Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (11 page)

Five o'clock was the fashionable hour to be seen in Hyde Park, and today was no exception. The air smelled of horse and damp grass, and rang with the sound of hooves and lively chatter. Being confronted with so many people and so much noise all at once was overwhelming for Sophia and she wished she could somehow hide herself from view.

Hiding, of course, was impossible. As they picked their way along the hoof-trodden course of Rotten Row, deftly skirting around the piles of horse droppings that dotted the track, dozens of people tipped their hats, waved or called out in greeting. It seemed everyone knew Letitia— and even more knew her brother.

A group of four gentlemen and three ladies stopped to chat. Sophia recognized one of the gentlemen as a friend of her father's. Now her parents were sure to hear that she was in town.

Letitia made the introductions. Sophia almost choked when Letitia got to the fourth gentleman. His name was Mr. Wesley. Even if she hadn't heard his name, she would have known who he was by the quick but ardent glance that passed between him and Letitia.

Thankfully Julian was too busy talking to Lord Penderthal, her father's friend, to notice his sister making cow eyes at the young Mr. Wesley.

Their conversation lasted but a few moments. Sophia noticed that Letitia didn't seem too upset to bid farewell to her lover, which instantly made Sophia suspicious. Letitia was not that good an actress. Oh, she might be good enough to fool her brother, but not another woman.

Their parties hadn't been separated a full minute before Letitia said, "Oh, drat! I forgot to ask Millicent if she'd care to come to tea on Friday. Do you mind if I just run after them, Julian?"

Ah, there it was. Millicent was one of the ladies in Mr. Wesley's party. This was obviously some kind of ruse to see him again, perhaps to even steal a few private moments.

Julian nodded. He didn't look too happy to be left alone with Sophia. "Very well, but do not dawdle."

Letitia beamed. "I shall be right back. I promise." Then, flashing a quick wink at Sophia, she trotted off after her Mr. Wesley and his party.

They picked along the row in tense silence. This was ridiculous.

"I did not know at the time that Letitia had put me in your mother's room, Lord Wolfram. If you are uncomfortable with the arrangement just say the word and I shall move myself to another room."

He looked up, but not at her. "And when my sister demands to know why, what shall we tell her? That the idea of having the other one so close drives us to distraction? That despite our mutual dislike and distrust we seem to have this inexplicable attraction for each other? No. I do not think that would be a good idea, my lady. I would rather suffer in silence than admit such a thing out loud."

She glanced at him from beneath the veil of her hat. He stared straight ahead, his expression as bland as if they were discussing the weather.

"You just admitted it to me."

He turned his head toward her. It was the first time he had met her gaze since the morning and in the bright light of day the pale brown of his eyes shone like warm honey.

"You feel the same way. That makes a difference, do you not think?"

Blushing, Sophia looked away. She wasn't certain how to reply, so she didn't. Instead she gave Amanté's neck another stroke.

"She really is a beautiful horse."

"I thought of you when I named her."

Again her heart stuttered against her ribs. "Why?"

He smiled at her— a soft twisting of his lips that was both amused yet a little bitter.

"When I first brought her home she was willful, and wild. Everyone told me she could not be tamed."
Just like you.
He didn't have to say the words for Sophia to hear them.

A strange sensation rose up in her stomach. It was mortification.

"But you tamed her." The words spilled out before she could stop them. And even though she was humiliated by the innuendo of his words, part of her liked the fact that he had once thought of her as wild, for she was so very domesticated now.

He looked at her with an expression that bordered on smug, but his eyes were dark with promise— of what she wasn't quite certain.

"I was the only one she would let anywhere near her and eventually I— "

"Broke her?" Sophia supplied, a wave of ice washing over her body. Wasn't that what Edmund had done to her? He had taken that wild, stubborn girl and turned her into what he thought she should be, a proper lady.

Julian's head tilted as he gazed at her. "I earned her trust."

