Stepping gingerly away, Sophie noted the watery eyes and reddened nose of the Marquess of Fontaine, and felt odious. But an hour or so of discomfort could spare them a lifetime of regret. When considered in that light, her actions were somewhat less reprehensible.
“I do hope you feel better soon,” she said to Justin, meaning every word.
His lordship replied with a galvanic sneeze.
“Has Lord Fontaine’s condition improved?” Sophie asked her grand-mère as they sat in the private sitting room that bisected their two chambers. Decorated in pale blue and white with delicately carved furniture, it was a relaxing retreat, yet Sophie was anything but soothed.
“Yes.” The countess sighed. “He felt better soon after you retired.”
“Oh, good.”
“It is not good. Not at all.”
Sophie looked down at the book in her hands and felt awful to have caused the disappointment she heard in the beloved voice. “You can still enjoy your visit with Lady Fontaine. I can keep myself occupied.”
“That is not the point. Fontaine is a powerful man who occupies the highest strata of society. His friendship is extremely valuable, and he has a tendré for you.”
“He does not!” Sophie felt the blush sweep up her cheeks and into her hairline. How obvious was the attraction between them?
The countess shook her head. “Child, he may have grown past it now, but he was once quite smitten with you. Affection for first loves lingers for a lifetime.”
“He was not smitten!” she denied vehemently, even as her heart leapt at the thought. “I would have known if he was.”
“I wondered if you were blind to it.” Her grand-mère sighed. “Why do you think he accompanied his mother so often? A man of his station had more important matters to attend to.”
Sophie snapped her book closed and rose to her feet, agitated. “You are mistaken. He…he…”
“Do not think to say that he came because of his mother. Fontaine is not the type of man to be tied to any woman’s apron strings.” The countess abandoned her needlepoint on the small walnut table beside her, and linked her fingers in her lap. “Did you never wonder why he ceased to visit after your betrothal was announced?”
Sweat misted Sophie’s forehead. “He was always so critical…so chastising…he-”
“Critical? Or concerned? You were forever involved in some scrape or another. You were angry and unruly, most likely due to the premature death of your parents. You took unnecessary risks and defied convention. I was worried about you, but knew that the more I intervened, the more you would resist. I expected you would outgrow such behavior, which you did. However, Fontaine was less patient.”
“He wanted me to be someone I am not!”
“He wanted you safe. Did he ever ask you to curb your mischief? How often did he depart with ruined attire from following you into another mess?”
Spinning away, Sophie found herself breathing with difficulty, images from the past rushing forward in a deluge. “I don’t know…” Her hand lifted to her chest and rubbed ineffectually at the ache there. She wondered if she had hurt him in her ignorance. It pained her dreadfully to think of it.
“He appears to hold no ill will toward you, and his support could do much to improve your circumstance. It is unfortunate that he has acquired intolerance for your person.” Her grand-mère studied her a moment and then offered a smile. “Perhaps you could refrain from wearing your perfume?”
Sophie rubbed the back of her neck. “That will change nothing. We are completely unsuitable. He prefers blondes, such as Lady Julienne-”
“And you prefer brunettes such as Langley.”
“Yes, well…” She had adored Langley, loved him madly, had thought him the most charming man in the world. But she lusted for the golden marquess. Hungered for him. Ached for him in unmentionable places. When he entered the room, her body hummed with energy that wanted spending in a bed.
But she was also frightened by that need for him. How could she, a woman of so many faults, live up to the expectations of a man who seemed to have no faults at all?
“Regardless,” Sophie cleared her clenched throat, “I have Thomas, and Lord Fontaine requires a woman as different from me as night is to day. Even Rothschild washed his hands of me.”
“Your brother is a self-centered idiot.” The countess patted the vacant seat next to her on the gilded settee. “He will have his comeuppance one day. That is the way fate works.”
Sinking into the proffered space, Sophie leaned into her grand-mère and set her head on the frail shoulder. The scent of jasmine made her eyes water, the memories of a less complicated time bringing sadness. Now she was looking at the past with new eyes, remembering earlier conversations with new ears, feeling new emotions.
Wondering what she would have done then, if she had known what she knew now.
Chapter Four
When the knock came to Justin’s bedchamber door after dinner, the smile that curved his mouth was mirrored inside him. George and Edward immediately rolled to their bellies from their previous positions on their sides, then they padded over to the door at the same time Sophie’s husky voice drifted to his ears.
Justin rose from the chair before the fire. “Show her in,” he said to his valet, “then you may go.”
Inside him, something wild coiled tight, prepared to spring. But when Sophie came into view with sad eyes and her lower lip caught nervously between straight, white teeth, it quieted abruptly. She was wound up as well, but not for the same reasons he was.
“Who knew such mischief could hide beneath the exterior of an angel?” he murmured, attempting to calm her with gentle teasing.
She was dressed in deep blue this evening, the cut of the bodice and sleeves so painfully simple that on a lesser woman, it would have been plain. On Sophie, however, it allowed her lush figure to take the stage. She had kept herself sequestered all day, tormenting him with the knowledge that she was under his roof, yet unreachable.
With her head bowed, she said, “I meant no harm.”
Her palpable unhappiness disturbed him. “Why do I feel that you are upset about more than my inability to smell a blasted thing all day?”
“I am sorry about that, too,” she said contritely, startling him by stepping closer and running the tip of her index finger down the bridge of his nose. The innocent touch nearly undid him. It was the first intimate connection she had ever initiated. “I thought only of escape.”
“Escape?” he asked gruffly, his body reacting to her proximity and the scent of her skin.
She stepped back and clasped her hands. “Did I misunderstand our previous relationship?”
Justin arched a brow.
Sophie looked deep into his eyes, searching. “Have you ever contemplated walking on the surface of the moon?”
The other brow rose to meet the first.
“I never have,” she continued, her tongue flickering out to wet her lips. “Not until this afternoon when grand-mère suggested that perhaps you once cared for me beyond mere friendship and I attempted to conceive of something more impossible.”
“Sophie-”
Holding up a hand, she halted his speech. “If I wounded you, I never meant to. I was simply unaware. It never occurred to me that a man such as you would ever find me…would ever find anything-”
“Sophie-”
“You were always so damn perfect, so poised, so rigid…so…so…so arrogant!” She pointed an agitated and accusing finger at him. “Always ordering me about and correcting me and…and…and-”
Justin glanced heavenward, then snatched her to him and kissed her full on her indignant mouth.
“Mmpf…!” A weak protest died before it was born. She melted into him, all soft warm passionate woman.