Читать книгу Illusion - Emily French - Страница 12

Chapter Four

“In spite of Lincoln’s death, there seem to have been...”

Seth let Richard Carlton’s voice wash over him as he idly surveyed the scene below. Suddenly, his idleness vanished. His fingers dug into the polished sill. Surely that was Sophy!

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He would recognize that distinctive walk anywhere. A skip, then a hop. There was nothing sedate about his wife. She bounced. Like an excited pixie.

“—the meaning of freedom remains unresolved....”

Seth craned his neck, searching the crowded street for another glimpse of the woman. A tantalizing swirl of skirts and then she was gone.

Frowning, Seth stared up at the piling masses of clouds, then down at the slowly moving line of carriages. He was sure it had been Sophy. What the hell was she doing in Greene Street?

“—nothing but a ceaseless round of parties these past seven months celebrating the end of the war. Do you agree, Seth?”

“Definitely. Richard, I’m sorry, but I must go. Just remembered something important I must do. I’ll have a look at the inventory lists another time.”

Seth did not wait for Richard to call a servant. He had collected his walking stick and bowler hat and was clattering down the stairs before the agent had a chance to reply. At street level, he realized how importunate he must have appeared. He glanced again at the ominous clouds, and his mouth thinned.

Greene Street was definitely not a place for an innocent young woman. Even Bishop Simpson proclaimed there were as many whores in the vicinity as there were Methodists!

Could Sophy have seemed so untouched, so innocent, if she was indulging in an illicit affair? He couldn’t—didn’t want to — believe it. Headstrong and spoiled, perhaps, but he knew his wife was fiercely loyal. So what was she doing in the area?

Sophy ran downstairs light-footed and flung open the door of the dining parlor. All round the room the gaslights were blazing, and the table was set with an astounding array of crystal and silver. In the center of a simple floral decoration burned one scarlet candle.

Her mouth curled. Seth would soon be home. She felt excited and no longer afraid. It was as if she had shed the last shrinking of anxiety about the future like a discarded skin and was now emerging with wings. A conqueror about to discover a new and unknown land.

There was a wild elation at the knowledge of the marriage act as explained by Madame Bertine. Exhilarated, Sophy spun in a pirouette. As though released by a spring, her wide-skirted gown of stiff corded black silk followed her body’s movement.

The mere contemplation of such delight was too much for her to face just now. She had to push it away from her, hold it off like some dazzling dream that she must not think of yet, Now there was dinner to consider. Now she must join the company in the drawing room.

The cold drizzle had started during the ride back to the house on Fifth Avenue and, an hour later, with the rising of the wind, it was battering at the window of the large drawing room. A maid had just drawn the heavy brocade drapes when Seth came into the room.

A faint chill washed over Sophy at the grim expression on his face. His brows were straight dark slashes in a face so pallid that it might have been hewn from marble. The glance he swept her felt like iced water as the magnificent blue eyes glimmered with strong emotion.

Concentrating almost fiercely upon his wife, he seemed unmindful of anyone else in the room. The silence stretched, broken only by the tap of his cane as he came to her, dragging one leg and leaning heavily on his stick.

The clear shining of the wall sconces seemed to gather about his shapely head in a nimbus of light. The brilliance of it was entangled in the piratical darkness of his hair and there seemed sparks in his jewel-bright eyes.

Forehead furrowed, Sophy stood staring at him through her mothwing lashes. There is nothing wrong, she repeated over and over to herself. Why then was her heart beating so madly that it constricted her breathing?

Their eyes locked.

Seth studied her face with the innate fierceness with which he had applied himself to the preservation of the Union. Abruptly, he felt idiotic, like a madman trapped in the nightmares of his own mind.

He drew a breath, torn between reason and instinct. His wife’s misty gray eyes were wide and shy, her soft lips quivering, ready to broaden in a smile at the slightest provocation. He found himself staring at those lips, waiting.

Sophy clasped her hands together, as they went up instinctively to quell the tumult in her breast. Something flickered in the pools of his eyes, and she felt some of her apprehension dissipate. She smiled, and once more that magical transformation took place, giving her face light and warmth. It was as if the sun had come out.

