All I Ever Needed (21 page)

"But they did not seek it out."

"No."

"I see." Tremont sipped his port. "I continue to have reservations about the wisdom of this plan. There is the opium trade to consider. No one is saying aloud the traffic will be increased tenfold, and yet everyone knows it."

Eastlyn had not considered he might share a concern in common with Tremont. The East India Company's toehold in Singapore would surely lead to a tidal wave of trade, with opium being a most profitable commodity. "I have not heard you raise this particular objection before."

"I have not judged it to be the proper time to make a public statement about the drug trade," Tremont said. "There are many who will be enriched considerably by it, and that is something to note when standing in opposition to the Company's plans. I do not believe all the decisions I make must be popular ones, but I am cognizant that one must choose one's enemies as carefully as one's friends." He paused, rolling the stem of his glass in his fingers. "How widespread do you make the support for this settlement?"

Eastlyn's faint smile was a trifle mocking. Tremont was being disingenuous. The earl knew his opinion for or against could have a great influence on the outcome. "I think my presence here speaks to that."

"So it does." He remained silent, thoughtful. "What is it you would have me do, Eastlyn?"

"Think on it. Give the matter your full consideration. Nothing more than that. It is little enough to ask, I believe."

"Indeed. So little, in fact, that I wonder you traveled so far and with such dispatch to request it."

East shrugged lightly. He sensed that Tremont was treading carefully, not wanting to appear too eager in stating the conditions that might influence his thinking. "I find that London does not have as much to recommend itself to me as the country." He made a point of allowing his eyes to wander around Tremont's large library with its comfortable appointments and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The room appeared to be well used by the earl. The writing desk was the site of carefully stacked papers and an assortment of pens, and the drinks cabinet was stocked with decanters that were not entirely filled. This last suggested that Tremont availed himself of its use rather more quickly than the servants could replenish it. "You are of a like mind?" Eastlyn asked.

Tremont rose to fill his glass. "Actually I have come to appreciate London and now find that the country is only tolerable. The house and lands, however, require my attention. After years of neglect by my cousin, I am discovering that a firm hand is needed here." He glanced over his shoulder as he poured the port. "I am remiss in inquiring about your accommodations. You are satisfied with your room? Sophia seems to think it will not do."

"It is where her father slept, I believe," Eastlyn said. "She is perhaps uncomfortable with the idea of it being occupied again."

"It's been three years." Tremont returned to his chair and brought a measure of his impatience with him, sitting down hard enough to make the claw-and-ball feet ripple the Aubusson rug. "The gel needs to stop dwelling on what's done. It was God's will that my cousin should go when he did, and Sophia would do better not to question His divine plans."

Eastlyn thought Tremont's contention was somewhat harsh, but he did not take issue with it directly. Coming to Sophie's defense could only have a complicating effect on the time he spent here. "If it is all the same to you, Tremont, I should prefer another room. I have no desire to be the cause of Lady Sophia's distress."

"As you wish."

Eastlyn could not help but notice Tremont's agreement was reluctantly given in spite of his words to the contrary. "Thank you." He finished his port and set the glass aside, in no way inclined to have another. "You will think about East India's proposal, will you not? I look forward to discussing it further tomorrow."

"Of course. There is much to consider." Tremont rested his chin on the knuckles of one hand while he studied his guest in a most open manner. "We have had no conversation between us regarding your own proposal."

East did not hurry his response. He wasn't entirely certain what Tremont meant. "My proposal?" he asked. "To what do you refer?"

Tremont merely smiled. "Mayhap you should think on it. I am eager to hear more on that subject on the morrow."

* * *

The night air was cool, but Eastlyn took no notice. He walked through the terraced gardens at Tremont Park at the same leisurely pace he would have set for the full light of day. After excusing himself from Tremont's presence, he had wandered outside rather than avail himself of the opportunity to explore the house. There would be ample time to do that in the morning. With Tremont well into his cups by evening's end, Eastlyn suspected the earl would not quit his bed early. Any discussion about the Singapore settlement would necessarily come later in the day. There was the more disturbing possibility that Tremont would want to discuss Sophie first.

Eastlyn was actually surprised by Tremont's restraint. Sophie's presence at the table was reason enough not to raise certain questions over dinner, but once he and the earl were alone Eastlyn had been prepared to be cornered. Tremont had not struck East as a patient man, let alone a tactician. It was an opinion in want of revising if he was to hold his own with the man. Tremont had been quite willing to hear him out in regard to the settlement. It had laid the foundation that his support was necessary to the interests of the Crown. It was in Eastlyn's best interest not to overstate that point and give Tremont too much leverage over him, yet it was difficult to strike just the right balance. Several rounds of cards had done nothing to encourage East that he had made a good job of it. Tremont's spirits seemed to be set a notch too high, and his mood was unchanged whether he won or lost at the table. East interpreted that to mean that Tremont believed he was already in complete possession of the high ground.

What concerned Eastlyn was that Tremont might be right.

Occupied by the problem before him, he did not immediately see Sophie at the periphery of his vision. It was only when she moved that his attention was caught by the shifting shadows. He hesitated, wondering if he should pretend she had escaped his notice, but then decided she did not deserve such gentle treatment. She had not been disposed to give him consideration when he was in his bath. A certain amount of retribution was in order.

Too late, Sophie realized her mistake was in trying to avoid being seen by moving out of the way. There was nothing for it but to stand her ground as he approached. Moonshine cast Eastlyn in its blue-gray light, lending his features the cool perfection of marble sculpted by a master's hand. He was smiling at her, not in a way that was openly amused, but secretly so, and his eyes were black now, both penetrating and predatory. Sophie had the odd sensation, not easily suppressed, that his advancement bore less resemblance to a greeting than a hunt.

