All I Ever Needed (46 page)

Franny tapped the rim of her glass with her forefinger. "If I did not faint at the news that you are married, or that there is to be a child, then I think I deserve a modicum of respect for the state of my nerves." She sipped her sherry. "What of West? Why have you said nothing to him?"

"West is still coming to terms with his inheritance."

"I think you are underestimating your friends. You have always made time for one another.
North. South. East. West. Friends for life, we have confessed. All other truths, we'll deny. For we are soldier, sailor, tinker, spy.
Is that not your club charter?"

"Yes, and at the moment it is North who has asked for, and will receive, our assistance."

"It is that Gentleman Thief business, isn't it?" Franny asked, resigned. "That is why you must be at the ambassador's ball."

East said nothing and allowed his mother to draw her own conclusions. He was not surprised when she took his silence as a confession.

"Oh, it is," she said. "Never say you mean to allow Sophie to be part of that intrigue."

Sir James laid a cautionary hand on Franny's shoulder. "Gabriel knows what he is doing, Franny. He would not place Sophie or his child in the least danger."

"Thank you for that," East said. He felt Sophie's hand slip into his and give his fingers a gentle squeeze. "If you have any lingering doubts, Mother, you must respond favorably to your own invitation and see for yourself that nothing untoward is happening."

"You may depend upon it."

"Thank you for that," Sir James said with a touch of irony. "You know how I enjoy these affairs. Rather be reading."

Sophie was immediately sympathetic. "So would I, though this ball seems as if it might have something to recommend it. Perhaps, Sir James, you would like to accompany me to the ambassador's library and—"

"No," East said firmly. "That is the one room where neither of you will go, under any circumstances." He ignored the startled looks that came at him from every direction. "Tell Mother about the house, Sophie."

* * *

A heavy fog crept up from the Thames and moved stealthily through the streets and alleys, blurring the architecture of homes and cathedrals alike until they were indistinguishable from the meanest brothels and warehouses. The hack moved slowly, horse and driver picking their way carefully along the cobbled streets, wise enough to know that their sense of direction could fail them when the city was as fogbound as it was tonight.

Eastlyn did not mind the slow going. Sophie was curled beside him on the bench seat, and her head rested on his shoulder. She had allowed him to wrap her in part of his Carrick coat until she was fairly cocooned by it. He did not doubt that she could be made more comfortable in his own carriage, but it was hard to see how at the moment. She was quiet, though not sleeping, and he supposed it was too much to hope that she would fall into that dreamless state before they reached her home.

"I think it did not go too badly for either one of us," she said. "Though your mother gave me a start now and again."

"Only a start?" he asked dryly. "I thought she meant to box my ears."

Sophie smiled lightly. "Has she ever?"

"No. She threatens it often enough, but she can never bring herself to do the deed, not when I was yet a boy, and certainly not now. She remembers the scarlet fever, I think, and how the tips of my ears were cherry red and tender, and it stays her hand even when I have given her cause to use it."

"I like her enormously. She spoke her mind and did not soften her words. We hurt her by not waiting to say our vows, no matter that we had our reasons for doing so. I am glad she did not pretend it was otherwise." Sophie snuggled closer as a gust of cold air found its way under the door and slipped under her gown. "Are you certain we cannot tell your parents more about my cousins?"

"Did you not hear my mother? She knows more than she should about North and the Gentleman Thief. That intelligence she has directly from North's mother. And Southerton's mother is her source for every bit of knowledge that she has about Miss Parr. I am depending on my father to keep her from confiding in her friends about our marriage. He may well have to take her to the country to secure her silence."

"But she is not a gossip, East. She would only speak of it to ease her own mind."

"I know that, but no matter her motive, the end is the same. She will have to content herself with ruminating over the particulars with my father."

"Poor Sir James."

"He would concur."

Sophie pushed at the hem of her gown and prevented another chilling slip of wind from reaching as high as her knees. "Is there really to be an intrigue at the ambassador's ball?"

"I suppose that is a fair statement."

"And I am to have a part in it?"

"A small part. A very small part."

"There is something to happen in the library, I collect."

East sighed. "Yes. A trap is being laid, and I am to have the unremarkable task of making certain no one enters the library who is not supposed to be there—and that most certainly includes you and my father."

"Well, now we shan't. Is the trap meant to catch the Gentleman Thief? This is exactly the sort of affair where he would show himself, isn't it? There will be jewels in such plenty that his most difficult task will be choosing what he means to take."

East thought Sophie had rather too much enthusiasm for intrigue. "Then have a care what you wear."

"That is no worry to me. What remains of my jewelry is paste. Except for the ring my father gave my mother, there is nothing that has not been sold or passed on to Abigail." She turned her head so that she might see East's profile in the dim lamplight. "You mustn't blame it entirely on Tremont. I sold a great many things myself when Papa was lying abed. It would have gone for opium otherwise, and I needed it for seed and necessities for the tenants."

He marveled that she dealt so fairly with her cousin. If she had laid the whole of it at Tremont's door, it would have been understandable. He did not comment because she would have only shrugged it off. Instead, his arm slipped around her back, and he laid his palm against her hip.

"Who is Colonel Blackwood?" Sophie asked. She thought she felt East stiffen momentarily, but it was so quick a reaction, then so effortlessly controlled, that she believed she might have imagined it. "Your father asked you if Colonel Blackwood knew about our child, and you said yes. I should like to know who he is."

"He directs my work," East said simply.

