Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (2 page)

"My dear Miss Lewis," he said softly, "I am very sorry to involve you in this…situation."

The girl lifted her head, but kept her gaze averted. "I am not aware of any 'situation,' my lord."

Julian's jaw tightened. He should have known better than to expect immediate cooperation.

"I refer to my sister's involving you in this scheme of hers to avoid going to London."

She looked at him— and lied outright. "I know of no scheme, Lord Wolfram."

Lips thinning, Julian met the guileless gaze with a hard one of his own. The girl's composure cracked a bit.

"I think you do."

She paled but said nothing. Perhaps he wasn't pursuing this in quite the right manner. The girl's loyalty to Letitia was admirable— if not foolish. She would not betray her friend to a blustering brother, not just because he demanded it. No, she would need stronger incentive.

Julian put on an apologetic face. "I would hate for any scandal my sister might invite upon herself to taint you as well, especially given your circumstances."

That
got her attention— her father's as well. It was no secret that Sir William wished for his only daughter to make a good match. The estate and title were to go to the baronet's son upon his death, but the inheritance wasn't a rich one. Both of Sir William's children would have to marry well to achieve the lifestyle they desired, and scandal would certainly impinge upon them doing so.

Sir William shot Julian an anxious glance before turning his attention to his daughter. "Well, miss? What do you know of Lady Letitia's whereabouts?"

"Hertford," she murmured. "She's in Hertford."

Relief flooded Julian's limbs. Lady Wickford, a very good family friend, lived in Hertford. Letitia visited her often. Her secrecy this time surely had been to delay Julian in finding her.

Miss Lewis stepped closer to her father. "She is with Lady Aberley."

All the relief Julian had felt moments before vanished, replaced by a swimming in his brain not unlike the time Fitz Parkington had pounded his head into the ground at school.

The Marchioness of Aberley was Sophia Morelle. She had been Sophia Everston when he knew her. At one time he had referred to her as his "Darling Fe." She was also the other person who had tried to deceive him. How had she managed to get her claws into Letitia?

"Are you certain that is where she has gone?" he asked when he found his voice.

Miss Lewis nodded stiffly. Both she and her father were watching him closely. No doubt both were very much aware of the scandal between himself and Lady Aberley. Sir William was old enough to remember it firsthand, and there could be little question as to how Miss Lewis knew. Letitia had undoubtedly told her.

He would laugh if he weren't so furious. Letitia was anything but stupid, even though he sometimes had to wonder just how her thought process worked. She knew how he felt about Soph—
Lady Aberley
. She undoubtedly believed she was safe there, that Julian wouldn't come after her because he always went out of his way to avoid meeting the marchioness.

His sister couldn't be more mistaken.

He muttered his thanks and took his leave of Sir William and his daughter without any idea of whether or not they even responded. He did not care if they spoke of his behavior after he left. He didn't care what they said about him, it was Letitia he was worried about. Fortunately, Miss Lewis was a good friend to his sister and could no doubt be trusted to keep Letitia's confidence even without the hint of the scandal that might follow if word got out.

At least Letitia had
some
sense in choosing friends, he thought as he jogged down Sir William's steps. Julian's coachmen came scurrying from the shelter of the stables as one of Sir William's footmen opened the carriage door for him.

"To Hertford," he instructed his poor driver who, despite the protection of a slicker, had not escaped the cold and damp. "Get us there quickly and I shall buy you a hot meal and a bath to warm you up."

"Aye m'lord," the coachman replied as he climbed up into his seat.

Drawing the shades so that the interior of the vehicle was shrouded in murky darkness, Julian leaned back against the squabs as the carriage rolled into motion. It was cooler here than it had been in the parlor, and it eased the pounding in his head somewhat. There was little to be done about the knots in his shoulders or the sick feeling in his stomach, however, for this time they had little to do with travel and everything to do with the destination.

Sophia.

