Karen Harbaugh (25 page)

“A farewell.... Yes—No—That is, I, I understand. Of course.” Her mind was awhirl. It was different from any sort of farewell she had received in her life, but she supposed things were different in the places he had lived. An odd dizziness seeped slowly from her head, and she was able to gather a measure of composure. She took a deep breath.

“Do you think Lady Rothwick would ever be inclined to leave Staynes with you—for company, of course—someday in the future, perhaps?” she asked.

One corner of his mouth quirked up for a brief moment. “Oh, I imagine it might be possible. You will certainly know when it occurs.”

Sophia felt her throat tighten. “Please do let me know,” she managed to whisper. She looked up at him and held out her hand. “I wish you a safe journey, Sir James.”

He took her hand and bowed over it. “Your wish is my command, sweet one,” he said. He released her, and Sophia gave him half a smile, turned, and ran toward the house.

As a result, she did not see the odd smile on Sir James’s lips or the half-raised hand he extended toward her retreating form. He dropped his hand again, seemed to shake himself, then turned toward the stables.

Chapter 13

Linnea pulled her bandboxes onto her bed and flung her clothes at them. They missed their target, and as dresses, scarves, and sundry other items slipped to the floor, she sank onto a chair and burst into tears. Scrabbling for a handkerchief with one hand, she wiped her cheeks with the other.

Stop! Stop weeping, you silly woman! she told herself sternly. Linnea dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief she finally found, blew her nose, and gave a last resolute sniff. There now! She would call her maid to pack her clothes properly and take her along to Bath to visit Miss Brinkley. She was respectably married now, and Miss Brinkley would welcome her in her kindly way. She knew her former schoolmistress would make a temporary place for her until she was able to think more clearly and decide what she would do with herself.

“I am going on a short visit, Betty,” she said after the maid had come into the room. “Please pack my clothes and other necessary items, and then quickly prepare yourself for travel. I shall need you to accompany me to an old friend’s house.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “Yes, my lady, of course.” The little maid had noticed her mistress’s reddened eyes and wondered what had occurred to make Lady Rothwick so unhappy. And during her honeymoon, too! It must be his lordship again! Men! Why, didn’t she herself find Thomas the footman cuddling the scullery maid? The scullery maid, of all people! The girl firmed her lips and set herself to work with a right good will.

Meanwhile Linnea sat down at her escritoire, took up pen, ink, and paper, and started to write. She paused, crumpled the paper, and took out another. Finally, after three balls of paper lay crumpled on the desk, she signed her name and sighed a sigh of completion.

“My lord, I am going on a visit to Bath. You need not fear I am committing any impropriety, for I shall be amply escorted.”

That was all. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, in which each partner had independent concerns. She did not need to explain herself, she felt, for he certainly thought explaining
his
actions unnecessary. Her lips pressed together with a certain satisfaction as she scanned the note again. That was all he needed to know.

She sanded and folded the note. She looked at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece and saw it was not long before dinner. She would have Bartle give the note to Lord Rothwick then.

Finally all was packed and she was dressed, with Betty at her side. Bartle raised his brows momentarily but did not comment when she gave him the note and requested the traveling coach and footmen to accompany her.

As she sat in the coach, Linnea wondered briefly how long would it be before Rothwick noticed her absence. She pulled up her shoulders against the thought. He would know soon enough when he received the note.

* * * *

Sir James wore a contemplative look on his face as he rode slowly back to his hunting box. The blond little witch had caught him by surprise. He had assumed from her insinuations that Lady Rothwick was not more than a courtesan at heart—and had been quite wrong. Miss Amberley—Sophia—had lied to him. Or, no, he thought, recalling her face when she’d told him of Lady Rothwick’s supposed perfidy, it was what she believed. He grinned to himself. The vain little chit thought that was the only reason a man would choose another woman over her.

He should have suspected it by the jealous look in Rothwick’s eye, but he had dismissed it as watchfulness lest Lady Rothwick commit an impropriety. And, he admitted to himself, he should have suspected it by Lady Rothwick’s reserved demeanor. But Sophia had a way of turning a man’s mind from pure reason—and that was a new experience for him.

