No Place for a Dame (28 page)

“She might bequeath certain traits to her offspring that would enhance future generations.”

“You think people are like dogs and you can breed characteristics into the line?” He appeared intrigued by the idea.

“I do. What would you like your children to be like, Neville? Besides rich.” She hoped she had not gone too far, but he did not take offense.

“I should like them to be able to stand up to my—for themselves. To have courage. And intelligence. So they could outwit her—anyone.”

Avery nodded approvingly. “Then that should be your criteria for marrying. Not how much money is in the girl’s dowry.”

“Gads, but you’re a smart fella, Quinn. ’Struth, just being with you I feel bright as a new penny. And you’re a good sport, too, with more bottom than you look to have, that’s for sure. Gads!” He laughed. “When I think about how you were whooping like a Red Indian when me cattle got away from me on St. James! Splendid. Haven’t had a bit of sport since.” His face fell. “Mother has been most demanding.”

His expression brightened on a sudden inspiration. “I have an idea. Heard about a faro game being held down near the docks. Different sort of group, not the usual toffs and dandies, ya understand, but real men. What say we slip out of here and go have a look-see?”

“I don’t think I better.”

“Come on. It’s not all the way down on the docks, just near enough to make it exciting. It’s considered prime sport. Slumming, ya know.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. She shook her head.

Neville sighed gustily. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Oh, lord. Here comes me uncle towing some relic along behind him. I’d rather dance than be stuck listening to them blather on about moons and suns and stars.” He turned to make good his escape. “Coming?”

She smiled. “No. I’ll stay. You forget, I’m here precisely because I like blathering on about moons and suns and stars.”

“Eh? Oh. Yes. I had forgotten.” He grinned. “It’s just that you seem like such a regular bloke.…” He trailed off as his gaze surreptitiously swept over her bespectacled face, egg-shaped body, and thin legs. “In many ways,” he finished diplomatically and, with a quick nod of his head, vanished into the crowd.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

G
iles spotted Sophia across the room. She looked beautiful, her red hair aflame under the candlelight and her lips pouting prettily. Her dress skimmed the contours of her shapely young body, doing more to reveal than conceal with its low bodice and nearly transparent weave.

And he did not feel a scintilla of desire. Without conscious volition, his gaze strayed to the antechamber where he’d left Avery. It was simply unnatural how a woman dressed as an unappealing young man could stir him to such a degree when a girl in a dress designed to excite the imagination brokered no response at all.

But then, it was not Avery in her guise as a young man that made him tighten with desire but the woman beneath. Grimly, he refocused his attention on Sophia.

He’d had no idea she was in town. He’d supposed her father would have taken her to Brighton for the gaming tables. The only people in town in December were politicians preparing for Parliament to convene. And North was no politician.

Sophia spotted him.

Gravely, he bowed his head, wondering how she would handle the situation. For her sake, he hoped she didn’t try to cut him directly. Such a contemptuous act could not turn out well for the girl by virtue of the simple fact that she was Sophia North and he, as Avery had so artlessly noted, was Strand. His standing, his consequence, his desirability far outstripped hers, and if she had an ounce of sense, she’d realize it.

Apparently she did, for she inclined her head in return before plucking at the arm of her escort, Lord Vedder. The pair exchanged a few words then came across the room to meet him.

“Miss North,” Giles said, executing an elegant bow. “Vedder.”

“Strand. Parading your pup about again?”

“Yes,” Giles drawled. “Like all pups, he needs an occasional airing.”

“Who is this young man, Strand?” Sophia asked as though there were no bad history between them. She’d very astutely decided that nothing could be gained from publicly playing the part of outraged virtue. Besides, few people who were acquainted with Sophia North would give her any credence in such a role.

“No one, really. Has no birth, no name, no fortune. Just a brilliant mind.”

“Hm. I’d like to meet him. Where is he?”

Giles glanced about casually. “I don’t see him. Despite Lord Vedder’s interesting analogy, I don’t keep the boy on a leash. But if you’d like, I will contrive an introduction.” He smiled. “Though, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. He has even less looks than money.”

She laughed. “Vedder says you found him in the Netherlands. I swear you must have left Killylea and found him within days of my departure.”

“Well,” he said, “having suffered a grievous disappointment, I felt the immediate need to lose myself in travel.”

The explanation clearly delighted her. Her chin notched up a degree and her brows arched. “Yes, well…” She turned to Vedder. “M’lord. I am overcome with thirst. Would you kindly endeavor to find me a cup of ratafia?”

Strangely, Vedder did not seem to take exception to being sent on a servant’s errand, but bowed and left them.

Sophia looked back at Giles, hesitating. His attention sharpened. Sophia was not given to hesitation. “M’lord,” she said, “if we could
have a few moments alone. There’s a matter of some delicacy I wish to discuss.”

Caution made him reluctant. “Then this is hardly the place for that conversation.”

At that, she laughed. “Oh, come, Giles. You had me in a cloakroom at the botanical garden. You can hardly refuse me a few moments of conversation.”

His recollection was that she’d tricked him into the assignation and had more of him than he’d had of her. He’d never numbered near-public fornication amongst his transgressions until Sophia. But she was right; to suddenly act like a prig was ridiculous.

