The Outcast Earl (42 page)

“It was a simple case of mistaken identity. This young lady, Miss…?”

“Crandle,” Sophie managed.

He raised an eyebrow at that, but continued. “Miss Crandle saw me come out here and, thinking I was you, followed.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “To the maze, where no one could see you?”

“Don’t be a fool, Henry, you know I find these things suffocating. All those mothers throwing their daughters at me. I came out here for a moment of peace. When she didn’t see me, Miss Crandle thought I’d gone into the maze. I heard her call your name and came to investigate. We were on our way out when you arrived.”

“Is that what happened, Sophie?” Henry asked, looking down at her for confirmation.

Grateful for the lie Dearbourne had provided, Sophie nodded.

“I thought he was you,” she said. “He removed his mask when I thought you were jesting with me.” She managed a quick glance at the earl before facing Henry again. “You never told me your brother was in town. Or that the two of you look so much alike.”

“Yes, well, he wasn’t until today.”

“It would be wise for Miss Crandle to return to the ball,” Dearbourne said. He didn’t need to add what a disaster it would be if it were discovered that she’d been outside, alone, with him.

Henry kept his attention on her and she couldn’t help but think that he knew what had really happened. “You really shouldn’t have come out here, Sophie. One never knows when there are unscrupulous men lurking about,” he said, aiming a hostile glance at his brother.

Sophie nodded, anxious now to get away. Her thoughts were a tangled mess and her body still thrummed from the feel of Dearbourne’s hands and mouth on her.

“Of course,” she said. “I didn’t think. I’d heard the gardens here were lovely and thought there would be more people about. I’ll just go now.”

She knew she was babbling. It was something she did when she was nervous. Dropping a quick curtsey, she turned and hurried out of the maze. She made her way back to the house at a much slower pace than when she’d given chase to the Earl of Dearbourne, allowing herself some much needed time to regain her composure before returning to the ball.

* * * *

Richard watched as the delectable Miss Sophie Crandle departed. It had been a blow to his pride to learn that the intoxicating woman who had been coming apart in his arms had thought he was his staid younger brother. When he’d stopped it hadn’t been out of concern for Henry. No, he’d wanted Sophie to know that he, and not his brother, was the one claiming her. He had started to follow her when she’d tried to flee from him, and if Henry hadn’t intruded he’d be willing to bet she would have let him continue.

“What are you playing at, Henry?” Frustration had him not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Why would Miss Crandle be out here looking for you? I thought you fancied yourself in love with Ellen Westing.”

Henry bristled at the mention of the other woman.

“My private life is exactly that, Richard. Private. And I do not care to have you interfering in it.”

“Is this just a dalliance?”

He could see Henry was offended by the accusation. “If you must know, I plan to ask Sophie to marry me. And I’m asking you now to stay away from her.”

With that, Henry turned and stalked back to the ball.

Richard exhaled a harsh breath. Henry’s admission bothered him more than it should, and not just because he believed that his younger brother was in love with one woman while planning to marry another. He’d never placed much stock in Henry’s romantic notions. If Sophie Crandle was who he thought she was, he should be applauding Henry’s practicality.

Richard had heard the stories about the scandal surrounding Sophie’s mother. Her family had disinherited her after she’d eloped with someone who’d only recently made his fortune in trade. The Turners had wanted nothing more to do with her, despite the fact that Crandle’s wealth had increased substantially with each passing year. They’d lived outside society’s acceptance until their death in an accident last year. Sophie’s presence at tonight’s masquerade must mean her mother’s family had welcomed her into its fold, which would have gone a long way towards easing her entrance into society. As the younger son, Henry didn’t have much of an income and his interest in Sophie no doubt meant she had inherited her father’s fortune.

He didn’t care that Henry had chosen not to marry Ellen Westing, but there was no way he was going to allow his tame brother to claim the passionate Sophie Crandle for himself. He would have to find some other heiress to marry.

