Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (15 page)

She was also very good with Letitia. There had been a marked difference in his sister's demeanor since Sophia came to visit. Whether or not this change was wholly Sophia's responsibility he didn't know, but he was glad for it all the same. He had talked to Sophia about his hopes for Letitia's future, and she had given her opinion on that very freely as well.

"If she marries just to please you she might very well end up miserable," she warned, and Julian promised to take her advice to heart. One of the things he was beginning to learn about her was that she did not give advice lightly, and when she did it was usually sound.

Oh, he knew there were things about herself she withheld from him. He withheld much from her as well. As comfortable as they were becoming with each other, neither was prepared to give their trust completely just yet, but he was beginning to realize that while something of that wild young girl still resided, hidden and repressed inside her, the woman she had become was much, much more intriguing and dangerous than that girl had ever been.

Try as he might he could not forget the kiss they had shared that night in the carriage. It had happened less than a fortnight ago and yet it felt like both a lifetime and a mere moment, it had laid such claim to his thoughts.

It didn't help that she seemed to be there every time he lifted his head. He needed to put a little distance between them, needed to get away from her before he said to hell with it and knocked on her bedroom door.

Unable to bear it any longer, he left the house that afternoon bound for White's.

Heads turned as Julian entered the club. Loud whispers and even louder chuckles followed him as he strode toward the table where his two friends sat. This was curious. What could they possibly have to talk about where he was concerned?

Gabriel and Brave were deep in conversation as he approached— conversation that broke off abruptly when they noticed his arrival. Two guilty countenances gazed up at him.

That his friends were talking about him wasn't surprising. The three of them had no secrets from each other and their lives had always been open topics of conversation. What was strange was the fact that Brave and Gabe looked so decidedly uncomfortable.

"What is going on?" he demanded as he sat down at the table with them.

Gabriel smiled. It looked forced. "Good day, Julian. How are you?"

His gaze drifting suspiciously back and forth between his friends, Julian frowned. "Other than the fact that I seem to be the subject of much conversation today I am much the same as I ever am."

His two friends exchanged glances.

Bracing his arm on the table, Julian leaned forward. He looked first at Brave then at Gabriel. "The two of you know something that I do not, and I want one of you to tell me what it is.
Now
."

Before either of them could reply, a hand came down heavily upon Julian's shoulder.

"By God, Wolfram, hell hath no fury, eh?"

Scowling, Julian looked up to see Lord Pennington, one of his least favorite people in all of England, grinning at him. From the looks of it the man was already well on his way to becoming thoroughly foxed and it wasn't even four o'clock yet.

"I am afraid I do not know what you mean, Pennington," he replied coolly.

The red-faced man shook his head. "Trust a woman to stroke your staff with one hand and stab you in the back with the other, what?"

A cold sensation washed over Julian. He still had no idea just what the hell the man was talking about, but he was getting a pretty good idea
who
he referred to.

"Ah well, those ones to pretend to be above reproach are just as much whores as the rest of them— worse in fact. At least a whore will name her price up front." Pennington laughed heartily at his own joke and slapped Julian hard on the back. "Well, if you have had your fill of her, feel free to send her my way, Wolfram. I always did have a preference for women with black hair."

Julian watched as Pennington staggered away. Normally he would have demanded satisfaction for someone talking about a woman that way, but there was a heavy, sinking feeling in his stomach— a feeling that told him that it wasn't Pennington that deserved his wrath.

His jaw and fists tightly clenched, he regarded his companions. "Tell me now before I decide to beat it out of one of you."

Brave and Gabriel looked at each other, worried brown eyes meeting steely gray.

"Show him," Gabriel said.

Brave hesitated for a moment, his fretful gaze falling briefly on Julian before he reached beneath his chair and withdrew a small book. It looked brand new. He offered it to Julian.

He knew what it was before he even touched it. How, he did not know, but the sinking feeling in his stomach worsened as he felt the weight of it in his hand.

He flipped to the title page.

Swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat, Julian turned the page, knowing with a dreadful intuition that there was more.

Bitch.

A little voice in his head urged him not to jump to conclusions. Perhaps Sophia wasn't the one to blame for this, but who else could it possibly be? It was an old scandal. And no one else could possibly know that dedication, not that one precisely, unless they'd either seen it or written it. She had handwritten it in his copy, and his book had been in the same place since he'd received it almost seven years ago.

It had to have been her.

It made no sense. Why would she do this? That night when she had kissed him she seemed so sincere in her desire for him. He thought she was beginning to trust him, and damn it, he had started to trust her.

There was only one explanation. It had all been a game. An elaborate ruse to have her revenge upon him. She believed he had used her seven years ago and she wanted to return the favor by ruining him as she believed he had ruined her.

He should have left her in Hertford, regardless of what Charles Morelle had planned to do to her.

Calmly, he closed the book and rose to his feet. It seemed that every eye in the place was locked firmly on him, waiting for him to react. He wasn't about to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing him lose his temper.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said softly, causing Gabriel and Brave to once again exchange worried glances. If they did it again he was going to knock their heads together. "I believe I have some urgent business to attend to."

With the book tucked under his arm, he left the table and strode through the club at a leisurely pace. He kept his head held high as he collected his hat and gloves. Even when he walked outside, aware that he was being watched from the club's bow window, he maintained his illusion of calm. He climbed into his carriage like a man who hadn't a care in the world.

He was saving his rage. Saving it for when he got home. When he finally let it go, Sophia Morelle had better have the good sense to run for cover.

And never come back.

"Tell me again why Julian said you should not encourage Mr. Wesley's attentions."

