Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (3 page)

"What does your Mr. Wesley have to say about all of this?"

Letitia brightened at the mention of the man she loved. Sophia both envied and feared her reaction. She knew what it was like to believe the sun rose and set on one person, knew the sweetness of such unswerving devotion. She also knew the bitterness of discovering that devotion was undeserved and unreturned. She would spare her friend that pain at any cost.

That was why she had agreed to help Letitia, so she could ascertain for herself what Mr. Wesley's intentions were and either encourage or dissuade Letitia accordingly.

"He says he wants to talk to my brother," the young woman replied with more than a touch of awe in her tone. "He believes he can persuade Julian to consent to our marriage."

Sophia liked this Mr. Wesley already. Convincing a man like Julian Rexley of anything would not be an easy task, especially when the earl already had his mind made up. But the fact that Letitia's beau would rather be open and honest about his intentions than underhanded said much for his character. After all, Mr. Wesley was not titled— not yet, though he was heir to a lord. Someday he would make a splendid match for a young woman, but right now he would hardly be able to keep Letitia in gowns, let alone the style she was accustomed to living.

"Why are you opposed to such a meeting?" Sophia queried, pouring herself a cup of tea from the pot on the tray before her. It wasn't hot, but it was warm enough, hopefully, to chase away the chill in her bones.

Letitia gazed at her as though the answer should be obvious. "Because my brother would never allow me to marry Mr. Wesley. Until Marcus comes into his inheritance, he would be unable to support us. Secondly, my brother believes that
he
is better equipped than I to determine who will make me a proper husband." She made a moue of disgust. "He wants me to marry someone as stuffy and dull as he is. As if I could ever be happy with any of the gentlemen he has in mind!"

Cup pressed against her mouth, Sophia paused, allowing the heat from the china to seep into her fingers and her lips.

Julian, stuffy and dull? Never in a million years would she attach such a description to the passionate young man she had known. At first he had been a game to her, but it did not take long for him to become much more.

That had been her greatest mistake, to believe that Julian Rexley was anything more than a man with a pretty face who knew how to make a young woman feel beautiful and special. She had set out to seduce him, but it was she who ended up being taken in.

"I am certain your brother believes he is acting in your best interest."

Letitia's Cupid's-bow lips twisted into a startlingly bitter sneer. "As he acted in yours?"

The retort hit its mark— and undoubtedly more sharply than Letitia intended. The girl— and despite her age she was just that— was too caught up in her own suffering feelings to consider whether or not she stepped on anyone else's.

"That was different," Sophia replied, her trembling fingers setting her cup on its saucer with a sharp clatter. "I was not his sister, and as you said yourself earlier, you possess too little of the facts to make any such assumptions."

Something in her tone must have gotten through Letitia's self-absorption, because her expression instantly changed to one of contrition. She reached out and caught Sophia's hand again.

"Oh, my dearest friend, what you must think of me! You are right of course. I have no right at all to pretend I know what happened between yourself and my brother. Please forgive me."

Sophia squeezed the other woman's fingers with a slight smile. She wasn't so cold now. The fire and the tea were beginning to thaw her. "There is nothing to forgive. You are upset. Anyone in your situation would be."

Letitia released her hand and slumped back against the chaise. "Oh, Sophia!
Upset
does not begin to describe my suffering! I try not to let my emotions run away with me, but it is so very difficult! Do you know what it is like to be faced with the possibility of losing that one person you love with all your heart?"

Sophia's heart constricted so sharply she almost cried out in pain. Yes. She knew that feeling.

"Of course you do," Letitia continued with a sympathetic countenance. "You lost your husband. Blast my foolish tongue! Would someone cut it out so it would flap no more!"

Sophia laughed— whether it was because Letitia assumed Sophia had loved her husband, or because of her friend's outburst, she wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was both.

