One Night Scandal (11 page)
“And you felt nothing when I danced with Jennette?”
She pulled out of his grip and walked toward a holly bush. With her back turned, she answered, “Perhaps I was envious. If you haven’t noticed, Brentwood was the only man who asked me to dance tonight. And that was only because Somerton forced him.”
“I’m sorry, Sophie.” His heart ached for her. People refused to dance with her just because her father had never claimed her. Thankfully, his daughter would not be in the same situation.
“I do not want your pity,” she said roughly.
“Will you honor me with a dance?” he asked in a soft tone. He should never have asked her that question. If she agreed then he would have her body far too close to his. If she refused, he knew she would believe he pitied her.
She looked over her shoulder at him. A shock of desire pierced him. Slowly, her full lips lifted into a shy smile. “I would enjoy a dance with you. But think what that would do to the betting book at White’s.”
“What if I don’t give a damn about that book?” Nicholas stepped closer to her. “Dance with me, Sophie.”
“I really should leave,” she whispered.
“Dance with me, Sophie.” He leaned in closer. “If you don’t, I shall be forced to kiss you to get near you again.”
Her eyes widened. “Very well, I shall dance with you. But we cannot be seen walking back into the ballroom together.”
“You go first and then I will follow.”
She nodded and walked swiftly down the path as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
This was foolish. He should forget the dance and go home. Instead, he ambled back to the ballroom to face the temptation she presented. Perhaps he could convince her to come back to his bed. God, he missed her.
Scanning the room, he found her standing near Somerton. Nicholas almost laughed. Did she think that would stop him? Staring intently at her, he walked toward her position. Some day he would discover why she and Somerton appeared to be so close.
“Somerton,” he said with a nod.
“Ancroft.” Somerton glanced over at Sophie with a frown.
“Lord Ancroft, it is a pleasure to see you tonight,” Sophie said.
“Would you honor me with a dance?”
Somerton’s eyes narrowed on him. “Do not feel compelled to comply with his request, Miss Reynard.”
She smiled up at Somerton. “But that would be extremely rude, don’t you think? Besides, with the amount of money you wagered at White’s, I would think a dance with Ancroft would be in your best interest.”
“I only want what is best for you, Sophie.”
Nicholas wondered again at their closeness. Somerton’s manner was almost brotherly. But that wasn’t possible. Somerton’s father was not the type to take a mistress. Nicholas still remembered the night he took Somerton to Lady Whitely’s for his eighteenth birthday. Somerton had warred with his conscience and his moral upbringing.
“I would love to dance with you,” Sophie finally said with a smile.
Somerton growled. “One dance.”
Nicholas led her to the dance floor. As the slow waltz started, he brought her closer. It took all his control not to bring her up against his body. Desire rose within him until he ached to have her again.
“Come home with me tonight,” he whispered in her ear.
“That would not be wise,” she replied.
“Have we been wise yet?”
“No,” she answered with a little laugh. “So we must start now.”
“If you insist,” he finally relented. Just having her this close would have to suffice.
“Nicholas, I would still like to help you find a wife.”
He stiffened slightly. “Why?”
“Because you need to marry, and you must find the right woman. And be happy.”
He was truly starting to believe that the right woman was already in his arms. But how could he convince her of that? If he continued to let her attempt to find him someone then he could still see her, talk with her, perhaps even touch her.
The longer it took for her to find his match, the longer he would have in her company. They could discuss other topics and learn more about each other. Perhaps then he could convince her that she was his perfect match.
“Very well, I shall call on you tomorrow.”
Chapter 11
Sophie held the hand of Miss Justine Littlebury, attempting to ascertain her true love. The images in Sophie’s head made no sense. A cloudy likeness of a man who reminded her of Nicholas emerged. But behind him came a hazy picture of a man with blond hair and green eyes and a slight scar on his chin. So who was the man for Miss Littlebury?
Once more Sophie was struck by the haziness of her intuition. What would she do if she’d truly lost her abilities as a medium? Then she’d have nothing. Even yesterday, Lady Cantwell returned for a third time and all Sophie saw was blackness.
“Well?” Miss Littlebury asked impatiently. “I need to know who my true love is before the ball tomorrow night.”
“Hush,” she reprimanded the younger woman. Sophie concentrated on the darker image that reminded her of Nicholas. Was it him? And who was the other man? She focused on names.
“Miss Reynard, can you help me or not?”
Sophie blinked her eyes open and stared at the young woman. At only twenty, Miss Littlebury was the daughter of a viscount and by all accounts, a shy retiring lady. But that was not the impression Sophie gleaned from her. It was all an act to get what she wanted.
“What I am seeing is not making sense to me yet.”