His decision made, he donned his mask again and returned to the ballroom. He had intended to bide his time, to keep an eye on Sophie until he could fill in the missing details about her current situation. That changed, however, when he saw Henry approach her. He was forced to watch while she laughed at something he said as he led her into a quadrille.

He was struck with the irrational urge to drag Henry away from her and smash his hand into his smug, smiling face. Instead, he made his way to where the musicians were set up at the far end of the room to have a brief word with the conductor. Several matrons tried to capture his attention when he was done, but he sidestepped them all. His attention remained fixed on Henry and Sophie as they moved through the patterns of the dance.

She was taller than most of the women there. Her hair was a rich black and her dress a deep blue—both emphasised her ivory skin, a fair bit of which was showing. It was impossible to forget the way she’d looked when he’d pulled down that dress and bared her pale breasts.

After what seemed like an eternity, the dance finished and he moved to intercept them before Henry could return Sophie to her aunt. He ignored his brother’s obvious displeasure and directed his attention to Sophie.

“I neglected to tell you how lovely you look tonight, Miss Crandle,” he said as he bowed over her hand, pleased at the blush that rose to her cheeks. “May I have the pleasure of this next dance?”

The opening notes of the waltz he had paid the conductor to play had started and he didn’t wait for her response before tucking her hand into his arm and leading her out. He said nothing when she glanced back at Henry, but the tell-tale sign that she worried about his brother’s reaction irritated him.

He knew they were being watched, but he ignored everyone else. It wouldn’t be the first time society had whispered about him.

“This is most improper,” Sophie said. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” Despite her protest, she stepped into his arms.

“As Henry’s brother, everyone will assume he introduced us.”

“I hope so.”

They danced in silence, their movements fluid and perfectly matched. After the intimacy they had already shared, being so close to Sophie wreaked havoc on his senses. He longed to pull her close to him, but somehow managed to maintain a respectable distance. That didn’t stop him from remembering how she’d felt pressed against his body. How she’d writhed against him and moaned when he’d touched her, as he longed to now. And her scent—the slight trace of lavender mixed with something else he couldn’t identify—almost drove him mad with desire. It was all he could do not to lead her through the doors that would take them out to the gardens so they could continue where they had left off.

He could almost feel Henry’s eyes boring into his back, and knew there would be no way to accomplish that goal. He could be patient, however. Not for long, but he knew Sophie would be worth the wait.

“Thank you,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

“It is always a pleasure to dance with a beautiful woman,” he said, unable to stop himself from drawing her an inch closer.

She sucked in her breath, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her beautiful breasts rose above the edge of her bodice.

“No, not for the dance. Thank you for not telling Henry about what happened outside. I hope we can forget our misunderstanding and begin anew from this moment.”

He twirled her around quickly, and missing a step she stumbled towards him.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” he said, his mouth not far from her ear.

He felt a surge of satisfaction when he saw a shiver of awareness go through her. She recovered her balance and drew away from him, but he could see the heat that coloured her cheeks.
That’s right, Sophie
, he thought.
I’m going to make sure you don’t forget our very memorable meeting.

Their eyes met and held. He hadn’t been sure of their colour out in the garden, but now he could see hers were a dark green. Cat’s eyes that tilted slightly at the corners.

It took him a moment to realise that the music had stopped and people were staring at them in speculation. He led her back to her aunt, who was deep in conversation with another woman and didn’t appear to notice Sophie’s return.

“Until next time,” he said, dropping a kiss onto the back of her hand.

Those lovely green eyes widened at the contact. Smiling with satisfaction, he took his leave.

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About the Author

Elle writes stories to entertain her friends and amuse herself. Over time, the stories have got better, and she hopes romance lovers everywhere will love them as much as she does. Elle lives among the redwoods in the very great state of California with a devoted Mr Sabine, one golden-headed daughter and one loving, eternally young pup. In her spare time, she loves to explore fairy circles, climb to high places to see the Pacific and look at the bottom of the Golden Gate Bridge.

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