The Charmer (26 page)

chapter
26

A
ttila's head flew back in a passionate swoon while his fingers evoked a flamboyant melody from the pianoforte. Jacques, who had provided the lyrics to the new song, watched anxiously while their collaboration unfolded in front of its first audience. The Viscountess Laclere warbled the love poem that the Ensemble had set to music.

The third verse veered into the rose metaphor. The viscountess blinked at the words on the sheet that she held, but did not miss a note.

Sophia reddened. Oh, dear. And at her first dinner party too. She should have demanded a rehearsal before she allowed Attila and Jacques to plan the entertainment. She had not realized that it was
that
poem.

The twenty guests listened attentively. Few reacted in a way to indicate they understood the symbolism. She glanced to her left. Three chairs away, Gerald Stidolph's tight lips barely held in his disapproval. His shock made her feel much better.

The song went on and on. The form and sensuality of the rose was described in amazing detail. The lovers in the song grew rapturous with their memories.

A few guests shifted uncomfortably. Several coughed.

Jacques beamed. Attila let the music transport him to a higher plane of existence. The viscountess persevered.

They got to the nectar-licking part.

The professional stance of the viscountess cracked. She shot a glance to the man sitting on Sophia's right and bit back a conspiratorial smile that only an idiot would not understand. Dozens of eyes followed her sensual acknowledgment. The Viscount Laclere, who had been maintaining an expression of cool passivity, closed his eyes and sighed at his wife's indiscretion.

“My apologies,” Sophia whispered. “When I cajoled her to perform, I had no idea.”

“It is an ancient metaphor with a long pedigree. There is a famous English medieval romance on the same topic. Should I tell Monsieur Delaroche that he digs well-tilled ground?”

“Maybe you shouldn't. He may decide to make his longer and more creative, as a form of competition.”

“Heaven forbid.”

The song finally ended. The guests could not get up fast enough. Conversations were initiated with determination. As Sophia strolled past Jacques, she heard two ladies inviting him to visit and advise them on their gardens' poor blooms.

Sophia thanked the performers. Laclere smiled at his wife in a way that suggested a loving scold was waiting for a private moment.

Hawkins joined them, breathless at the marvel he had just witnessed.

“A rose. Who would think a poet could get such a long and magnificent poem out about two lovers admiring a single flower? I am undone and humbled. An interesting problem, though. An inspiration. As an exercise, I may try it myself.” He narrowed his eyes, an artist awaiting his muse. “Bluebells. Yes, I think so. There is a lot of soul in bluebells. At least forty lines worth, don't you agree?”

Laclere crooked his finger. “Come with me, Hawkins. All magnificent poems deserve serious analysis. Let us leave the ladies while we consider this one.”

Sophia did her duty to her guests, but her heart was not in it. This dinner had been planned for a reason. Last night she had asked Adrian to attend and stay by her side. None of these peers and their ladies would have missed the significance of that.

When he had said that he needed to consider her offer, she had hoped that he would do so quickly. Right up to the moment when she had led the way down to the dining room this evening, she had prayed he would arrive. Evidently it took Adrian Burchard longer than one day to make up his mind.

Or not long at all. Maybe his absence announced his decision.

That possibility had been creeping into her mind all evening, making her listless. The party had become a chore.

Gerald Stidolph appeared at her side.

“You sent a letter that you wanted to speak with me,” he said.

“Yes, I do. It is of some importance.”

“Among all these people? I expect that it requires more privacy.”

“It certainly does. Will you come with me to the study, where we can find some?”

“I would be delighted to, my dear.”

She led him to the study. She had intended to inform him tonight about marrying Adrian. Doing so would have made this easier, and much more satisfying.
I have chosen the man whom I want, Gerald, and it is not you.
Now she was left with only half that declaration, and she doubted he would hear the same finality.

She sat behind the desk, in her father's chair. That left Gerald across from her, like a petitioner. She enjoyed that more than she ought.

“I visited Marleigh last week.”

“So I was told when I called on you.”

“It was a good visit. I had been avoiding Marleigh and what it meant. I am more at peace with it now.”

“It is understandable that you avoided it. It is a heavy burden for a woman. As were those memories, and the duties required by them.”

“You do not understand, but then you never did. I did not resist it because I am a woman. We are not nearly as stupid and helpless as men think. I am not nearly as useless and frivolous as
you
think.”

“I do not think—”

“It does not matter, Gerald. I went. I accept the title. All that it is and all that it means.”

He smiled broadly. “I never doubted that you would, Sophia. Your dramatic decision about the M.P.'s showed the world that you do. An eloquent gesture, but perhaps an extravagant one. We will wait a year or two before reestablishing Everdon's power in those boroughs. Everyone will understand that with proper council you reconsidered.”

“By proper council, you mean yourself.”

“Of course, my dear. It has always been my only goal to help you.”

He appeared very contented. Very pleased about the power that he assumed would now fall into his hands.

She remembered his expression that day after the fire, while he beat her heart with the cane of her guilt.

“It will not be you, Gerald. I accept all that it means, but I do not accept you. I will marry. I will give Everdon its next duke. But not with you.”

A happy man one moment. A furious man the next.

“It is because of that interfering bastard, isn't it? He stole the affection that should have been mine.”

“He stole nothing. He kindly accepted what little I gave him. He offered me comfort, while you only offered pain.”

“I warned him. I'll destroy him, and if you have anything more to do with him, I will destroy you too. If you think for one moment that anyone will accept a marriage between you and that half-breed—”

“I did not say I was marrying Adrian. I merely said that I am not marrying you.”