“Why not?” Miss Littlebury demanded.
“I see two men but both are very unclear. I cannot determine any names.”
“It’s just as I thought,” Miss Littlebury commented. “You are not able to see anyone’s future.”
“Miss Littlebury, sometimes these things take more than one session. As I come to know you better, you will open your mind more freely to me so I may determine the man for you.”
Miss Littlebury pursed her bow-shaped lips as she scraped back her chair. “I think you are a charlatan. Of course my return would be good for you since you charge for every session.”
“Miss Littlebury, this is not an easy thing,” Sophie explained. “If a person truly wants to hide something from me they can. Until you and I build a little trust it can be difficult to get an accurate reading.”
Miss Littlebury dug through her reticule and then tossed a coin on the table. “That is the last coin you shall see from me.”
With a huff, she walked toward the door. Sophie shook her head but followed her to escort the young lady out of her house. Miss Littlebury stopped at the receiving salon.
“Lord Ancroft!”
Nicholas stood and walked over to Miss Littlebury with a smile. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Littlebury.”
“And you, my lord,” she replied in a seductive voice. She looked back at Sophie, and said, “I would not waste your time or money with this charlatan. She is nothing but a fake.”
He smiled over at Sophie. “On the contrary, Miss Littlebury, Miss Reynard has helped me immensely.”
Miss Littlebury narrowed her eyes and glanced between them. “Has she now?”
“Yes.” Nicholas returned his gaze to the young woman. “Will you be attending the Blackburns’ ball tomorrow night?”
“Of course, I shall be there.” She looked back at Sophie. “At least there I will be surrounded by Society.” With a little huff, she walked toward the door.
Sophie walked back toward her study. “That woman is horrid.”
“I am assuming she has no idea that you are good friends with Jennette,” Nicholas said, trailing behind her.
“I should think that was apparent.” She stopped at the threshold and giggled. “I do wonder how she will react when she sees me there tomorrow night.”
Nicholas chuckled. “I would so like to watch.”
“Come along, Nicholas.” Sophie took her seat and placed her hands face up on the table. Ignoring the shock of awareness that skipped up her arms when he placed his hands on hers, she said, “Now I need you to really concentrate on love. Don’t think about anything else.”
She waited until Nicholas closed his eyes before she did the same. There was the normal sense of dizziness but once more, she saw nothing for him. She had never felt so ineffectual in her life. It was as if there was a dark unmovable wall blocking access to his thoughts. There had to be a reason she could not see a woman for him.
Unless she could not read him at all. But that made no sense. She had read his thoughts when they were intimate. So why couldn’t she see his true love? Why did she see nothing with him as she’d seen with Lady Cantwell?
“Nicholas, do me a favor and think about your daughter.”
“Why?”
“I am just testing a theory.”
“Very well.”
The moment he started to think about Emma, images flooded Sophie’s mind. “Does she have light brown hair?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“And your beautiful brown eyes.”
“Yes,” he answered slowly with a hint of amusement.
“She is beautiful, Nicholas.” Sophie had seen her from a distance that day at Gunter’s but the image she had in her head was of a very pretty young girl.
“Yes, she is. But what does this have to do with my true love?”
Sophie opened her eyes to see him staring at her with his amber eyes. She pressed her lips together trying to develop a reason she could not see a woman for him.
“You didn’t see anyone again, did you?” he asked softly.
“I’m sorry, Nicholas. I just do not understand it.”
“It seems obvious to me.” He stood and walked to the window that faced the small courtyard. “There is no woman who will ever love me.”
Her heart went out to him. “We do not know that for certain.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, staring out the window. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. There hasn’t been a single woman who loved me.”
“I would bet your mother did,” she whispered.
“Well, I don’t remember her.”
“Nicholas, come sit down and talk with me.” Sophie looked at the two chairs near the fireplace and opted for the one they hadn’t made love in.
He grimaced as he noticed the chair she’d left for him. “What do you want to talk about, Sophie?”
“You. I believe if you tell me more about yourself then I might be able to get through whatever pain your mind is holding on to.”
“What pain?”
“It is perfectly obvious that you do not feel any woman has ever loved you. Because of that, it may be difficult to read you. So the question is why do you feel no woman has ever loved you?”
He tightened his jaw as he looked away from her. “Perhaps my mother loved me. I do not remember. But none of my stepmothers did. They were pleased when I left for Eton and thrilled when I returned to Selby’s home instead of my father’s home.”
“What about mistresses? Emma’s mother?”
“They were mistresses, nothing more. They enjoyed my company but loved my money more. Every woman has been interested in me for the bragging rights of sleeping with a future duke, or the possibility of becoming the future duchess. Nothing more.”