When was the last time he had seen her? A few years ago, he had caught a glimpse of her in Bath when she and the marquess had been there taking the waters for his failing health. Obviously the waters hadn't worked, because Sophia had been made a widow two and a half years ago. As was proper— strange behavior for her indeed— she had kept herself in relative seclusion for her mourning period. Julian had half expected her to show up at his friend Gabriel's wedding, but she hadn't— even though he knew she had been invited by Lilith, Gabriel's wife.

Julian had flattered himself that Sophia hadn't come to the wedding to avoid seeing him, but he knew nothing could be further from the truth. The Sophia he knew feared nothing.

On the other hand, the Sophia he knew wouldn't have hidden herself away for eighteen months of mourning— not for a husband.

When he thought of how close he had come to becoming her husband he almost shuddered. She had tried her best to trap him. Tried and failed, thank God. She had offered herself to Julian in a way that made him believe…Well, it didn't matter what he had believed. He had walked willingly into her web, only to find out that the whole thing had been an elaborate ruse to get her greedy little hands on his fortune.

Oh, there had been scandal. Everyone in England knew he had been caught literally with his pants down— or rather unfastened. He could still remember the triumphant gleam in Sophia's eyes when she believed him to be well and truly caught. He could remember the hatred he saw there later as well.

The worst part about it was that he had naively allowed himself to believe she actually cared for him. That notion was quickly dispelled by her hasty engagement to the marquess and his massive fortune. Thank Christ Julian had found out the truth about Sophia and her greed before he had a chance to change his mind and offer for her. She had made a big enough fool of him as it was without that happening.

She still was making a fool of him, truth be told. The poem that had launched his career as a writer had been written about her. While later works established him as one of England's most respected poets, it was that one work that haunted him. It was the one people still talked about and referred to as the "best thing" he had ever written.

He had more such poems inspired by Sophia, a very few of which had been published. He did not want
her
to be his muse.

And now the witch had his sister— the only family he had left. It was not to be borne.

That Letitia thought to manipulate and control him in such a way proved what a danger Sophia could be. Willful and spoilt his sister might be, but she wasn't wholly deceitful. If she were, she wouldn't have told her friend where she was going. She would have wanted to make Julian suffer her absence. No, this was a power struggle. By running to Sophia, Letitia dared her brother to come and get her. She didn't think he would.

She thought wrong.

He would go to Hertford and he would remove her from Sophia's house— forcefully if he had to. And then he would take his petulant sibling back to London. If necessary, he would shackle her to his arm for the entirety of the season— or at least until he found a suitable husband for her. Hopefully, by then she would be too enamored of her betrothed to spend her time flitting all over England making trouble for her weary older brother.

Drawing a fur lap robe up over his chest to ward off the damp, Julian once again laid his head on the plush velvet padding behind him. He was getting too old for this sort of thing. He would much rather be at home with a good book and a glass of wine than out in this awful weather.

"Ah, Lettie," he sighed, closing his eyes. It would be much easier to stay furious at the girl if he didn't love her so deeply. But this latest trick was too damn much. She had defied him for the last time.

The ache in his head lessened as sleep, brought on by the sound of the rain on the roof and the darkness inside the carriage, came to collect him. Julian put all thoughts of his sister aside and tried not to think at all as he drifted off. He was almost successful, except for the thoughts that plagued him as he fell into slumber— thoughts of laughing dark eyes and the woman who possessed them.

"What, might I ask, is so interesting about the rain that keeps you watching out that window?"

Sophia Morelle, dowager Marchioness of Aberley, turned her attention from her front gate on the other side of the glass, to the young woman in marigold satin sprawled on a chaise across the room. She smiled, even though she did not feel like it.

"I am watching for your brother," she replied with a shiver that had more to do with the man in question than the draft creeping through the soft cashmere of her shawl.

Letitia rolled her doelike eyes in exasperation. "I thought we already established that Julian would never come here."