“I'll be damned before I accept this.”

“Then be damned.” She withdrew a folded paper from the desk and threw it across at him. “I only fulfill my father's wishes, as you always lectured me to do.”

He scanned the letter that the late duke had written to him. “You read his private correspondence?”

“I read everything.”

He gave her a blank stare. “Then you know all of it. That is why you repudiate me.”

She understood neither his expression nor his words. He appeared defeated suddenly, like a man who knew he had lost. The depth of his vacancy made her uncomfortable.

“She does not know any of it. She repudiates you because she has always sensed what is inside you.”

Sophia turned with a jolt. Adrian stood at the door. Absorbed in her confrontation with Gerald, she had not heard him enter.

“The game is over, Stidolph. Or should I address you as Captain Brutus?”

Gerald slowly turned to him.

“Captain Brutus?” she asked, completely perplexed.

“We found the real one, Sophia. Up in York. He never wrote those letters. It was Stidolph, counting on fear pushing you into his arms. He knew the route we would take to the boroughs, and went ahead, stirring up trouble. He was in the house when that fire started, too, ready to rescue you before it was too late. It would have been a dramatic, romantic gesture, if he hadn't turned coward.”

“He is speaking nonsense.”

“I am speaking the truth and she knows it. Look in her eyes and see who she really is. Not a woman easily duped. You always underestimated her.”

“He is lying, to turn you against me. He wants you for himself.”

“That is true. For herself. Not for Everdon. Not like you.”

Adrian walked over and removed the letter from Gerald's lax fingers and read it. “This explains much. After all your patience, I wondered why you killed him. Alistair could not foresee that in sending this he had signed his own death warrant.”

The accusation stunned her. She turned in shock to Gerald. “Is it true? Did you kill him? Just because he no longer wanted you to have me?”

He did not flinch. He did not move or look at her. He watched Adrian with a soulless, empty face, like a man made of stone.

“Your admission of that is not necessary,” Adrian said. “But she does need to hear about Brandon. She has a right to it, after carrying that burden all these years.”

Her brother's name had her grasping the desk's edge. Something was happening here that she did not understand. The air in the study had grown cold and heavy and stale, like that in a tomb. The sensation sent chills through her.

Adrian regarded Gerald with a determined expression. Gerald reacted impassively, but deep in his eyes the coldest lights sparked and suggested the mind still worked, cunningly.

The horrible atmosphere came from him.

“What about Brandon?” she asked, barely getting the words out.

Adrian waited. Gerald watched him. He watched so hard that she wondered if he had heard her question.

“You did not kill your brother, Sophia,” Adrian said. “Not even accidentally. He was pulling you to shore when Stidolph arrived in a boat to help. He saw his chance and took it. An oar to the head. A wound that looked later like the rocks had made it.”

Shock paralyzed her for one eternal, terrible, cold minute.

Then hot outrage flared.

She went over to Gerald and stood where he could not ignore her. She wanted to bloody his cold face. Scratch out his eyes with her bare hands. All of those years and all of that guilt. Dear, kind Brandon . . .

Frustration and fury blinded her. “It is true, isn't it? My God, what are you?
Why?
”

He looked past her, through her, to where Adrian stood. He cocked one eyebrow.

“He already had your father's favor,” Adrian said. “With Brandon gone, he could hope to get the power of Everdon through you.”

“You would go to such lengths? You would kill for it?”

“I deserved it.”

“Deserved it! Because you flattered Alistair? Brandon is the one who deserved Everdon. You killed him, and then my father, too, when you saw the plan going awry? You let my father believe it was my fault, and you let me live with that guilt. You even used Brandon's death against me. You are a madman!”

The stone of his face creased into a confident sneer. “Burchard's work as a clerk in foreign countries leads him to see intrigue everywhere. He is wrong. He has no proof.”

“I have proof. Not for the duke, but for Brandon. You were not the only one watching while he saved his sister. Another saw you row out and take Sophia into the boat. Saw the oar go down. Sophia said the steward helped bring her around on the shore. You bought him off with money and a seat in the Commons, but he was an accomplice through his silence and does not want to swing with you. Harvey Douglas has told me everything.”

Gerald shrugged. “It is his word against mine.”

His reaction unhinged her. No remorse or guilt. No fear. He wasn't even flustered.

She flew at him.

With a smooth movement he rose, caught her clawing hands, and thrust her away. She landed in Adrian's arms.

He embraced her tightly and glared at Gerald. “His word will be enough. He has no reason to lie, and it will cost him dearly. He will be believed. You will not be the first criminal who thought he could outsmart justice, only to find the gallows' trapdoor open beneath him.”

Gerald strolled around the desk. “You expect a trial? I think not. After all, if I find myself in the dock and things are going badly, I may be compelled to explain everything.”

Adrian's arms tightened protectively. The two men eyed each other. A terrible tension arched between them, as if their locked gazes exchanged silent threats.

Adrian's hold relaxed. He set her away. “Go back to your guests, Sophia. I need to speak with Stidolph alone.”

“I will not. They were my brother and my father. I have a right to hear everything.”

“Trust me on this. You must go now.”

“I will not be dismissed.”

“Go.”

She stood her ground. Adrian tore his gaze from Gerald and pulled her across the room. Forcing her out of the chamber, he closed the door behind her.

Her mind red with indignation, she grabbed the latch to reenter.

It would not budge. He had locked her out.

Gerald sprawled in the chair behind the desk. Comfortable in Alistair's place. Smug. He surveyed the room with a possessive expression. Finally his gaze came to rest on Adrian.