“Isn’t it splendid? Uncle Heinrich, Cousin Pieter and Cousin Bernard called, in this weather, too, to see how we have settled in. They are to stay for dinner.”

Seth started, his eyes slanting to the van Houten brothers. He shifted a cramped knee, and the preoccupied expression left his face.

“Hello, sir.” He held out his hand, with a brief flash of the smile that Sophy so longed to see. “Pieter.”

His grip appeared strong and confident, but tonight the poor man looked worn-out. He moved with a queer jerking motion as if he were manipulated by strings. Sophy longed to ease his suffering.

The warmth was still in his countenance when he greeted the younger sibling. “How are your designs for a steam engine that runs on roads coming along, Bernard?”

Despite his harsh appearance, Seth had the gift of inspiring confidence. The boy’s ruddy complexion deepened a shade. At fourteen, Bernard van Houten retained the snub nose and the chubbiness of youth, but his mouth and chin were determined to the point of obstinacy, and he had the same direct gaze that characterized his cousin.

“I am working on a prototype using compressed air, piston rods and valve gears.” A thought occurred to him. “Have you seen the hydraulic elevator that Mar. Otis has constructed at Haughwout’sDepartment Store?”

“No, but if you would care to come down to the plant room at Weston’s Textiles, you can inspect our new rotary engine; which is driven by gears.” Seth’s eyes, alight with unholy amusement, met Sophy’s. “If she has nothing better to do, I am sure Sophy would love to accompany you.”

He was speaking lightly, but there was something in the look of his eyes that made Sophy uncomfortable, and she felt a sudden sense of relief when dinner was announced.

A few minutes later, a large uncovered dish was placed in front of Seth. He blinked at the huge crusty pie filled with chunks of beef and redolent of fresh vegetables and herbs.

Sophy’s spirits soared, and her eyes danced as his gaze followed the dish of potatoes mashed with butter, cream, sautéed cabbage and a sprinkle of chopped young onions, which the maid placed in front of her.

“One of the reasons I called so late, Sophy, was because I knew you would invite me to a meal,” Pieter confessed, accepting a good-size portion of pie on his plate.

“Good management of a household leads to domestic happiness.” Heinrich’s voice carried its own conviction. “Sophy was never interested in sensible things like crewelwork and watercolor painting or the pianoforte, so we were relieved when she made friends with Marcel and learned to cook.”

“Much better than stuffing her head with all that mathematics, politics and financial knowledge, which is neither attractive nor necessary in a woman,” Pieter teased, with considerable glee.

Bernard simply enjoyed the food. It was, after all, no use trying to slip the least word into the conversation with Sophy and Pieter becoming immersed in one of their endless arguments on women’s rights.

Sophy glanced at Seth, who had a mouthful of pie and was chewing with enjoyment. He was satisfyingly engrossed in the meal. There was no reason to dissemble, so she took up her cousin’s taunt, a fire of righteous indignation heating her words.

“Don’t be so idiotic, Pieter. The winds of change are already blowing. It won’t be long before women take their rightful place in society.”

The suppressed fierceness in her voice caught at Seth. He looked up, met her misty gaze. She stared at him as if they shared an immediate, unspoken secret. It was a spark, like the new electricity he had seen demonstrated once, a spark that jumped the space from wire tip to wire tip.

For a moment something very soft and vulnerable flickered across his face before a ghost of a smile creased his cheek. Tonight, sentiment betrayed him. Sophy. Her laughter compelled him to share it. Her glance compelled his to meet it.

Pieter grinned at his cousin, his eyes challenging. “Women are all fools, even the smart ones. No, especially the smart ones. They are so determined on outmaneuvering their men that they cause themselves, and everyone else, endless trouble.”

The spell broken, Seth returned his attention to his laden plate.

“How can you say that?” Sophy demanded. “Women react as they do because men give women indulgence as a substitute for justice. I tell you it is not good enough!”

Seth found himself at once irritated and bemused by his wife’s philosophy. Because she used her tongue as a weapon? Because there was an element of truth in her assertion? Perhaps because of the deeper truth, that no man can entirely relinquish all remnants of his own masculinity.