Eastlyn was bareheaded this evening and unable to tip his hat. He inclined his head instead. "I had not expected to come upon you again tonight. It is rather late, is it not, for you to be out?"

"I was going to say much the same thing to you. I would have thought your journey would have prompted you to retire early."

"Yes, well, I have had my fill of cards and port and cigars and find none of it conducive to sleep. You?"

"Contrary to your contention that this is a late hour, I do not find it so. I am often about. There is a small lake on the other side of that stand of pines that I like to visit. On a night such as this one it holds the moon and is pleasant to look upon."

Eastlyn regarded Sophie more closely, taking in her posture and the small tremor that made her seem to shimmer in the moonlight. She had her hands clasped behind her back, a pose that made him suspect she was hiding something. It occurred to him that her hair was darker than the night could account for, and it prompted him to reach out suddenly and touch a spiraling tendril at her temple. His fingertips came away damp. He grinned openly at her, quite sure now that he knew what she held at her back. "Why, Lady Sophia," he drawled, "I do believe you took a spill in the lake."

Sophie let her hands fall to her sides and revealed her towel. "Oh, you know very well I did not. I was swimming."

East did not try to suppress his chuckle. "The water must have been... um, bracing."

"It was freezing."

He decided to take pity on her. "And now you are, too. Come, let me escort you back to the house where you can find warmth." Without waiting for her assent, East tucked his arm under hers and brought Sophie around to the path. Once on it, he took the towel from her unresisting fingers and made a fashionable turban for her hair. "It might not win approval in London salons, but it could gain wide favor here in the country." He removed his frock coat and placed it around her shoulders. "Better?"

In spite of Sophie's wish that it were otherwise, it was better. She had never gone swimming so late in the year and had been seduced by the warmth of the day and a restlessness that could not be satisfied in the confines of the great house. It was not until she dove under the water that she realized how little heat the lake retained below its surface. Striking out hard for the opposite side did nothing at all to warm her blood. Indeed, Eastlyn's arm linked in hers and the touch of his fingertips in her hair had done considerably more to remove the chill from her marrow. "Thank you," she said, glad that her teeth did not chatter. "You are most kind."

"Just practical," he said. "It occurs that Tremont will not deal well with me if I cannot thaw you."

Sophie came close to stumbling then. There was a second meaning to Eastlyn's words that she did not think she was mistaking. She shot him a look that would have told him how out of sorts she was if he had bothered to glance in her direction. He did not, however, choosing instead to remain sublimely unconcerned, and Sophie was forced to tell him. "You are speaking nonsense, my lord. What I think about you can be of no importance to my cousin. He cares nothing for my opinion on any matter, and this can be no different."

"If you choose to believe that, I will not try to persuade you otherwise."

Sophie actually ground her teeth together. In the still night air the sound of it carried so that Eastlyn could not mistake it for anything else.

"You have something on your mind, I collect." He waited, but she did not answer, and he chose to change the subject—after a fashion. "I learned in London of your engagement to Mr. George Heath. I was remiss in not mentioning it when I encountered you this afternoon."

"Hardly remiss," she said. "Rather more circumspect than you are being now. You must have heard also that Mr. Heath is now married to Miss Rebecca Sayers."

"Yes." He paused and looked at her, regarding her profile as they walked. "Was your heart bespoken for as well?"

"No."

East considered this. "So you agreed to marry Mr. Heath when you bore him no great affection, yet would not answer my proposal in a similar way. I do not understand that, Sophie."

"No, I suppose you do not, and I am of no mind to explain it to you. You will have to accept it, I'm afraid." She pulled Eastlyn's coat more tightly about her shoulders. The scent of him was in the fabric, and it was all she could do not to breathe deeply of it. "I am glad that Mr. Heath expressed himself so convincingly in the end. He deserves to be happy, and it seems to me that is more likely to be accomplished with Miss Sayers at his side than with me."

"I think you underestimate your influence."

"No," she said flatly. "I do not."

"I find myself quite happy at your side."

Sophie turned her head, her mouth set disapprovingly. "I wish you would not give voice to that sort of flattering drivel. I have always been able to depend upon your honesty. I should like that to continue."

They were at the edge of the garden, not much more than twenty yards from the rear entrance to the manor's solarium. Several lamps had been left burning there, each shedding enough light in its respective circle to indicate the room was unoccupied. Eastlyn held Sophie's elbow fast, halting her advance to the house. He did not turn her toward him, but stepped around himself so that he was facing her. "That is unfair of you. I did not mean to flatter you, only to express what I know to be true. You not only belittle yourself but my feelings as well."

Startled and not a little ashamed, Sophie averted her glance, then her head. Eastlyn cupped her chin and tilted her face toward him, though getting her to raise her heavy lashes required more in the way of verbal manipulation than physical.

"Look at me, Sophie." He might have missed the small shake of her head if it had not been for his fingertips against her skin. "You cannot be so shy of a sudden. Is it because you know I mean to kiss you if you do not look up?"

That announcement had the desired effect. Sophie's glance flew to his, and she stared at him with darkening eyes.

"I mean to kiss you anyway, you know."

She did know. It was so very hard not to lean into his mouth as he lowered his head, so difficult not to press herself against his chest or grip his shoulders and hold him to her. Her swim tonight had been in aid of avoiding this exact end. She had not meant to provoke a confrontation with Eastlyn, but rather circumvent one. The water should have chilled her blood and put a period to the restlessness that plagued her all evening. The effect was not quite what she had wished for, not when he had the capacity to nullify it so easily.