All I Ever Needed (33 page)

East could have shut the door on further conversation at that moment. He did not. "What you know can be of little import. I have not seen Lady Sophia since I was at Tremont Park."

"In September. Late in the month as I recall from your report."

"Yes."

"She has not been in London since then," the colonel said. "Tremont has been back, of course, but she has not."

"That signifies nothing. She has never been one for gadding about in society. She prefers the country."

"Which brings me to one of the rather surprising things I learned. She is not at Tremont Park."

"Then you must be mistaken that she is not in London. I'm certain if you present yourself at Number Fourteen Bowden Street, you will find her."

The colonel shook his head. "No, I will not. Lady Dunsmore has hired a governess for her children. That is the rather awkward and humbling position previously occupied by Lady Sophia, I believe. They made good use of her as their poor relation. It is not surprising that she would not return there when she made her escape from the Park."

Blackwood was not deterred by East's stubborn silence. "It is no exaggeration to say that she has fled. That is the word the family uses among themselves to describe her absence. You know as well as I that there has been no public disclosure that she is missing."

Eastlyn sat up straighter in his chair. There was only one way the colonel could know particulars about conversations in Sophie's family. "The Dunsmore governess is in your employ."

"Let us say that she has been remunerated for her services." He met East's censure directly. "You left me with no choice. I did nothing at all in the beginning, precisely as you asked. I made no inquiries about Lady Sophia's health after you met with her and then took ill. I kept my own counsel when it seemed to me you were distracted from your purpose with Helmsley and Barlough because you wanted to go to Tremont Park. It did not escape my notice that it was around that time that Lady Sophia was rumored to be the intended of Mr. George Heath, though by all accounts it was a short-lived engagement.

"Soon after you returned from the Park there was that unfortunate business in the
Gazette
to further occupy you. Between your mistress and your fiancée, it seemed to me that you had none of the women in your life in hand. You can take me to task for it, but I have no regrets for doing as I did. These last months I have watched you apply yourself as hard as you ever have to the difficult matter of the settlement. Redoubling your efforts can make no difference when you are merely standing in place. I think you must settle with Lady Sophia, East. It occurs to me that she did not take her leave of Tremont Park without your help. If the same notion has occurred to Tremont, then one begins to comprehend why he thinks he and his followers can make such outrageous demands."

Blackwood regarded Eastlyn pointedly. "Make it right."

East had never been upbraided by the colonel before, but then, he thought, he had never presented him with cause. "The notion that I helped Lady Sophia has occurred to Tremont," he said quietly, "because I informed him of it. I conceived the idea, not Sophie. I cannot even say that I was unaware that my actions would jeopardize my ability to negotiate with Tremont; I can only say that it was of lesser importance than seeing Sophie free of his influence."

"I see." The colonel returned his spectacles to his face. "Then she was being ill-used by her cousin."

"Yes. That he wanted to arrange an advantageous marriage for her was the least of the problems. All the advantages must be his. She did very well to hold her own for so long."

Blackwood adopted his most considering pose, cupping his chin and rubbing the underside of his jaw with his thumb. "I admit to some astonishment that you did not make her an offer of marriage. That is what I anticipated you would do. Perhaps you will not credit it, but I made a wager with myself to that effect."

"Then you must reward yourself for your foresight."

The colonel's hand dropped away from his face as his chin came up. "How is that again?"

"I made the offer. She refused me." It was not often that Eastlyn saw Blackwood's features truly bearing the stamp of surprise. That expression was nearly worth what it cost East in pride to make the admission. "I see you did not anticipate such an end as that."

"No. No, I could not. I recall there was some discussion that she was likely to be more successful making you a pigeon than a happy man, but I thought you were joking. She truly said it in response to your offer?"

"It was indeed her answer, though you will understand that I take no pleasure in being reminded of it. You see that she was most sincere in her refusal."

"Bloody hell."

"Yes, well, it was not as if she hadn't prepared me." Eastlyn hesitated a moment, uncertain that he wanted to say more, but then decided that he must. His self-imposed silence was crushing him. "I asked her a second time after she was gone from Tremont Park. She would not have me then either."

Blackwood wrestled with the singular sensation of being offended on Eastlyn's behalf. "She cannot be a woman of sound judgment. What can be her reasons for refusing you?" He waved one hand dismissively when East began to speak. "Oh, and do not tell me that she remains convinced you are a gambler, a sot, and a murderer. Even if it were true, a woman looking to remove herself from Tremont's influence cannot have so many scruples."

"As much as I prefer your defense of me to your reproachment, I do not want you to think poorly of Lady Sophia. She is acting as she believes she must, and in that regard she has never wavered. I have called her unreasonable, but it is an unfair appraisal. It is truer that I cannot comprehend her reasoning."

Blackwood regarded East steadily. When he spoke it was with great conviction. "You have always been the one among your friends to act first in righting some wrong, even when that action was most precipitous. You were well named the tinker, East, and now it seems to me that you must apply yourself to repairing this situation."

East accepted the colonel's assessment, for it was also his own. "I have given it a great deal of thought as to how it can be managed. You might know that Mrs. Sawyer is now in an arrangement with Dunsmore. She would not agree to his protection, even to jab at me, if she did not think he could keep her well. I believe there has been an infusion of money in the Colley family, or at least the expectation of such. I think I must find the source of it. It is key to negotiating with Tremont."

"You are speaking of your assignment."

"Yes."

