Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (5 page)

What would Lord Wolfram think of that? Would he think she deserved to be used in such a way? Probably. And yet here she was, going to the kitchen to have tea made for him. She had made him sit near the fire so his clothing would dry and he wouldn't catch cold.

She wanted him out of her house. It was that simple. If he got sick he would have to stay, and she couldn't trust herself not to do everything she could to increase his suffering. That was a lie. She would probably nurse him back to health herself, she was that much of an idiot.

"It smells wonderful in here," she announced with false cheer as she stepped into the kitchen.

The cook smiled at her over her shoulder from her spot by the stove. "Thank you, m'lady. 'Tis lamb for supper. I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of changing the menu as it looks like the earl will be staying."

"Oh?" Sophia tried to keep the panic from her voice. She glanced at Mrs. Ellis, who sat at the rough-hewn table sipping a cup of tea. "Have you had word from his men?"

The round-faced housekeeper nodded as she set her empty cup on the saucer. "Yes, my lady. Roger took a few men from the great house and went to give them a hand."

The great house? Oh, no! That meant Charles would know that Julian was there.

"They managed to get the carriage and the horses up to the stables," Mrs. Ellis continued, "and they hope to have the wheel fixed, or a new one on by tomorrow morning at the latest."

If it weren't for the presence of the two other women, Sophia thought she might have been ill right then and there. Julian couldn't stay the night! It had taken all her strength to face him for thirty minutes! How could she possibly manage to spend the entire night under the same roof with him? She couldn't. They would just have to have his carriage fixed and ready to go. And the rain would just have to stop. That's all there was to it.

"I see," she murmured. "Make up a room for his lordship just in case." The words were bitter in her mouth, but unless she wanted the servants gossiping, she had to pretend that Julian's presence was perfectly normal and not something that made her want to run through the house screaming.

As she turned to leave the room, feeling much like a marionette with tangled strings, she remembered why she had gone to the kitchen in the first place.

"Mrs. Ellis, would you be so good as to take Lord Wolfram some tea and soup? I would hate for him to take ill."
And have to stay here for more than one night.

The housekeeper smiled. "Of course, Lady Aberley. Would you like me to set a cup for yourself?"

Take tea with Julian? She'd rather wash her face with lye. The man was too handsome, too much of a threat to her. When he wasn't bristling like a hedgehog, he was far too easy to talk to. He always had been, but he was the last person on earth with whom she should trust her secrets— or her regrets.

"No. But perhaps you would send a tray of tea and cakes up to Lady Letitia's room. I shall take refreshment with her."

Leaving the kitchen, Sophia walked slowly back to the hall. Her meeting with Julian had taken what little energy she had, and now she had to deal with his overly dramatic sister. It was not a chore she looked forward to, but Julian wasn't leaving without his sister, and Letitia didn't want to go with him at all. If Sophia ever wanted the two siblings out of her house, she was going to have to try her best to help repair the rift between them. It was either that or go stay with Lady Wickford until the smoke cleared.

As she crossed several of the brightly hued rugs that covered the ruin that was the hall floor, Sophia finally allowed her thoughts to turn to Julian— not as a threat, or as an earl, or even as Letitia's brother, but as a man. More important, how the man he was today compared with the young man she once favored above all others.

He was the one man— the one person— who had ever dared say no to her. Certainly her husband and his brother had no trouble denying her anything, but Julian had been the first, and his refusal hadn't come on the heels of a request for a new gown or a puppy, but from the offer of everything she had to give.

The first time she laid eyes on Julian Rexley she had thought him Adonis come to earth, so struck was she by his beauty. Standing in the middle of Almack's, the light from the chandeliers warming the gold of his skin and highlighting the thick waves of his hair, he had set her heart to pounding in a most exciting manner. Her friend Caroline had judged him "too thin," but Sophia was smitten regardless.