"Do not make yourself uneasy," she entreated when Letitia's mood threatened to turn as gray as the weather. "You have done me no injury, and I will not have you act as though you have. I do not allow brooding in this house."

As quickly as the thunder clouds had appeared in the younger woman's face they disappeared again, and the sun burst through in the brightness of Letitia's laughter. The sound jarred Sophia's nerves, unused as they were to such volatile temperament. Heaven save her from passionate people, for they would surely be the end of her.

And to think she had once been one of them. Lord, she wouldn't be that girl again for anything. Except…Except that it would be nice to laugh like that just once more. It used to feel so good.

"I shall brood no more," Letitia promised with a smile. "But you must promise something in return."

Something in the girl's tone made Sophia wary. "What might that be?"

The smile faded. "You must answer a question for me, regardless of how impertinent it may be."

"You? Impertinent?" Sophia replied despite the fluttering in her breast at her friend's sudden seriousness. "No, I cannot believe it."

"Will you promise it?"

Sophia had already promised Letitia she would help protect her from her brother. She was loathe to make another vow that might prove unkeepable.

"I will do my best, but I can promise nothing without first hearing the question." And from the expression on Letitia's face, it was not going to be a question Sophia wanted to answer.

Letitia hesitated— something Sophia had never seen her do before. That she did so now did not bode well.

"Is it true that you and my brother were found in a state of…undress?"

Hot shame flooded Sophia's cheeks. She shouldn't be surprised that Letitia had questions. That her friend hadn't asked them before this was more strange.

"Yes," she replied, lifting her chin. She would not hang her head in front of Letitia, no matter how much she wanted to, because Letitia might be her friend, but she was also that bastard's sister. "We were."

The image came unbidden and unwelcome— a moment frozen forever in Sophia's mind. Hot, naive desire coupled with a mixture of fear and anticipation as Julian pressed himself between her thighs, only to be cruelly— thankfully— interrupted by the crashing of the door as Sophia's father burst into the room.

Sophia's horror was reflected in the face across from hers. Surely Letitia already knew this part of the story. "My brother ruined you."

"Not quite. I ruined myself."

Letitia appeared not to have heard. Perhaps she hadn't. Perhaps the words really had been the pathetic whisper Sophia heard them to be.

"And is it true that he refused to marry you?"

Sophia swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat. She held the other woman's fearful gaze. Poor Letitia, she already knew the truth.

"Yes," she whispered.

In fact, Julian hadn't even been asked to marry her before he refused. He seemed to think that Sophia had hoped to trick him into marriage. That was only half true. Yes, Sophia had hoped they might be discovered, but not like that. And she had hoped that by the time anyone found them Julian would have already made her his— and that he would have proposed on his own. It wasn't until she saw the hatred in his topaz gaze that Sophia realized he hadn't meant to offer for her at all, even though he would have gladly taken her innocence.

Letitia's face drained of all color. She looked so totally heartbroken, that Sophia regretted telling her the truth.

"How awful."

Glancing down at the fingers knotted in her lap, Sophia managed a small shrug. "I was as much to blame as your brother. I believed his attentions to be much more than they were, just as he believed mine to be much less."

Oh how grown up she sounded! How calm and generous and good! But she hadn't always felt so generous when it came to Julian Rexley.

Letitia shook her head, her expression one of such compassion that Sophia had to look away again.

Tell her about the book, Sophia. Then we shall see if you still have her sympathy. Wait until she discovers what a mockery you made of her brother.

And she would be certain to find out now. No doubt Julian would do whatever necessary to make certain his precious sister realized just what kind of woman Sophia was. He would show her the book and Letitia would know that Sophia had taken her revenge against her brother in her own, spiteful way.

There were times Sophia regretted avenging herself in such a manner, other times she regretted only that more people didn't know the truth behind it. For while Julian's humiliation of her had been very public, Sophia's had been much, much more subtle, and she would have liked to have seen him bleed a little all those years ago.