Blackwood's smile was surprisingly gentle, even a trifle rueful. "I was not. Go to Lady Sophia, East. Speak to her, for it is clear to me that your own feelings are engaged. You cannot do more for me than you already have without first settling matters with her. You are resourceful. Find a way to gain her agreement if that is what you desire." The colonel's voice grew quieter still, and his final words were offered with some reluctance. "Barring that, you must find a way to forget her."

Eastlyn did not answer immediately. He stood and walked to the drinks cabinet and poured himself two fingers of whiskey. He sipped once from his tumbler of Dutch courage before he spoke. "There is little chance of either."

The colonel merely lifted a skeptical brow and awaited further explanation.

"A letter from Lady Sophia arrived with yesterday's post. I think I must have suspected the nature of what she would write because I did not allow myself to read it then. I waited until I returned from the club." He raised his glass. "Fortification, don't you know." He shrugged and finished his drink when Blackwood made no reply. "Her correspondence underscores the reasons I can do neither of the things you suggest."

"How is that?" Blackwood asked flatly.

"I do not know where she is any longer," East said, setting his glass down and pouring one for the colonel. "She has left my sister's home, so I cannot speak to her." He crossed the room to Blackwood's side and gave him the drink. "And she is going to be the mother of my child, so I cannot forget her."

The colonel looked at Eastlyn for a long moment, and then he drained his glass.

* * *

Built against the side of a cliff on the Devon coast, the tiny fishing village of Clovelly had much to recommend itself to Sophie. The people were hardworking and steady and minded their own affairs before prying into the business of others. Conversation was all about the fishing and the tide and the ships and the swells. Every aspect of their lives revolved around the fleet that was kept in the snug and safe harbor below the town. What Sophie knew about fishing would not fill a single page of her journal, but she was a keen observer of what went on around her, and she wrote about that instead.

High Street dipped steeply toward the cove below, and the cobbled street was built in steps and stages so that it might be negotiated more easily. One side of the street had a stream running along its length, so that every house and place of business had to be entered by crossing a short bridge. Sophie liked to entertain the notion of moats and castles and bridges that could be drawn up when there was a siege, and she gladly took possession of a narrow house on that side of High Street when the opportunity came to her.

Her home was far cozier than a castle, she reflected, as she crossed the bridge to the front entrance. And the running stream was more pleasant to her senses than a stagnant moat would be. The bridge did not lift, but that was not entirely unfortunate as her neighbors would surely have grown curious if she set herself from them.

With one hand hovering near the door, Sophie turned and gave a last look down the length of the street toward the ocean. It was a balmy day for so late in December, and a gust of wind pressed her redingote against her legs and stirred the hem of her dress and petticoat. It seemed that the street dropped away suddenly, so steep was its descent, and that the white-capped sea actually rose up to meet it. From where she stood it looked as if it might be possible to drop off the end of the earth.

There were days, though far fewer of them now, that this idea had some appeal.

"So you are come at last."

Sophie's nerveless fingers uncurled around the handle of the basket they were holding. The basket and its contents thudded to the floor. A jar of jam rolled away. A split appeared in the paper that wrapped the fish she meant to have for dinner. The string tying off the pouch of dried beans broke, and a third of the beans spilled into the bottom of the basket.

Sophie ignored the wreckage and concentrated on not letting herself become part of it. To that end she calmly closed the door behind her and began removing her bonnet. "I do not know how I could have been clearer that I mean to ask you for nothing."

"I understood you," East said, coming to his feet. His caped greatcoat lay on the sofa behind him; his hat rested on top. "It does not follow that I mean to ask nothing of you."

Sophie laid her bonnet on the table beside the door. Her efforts to release the buttons from their tabs on her coat were jerky, and it took her overlong to accomplish the task. "You are going to be unpleasant, are you not? Why is it that you are never stopped for lack of an invitation?" She shrugged out of her coat and placed it on a hook at the bottom of the enclosed stairwell. When she turned back, she saw Eastlyn's eyes were on her belly. His face was very pale.

"You have lost the child?"

Sophie looked down at herself, at her abdomen that was still remarkably flat even when she smoothed the muslin walking dress over it, and understood what accounted for his question. It was a reasonable assumption on his part, and she might reasonably be expected to lie, but she never considered it. "No," she said. "I am still carrying the child. It is only that I have not begun to swell. I understand it is like that sometimes. It was true of my mother, I believe, and therefore likely to be the same with me."

He nodded, a measure of color returning to his face. "Wait, don't do that," he said, stepping forward when she bent to pick up the basket. "I will take care of it."

Sophie glanced up at him, amused. "I can manage as simple a thing as this."

Eastlyn hunkered down anyway, scooping up the jam jar and putting it back. Once done, he placed his hand under Sophie's elbow and assisted her in rising. Her thanks was polite, though cool, and she brushed past him to carry her purchases to the kitchen. He decided the better course was not to follow. While her pointed remark about his lack of invitation had not stung, it had been noted.

He returned to the sofa and made his second assessment of his surroundings. It was a comfortable enough place, and he was glad for that. He did not want to find her living in a mean little cottage that stank of fish, though perhaps it would have made her more amenable to that first sight of him.

Sophie's home had pleasant light from a large window at the front, and an openness that was unfamiliar to him in a space so small. It was because she had little in the way of furniture, he supposed, and no curios on the mantelpiece or on the table at the door. There was a braided rug in front of the brick fireplace and a copper kettle hanging from the hook inside. A large wicker basket rested beside the sofa filled with an assortment of colorful fabrics and threads and yarns, all of which he imagined were part and parcel of Sophie beginning to build her nest here.