The countryside passed by him unnoticed as he thought of Sophia. She was a clever little thing, oddly naive while she planned, plotted, and contrived—and vastly amusing. And she had actually upset the ordered workings of his mind. How had she done it?

Sir James grinned. She was certainly beautiful and entirely desirable. That, and the anger she had momentarily sparked in him by her resistance of him, had made him kiss her just to see her discomposed. Yet he had wanted to do more than kiss her; he had wanted to pull her down behind the bushes and make love to her, possess her, make her cry out with pleasure. She would be his own, and he would put a child in her to bear at his home in—

Sir James’s hands tensed on the reins, making his horse come to a standstill as a wild possessiveness seized his vitals and left him almost breathless. He wanted her—more than that. He wanted Sophia to be
his
wife and no one else’s. He had thought he’d seduce her, make her his mistress despite her rank and breeding. But then she could roam, as any mistress might. As his wife, she’d be his forever, by law. And he would kill anyone who dared touch her.

He would have her and most certainly make her his wife. Sir James kicked his horse to a gallop toward his hunting box. He had noted Lady Rothwick passing him in a traveling carriage not long ago and had almost dismissed it from his mind. A slow smile grew on his lips, widening fiercely. He would write a short note to Miss Amberley. He laughed aloud. The hunt was on.

* * * *

Rothwick stared moodily at the wineglass next to him on the side table. It was half empty, but he pushed it away from him instead of draining it. Sir James had not been at the stables, and he hadn’t been able to find him elsewhere. By the time he’d come back to the stables, the man’s horse was gone. But the next time...! The earl spent a few moments pleasurably contemplating what he’d do to him. Soon his savage visions faded, and he blinked.

The dinner bell rang, and he rose automatically. Linnea would be there, and it would be a devilishly awkward meal, but he would get through it. He grimaced. His temper had cooled, and he had to acknowledge that his words had been too hasty. In fact, he had been downright unjust to her. He would apologize once they left the dining room—

No, damn it. There were their guests, and they had to be accommodated. It would have to be later in the evening, when they retired for the night. He sighed and went down to dinner.

As he entered the room, he noted that Sophia and her brother were before him. She looked quite wan, although Richard seemed to be in fairly good spirits. They sat, and Rothwick waited impatiently for Linnea to arrive. The door opened and Bartle entered, bearing not dinner, but a tray with two notes upon it.

“Excuse me, my lord, but Lady Rothwick desired me to give you this,” the butler said. He turned to Sophia. “And there is another letter directed to Miss Amberley.” His face showed a faint disapproval at this irregularity, though he took the letter to her.

The earl opened his but looked up when he heard a gasp from Sophia. She had turned quite pale.

“Is something the matter, Miss Amberley?” She raised her gaze to him, and for a moment he thought anguish marred the polite expression on her face. He glanced an order to Bartle, and the butler dismissed the footmen and left the room.

“No, I—No, nothing. Nothing is the matter. I am quite well.”

“Your family, then?”

“No. No this has nothing to do with my family. Please, let us go on with our dinner.”

Rothwick nodded, looked down at the note in his hand, and felt the room take a quick turn.

She was gone. Linnea, his wife, was gone. He stared at his plate before him, as if he could somehow make her appear if he focused all his attention on it. But why? His mind was oddly blank, and then a mist of a thought coalesced there. He had raged at her, he had thrown unjust accusations at her, when she was most likely only a victim of a practiced seducer.

He raised his eyes and stared at the chair Linnea usually took during meals, not noticing Richard’s curious glance or Sophia’s anxious one. He hadn’t even had a chance to apologize, to tell her he was wrong, to tell her he loved her.

He loved her. Rothwick’s abrupt, sharp awareness of his surroundings enabled him to suppress the groan that filled his throat. He stood up suddenly.

“I am sorry to be so uncivil as to leave you to your dinner here alone, but I am afraid I must attend to matters of some import.” He bowed briefly to Sophia and her brother and turned to leave.

“Lady Rothwick...”

The earl turned swiftly at Sophia’s voice. The anguish he had fleetingly seen in her eyes was there in full force. A horrible suspicion rose in his mind.

