The Earl I Adore (15 page)

And no, he had no intention of analyzing the moment he'd had distinctly
un
friendly thoughts about her, when her fingers had tucked into his and he'd briefly considered tugging her flush against him. It was a simple lapse. An understandable one, given her loveliness and the intimacy of the moment. She was a friend, and that's all there was to it.

It was a damn shame she would soon be sent back to Appleton because of her family's circumstances. He knew all about living a life that one had never asked for. Knowing what lay ahead for her made him want to make the rest of the time that she had in Bath all the more enjoyable.

He looked back at his sister and nodded in agreement. “If only she had—and not just because the vicar will hold that victory over us until the day we die.”

“Nonsense,” Julia said, amusement tickling the word.
“You're the one who will hold on to it, I'm sure. Mr. Wright was simply enjoying the moment. Speaking for myself, it made my defeat somewhat less crushing to know I lost to a man of God.”

Evan sat back against his chair, eyeing his sister. “I noticed you spent quite a lot of time talking to him. Discussing the Good Book?” He liked to see his sister enjoying herself, laughing without the strain that so often tightened her features. But what he did not approve of was a far too forward young peacock making eyes at her whenever she was near.

She lifted an impertinent brow. “I'll tell you all about what we discussed just as soon as you tell me what you and Sophie were discussing on your walk.”

“Opera, mainly,” he replied, calling her bluff. “A little of my dislike of mathematics and her unaccountable like for it.” It was true enough. She didn't need to know that he had sung anything for Sophie. There was absolutely nothing wrong with doing so, but he simply didn't feel the need to share that particular detail.

After seeing Sophie's spirits sag when she spoke of her circumstances, he had wanted to make her happy again. He was by no means a master, but she had clearly enjoyed the impromptu performance. There was something special about a person who was easily pleased by something so simple. Some people wanted baubles or favors; she simply wanted music.

Across from him, Julia smiled, all innocence. “Then, yes, we talked all about the Bible.”

He scowled at her, knowing full well that she was holding out on him. “I do wish you would keep your distance from him. He's about as close to a saint as I am.” Julia was a strong person, but he worried about her
ability to withstand a true Lothario. It was easy to be swayed by one so skilled at the art of flattery.

“Oh, quit posturing. He is actually a very nice man beneath all that charm.”

“I'm not posturing; I'm keeping your best interests at heart.”

Her amusement faded a bit as she sighed. “I wonder—is it he that you don't trust, or I? You should know that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

It wasn't that he didn't trust her; it was more that he didn't trust her lack of experience when it came to members of the
ton
. “Yes, I know,” he said, not wanting to make it a big issue. “But I don't see why you don't spend more time with someone like Harry. He at least can be counted on to be a gentleman.”

Harry had been around their whole lives. Evan hadn't expected to see their neighbor here this summer, but with Julia showing up on his doorstep, Evan was glad for the man's presence.

Julia rolled her eyes with all the dramatics of a stage actress. “If you're so keen that someone should spend time with the man, might I suggest you do the honors?”

“I spent the entire evening in his company only two days ago.
Happily
, I should add.”

“Well, it appears you are a saint after all,” she replied, a patronizing smile stretching her lips as she came to her feet. “We should all strive to be so tolerant.”

He held up his hands, surrendering. “Fine, fine. I shall trust your judgment, just as I have for years. I'll thank you for continuing to be trustworthy.”

“See?” she said, coming around to kiss his cheek. “You really are a saint.”

He sighed and shook his head. “A martyr is more like it.”

As she started for the door, he swiveled in his chair, a thought occurring to him. “Would you like to go to the gala tomorrow? Cadgwith invited us to join him and the ladies of the trio.”

“Absolutely,” she replied, nodding eagerly.

It would be good for her to spend more time with the other females. He suspected that her lack of close friendships was half the reason she had traveled to Bath.

He angled his head, stuck on that thought. “Are you ready to tell me what brought you to my doorstep last week?”

