquiry was made necessary when you simply disappeared."

"Not attending a reading of Byron's verse or choosing to entertain the children indoors is not the same as disappearing."

Eastlyn made a slight bow of his head. "I stand corrected."

"In making your inquiries, your lordship must have learned that I was most often called upon to round out the numbers at dinner parties or that I went to the theatre with Lady Dunsmore when Harold was unavailable. That I have not been out these past weeks has everything to do with Abigail's poor health and a dearth of invitations. You mayhap thought it was in aid of avoiding you?"

"What I think is that you would rather give me the cut direct. It is the sort of thing done better with an audience so it would not behoove you to avoid me." He watched Sophie fold the sash of her robe lengthwise and begin pressing the crease between her thumb and forefinger. "I am teasing, Sophie. I do not flatter myself that you have given me a moment's thought since I last took your leave." His slight smile faded, and his expression matched hers for gravity. "For my own part," he said, "I have been gone again from London, so I was not immediately aware of your absence. You might have heard that my friend Northam was recently married."

"I had not." The depth of the isolation to which she had been subjected struck her anew. "Surely that is good news."

Eastlyn was slow to comment. "Yes," he said finally. "I think it is."

Sophie raised one eyebrow, waiting for the rest of his thoughts on the matter of his friend's marriage. It seemed to her that Eastlyn was a man most uncertain of its wisdom.

"It happened very quickly," he told her, feeling his way. He had no wish to perpetuate the gossip surrounding North's hasty marriage to Lady Elizabeth Penrose. He judged that Sophia was unlikely to repeat anything he might tell her, but he felt vaguely disloyal to Northam in putting the entire truth before her. "A love match, they say. They should deal well together."

"Ah." Sophie did not point out the incongruency between his words and his delivery of them. "A love match is always to be desired."

East frowned a little at the suggestion of sarcasm in her tone. Unsure whether he was asking her or making a statement of fact, he said, "You don't believe that."

"Of course I do. I am a romantic, m'lord."

The ironic inflection was still in her tone, and East was not a whit closer to comprehending her true sentiments. "I like Lady Elizabeth," he said, "and I know North will do well by her."

"Lady Elizabeth?"

"Penrose," he said. "Do you know her?"

"We have been introduced." Sophie did not add that given Eastlyn's estimation of her social aptitude, she was hardly likely to have made a lasting impression. To say so would merely have pointed out how much his comment had stung. "A dinner party at the baron's house in town was the occasion. I believe she is often in the company of Lord and Lady Battenburn. I would like to think your friend is most fortunate. There is much to recommend her."

"Indeed," East said. "She is a bruising rider."

"Yes, of course. That is of paramount importance in choosing a bride." The fact that Elizabeth Penrose rode at all surprised Sophia, though she did not reveal it. Elizabeth's gait was quite uneven owing to some accident, the origins of which Sophie had been too polite to inquire about. "I must point out, m'lord, that I am not." She caught his mild confusion.

"A bruising rider, that is. I can hold my seat, but I have been told my form is unconventional."

East took that information in stride. That she was bent on showing herself in the poorest of light was still more intriguing than tiring. "North and his lady were married at the Battenburn estate," he said. "I returned to witness their union and then remained away for several days to attend to some personal affairs."

"There is no reason you should explain this to me. I was not making inquiries of my own."

All too aware of how Sophie could distract him from his purpose, East ignored her comment. "In my absence there were at least two invitations extended most specifically to you," he said. "I had nothing to do with either; indeed, I only learned of them upon my return. It is my understanding that you refused both." While the colonel had kept his word not to make any overtures, his mother had not shown similar restraint. Not only had she put forth an invitation to Lady Sophia, she had enlisted South's mother to do the same. The Dowager Countess of Northam might have been persuaded to follow with a third if not for the inconvenience of her own son's wedding. "I can accept that you refused my proposal for sound reasons, but to decline the invitations of my mother and her friend was not what I expected of you."

"What should I have done, m'lord? To answer them favorably would have merely given more credence to the rumor. I did not think it wise to be seen at your mother's home. It would have been the same with Lady Redding. Everyone would know what prompted the invitation. How could I know you would not be there, and really, what difference would it have made? People would be moved to make too much of my visit."

"Then it was your choice?"

She nodded. She had been roundly lectured for her obstinacy in declining the invitations, but Tremont had not been able to force her to give any other answer. It had been early yet in her confinement, and Sophie was not at all certain she would respond in the same manner if Lady Winslow or her friend were prepared to ask again.

Eastlyn studied Sophie's serene countenance, looking for any faint shift that might indicate that all was not as it seemed. "You are well?"

"Yes."

He could not dispute her words. She appeared in good health, though perhaps paler than he remembered. It was difficult to tell in the lamplight. "Then why have you not been away from home?"

"I do not choose to be."

"I do not understand why your door was locked. It seems as though someone means to keep you in."

"I cannot say. You woke me from a sound sleep. Perhaps Harold always locks the door when he is gone from home. I shall ask him, m'lord, though of a certainty if he takes such a precaution, it is for my protection."

Eastlyn's gaze dropped to her hand. The sash was neatly pressed now, the crease as permanent as if it had been put to a hot iron. East uncrossed his arms and straightened. "I do not think I believe you, Lady Sophia."

She didn't flinch. "That is your prerogative."

"I think you are being punished."

"I have no means to persuade you otherwise."

East pushed away from the wall and came to stand just a foot in front of her. "Stand up."

The long line of Sophie's throat was vulnerably extended as she lifted her eyes. Standing now would put her toe-to-toe with him. "I am comfortable, thank you."

"I did not ask after your comfort. Stand up." When she gave no indication that she meant to obey, East leaned over, grasped her by her elbows, and hauled Sophie easily to her feet. "Show me your arms."

Beneath her, it was as if the floor was shifting. A tremor started in her toes and worked its way up her frame. "I don't—"

East's grip fell from her elbows to her wrists. He raised her arms so the silken sleeves of her robe fell backward. The light was too poor for him to see properly, but the faint markings on her forearms made him want a closer look. He released her to get the lamp, and when he turned around Sophie was hugging herself tightly. He regarded her resolve and said equably, "If you scream, it is almost a certainty we will be married within a sennight."

"I most assuredly will not scream."

"Good." He approached with the lamp and held it at the proper angle for inspection. "Show me your left arm."