Two Shades of Seduction (16 page)

S
ophie brushed raindrops off her riding habit as she stepped into the back hallway of Townsend Hall. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made her as angry as Quentin had when he’d suggested she and Spencer had plotted together. Even her father and Eleanor’s vicious taunts no longer held much sting. But his suggestion that she’d encouraged him to forego any restraint and anticipate their wedding night had cut deep.

She winced at the confession. In the space of a few short minutes, she’d gone from outrage to humiliation. Perhaps he was right in reminding her that she’d not protested his advances at all. She’d done nothing to reject him. If anything, she’d responded to him with the abandon of a woman eager to sin with him. His accusation was not far off the mark, but the truth had not been any less painful to hear.

Walking away from him had been the only thing she could do to hide the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. It would have been humiliating enough if he’d known how deeply he’d wounded her, but even worse was the thought of him laughing at her tears. Her body grew taut at the revelation. Was she already in over her head?

The Devil of Devlyn had a reputation of the worst kind, and until this afternoon she’d always rejected the idea that he was the reprobate so many declared him to be. But his accusation at the cottage was enough to make her think she might have been wrong.

As she pulled her gloves off, she looked in her brother’s direction. Spencer hadn’t said a single word to her on the way home, and the dark look on his face made her sigh quietly. She glanced quickly over her shoulder to ensure no one would hear their conversation then turned to him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she said quietly.

“What I’m thinking?” he choked out in gravelly rasp. “I’m thinking you’re insane. Whatever made you consort with the man in the first place, let alone agree to marry him?”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“What am I supposed to understand?” Disgust filled his harsh whisper. “That you’re about to marry a man with a questionable reputation.”

“And our family’s reputation is any better?” she bit out in a low voice. Spencer had the good grace to look ashamed as he shook his head.

“How long have you known the man?”

“For a while,” she lied.

Beneath her brother’s assessing gaze, she struggled to hide her discomfort in the hope her falsehood didn’t show in her expression. A queasy sensation settled in her stomach. God help her. Just a short time ago, she’d denied Quentin’s assertion she was a liar, yet here she was proving him right. She longed to run to her room and hide from the world until tomorrow morning.

“I can guess what
you
gain from such a marriage. You escape this house. But what does Devlyn gain?” Unprepared for his softly spoken question, Sophie struggled to come up with an answer. When she didn’t reply, Spencer glared at her. “Well?”

“The ledgers,” she whispered. “He marries me in exchange for the ledgers.”

“
Sweet Jesus
, Phee. Now I
know
you’ve lost your mind.” Spencer’s appalled whisper made Sophie quickly step forward and press her hand against his chest.

“Don’t think harshly of me, Spencer. Please,” she pleaded. “This is my only way out.”

“I suppose he proposed this exchange.”

The disgust on her brother’s face made her wince. It would be so easy to lay the blame at Quentin’s feet, but if she didn’t tell the truth, she would be exactly what Quentin had declared her to be. She’d already lied enough as it was. Sophie slowly shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “I went to him and offered him the opportunity to take back what Father stole from him.”

“
You
?
You
went to him.” The stunned look of disappointment on her brother’s face changed to one of disbelief.

“I know it’s wrong to want revenge,” she exclaimed in a low voice. “But you don’t understand the guilt I feel every time Father makes me falsify his accounts. Can you really blame me for wanting to leave here?”

“No, I don’t blame you.” Spencer caught her hand and squeezed in a reassuring gesture.

“But Devlyn? The man’s not much older than me,” Spencer bit out. It was a condemnation, and Sophie straightened her shoulders as she glared at him.

“And I suppose you find it quite appropriate for Father to be courting a woman younger than me?”

“Well that’s different,” he said with a shrug.

“No, Spencer it’s not. Am I not entitled to the chance for companionship or a home of my own?”

“Damnit, Phee, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” she said bitterly. “If I weren’t useful to Father, he would have married me off to some degenerate a long time ago. At least this is my decision, not his, and if it’s the wrong choice then I’ll have no one to blame but myself.”

Her brother had the grace to blush with embarrassment, but his point about her age made a knot swell in Sophie’s throat. The age difference between her and Quentin was enough to make her question her own sanity. Was her quest for revenge worth the humiliation she’d suffer when her husband took a younger woman for his mistress? The answer eluded her. The only thing she was certain of was the fact that she could no longer live in her father’s house or with the guilt she felt every time she altered her father’s accounts.

“I’m sorry Phee,” he said softly. “I just wished you had come to me. I might have been able to help.”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’ve given my word, and I’ll not go back on it.”

Without waiting for her brother’s reply, Sophie turned and walked away. Spencer’s outrage wasn’t a surprise, but she’d hoped he would be more supportive. As she hurried up the back stairs, she cringed as she remembered the sight of her brother barreling through the woodcutter’s cottage door. She had never been so mortified in her life and was grateful Spencer had not walked in earlier. The thought sent an icy finger down her spine.

When she reached her bedroom, she quickly undressed and moved to her washstand. She poured a substantial amount of water into the basin and used it in an attempt to erase any trace of Quentin off her skin. When she finished, she sank down at her dressing table to stare at her reflection. She didn’t look different, but she felt different.

The Devil of Devlyn had marked her, and no amount of water could wash away the fact or the sensation. Her gaze fell to her bodice as she remembered the way he’d commanded her to reveal her body to him. He’d been masterful and arrogant with her today, but he’d made certain to pleasure her to the fullest extent possible.