She bit her lip and gave a little shrug. “Just needed to escape. Funny how some things tend to follow us wherever we go, though.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.” His secrets—
their
secrets—would always be with them. Hopefully her time here would show her that there was still much they could enjoy in life.

“Still, I'm so glad I came. If nothing else, it's good to see you laugh.” She winked before taking her leave.

He settled back against his chair, considering what she'd said. He really had enjoyed being here this summer. The music, the friends—the whole atmosphere of the place was exactly what he hadn't known he needed. And the burgeoning friendship with Sophie Wembley, of all people, was a particular surprise.

It was rather unfortunate that tomorrow might be one of the last times he saw Sophie for the foreseeable future. He was glad for the time they'd had today, especially when he'd had the chance to dispel her notion that she was ordinary. It wasn't right that she should think herself average—she was so much more than the reflection in the mirror.

He chewed the inside of his lip, thinking. Though he
could do little to change the fact that she was departing soon, he could at least make certain that she enjoyed her remaining time in Bath. She was a good friend to him and his sister, and she deserved to leave here knowing that she'd be missed.

*   *   *

“I've a letter from your father,” Mama said, sailing into the drawing room and closing the door with a firm click. She came to sit beside Sophie on the sofa, the letter in question clutched in her fingers.

Sophie's mind had been a million miles away—actually, it was more like two miles away, on the river path—and it took her a moment to come back to the present. “News of Penelope?”

“Yes,” her mother said, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “They're returning from their so-called honeymoon in Scotland. Oh, the blasphemy of the word. I'd say their illicit holiday, but your father has made it quite clear that the church will recognize the union whether we like it or not.”

Sophie pressed her lips together, anger and worry colliding in her chest. So they thought they could slide right back into their lives, did they? As if their actions hadn't permanently damaged both of their families, and blackened their own reputations? “I'm sure whatever funds they had ran out, and they think to return to their families' bosoms.”

“Yes, I imagine you're right. Oh, the nerve,” Mama said, throwing her hands up. “If they had to go off and do such a reckless, selfish thing, they could have at least had the decency to stay away longer. We need all the time we can get.”

The knot of tension that had loosened in recent days yanked tight again in Sophie's stomach. She nodded, not trusting her voice to answer.

Mama eyed her, her lips pursed as she worried the paper in her hands. “How goes your husband hunt? I noticed you spent quite a bit of time in the earl's presence yesterday.”

Not
a topic she wished to discuss with her mother. The words
husband hunt
alone made her feel like a fraud. Her feelings for Evan had nothing to do with her sister's foolish actions, and everything to do with the earl himself. “Well enough, I think.”

“Have you managed to get him to kiss you? Don't think I don't know exactly how much time you spent on the path with him yesterday. I'm quite willing to be a lenient chaperone, but I expect you to show some results.”

Sophie's cheeks flared red-hot. What a horrible, horrible topic to discuss with one's parent. She lifted her chin, clinging to whatever dignity she had left within her. “He was a perfect gentleman. Though I do feel that we have a connection between us. I can talk to him quite easily, and he to me.”

Mama's eyebrow lifted beneath the lace of her mobcap. “Talking never landed an earl in the parson's mousetrap, I'm sure. You must make certain that his interest is captured. Use your feminine wiles, such as they are, and make him see that you are the perfect bride for him.”

Setting down the letter, she pulled both of Sophie's hands into her own. “Sometimes a woman is most interesting when her mouth is
shut
, my little magpie. Push back those shoulders, bat your eyelashes, and smile at him as though he is the cleverest man in the world. We're running out of time, and I don't want to see your hopes dashed forever.”

Embarrassment aside, it was actually one of the sweetest things her mother had said to her. Sophie nodded,
swallowing against the despair that rose up at the thought of living her life not only without the man she loved, but as a cast-aside spinster as well. “I'm doing my best, Mama.”

A pleased smile crinkled the corners of her mother's dark eyes. “Excellent. Whatever it is the earl sees in you, I'm grateful for it. If you can secure his promise, then no one will dare snub the family of a countess.”