Smiling humorlessly at her friend's confidence, Sophia rose from the window seat and crossed the gently creaking oak floor to the fire where Letitia sat. "No,
you
established it. I disagreed with you then and I still do. You are quite wrong if you believe your brother will allow you to remain under my roof once he learns you are here."

The younger, thinner woman eyed her curiously as Sophia sat in the chair across from her. She did not seem moved by the warning at all.

"He is afraid of you."

Sophia snorted. "He fears nothing."

Letitia pressed forward, leaning her elbow against the pillows. "Then why does he go out of his way to avoid meeting you?"

"Because he despises me." A long time ago— it seemed a lifetime— she had despised him as well, but that had eased somewhat as she grew older. Now, she could almost understand why Julian betrayed her. Unfortunately, the wound of his betrayal had not faded with her hatred. It remained ever present in the background. Sometimes she would go months without thinking of it, but when she did, the hurt was still as sharp and raw as ever.

She had been a stupid, stupid fool where he was concerned and she had never forgiven herself.

Her friend smiled. "My brother flaunts himself in the face of those he dislikes. I think it gives him some kind of perverse pleasure. He would rather leave a place than play that game with you."

"I humiliated him," Sophia retorted, shame creeping into her cheeks. "No doubt the sight of me is a reminder of that."

"And the sound of your name as well?" Letitia arched a brow. "Is that a reminder? He cannot stand that either."

Sophia stared at her friend. Letitia made it sound like Julian's hatred was something Sophia should be proud of. At that moment, with that haughty, self-satisfied expression on her face she looked very much like her elder brother. So much so that Sophia had to turn away.

"I would imagine even the slightest mention of me would cause him discomfort," she muttered. Lord knew she cringed at the slightest reference to
him
.

"I must confess I have heard little of the story from Julian. Most of what I know I heard from the gossips."

Sophia glanced up. Julian hadn't told her the whole sordid tale? No, she supposed not. He had no way of knowing that the two of them would ever become friends, and it was hardly the sort of thing one discussed with a gently bred young woman.

"I fell in love with him." At her friend's shocked gaze, she continued, "And the sentiment was not returned, no matter how much I tried to force it." And when it wasn't returned, she lashed out in the most public and grandiose way she could.

"Oh." Letitia's expression was one of genuine discomfort and Sophia regretted having said anything at all.

There was no need to tell Letitia that Sophia had believed her feelings to have been returned at the time. It was all in the past and Julian was Letitia's brother. Sophia had no desire to paint him as a villain in his sister's eyes.

"I disgraced myself over him." Saying the words cut her to the very bone, but it was almost a relief to let the truth out. "And my behavior is the reason he will come for you. He will not risk my influencing you in any way."

Letitia's expression was one of disgust. "Your influence is not the one I need protection from. You are not the one trying to force me into marriage. You are not the one trying to make me something I am not. You have always encouraged me to be what I want."

Sophia smiled. "You see, I am a bad influence. From a male perspective at any rate."

Laughing, Letitia reached out and took one of Sophia's hands in hers. The younger woman's fingers were warm and firm. "You are the best friend I have ever had. I only wish it had not been necessary to hide our relationship all these years."

"We can thank Lady Wickford for her assistance," Sophia replied, withdrawing her hand so she could lean back in her chair. "Were it not for her we would scarce see each other."

It had happened quite innocently several years ago, when Edmund was still alive. Letitia had been in the area visiting Lady Wickford, and the two had happened upon Sophia one day while shopping in the village. Lady Wickford had always been friendly to Sophia, despite the older woman's close connection to the Rexley family. She introduced Letitia and invited Sophia to dine with them that night. Sophia had taken an instant liking to Julian's sister, and whenever Letitia came to visit Lady Wickford, Sophia spent as much time with them as possible.

But this recent visit was different. Letitia hadn't come to Lady Wickford first. She had come straight to Sophia, hoping to hide from her brother and his plans to marry her off to the gentleman who made the best offer.