Only when she’d surrendered and begged for his skillful touch had he sought his own pleasure. And God help her, she wanted to experience his lovemaking again. The decadent, sinful nature of it was thrilling. The muscles between her legs tightened as she remembered the way his tongue had probed and teased her until her insides exploded with a fiery heat.

The clock on her mantle chimed the hour. She gasped as she saw the time and quickly dressed for dinner. She was tired of lying, and if her father were to question why she was late for dinner, she would have no choice but to lie again. She’d just finished examining her appearance in the mirror when a knock echoed against her bedroom door. Her heart skipped a beat at the sound. She crossed the room and opened the door to find Spencer studying her with a contrite expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, Phee. I should have understood.”

“Yes you should have,” she rebuked in a gentle voice. “You of all people know what it’s like to live here. Unlike you, I can never leave unless it’s permanently.”

“I know. That’s what I realized a few moments ago,” he said quietly. His admission made her release a soft sigh.

“You’re forgiven,” she said, and a look of relief swept across Spencer’s features as he smiled at her.

“Come, it’s time for dinner. Your last as an unmarried woman.”

Trepidation rose in her throat at her brother’s observation as the two of them walked side by side down the hallway. Spencer was right. It was her last night as Sophie Hamilton. Tomorrow, she would become Sophie Hamilton Blackwell, Countess of Devlyn. A title Eleanor had coveted. She was about to have something her sister never could.

The thought should have filled her with elation. Instead, her stomach churned as she realized she wasn’t that different from her father’s and stepsister’s vindictive natures. Revenge had been her primary motive when she’d proposed her bargain to Quentin.

It didn’t matter that guilt and desperation had been her secondary reasons, her initial impulse had been solely one of vengeance. Her gain would be their loss, and shame swept through her. What if she refused to marry Quentin? It would change nothing. She’d already given him more than enough evidence for him to ruin her father.

No, her only choice was to continue along the path she’d chosen. At the sound of her father’s loud voice berating one of the servants echoed in the hallway, she flinched. Perhaps she could live with betrayal and deceit if it meant escaping her father’s tyranny.

Q
uentin stood quietly in the nave of the church, hands clasped behind his back. The vicar remained silent as well. He liked that about the man. The less pontificating the man did the better. More importantly, the man didn’t insult Quentin with false praise or compliments.

The wooden door of the church screeched open, and his gaze flew to the stream of light streaking its way down the church aisle. A moment later, Sophie’s shapely curves came into view. Tension ebbed out of him, and he frowned. Why the devil had he been so worried she might not come? He ignored the mocking laugh echoing in the back of his head. He didn’t want to know the answer.

As Sophie moved toward him, her brother followed a few steps behind. The younger man looked ill at ease, and Quentin understood the sensation. He was experiencing a similar sense of disquiet himself. His attention returned to the woman about to become his wife. She wore a dove gray walking dress that suited her complexion, and her expression was serene. Unexpectedly, he found his chest growing tight as the air left his lungs when she was only a few feet away. Sophie would make an excellent Countess of Devlyn. She was beautiful.

Inwardly, he scoffed at the thought. He was thinking with his cock again. There had been many occasions over the past couple of days, he’d found himself eager to have Sophie in his bed. To his discredit, he’d even managed to precipitate their marriage bed. Tonight he intended to make it up to her. He would woo Sophie and pleasure her until she was satiated in every way possible.

As she reached his side, he frowned slightly. Although there was an air of serene confidence about her, the reserved mask on her face made it clear she’d not forgiven him for yesterday’s insults. Quentin’s gaze met hers, and he saw a flash of panic in her hazel eyes.

“You look lovely, Sophie,” he said quietly.

Quentin extended his hand and saw her hesitate for a split second before the soft grey leather of her glove warmed his palm. Despite her outwardly tranquil state she was trembling. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance as he nodded at the vicar.

“We’re ready to proceed, reverend.”

With a benevolent smile, the vicar began the marriage ceremony. Half listening to the words, Quentin breathed in a quiet floral scent. Her scent. She was different today. Her anger had given her a steely, determined air. There was something else as well, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Damn if the woman wasn’t an enigma begging to be unraveled. The sound of the vicar saying his name pulling him back to the matter at hand.

“Do you Quentin Thornton Blackwell, earl of Devlyn, take Sophie Faith Townsend to be your lawfully wedding wife?”

“I will.”

Sophie’s hand trembled in his again, and without a second thought, he covered it with his other hand. A shudder rocked her as she turned her head to look directly at him. Panic darkened her gaze as the vicar put the marriage question to her. For a moment, he thought she might flee. Instinctively he tightened his hold on her not about to let her escape. Seconds later, she simply looked away from him and firmly responded to the minister’s query.

Moments later, the vicar pronounced them man and wife. Satisfaction warmed him as he kissed her. The sensation startled him. He should be feeling resignation at his marital state, not this triumph at having made Sophie his bride. He lifted his head and saw relief flash across her face. The expression surprised him, but before he had a chance to remark on it, her brother stepped forward.

“My congratulations,” Hamilton said quietly as he offered his hand to Quentin.

There was a wary look on his new brother-in-law’s face. The younger man wasn’t sure about him, but knew there was little he could do about his concern for his sister. Quentin knew that if he had a sister, he would be equally interested in securing her well-being and happiness. Unfortunately, Hamilton had a great many other things to despise him for, notwithstanding Quentin’s behavior yesterday.

“I shall keep her safe.” Quentin grasped Hamilton’s hand in a strong, firm handshake. “And you will always be welcome at Devlyn Keep.”