Raising her cup to her lips, Sophia peered at Letitia over the delicate, gilt rim. They were in the red drawing room, a bright and cheerful room warmed by the midday sun.

Letitia had been in low spirits for more than a week. While it wasn't strange for her mood to swing from one extreme to another, it was odd that she wasn't making a huge drama out of it.

Letitia lifted her gaze from the hearth to Sophia. "He said Mr. Wesley's father was a libertine and a gamester— as though
my
Marcus could ever be either!"

Sophia said nothing. She thought it showed a concern for his sister and her future happiness that was admirable.

A week ago she undoubtedly would have thought it callous and ignorant.

"Letitia, talk to your brother. Once you tell him about your feelings I am certain he will give Mr. Wesley a chance." When her friend remained silent, she added, "Do you want me to speak to him?"

"No!" Her cup clattering against its saucer, Letitia turned imploring eyes to Sophia. "If Julian thinks you and I are in league together it will only make him more resolved. You must promise me that you will not say a word to him about Marcus!"

Sophia stared at her, her cup poised halfway to her mouth. "My dear Letitia, I really think you are over-reacting."

"Promise me you will not say a word, Sophia. Not even if Julian asks." Letitia's eyes were unnaturally big and dark against the pallor of her face. "I need you to do this for me. Please."

"All right. I promise."

It was out of concern for her friend's health and the agitation of her mind that Sophia vowed to keep her silence. Obviously Letitia truly believed that her brother would destroy all her hopes and force her into marriage. Hopefully Julian would never come out and ask her, because she didn't want to have to lie to him, not when the trust between them was so fragile.

It was then, as though summoned by her thoughts, that Julian stormed into the room.

The warm rush of pleasure Sophia felt at the sight of him was immediately cooled by the murderous expression on his face.

"Why did you do it?" he demanded.

Slowly, Sophia set her cup aside and rose to her feet, stunned by this sudden attack. "Do what?"

His eyes darkened. "You know very well."

Letitia stood, her anxious gaze bouncing back and forth between her brother and her friend. "Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone— "

"No," Julian insisted. "I want you to stay. Stay and hear what your friend has done."

Willing herself to remain calm, Sophia stared Julian's anger in the eye. "I would like to hear what I have done as well."

"Do not pretend to be the innocent, Sophia. You know very well I mean this."

He tossed something at her. It landed a short distance away from her and slid the last few feet across the carpet to stop just inches from the toes of her slippers. It was a book.

She picked it up and read the title on the spine.
Oh, dear Lord.
The world seemed to buzz and spin around her. She opened the cover with trembling fingers, and saw the dedication.

She was going to be ill. She was ruined, utterly and completely ruined. How had this happened?

"Where did you get this?" Her voice was little more than a pathetic whisper as she raised her gaze to Julian.

"From Brave and Gabe," he replied. "I talked to a bookseller before I came here. Apparently it was released late yesterday. Even though it is a reprint, the publisher seemed to think it would be an instant success given that the author is the Marchioness of Aberley." His lips thinned. "But you already knew that, did you not?"

Sophia's mind and body didn't seem to be operating at the same speed. Her mind was whirling while her body was slowing down.

"How could I possibly know— ?" She stopped. Of course. He blamed her.

The knowledge hurt, but not as much as she thought it would. Of course he blamed her. He didn't know about that damn clause in Edmund's will. He didn't know how hard Charles had worked to drive her to ruin. Were the situation reversed, she would no doubt blame him as well.

She tossed the book back at him. It landed on the floor several feet past him. He didn't bother to retrieve it.

"I know you will not believe me," she said, holding her head high. "But I am not responsible for this."

He laughed— a harsh, wounded sound that nearly broke Sophia's heart. "Oh, I suppose someone else is? Who else could have done it, Sophia? Who else knew about that dedication? Who else knew you wrote the damn thing?"

She had no answer. There was no one else— not that she knew of.

Letitia, who had somehow remained silent throughout the exchange, chose this moment of strained silence to speak.

"Julian, there must be some mistake. Sophia would never— "

If the look Sophia shot her friend hadn't shut her up, the expletive her brother growled certainly did. "Stay out of this, Letitia," he warned.

She scowled at him, too deeply attached to him to fear the darkness of his mood. "You told me to stay and listen."

He turned to her, the muscle in his jaw clenched so hard it ticked. "Listen, yes. If you want to talk you may leave."

Somewhere deep inside, Sophia managed to find her backbone and use it. "Leave her alone, Julian."

A twisted smile curved his lips. "This is
my
house, Lady Aberley," he reminded her, his tone mocking. "I am master here and my demands are the only ones that matter."

He threw the words she had said to him at her cottage back at her with bitter ease.

"You got what you wanted," he continued when she chose to remain silent. "Now you shall give me what I want. You shall leave my house and stay the hell away from my sister."

"No!" Letitia cried. Both Julian and Sophia ignored her.

Sophia dipped her head in a stiff nod. There was no use arguing. He wouldn't listen anyway. "I will depart within the hour."

He looked almost surprised that she didn't protest her innocence or beg for mercy, but what could she possibly say to defend herself?

Letitia rushed to her side, tears in her wide eyes. "Sophia, do not go!"

Summoning a smile, Sophia caught the girl's hand in hers and squeezed. "Come help me pack. That is," she shot a glance at Julian, "if it is all right with your brother?"

Julian nodded, his face as expressive as a slab of granite. "If it serves to get you out of here all the faster."

Pain, sharp and stabbing, pierced Sophia's heart. So this was it. Of all the endings she might have imagined for herself and Julian, repeating history hadn't been one of them. Only this time
she
would at least have the satisfaction of walking out on
him
.