Sophie blinked to keep from crying. She wanted him to know love. Real love. Not some woman who would say the words just to become his wife and the future duchess.
“Were you ever in love with anyone other than Jennette?” she asked, ignoring his question.
He folded his arms over his chest defiantly. “I thought I was but learned quickly that it was nothing more than infatuation.”
“Who was she?”
“Emma’s mother,” he said softly.
“Ahh,” she mumbled. She thought back to the two times she’d tried to read him. Not once did she get any feelings of love for this woman. “When did you realize that you didn’t love her?”
“When she took my father’s money and tried to leave London with Emma.”
“But I thought . . .”
Nicholas looked away as his face grew dark. “You thought I paid Maggie to leave Emma with me.”
“It was the common rumor.” Heat crossed her cheeks. After knowing him even this short time, she should have realized he was not the type of man to do such a thing.
“I was furious at her for taking my father’s money. But I wasn’t going to let her take my daughter away. I caught up with Maggie before she left. She told me that was for the best because she’d had no intention of keeping Emma.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped. “What was she going to do?”
“Drop Emma off at the first church she came upon.”
Sophie slapped her hand over her mouth to hide her revulsion. While her own mother would have been pleased if her father had taken her in, at least her mother had kept her when he refused. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s been ten years. I have no feelings at all for Maggie. Except possibly pity. She lost the chance to discover what an amazing daughter we had together.” Nicholas looked back at her and frowned. “Why do you look as if you are about to cry?”
She shook her head, blinking her eyes quickly. “I don’t know. Perhaps my situation is not that different from Emma’s. Although, had my father taken me in, I would have been accepted far more than I am.”
“Why doesn’t your father want his name associated with you?” Nicholas reached over and clasped her hand in his. “Was he married at the time?”
She nodded. “He was married but also put on a front of being morally righteous.”
“I’m sorry. Did your mother raise you, then?”
“When she had the time. Mostly my father paid for nurses and governesses. My mother would live with me when her current protector tired of her.”
“Where is she now?”
“In Venice with some count.” She glanced away from him, as memories of Venice ran through her mind. Closing her eyes, she imagined him as she had seen him there, wearing nothing but a towel over his hips. “I thought you were Italian,” she whispered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“When we first met in Venice.”
He laughed. “I thought
you
were Italian.”
you
were Italian.”
She looked back at him and giggled. “I was actually a little angry when I read Jennette’s letter and realized you spoke English.”
Damn. Seeing the far-off look in his eyes made her understand that she had done it again—mentioned Jennette’s name.
He blinked and glanced over at her with a slight smile. “I should take my leave now,” he said as he stood.
“Please stay,” she whispered. “I don’t have another client until four.”
Nicholas stared down at Sophie, unable to move. He knew the right thing would be to leave now before they started discussing things far too intimate. But her gray eyes were clouded with tears, and he found himself returning to his seat.
“So why were you angry when you read Jennette’s note?” he asked softly. While he had no desire to speak of the woman he once loved, he wanted Sophie to talk with him again.
“I find writing in Italian much harder than speaking the language. So I struggled just to write you a good-bye note in Italian. When I had finished it, I found the other note in English.” She picked at an imaginary thread on her skirt. “Of course, that is also when I discovered who you were and threw my note into the fireplace.”
“Ah, yes. That was such bloody bad luck on your part.” He smiled over at the astonishment on her face. “Next time you should get to know your lover a little better before taking him to bed.”
“Perhaps you should leave now,” she said stiffly.
“Tell me,” he said, ignoring her request, “how did you meet the other spinsters?”
A smile lifted her full lips upward. “Avis came here seven years ago. She wanted to know why a man kissed her. At the time, I thought it was an odd question. But as I read her, I realized she and Selby were meant to be together.”
Nicholas frowned. “But they didn’t marry until almost two years ago.”
“The timing wasn’t right for them then.”
“So who kissed her?”
She arched a brow at him as she smirked. “Don’t you know?”
“Well, it wasn’t me.”
Sophie laughed. “Of course not! It was Selby. He won the bet and melted the Ice Maiden.”
“I’d heard no one won that wager.”
“Selby is an honorable man,” Sophie whispered.
Nicholas wondered if Selby would agree. By not telling anyone about kissing her, he missed out on five years with Avis. “Why wasn’t the timing right for them seven years ago?”
She tilted her head. “They were not ready yet. Had they married then, they never would have been as happy as they are now. They both needed to mature.”
What if he and Sophie were meant to be together but it wasn’t their time? Could that be the reason she didn’t see anyone for him?
Sophie rose and left to order tea as he considered her words. He just didn’t believe they were not meant to be with each other. Sitting in this room with her felt right.
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