Catching Bernard’s eye, Seth gave him a conspiratorial smile and put a forefinger to his lips. “Why not?” His tone was one of innocent inquiry.

Surprise flashed across Heinrich’s face, and he practically choked on a piece of asparagus.

“Why not?” Sophy tried to restrain her sudden surge of annoyance, failed and launched into her argument. “A woman’s entire future depends on her husband!”

Seth’s eyes, which had been communicating with Pieter’s over the top of her head, came back to her. What a little firebrand she was, so easily touched to the quick, changeable, lashing out. Never lose your advantage. Of course, the colonel had been talking of the battlefield, but the advice was apt here.

“Just as it should be. How else are we to keep our wives in their place? If this idea of universal suffrage gets out of hand, we’ll find women dictating terms to us, and what will happen then?”

“Anarchy and revolution!” Pieter contributed.

“Can you imagine it?” Seth murmured, with an air of masculine amazement that set Sophy’s teeth on edge.

Pieter drained his wine and announced in sepulchral tones, “This movement must be nipped in the bud.”

“Just think what would happen if women were entitled to vote? The infection would spread. Next they’d be wanting to become doctors and lawyers!” added Bernard with enthusiasm.

Sophy, seeing him seething with barely suppressed delight at the gathering dispute, felt decidedly annoyed. Bernard was too young to have any opinions on the matter. And, if he did, he was young enough to change. It would be one of her projects.

“But that is iniquitous! It leaves women with no choice, no pride, no...” She trailed off, realizing she was being baited.

A serene smile touched her lips. “Odious creatures. Do not tempt me into an argument. You promised, Cousins, if I fed you, not to mention universal suffrage or discuss the role of women.”

Seth caught the tranquil smile, and his heart leaped. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps seeing her in Greene Street had been a figment of his imagination. The mask of politeness that had been clamped down upon his face suddenly split into fragments, and he laughed.

“Promises and piecrusts are made to be broken.”

This time, everybody laughed.

“Isn’t Sophy an angel to put steamed fruit dumpling on the menu?” Bernard appealed to Seth a little later, licking the last dollop of cream from his spoon.

“A veritable angel indeed,” Seth agreed, turning to Sophy, watching the mobile curve of her mouth.

All his doubts came rushing forth, sucked back by memory. The inconceivable happened. The words that had plagued him for hours in his mind sprang from his lips.

It came as quite a surprise to Sophy when he leaned forward and asked, his voice rich and warm, “How did you get on in Greene Street?”

His question had been quite casual, but it had an instant effect.

Utterly shocked, Heinrich van Houten nearly choked on the portion of dessert that he had just placed in his mouth. He managed to splutter just one word, “Sophy!” as if the sky had fallen in.

Bernard made a peculiar sound. Seth thought it was a quickly stifled chuckle. Pieter preserved a tactful silence.

Sophy felt the heat flow into her cheeks as she recalled the scene with Madame Bertine. Swiftly averting her eyes, she played for time. She looked down at her spoon, rubbing her thumb against the embossed silver handle. Her lashes rose.

“Greene Street? What do you mean?”

Seth’s expression hardened. Her hair framed her face in a mass of dark ringlets that cast strange shadows on her elfin face. Candid, clever, guileless face. A strange conflict rose in his breast. Propriety bade him prod her no further, but he felt his anger returning.

With a menace that would have made any soldier tremble, he probed. “Did you, or did you not, go there this afternoon?”

Sophy swallowed. Her heart pounded unbearably at the bitterness in his voice. She thought she recognized what was wrong. In her ignorance, she had blithely visited an area where, she now knew, no decent woman would dare to go.

Seth’s sense of honor was offended. Which was very stupid. She had never doubted the usefulness of knowledge, and Madame Bertine had proved most informative. Of course, she had never paused to see with what coin such information could be bought.

She nodded. “Er... yes, I did.”

He curled his palms around the neck of the glass in front of him. Smiled at her, the merest slant of his mouth. The smile of a beast hot on the scent of its prey. “Well, how did the visit go?”

Sophy recalled Madame Bertine’s sage advice on love, sex and marriage. Her eyes lit up. “It was... interesting.”