Voices in the hall outside the parlor made both her and Letitia turn toward the door. Mrs. Ellis, the housekeeper, burst into the room, her bosom heaving as she gasped for breath.

"My lady, I'm so very sorry— "

The woman never got a chance to finish. Sophia rose to her feet as an ominous shadow filled the door frame. She knew who it was just as surely as she had known he would come.

He ignored her as he stepped inside. His hair was dark with rain and slicked back from his face. Water dripped onto the floor from the hem of his greatcoat. Apparently he had walked some distance through the storm to collect his sister— to get her away from Sophia.

His gaze went immediately to Letitia. "You," he said, his tone sending a sliver of ice up Sophia's spine. "Go collect your belongings.
Now
."

He didn't even bother to wait to see if his sister obeyed before turning that icy brown gaze to Sophia. She stared at the fury in his face— a face that once had been so pretty it made angels weep. He wasn't so pretty anymore, but the sight of him hurt her more than it had a right to.

Gathering all her courage, Sophia lifted her chin and fixed him with what she hoped was a cool smile. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her quake before him.

"Hello, Lord Wolfram. Won't you sit down?"

S
he wanted him to sit.

He'd come there prepared to fight, and she talked as though they were at a goddamn dinner party! If it weren't for the fact that he would know her voice— deep and husky with the faintest Spanish lilt— anywhere, he might have believed himself to have taken a wrong turn as he slogged through the rain and the mud.

But no. He would know her even if he were deaf and blind. He would know by the shiver that raced down his spine as soon as he was in her presence— an awareness that shot through his chest straight to his groin in a most arousing and infuriating fashion.

Damn, but the years had been kind to her. She was rounder than he remembered, softer, and her face had a maturity to it that hadn't been there before. Her thick, black hair was pulled back from her face in a style that would have been severe on some, but only served to accentuate the delicate bones of her face and the delicate pink and ivory of her complexion.

"I'll stand," he growled, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

The woman had the nerve to shrug. "Suit yourself. At least allow Mrs. Ellis to take your coat. You are dripping."

There was no rancor in her tone, yet she had a way of making Julian feel guilty. And why should he? She was the one who had tried to trap him. She was the one who was telling his sister God only knew what about him. All he had to feel bad about was leaving a water mark on her floor. And there were so many scuffs and stains under the polish now that it was unlikely anyone would notice his contribution.

Yet he allowed the matronly housekeeper to take his coat. It only made sense, he couldn't travel back to London in wet clothes. He couldn't travel back to London regardless, not until the wheel that had come off his carriage a mile down the road could be repaired. Allowing Letitia to spend another night with Sophia was out of the question. He would hire a coach if he had to, or borrow one from Sophia, but he would be leaving as soon as possible.

As cautiously as if Sophia were a wild animal, he turned his gaze to his sister. Letitia was still standing by the chaise, staring at him with a mixture of shock and hatred.

"I told you to go collect your things."

Her generous mouth flattened. "I'm not going anywhere."

Blood rushed to Julian's icy cheeks. How dare she defy him! Especially in front of Sophia. It was bad enough that he stood there, wet and shivering, but to have Letitia challenge his authority this way was unpardonable.

"You are," he informed her calmly. "Even if I have to put a sack over your head and drag you out by your heels. Now,
go pack
."

His heart twisted at the tears that sprang to his sister's eyes. He despised seeing her cry— and she knew it. This was just one more attempt to thwart him. It would not work. He stared at her impassively, waiting for her to do as she was told.

"I hate you!" she cried. "And you cannot force me to leave. You cannot!" With that declaration and a heartbroken sob, Letitia ran from the room, leaving Julian alone with Sophia.

Only the crackle of the fire and the rain against the windows broke the silence as he turned to face her and her superior smirk.

But she wasn't smirking. She watched him with an expression he couldn't quite read— something like sympathy and disgust rolled into one. He would have preferred the smirk.