Sophie's heart fell. Blast it all, she hadn't even thought of that. Just what she needed: not only her own hopes pinned on a match, but those of her entire family. She exhaled and tried to return her mother's smile. The stakes for tonight's gala had just gone up.

“I
f either of you has a brilliant plan for getting the earl and me alone tonight, I would be ever so grateful,” Sophie said, collapsing onto her bed like a sack of flour.

May chuckled, coming over to perch on the edge of the mattress. “You did a jolly good job of it yourself, yesterday. I've been on tenterhooks all day waiting to hear what happened.”

Both May and Charity, bless them, had converged upon Sophie's house after she had sent out notes begging them to come help her prepare for the gala. She wanted to look absolutely perfect tonight, and heaven knew she'd need reinforcements for that. Sophie had no eye for fashion, and while poor Lynette was perfectly adequate as a lady's maid, her strong suit had never been taming Sophie's unruly hair.

Coming up onto her elbows, Sophie sighed. “He was very sweet, and ever the perfect gentleman—which, of course, was the problem. We had quite a lovely conversation, and he complimented me quite wonderfully, but there weren't any stolen kisses or embraces.” She sighed, blowing a wayward curl out of her eyes. “It figures that
with all the dire warnings about protecting our tender sensibilities from men who are unable to contain their ardor, I would choose one who wants to actually
talk
when we are alone.”

It hadn't just been talking, of course. Hearing him sing just for her had been very special, but it wasn't something she was about to share. Like his whispered translations at the sopranos' performance, those were precious moments between only the two of them.

Smiling from her seat at the dressing table, Charity shook her head. “I'm rather disappointed in you, Sophie. I was sure you, of all people, would have had him wrapped around your little finger by the time you returned from your excursion. No one is as effortlessly charming, in my book.”

“That is a bag of moonshine, but thank you nonetheless,” Sophie said with a grateful smile in Charity's direction. “Honestly, I might have, had Miss Paddington and her chaperone not strolled down the path and interrupted a very promising moment.” At least it was easy enough to tell herself that.

“Oh, there was a moment?” May's blond eyebrows lifted with interest.

Sophie couldn't hold back an embarrassed grin as she nodded.

“Well, the plot thickens. In that case, we must be certain not only that you find time alone with the good earl tonight, but that you are not interrupted.” She crossed her arms and thought for a moment. “I think it should be the labyrinth. My aunt said that even if one knows the proper route, it is still half a mile long. Without knowing, it can take hours to find one's way through.”

“That is promising,” Sophie replied, trying not to think of what in the world she would do once she got
him alone. How did one go about using one's feminine wiles?

“I can hear the worry in your voice,” Charity said, her gray eyes sympathetic. “Just remember that we will be there with you the whole time . . . until you don't want us, that is.”

“Yes,” May added, her smile sly. “At which point we promise to scatter like mice so you may have your moment.”

Charity wrinkled her nose. “Like mice? I'd rather not.”

“Fine—like cockroaches then?”

“May!”

As they laughed and teased one another, Sophie couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit better. She was running out of time to capture the earl's heart, but at least she had her allies to help her through.

“All right, ladies,” she said, calling them back to order. “Now for the most important decision of the day: What shall I wear?”

Hours later, as Sophie stood nervously just outside the elegant hotel at the entrance to the park, she was beginning to wish she had ignored her friends' advice. They had decided on one of her best gowns, a pale pink confection with flounces at the bottom and two rows of blond lace at the bodice. It was truly lovely, but it just didn't feel like
her.
She wasn't the frilly-gown-and-lace type; she was just plain Sophie, who preferred simple styles done in sunny colors. No use gilding a lily, after all.

She did at least love her hair, thanks to May's intervention. Apparently a lady's maid hadn't always been available in the outer reaches of the East Indies, and she had learned to be quite good with dressing her hair. She had pulled Sophie's long locks into stylish plaits that
coiled around her head, locking away the wiry strands that normally sprang free from her hairpins on warm summer evenings like tonight.

Of course, all of her efforts would be for nothing if Evan didn't show up.