"Oh." There was a tingling in her limbs, a dance of pinpricks on her flesh that made her muscles twitch. What was he saying, that he wanted her trust as well? He never wanted it when it was offered, why should he want it now?

She opened her mouth to say something— anything that might ease this tension between them, but the words died in her throat as she spotted a very familiar man talking to a group of gentlemen not thirty feet away.

"Oh, God." Was that pathetic strangled sound really her voice?

Julian glanced at her. He must have seen the horror on her face, because his countenance was instantly one of concern. "Sophia, what is it?"

"It is Charles," she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from her brother-in-law's profile no matter how badly she wished to do so. "He cannot see us."

"Sophia, you have nothing to fear from him while you are here in London," Julian informed her with startling conviction. "I will not allow him to hurt you."

God help her, she believed him. Worse yet, she
trusted
him— at least where protecting her from Charles was concerned. But what about when she returned to Hertford? Julian would not be able to protect her then. She would have to protect herself, and that meant taking steps to do so now. She would have to see Edmund's solicitors while she was in town, but until then she had to be careful.

Shaking her head, Sophia reined Amanté around so that they were facing the opposite direction. "No, Julian. He cannot see you and I here, alone. We must go. Please."

"All right," Julian replied, his brow creased in a frown. "We shall go collect Letitia and leave."

He didn't ask any questions, and for that Sophia would be eternally grateful. "Thank you."

They rode back toward Lord Penderthal's group in silence. Sophia hoped that Letitia and her Mr. Wesley had exchanged whatever looks and messages they had to exchange, because she wasn't about to risk ruination just so her friend could flirt.

She wouldn't risk that for anything.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Startled, Julian looked up from the pages of
An Unfortunate Attachment
to find the author standing in the door of his study. A glance at the clock confirmed that the hour was very late indeed and had Sophia been dressed in a robe instead of the same violet gown she had worn to dinner, he might have suspected— hoped— she had seduction on her mind.

"Certainly not," he replied, marking his page and setting the book aside. "Would you care for a drink?"

The door closed behind her with a soft click. "Yes, please. Claret if you have it."

As she approached a chair in front of his desk, Julian rose and went to a small table on the far side of the room. He poured two glasses of claret and handed one to her before sitting down again.

Leaning back in his chair, he watched as she took a deep swallow of the rich, red wine.

"I want to thank you," she said. "I am certain you have your own agenda and reasons for inviting me to London, but for now I appreciate everything you have done for me."

Julian knew she referred to the situation with Aberley and he didn't know whether to be amused or affronted, but since he did have his own reasons for inviting Sophia to London, he decided that it would be hypocritical of him to pretend offense.

"You are welcome." He took a sip of wine.

"Why?" she blurted, eyeing him curiously.

Swallowing, Julian arched both brows. "Why what?"

"Why am I welcome? Why did you help me? Why would you do anything at all for me when you so obviously dislike me?"

Did he dislike her? He certainly distrusted her, but could he honestly harbor this attraction for her if he didn't like at least
some
aspect of her besides her obvious physical charms? He had to admit that over the past few days he had developed an admiration for her frank way of speaking. And her obvious affection for Letitia certainly was a point in her favor.

"While I cannot say I particularly like you," he replied, "I am not wholly certain I dislike you either."

She stared at him. "That makes no sense whatsoever."

Chuckling, Julian had to agree. "I know. It is true nevertheless."

Sophia smiled and Julian was struck by just how truly lovely she was. As a girl she had been exotic and intriguing, but the years had softened her somehow. There was a haunted quality to her eyes and mouth that the poet in Julian found wildly appealing.

He wanted to know what had changed her. There was a restrained quality to her when amongst company. It was as though she was trying very hard to be a certain kind of person, and only with him did she show any hint of who she truly was.

It was just one more intriguing aspect of her that made him want to kiss her, arouse her until she broke free of this shell of hers, but after what she had suffered at the hands of her brother-in-law he was ashamed of himself for even thinking such thoughts.