“What do you know of Lady Rothwick, Miss Amberley?”

“I... she—” Sophia’s voice broke, and she mutely extended her letter to him. He seized it, read it, and turned rage-hot eyes upon her.

“You conniving little—
chit!”

Sophia flinched, and tears slid down her cheeks.

“I say!” protested Richard. “That’s no way to talk to my—”

Rothwick strode to him and thrust the letter under Richard’s nose so that he could not fail to read it.

“Good God!” Richard said faintly.

“Quite.” Rothwick stalked to the door. “You will excuse me while I bring back my wife from the clutches of the bas—the
gentleman
whom your sister has thrown at her.” The door slammed behind him.

Richard turned horrified eyes to Sophia. “Are you mad? What in God’s name made you do this?”

His sister turned pain and guilt-filled eyes upon him. “I... I thought—I was angry…”

“It seems to me you hadn’t thought at all!”

“But I did! I thought she was not good enough for Lord Rothwick.”

Richard’s glance was full of scorn. “You thought!
You
thought! After she kindly helped us when we had our accident—and I know you engineered it, my girl!—and invited us to stay at her home during her
honeymoon,
you couldn’t find anything good about her
still?
And now, out of sheer vanity and spite, you connive with Sir James to abduct her!”

“No! I didn’t mean it to be like that! I—Oh, God, Richard, we must stop him!” Sophia rose hastily from her chair, her eyes bright with alarm.

“I should say so! But Lord Rothwick will handle it quite well by himself, I am sure.”

“No! I mean, we must stop Rothwick! You saw how angry he was. He will
kill
Sir James!” Sophia wrung her hands anxiously.

Richard’s jaw dropped almost to his chest. “Are you completely insane? If Sir James has kidnapped Lady Rothwick, it is up to Rothwick to deal with him.”

“No, no! I cannot let it happen!” She ran to her brother and clutched his coat. “Oh, Richard, please, please, you must follow them and take me with you!”

“No!”

Fresh tears ran down Sophia’s cheeks, and she pounded a fist on his chest. “Oh, please, Richard! I will do anything you say, only take me to him quickly!”

Her brother opened his mouth to retort, then closed it, thinking hard. Pity for her obvious anguish and a sneaking glee at her discomfiture warred in his heart. And then self-preservation stepped in. Richard grinned slowly.

“Only if you give me the bill for the sapphire set.”

Sophia frantically plunged her hand in a hidden pocket of her dress and shoved a folded piece of paper at him. “Here! Here it is! Take it, and let us go!”

He took and opened it. It was not blank this time, but most certainly the bill. He smiled and pocketed it. “Very well, then,” he said.

Sophia seized his arm and pulled him toward the door. “Oh, hurry! Please hurry!”

* * * *

“Perhaps we should stop for a moment and take some refreshment,” Sir James said to Linnea.

He was riding his horse and bent to speak with her through the window of the coach. The coach had been going at a good clip, but his horse was faster and he had caught up with it before it had reached the road to Bath. The inn at the crossroads leading to Bath in one direction and London in another was but a mile ahead, but he had skipped his dinner in his haste and was now feeling devilish sharp-set. He smiled. How convenient it was that nature and his plans so easily dovetailed!

Linnea’s stomach had finally unclenched since leaving Staynes, and her mind had calmed to a point where she could think clearly. She had left before dinner, and it was silly to continue on her journey when she knew it would be a long time to the next meal. Indeed, she should have left after dinner, but she had felt such anger and unhappiness, she would not have been able to eat one bite. But she glanced at Sir James skeptically.

“Are you suggesting I have dinner with you? Considering the trouble you have caused me, I am surprised you ask.”

“My dear Lady Rothwick, I no longer have designs on you—in fact, I never did, so to speak. You might even think of me as a modern Cupid, rather.”

Linnea laughed. “Oh, really? And how is that?”

“I have a whim to act the matchmaker.”

“Then I think I will
not
have dinner with you.”

“I assure you, my designs are focused completely on another lady.”

“Honorable, of course.”

Sir James smiled widely. “Of course. Miss Amberley will most certainly marry me.”