Uncle Heinrich gave a deep sigh, which seemed to come from the very depths of his being. Twin blue flames glittered in Seth’s eyes. Pieter ran his eye swiftly over Seth’s face, and raised his eyebrows. Bernard rolled his eyes as he pursued with his tongue an errant drop of cream that was rolling down his chin.

“I see. Do you intend going there again?” His words were level, but his eyes spoke a different message. They were accusing, questioning, as if in some way she had hurt him.

Sophy’s ringlets vibrated. She looked enormously pleased as the affirmation issued from her lips. “Oh, yes. I have another appointment for the day after tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you would like me to accompany you?” There was a lazy, taunting quality in Seth’s voice. He took a sip of his wine. “As your husband, it is proper that I share your... interests. Will you take me along on your next visit?”

Without hesitation, Sophy shook her head, her voice warm and earnest. “Oh, no. No. I couldn’t do that. I don’t think you would be interested in what I have planned.”

The moment she had spoken she realized that she had made a foolish admission that might lead him to suppose that something less innocent than concocting a new wardrobe was on the agenda.

But he only shrugged and remarked, “Of course. No interference in your projects, no comments even, isn’t that what we agreed?” Seth spoke smoothly, covering his anger. His hands clung to the wineglass as to a lifeline. Not where he’d like them to be—around his wife’s neck.

“It’s not that!” Sophy’s heart was pounding, but her face showed nothing of her inward agitation as she quickly retrieved her error. “This is simply a private arrangement between ... friends.”

Pieter suddenly threw back his head and laughed. “It is good to know marriage has not changed you, Cousin.” Turning to Seth, he declared, “Sophy is incorrigible. I see you have your hands full already, Cousin Seth.”

Any other time Sophy would have been furious with Pieter. Now, she took a firm hold on her temper. She knew her cousin was being deliberately provocative. He could never resist an opportunity to stir up a promising dispute. Her little chin went up and her eyes flashed.

“Pieter, you will mind your business. As for you, Seth, there is no need to storm and bluster at the dinner table. It is neither the time nor the place to discuss my private affairs.”

“You are right, Sophy. It is discourteous to our guests. We will discuss your ‘private affairs’ later.”

Uncle Heinrich pounced on this break in the conversation with alacrity “An infusion of funds from war bonds to industry will get profits leaping again, Seth. Don’t you agree?”

“I hope there will not be too many points on which we do not agree, sir. Would you like some more dessert, Bernard?”

“Capital. I don’t mind if I do.”

Sophy allowed herself to breathe a great sigh of relief.

“Your coffee, sir.”

The valet entered the room bearing a small silver tray on which rested a white china cup and saucer.

Seth gratefully accepted the proffered cup and sipped the steaming, deep brown liquid. After all the wine he had drunk at dinner, he was inordinately thirsty.

He lounged in a tufted leather wing chair, the cup loosely held in one hand. With the other he absently rubbed his injured leg. A glass of fine Madeira stood on the table beside him.

“Anything more, sir?”

“That will be all. Thank you, Ned.”

As Seth dismissed his valet, his mind raced over the day’s events, the frustration and the dilemma of Sophy, his wife. His emotions were compounded equally by amazement at Sophy’s personality, puzzlement at how he was to deal with her and anger at himself for being so reluctant to claim the privileges due as her husband.

His little wife had brazenly admitted to visiting Greene Street, which even the superintendent of the New York police acknowledged was a den of prostitutes. And she had audaciously revealed further planned assignations.

Yet the air of innocent bravado that clung to her intrigued him. He wanted to keep her safe and warm, protect her from harm. It was all very honorable and very genteel and, to his mind, very unnecessary.

Sophy challenged. Sophy dared. Sophy was trouble.

Unbidden, the memory of her soft form rose in his mind. He could see those morning-dew eyes, framed by sooty lashes, that lured and enticed him to her.

Feel again the warmth of her body, shoulders bare, breast exposed, the supple feminine sway of her hips as they melted against him. Smell again that elusive feminine scent drifting from her raven-dark hair. Hear the little gasp of pleasure she gave as his fingers slid over her breast. Taste those dusky peaks, the salty sweetness of her flesh.

Desire ripped through him, hot and potent. There had been no one like this since... He could not remember.