Sophie resisted the urge to ask Lord Cadgwith for the time yet again, and instead scanned the faces streaming past as they entered the park. From where she stood, she could see hundreds of attendees blanketing the gravel paths and spilling out over the well-manicured grounds. Thousands upon thousands of unlit lamps lined the paths and hung from the trees, all waiting for the dark of twilight to unleash their magic. The vegetation was lush and mature, obscuring much of the park past the principal walk, so there was no way to tell just how many people were actually present.

Sophie sighed. No wonder May's aunt had been so willing to relax her normal watchfulness and join Charity's grandmother and Sophie's mother at the pavilion seating area. There were so many people around, it would be impossible to get into any real trouble.

“Don't worry,” Charity said, slipping her arm through Sophie's. “Once the sun sets, the concert will begin in earnest. People will congregate by the pavilion, and the park won't seem nearly so crowded.”

“If you say so.” She wasn't so sure—the idea of privacy in this crush seemed absurd—but she squeezed Charity's hand in thanks for her support anyhow.

When Sophie turned back to the crowd, her eyes immediately landed on a tall, broad-shouldered man pulling ahead of the cluster of people walking toward the park. She sucked in a short breath, her hand going straight to her heart. She'd know that long-legged stride anywhere.

Evan was there at last, and he was emerging from the crowd like Triton from the boiling sea. She dropped her hands to her side, silently berating herself for her silliness. Obviously she was anxious if she was comparing the man to the god of the sea. Although, in her defense, he did rather have the bearing of a Greek god, thanks to his fine, straight nose and chiseled jawline. It was in his walk, too. He was always so self-possessed, so sure of himself.

He was impeccably dressed, wearing a dark green coat and handsome tan breeches. His cravat was crisp, his shoes polished, and his bearing was exactly what one would expect of an earl. She waved, grinning in welcome. He returned her smile easily—warmly, even—as he tipped his head up in a nod of acknowledgment.

Sucking in a nervous little breath, Sophie stepped forward to greet him. “Good evening, my lord. Welcome to the gala.”

He nodded in return. “And to you, Miss Wembley. Good evening, all,” he said, smiling at the others. “What luck to have such perfect weather for the festivities.”

For the first time, Sophie noticed that Julia was at his side, looking splendid in a mulberry gown with dainty puff sleeves and a matching fringed shawl. Her cheeks were a vibrant shade of pink not far off from the hue of the gown.

“Yes, how fortunate we are,” Sophie said as she grinned at Julia. “I'm so glad you both could join us.”

“We're delighted to be here,” the earl's sister replied, though she put a self-conscious hand to her cheek. “I stayed inside for most of the day since I managed to get far too much sun yesterday, so I was feeling dreadfully cooped up.”

May cringed, offering a sympathetic smile. “I know all
about the dangers of the summer sun. I have burned more times than I can remember when on board my father's ship.”

Julia's eyes lit. “Oh, I can only imagine what it must be like to traverse the ocean. I haven't even
seen
a ship, let alone been on one. Is it as terrifying as it looks in paintings?”

“It is the most free and marvelous feeling you could imagine—assuming you don't succumb to mal de mer.” May made a face at the mention of seasickness.

Charity held up her hand, mirth crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Before we further explore that delightful thought, perhaps we should decide what we would like to do first.”

Seizing the opportunity, Sophie clasped her hands together. “I, for one, am quite resolved to try my hand at the labyrinth.”

“Will it be open?” the baron asked, glancing to the sky, where the sun was already dipping to the trees.

“I don't see why not. Heaven knows they have enough lamps to light half the city. And it will be good escape from the crowds, since I imagine most shall attend the concert.” Sophie knew that Charity's betrothed couldn't countenance loud music or noise, so he would likely be gone before the concert, and most certainly before the fireworks.

May nodded, betraying not a hint of having suggested the maze hours earlier. “I think that is a marvelous idea. And I imagine we'll still be able to hear the orchestra, if only just.”