He hadn't changed that much over the years. There were faint lines carved in the delicate flesh around his eyes and between his brows and around his mouth— a mouth that was far too sensual to be wasted on a man. He frowned just as much as he laughed, as was usual with people whose moods were as unpredictable and volatile as the weather.

Age had fleshed out the gauntness of youth from the sharply chiseled bones of his face, just as it had with the rest of him. Julian Rexley had grown into his body in a most spectacular manner. He carried himself proudly, showing off his extraordinary height, and the limbs that had at one time been gangly and a little awkward moved with the fluid grace of a man who knew his place in the world— on top of it.

If he had been striking in his youth, he was devastating now— if one liked men who were too handsome for their own good. Personally, Sophia thought looks were horribly overrated, at least where Julian was concerned. He might look tempting, but just like the serpent who tormented Eve he had a nasty bite. She knew that firsthand, a fact she would do well to remember when his beauty threatened to overwhelm her.

Lifting her skirts, she climbed the stairs to the next floor and at the top, squared her shoulders in preparation for seeing Letitia. It was not going to be pleasant. The girl believed her brother to be totally against her, and Sophia thought she just might be right, but Sophia knew Julian's intentions weren't self-serving. He only wanted to see her settled and well matched, just as Sophia's own parents had, or at least her mother had. Her father had just wanted to be rid of her.

And truthfully, had her parents chosen so very badly for her? Edmund was from a good family, had a respected title and was incredibly wealthy. He had been the perfect candidate. Unfortunately, he had been far from the perfect husband.

Oh no, that was wrong. It had been
she
who was not perfect, as Edmund had often reminded her.

For the longest time Sophia wondered what it was about her character that was so defective that it drove men away or made them want to change her. The answer came to her one day when she witnessed Edmund's anger because the weather wasn't as he would like it. Men like to control things— including people.

It had taken Edmund some time to learn what weapons to use against her to bend her to his will. He appealed to her dignity, to her pride and to her sense of guilt to mold her into his idea of the proper wife. After his death she had been struck with sheer panic at the prospect of reentering the world without his guidance. Thankfully she had the confines of mourning to hide behind. It was only now that she longed to join the world.

And now Charles sought to control her as well. He would not find it quite as easy as his brother had. She had found a quiet strength within herself, a pride that she never knew she had, and it gave her more courage than any man could ever take away.

With a start, she realized she was standing outside Letitia's door. How long she had been standing there, she had no idea. She had been too ensconced in the past.

She tapped on the door and waited for Letitia to answer. Nothing. She knocked again, louder this time.

Thank heaven Charles didn't know about the book. Then he would truly have her right where he wanted her— almost. She would be at his mercy, but not even that would persuade her into his bed.

There was still no answer from within Letitia's chamber. Sophia frowned. Had her friend not retired to her room as she thought?

"Letitia, dearest, are you in there?" She called, rapping yet again. Her knuckles were beginning to sting.

A muffled shuffling sounded from behind the door. "Is my brother with you?"

Sophia smiled at the pathetically defiant tone. "No. He is not."

Following the subtle click of a key being turned in a lock, the door to Letitia's bedchamber slowly swung open. A red-eyed Letitia peered cautiously around the edge.

"Where is he?" she asked, her voice thick from the tears she had shed.

There was, of course, no need to say who "he" was.

"In the parlor," Sophia replied, stepping into the room. "Warming himself in front of the fire with a cup of tea."

Closing the door, Letitia shot her an accusatory glance. "You gave him tea? I hope you put hemlock in it."

Sophia smiled at the petulant tone. "I must confess the idea never occurred to me."

Flouncing over to the bed, Letitia dropped onto the coverlet in a disheveled heap of brightly colored skirts. "I cannot believe you of all people offered him any hospitality."

"What would you have me do?" Sophia asked as she crossed the floor to sit beside her. "Toss him out into the rain?"

The younger woman's lip thrust out. "'Twould be a start."

"Come now," Sophia said firmly, placing her arm around her friend's shoulders. "This is hardly the way for a young lady to behave." Lord, she sounded just like Edmund! A bitter taste filled her mouth, despite the truth of her words.