“Of course.”

“There is a small reception room just across the hall from here. It is not being used. I shall meet you there in five minutes.”

“This is new. Discretion, Sophia?”

She gave him a hard smile. “I have to watch out for my reputation now that I am back on the marriage mart.”

“Very well,” he said as Lord Vedder reappeared carrying the requested cup of punch. “Five minutes, then.”

“You might at least say you’re looking forward to it.” She pouted prettily.

“That remains to be seen. Ah, Vedder. Timely as usual.” He inclined his head. “Miss North. Vedder.”

Five minutes later, with a great deal of misgiving, Giles crossed the hall into the room. He could see no possible way out of the interview. It would be unutterably cruel to leave Sophia waiting for him. At best, he foresaw Sophia making an awkward attempt to blackmail him over his “sister’s” madness—at worst, an even more awkward attempt at reconciliation.

He did not, however, anticipate that she would try both.

He was standing at the window, staring up at the dark sky, recalling Avery’s remark that “there are no stars in London, only murk and obfuscation” and thinking that “murk and obfuscation” applied to more than the heavens, when he felt the slight puff of air that heralded a door
opening. A moment later he heard the swift soft fall of kid-slippered feet but before he could turn a warm body pressed itself against his back and slender arms entwined him.

“I’ve missed you,” Sophia purred, rubbing against him like a cat.

He turned and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away. “I’m still the same man you rejected, Sophia. I still have the same family. My brother Louis was still a dwarf.”

She shuddered slightly, her mouth twining in a moue of distaste. “So I have since learned, and I must own I think it shoddy of you not to have told me.”

“It was never a secret.”

“No. But no one told me about it.”

“Louis died fifteen years ago. He was never well enough to come to London and so no one here had ever met him. I doubt anyone remembers him at all.” Except
he
remembered. As did his mother and sister. And Avery.

“Oh, a few do,” she said. “I also learned that he was only your half brother. The taint that affected him may well have come through his mother, not yours.” She smiled as if she were offering him the best possible gift.

“Then again, it may have come from my father. Who is to know? And what of Julia?” He wondered if anyone remembered his sister, too, and had told Sophia that the woman she’d seen had been an imposter. He doubted it. After all, Julia hadn’t died. She had simply entered a convent before she’d entered Society, very soon after Louis’s death. It was a cloistered order and Julia had asked only one thing of her family when she’d joined them, that they respect their privacy and sanctity. And so they had.

“Well?” he prompted.

She was struggling, he could see. “An aberration,” she finally said.

So, Society had not remembered Julia, or perhaps they never knew.

“It only makes sense. They are… l-l-l-like that, and you are, well, you.”

Why had the same words on Avery’s lips charmed and amused him but from Sophia they made him feel vaguely embarrassed? Perhaps because Sophia’s words reverberated with his father’s long ago condemnation,
“A beautiful person like you knows none of the struggles, failures, and setbacks that mold a superior character. Gold is beautiful, yes, but soft and malleable. No man would choose gold over steel in a war.”

“There was nothing wrong with Louis’s mental faculties. He was a dwarf.”

She was growing irritated. She shrugged elaborately. “What difference? I don’t wish to talk about him. Or…
her
. I only told you so that you would feel reassured.”

He could not bring himself to thank her.

“Is that all?” he asked.

She frowned, her gaze sliding away from his. “Your brother’s condition might not be noteworthy, but I daresay your sister’s is. I have asked around and no one seems to know anything about her.” Her glance grew sly. “I suspect there’s a reason for that.”

Ah. So he
was
about to be blackmailed. He waited politely.

“Your man of business was most generous to my father.”

“I’m gratified to hear it.”

“Unhappily, my father has not been anywhere near so generous with me. Indeed, he has been positively stingy. Added to which, he has been losing at the gaming tables again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, well, never mind him.” She turned her back to him. “Since I am the person who suffered the greatest from the termination of our engagement, I think it only fair that I should be compensated to a similar degree for my distress.”

It was an effort not to blow out a sigh of relief. A few thousand pounds was a small enough price to salve his conscience. Sophia had badly mismanaged just about every facet of her young life but he had aided in it.

“I see. I’m sure something can be arranged.”

She wheeled around at that, her eyes flying wide in surprise before narrowing with sudden inspiration. She stepped close to him. “I may have been too hasty in calling off our engagement.”

He confessed himself startled. He could not believe she would seriously consider taking the risk that her child would be like Louis or what she imagined Julia to be… But then, she wouldn’t, would she? If he wed her, he realized, he would never have an heir. He owed her a debt, but not one that great. It was best she understood that clearly. “You did what you needed to do.”

She studied him a moment. For all her faults, stupidity was not one of them. She clearly understood the implicit message: There would be no
renewal of his offer. She took it with more grace than he’d have assumed.

She gave a small laugh. “No? Ah, well. Baron Nickelbough has been most assiduous in his attentions and he already has his heir.”

“He would be fortunate.”

She laughed again. “Always the gentleman, Giles. I don’t think I quite appreciated that when it mattered. But yes, he would be.”

Her fingertips danced up his chest. “We had some fun, did we not?”