His heart leaped. Fate had answered, and he should follow the inclination. It was time to see how much she dared. Meet her challenge. He drained his glass, and struggled to his feet.

“Your chocolate, Sophy. Will ye be wanting anything else?”

“No, thank you, Tessa.”

Sophy waited until the door was firmly shut before she sat down. She had to sit down. She could feel the trembling begin in her legs and travel up her body until she was forced to wrap her arms around herself. She was working herself up into a fine case of nervousness tinged with anger, the anger because she had no reason to be nervous.

Had not Seth been avoiding her since their marriage? Had he not been inordinately angry about her visit to Greene Street today? One would think she had broken some law, or committed a felony.

When all she had done was to confirm a long-held suspicion that her father kept a woman for his “convenience and delight.” A woman who had explained that she, Sophy, had it in her power to give Seth pleasure or to make him miserable. And, moreover, she had revealed how.

The difficulty was for Sophy to find a way out of the stupid impasse she had thoughtlessly created. It had taken some fast-talking to convince Matt Tyson to agree, but Sophy knew there was no real alternative.

Work absorbed all Seth’s spare energy. He needed the money to restore his battered pride. Only then might he change his outlook. Allow his leg time to heal. Find time to live, to love.

Thoughtfully, Sophy eyed the carved wooden jewel box that hid the telegraph message. The problem appeared in sharp outline again. She had been thorough. There was no way Seth would discovered her deceit. She had a mind for detail.

What concerned her was that there had been no information available from the insurance company, not even a compilation of contracts covered. A sure sign that someone was systematically draining funds from Seth’s business empire by fraud. She would find the evidence.

It would take time. Later, there could be a thorough examination. Now, she had more urgent work to do. Seduce her husband.

Sophy was still planning how to get Seth to join her when the door opened. He stood there, still dressed in his evening attire. His gaze was unreadable, but the fighting stance of his body was not.

Legs braced slightly apart, he looked prepared for battle from any quarter. He gave her a strange smile, as if he knew what she was thinking.

Immediately all the compelling emotions she’d felt when she first met him came back to her. Her heart leaped. Gathering her shattered composure together, she managed a faint smile. “Good evening, Seth. Would you like some chocolate? I was just about to have a cup.”

She poured as she spoke, as if she fully expected him to join her in this small domestic activity. Her hands moved quickly, slim, exciting.

Before he could reply, Seth found he had accepted the cup and saucer. So he leaned against the barley-twist brass bedpost and swallowed a mouthful. He grimaced at the sickly sweetness of the thick brew.

“Chocolate is good for you. It is a natural source of energy.”

Sophy smiled at him, a shy and pleased expression, then went back to the marble-topped dressing table and began brushing her hair. The gesture, so deliberate and full of meaning, hovered in front of Seth’s eyes as he silently drank the warm chocolate.

Minute by minute the storm within him mounted. With her dark hair streaming down her back, she looked as meek. as an angel on the chapel ceiling. He realized with a sinking, helpless feeling that it was going to take every ounce of willpower he had to keep his emotional and physical distance from Sophy.

“Leave that! I want to talk to you,” he commanded, unable to keep the heaviness out of his voice. He so much wanted to put his hands on her hair that his fingers tingled.

Sophy looked up, blinking. He was standing beside the dressing table with the cup and saucer in his hands, watching her with his intense eyes. She stared at him mutely, then put her brush down.

Seth considered her, and hesitated for a moment. When he spoke the words came out with quiet ferocity. “I would be obliged if you would refrain from such activities as you indulged in today.”

There was a flash of indignation. This was not what was supposed to happen. Sophy drew in her breath. Her chin tilted up.

“You expect me to be kept here like a parrot on a perch with a chain around my leg?” Her voice was high, ten decibels above her normal speaking voice.

He picked up his cup, drained it, then set it down with a grimace before he spoke. “You signed a marriage contract. You are my wife, sworn to obey me.”

Sophy jumped to her feet. “In the eyes of the law, infants, lunatics, felons and married women have limited contractual ability. Accordingly, the contract I signed is worthless,” she flung back, mimicking his tone of voice with biting accuracy.