Evan lifted his brows, sending a mischievous look around the group. “Shall we make a race of it? First one out reclaims lost bragging rights from the tournament?”

“Hold on,” Charity said, putting her hands on her
hips. “I'm not giving up my hard-won rights, thank you very much.”

“More like
stolen
, if I remember correctly,” the earl replied, winking at Sophie.

For some reason, the heat of a blush rose up her cheeks. He seemed in a good mood today, which made things slightly easier, but he still made her heart race with a single look. Pursing her lips, Sophie said, “Perhaps we should have an entirely different set. Charity, you may retain archery superiority, and I'll soon boast directional.”

Cadgwith chuckled, shaking his head. “We'll see about that. I am a trained army officer, after all. I should be able to find my way through a maze blindfolded.”

“That can be arranged,” May replied, her blue eyes filled with good humor. “I've no problem accepting any advantages I can find.”

Sophie laughed before looking to Evan. “And you, my lord? Are you as good at labyrinths as you are at archery?”

He lifted his shoulders in a good-natured shrug. “Couldn't say, as I've yet to subject myself to one. However, being a proper English lord, I have every expectation that I shall conquer the thing by sheer force of will.”

Shaking her head, Sophie grinned. “This is one thing that I can say with a hundred percent confidence that your title will not help you do. Actually, I'll even go so far as to say my female intuition gives me the advantage in this case.”

“Such confidence. Well, I suppose there is only one way to settle the matter,” Evan said, gesturing toward the path in front of them. “Shall we?”

*   *   *

After the ladies had informed their chaperones about their plans, the group headed off for the maze. Evan was
glad to see that Sophie was in good spirits today, not that he would have expected anything less of her. If there was one thing he had learned from their recent encounters, it was that she was always willing to look for the best in any situation.

And it was impossible not to notice how exceptionally well she looked today. With her dark hair done up the way it was, she reminded him of some sort of Greek temptress—something he would have never thought to associate with her before. The gown itself went a long way toward furthering that impression, with a low swooping neckline that seemed custom made to draw the eye to the generous rise of her breasts.

He may be a gentleman, and this was Sophie, but he wasn't blind. His mind flashed back to the memorable moment his hand had landed on the curve of her hip the night before the opera. He swallowed, dragging his thoughts away from her figure.

He turned his attention to their surroundings. Colorful flags lined the path they walked, strung from tree to tree like Christmas garlands. The smell of roasting nuts and sweet buns fragranced the air as they passed vendor carts and costermongers, all eager to relieve the attendees of a few shillings.

He held his silence as they headed down toward the canal. It felt awkward, unnatural even, but at that exact moment, he couldn't think of a thing in the world to talk about. The others were no help, having broken off into pairs, chatting as they walked ahead. Cadgwith led the group, with Miss Effington on his arm while Miss Bradford and Julia had their heads together, probably discussing world travel, God help him. By way of default, Evan and Sophie merged closer and closer as they brought up the rear of the group, until finally he sighed
and did as any good gentleman would, offering his elbow.

“Why, thank you,” she said, easily accepting his assistance. “I always dislike walking on gravel in slippers. More than that, I'd hate to trip again. One does try to keep that sort of thing to a minimum, especially when I'm so looking forward to beating all of you in the maze.”

Her enthusiasm brought a small smile to his lips, thankfully unlocking his frozen brain. “I don't think you were half so competitive about the contest yesterday. Have we awoken your inner competitor?”

Her dimples appeared as she threw him a wry look. “Yes, I think so, though please don't tell my mother. She believes that in mixed company, a lady should always allow a gentleman to win. That way a man can feel accomplished, and the woman can have reason to heap praise upon him.” She gave a light roll of her eyes. “In her opinion, no man likes to be bested, and a woman shouldn't jeopardize his good opinion of her by doing so.”

“Hmm—she may be onto something.”

She lightly tapped his arm with her gloved hand. “Don't think I'm going to take it easy on you or Lord Cadgwith in order to protect your masculine sensibilities. A win isn't worth having unless it is achieved honestly.”