The shoulders beneath her arm rose with a gusty sigh. "You are right," Letitia replied, lifting her gaze to Sophia's. "I should face my bully of a brother with calm and resilience, rather than running off and leaving you to his mercy. Was he absolutely horrible to you?"

"No," she replied. Other than blaming her for everything he had been surprisingly civil.

"No doubt he is saving all his rancor for me," Letitia remarked with false brightness, but there was real fear in her eyes. "Oh, Sophia. What if he forces me to wed before Mr. Wesley can prove himself?"

"He cannot force you to marry anyone, dearest," Sophia replied, squeezing her friend's shoulders. "Even if he dragged you to the altar he cannot force you to say the words." No one could force Letitia to do anything. She was stronger than Sophia had been. It had been very easy for her father to shame her into marrying Edmund. After all, she had disgraced the family name.

Shaking her head, Letitia broke free of her embrace and leapt to her feet. "You do not know Julian as I do."

That was true, but Sophia knew him better than she would have liked. "I know that he loves you."

Letitia made a scoffing sound. Hugging herself, she began to pace the length of the rug. "Do you think so?"

"He would not have come here in such weather to rescue you if he did not. Do you really believe he would use force against you?"

"My brother does not have to use his physical strength to bend someone to his will."

To her humiliation, a soft heat crept up Sophia's neck and face. Yes, she was well aware of some of the more seductive weapons in Julian Rexley's arsenal, weapons whose power and destruction his sister could have no way of knowing.

"He will coerce me," Letitia continued, her steps slowing to a stop in the middle of the room. "He will keep talking, telling me that he is right and I am wrong, that he knows what is best for me. By the time he is done with me, even I will be convinced that I am doing the right thing."

The bleakness in her friend's expression frightened Sophia. She knew how it felt to have someone else's will pressed upon her. Of course Julian would know exactly how to manipulate his sister. He was manipulative by nature— like Edmund and even her father. Men like that saw every weakness a woman had and used it to their advantage without the slightest trace of guilt.

"You have a strong will as well," she reminded her friend. "Surely you can stand against your brother and his list of suitors, especially when you have the power of love on your side."

Letitia's eyes were black with despair. "Mr. Wesley and I barely see each other once a fortnight as it is. With Julian watching my every move it will be even more difficult for us to meet." She sighed in resignation, her shoulders slumping. "He will forget me and my brother will win."

"I do not believe that for one minute," Sophia replied resolutely. "I know how determined you can be, my friend. You will persevere, but not if you talk as though you have already lost."

A weak smile curved Letitia's full lips. Coming forward, she knelt at Sophia's feet, taking her hands in her own. "You are such a good, dear friend to me, Sophia. No matter how foolish or melancholy I become you always believe the best of me and set me to rights. How I wish I had one ounce of your strength."

Strength? Letitia thought
she
had strength? Sophia would have laughed were it not for the huge lump in her throat.

"I am not strong," she whispered.

"Oh, but you are!" Letitia countered. "I saw how you stood before my brother, daring him to play lord of the manor with you. I have never seen anyone stand up to him as you did. If I have any bravery at all it is because I am with you."

How could Sophia explain that it was because of who Letitia's brother was that she had forced herself to stand proud before him? Few people disarmed her as Julian did, and she had always had more bravado than sense when it came to facing her fears.

Suddenly, a strange brightness lit Letitia's eyes, a light that made a heavy coil of unease unfurl in Sophia's stomach.

"Whatever it is you are thinking you can forget it," she told her friend.

Letitia grinned. "But I have just thought of the perfect way to foil my brother's plans."

Warily, Sophia stared at her. It didn't matter that she had known Letitia as a friend for some time, these extreme fluctuations in mood always made her uneasy.

"And how do you propose to do that?" she asked.

Letitia's smile broadened. "It is easy. You are coming to London with me."