"Oh!"

The soft cry of distress jerked his attention back to Sophia. She was holding a book in her hands, and staring at it in white-faced dismay.

No need to ask what book it was.

"Why are you reading this?" she demanded, lifting her accusatory gaze to his. "Are you planning on exacting some kind of revenge now that I am under your power?"

Revenge? Under his power? The woman read too many gothic novels.

"Do not be ridiculous," he admonished, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "I have never read it before. I thought it might be a good idea given the circumstances."

Sophia frowned. "I sent you this copy. How could you not have read it before this?"

A niggle of discomfort inched down Julian's spine. He couldn't very well tell her he hadn't given a damn about what she had to say about him or how she might choose to defend herself?

"I…I never got around to it."

Her frown deepened into a full-fledged scowl. "You mean you never cared to get around to it! I cannot believe your arrogance! I was forced to listen to all the awful things you said about me to anyone who would listen, but you did not even have the consideration, nay the
bollocks
, to face what I had to say in retaliation?"

Julian's eyes widened at the vehemence in her tone. And where on earth did a gently bred woman learn the term "bollocks"?

"I did not care to hear what you had to say," he began calmly, "because at the time I did not assume any of the blame for what happened."

An angry flush crept up her neck to her cheeks. "Of course you did not. How could you? You only planned to take my innocence and toss me aside!"

"I was only taking what had been freely offered!" he shot back, his own ire rising with startling velocity.

"You ruined me!" she cried, slamming her glass down on the desk and leaping to her feet. "Do you have any idea how many men have thought they could grab me or say horrible things to me because they thought I had given myself to you?"

He refused to feel guilty. He remembered what a flirt she had been. Surely he hadn't been the first man she had toyed with. "You did give yourself to me. Fortunately we were interrupted before I could take what you offered."

She reacted as though he had slapped her and the wounded light in her eyes pierced his heart like a claw. "I only did what I did because I thought you loved me."

Did she think him a complete simpleton? She hadn't loved him. If she had she wouldn't have married the marquess so quickly.

"Did I ever say the words?" he demanded. He was also on his feet now, the force of his anger too volatile to be contained sitting down. "You sure as hell never said them to me!"

She had the nerve to look affronted. "I did not have to say them. I offered you the only thing that was truly mine to give."

A sneer curved his lips. "Your maidenhead? It could not have been that much of a gift. You gave it to the marquess fast enough."

The color that had heightened her cheeks drained rapidly from her face and at that moment, Julian knew what it was to truly hate himself.

"My trust, you bastard!" she shouted, thrusting her face just inches from his own. "My trust!"

Now it was his turn to recoil as if struck.

But Sophia wasn't done with him just yet. She glared at him with eyes that glittered like black opals.

"I offered myself to you because I thought I could trust you not to hurt me. I thought you loved me, and damn it, Julian! I may never have said the words but I loved you as much as a stupid girl could love a heartless blackguard who used her and tossed her aside like a pair of dirty stockings!"

He managed to catch the book before it collided with his chest. She had obviously thrown it as hard as she could if the stinging in his hands was any indication. He barely had time to react before she ran from the room.

Clutching the book against him, Julian sank down into his chair, a bizarre sense of confusion numbing his mind.

Had she really loved him? No, it couldn't be. He couldn't have been so wrong. He had been there! He knew what had happened. She had married the marquess not even a month later…

But what if Sophia hadn't wanted Aberley. What if it had been him— Julian— that Sophia had truly wanted?

What if he had been wrong?

After passing what had been one of the longest nights of his life, Julian found himself back in his study again early the next morning. He had spent a good deal of the night pondering what Sophia had said. Another part had been spent reading
An Unfortunate Attachment
and realizing just how unflattering a picture of him she had painted. It wasn't a completely faithful likeness, but it mirrored more than he was ready to admit.