Sophie considered what it was that Eastlyn didn't say. "You and your friends are something more than you seem, I think. I have not a complete understanding, but I am coming to it directly."

"Is there anything I can do to set you on another course?"

"I don't believe so, no. Soldier. Sailor. Tinker. Spy. That is what your mother said, is it not?"

"She said a great many things."

Sophie lifted her head and kissed East's cheek. "I don't mind that you mean to be uncooperative. I shall ask your mother. She will be appalled that you have not told me as much as you should. Now that it is arranged that she and your father will be at the ambassador's ball, I will have my opportunity."

Eastlyn merely grunted.

Chuckling, Sophie resettled her head against his shoulder. "I think your father might tell me also. He is possessed of a most amiable disposition, and I suspect he is the calm to your mother's storm."

She was right in her assessment, but East did not tell her so. "My father likes you, Sophie. I could tell that he was pleased with himself for having the good sense to buy your novel. When the two of you put your heads together after dinner, Mother despaired that she would ever get you away from him. Watching you with Sir James, I confess to some envy. You were undeniably animated in your conversation. Were you discussing your writing?"

Sophie was glad that East could not easily see her blush. "No," she said. "We spoke very little of that. Mostly we spoke of you."

"Me?"

"Yes. I was telling him of our first encounter."

"Really? You were more expressive in the telling of it than you were on that occasion."

"I suppose it must have seemed that way." She fell quiet for a moment. Except for the horse's steady clopping, there was hardly any sound from the street. It was as if the fog had not only distorted the appearance of the nightscape, but muted the usual cacophony as well. "Will Tremont attend the ambassador's ball?"

"He was on the invitation list. Dunsmore also. They both responded that they would attend."

Sophie did not ask how he had come by this information, but she was certain she could rely on it. She knew she was correct that her husband was something more than he seemed.
Tinker.
He had been honest with her about his work as a repairer of things; she was the one who had not understood the extent to which he meant it.

"It troubles you?" he asked when Sophie made no reply.

"No. Not at all." She realized of a sudden that she was not serving up a lie to ease his mind, but that she spoke the truth of hers. "It is because you will be there, I think. Even if we can spend little time together at the ball, I will know that you are observing me from the corner of your eye. You don't mind that I depend on you for that?"

"No. Is it your intention to dance with a great many young bucks?"

"Oh, yes. But it will all be in aid of softening the rumors that might attach themselves to us."

"Of course."

Sophie's agreeably sleepy smile became a wide yawn. She stifled it with her fingertips and closed her eyes when East encouraged her to do so. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep under East's heavy greatcoat and the equally heavy blanket of fog.

The house that Eastlyn had secured for Sophie was in a respectable neighborhood on the verge of being only tolerably so. It was impossible to find her better lodging without giving rise to comment as to the means of her support. Sophie's distant connection to Lady Harriet Gilbert of Berwyn in the Lake District, and the consequence she lent by coming forward to chaperone Sophie's return to London, provided suitable companionship, but Lady Gilbert was known to have been living in genteel poverty and could not have provided more in the way of creature comforts for her great-niece-once-removed.

They agreed on the tale Eastlyn had woven in Clovelly, namely that Sophie had come by a small settlement upon the death of a relative even more obscure than Lady Gilbert. East wished that he could have created a dead relative with deeper pockets, but that would surely have brought Tremont and Dunsmore around to her home, demanding to know the particulars and demanding a share.

Lady Gilbert was asleep in a chair in the drawing room when East brought Sophie in; nevertheless, she roused instantly to take command of the situation, directing the servants to make certain Sophie's bed was turned down and that her room was suitably warm. She would not hear of East accompanying Sophie to her bedchamber and insisted that he set her on her feet at the bottom of the stairs.

Although their acquaintance was short, East learned quickly that it was better to follow Lady Gilbert's directions than to go his own way. Her ladyship's slight frame and lack of height did not diminish her strength. She wielded an ivory-knobbed cane with considerable force when she thought she was being crossed, and East was in no mood to feel that tip being jabbed at his ribs.

He put Sophie down and steadied her. She gave him a sleepy smile, but it was her aunt's proffered cheek that she kissed. East placed his hands on Sophie's shoulders, turned her toward the stairs, and watched her mount them. It was only when she disappeared around the corner that he relaxed his vigilance.

Lady Gilbert rapped East lightly on the shin with her cane. He immediately gave her his full attention, which was what she hadn't had when she said his name only seconds earlier. Being in love, she thought, was as near to being dotty as a young person got. She made no apology for using her cane. "May I have a word with your lordship?"

East could not imagine that she would accept any answer but his assent. He nodded and gestured her to precede him to the drawing room. The hall clock began to chime the midnight hour as they passed, and for East it was a reminder of how late he had kept Sophie out. He should have been more considerate, he thought, but it had been a full fortnight since he had been in her company. He had left Clovelly soon after their marriage ceremony and had immediately set about arranging for Sophie's safe return to London. It was with a mixture of relief and anticipation that he greeted the news that she had finally arrived. That was three long days ago, and it chafed that he had to share her with his parents this evening and with Lady Gilbert at almost every other turn.

East closed the pocket doors behind him as soon as he entered the drawing room and waited for Lady Gilbert to choose a chair. He wanted to remain well outside of the sweep of her cane.

Lady Gilbert ignored every one of the room's fine appointments and chose to stand with her back to the fireplace instead. She tugged on the ends of her shawl and drew it more closely about her shoulders. "Tremont was here this evening," she said without preamble. "His son also. Sophia was gone no longer than half an hour when they arrived."