For All Eternity Page 2

  It was remembering her success that made her smile with sudden inspiration. Because she was so celebrated, she would tell her aunt and cousin that Lyndhurst had finally come to his senses and acknowledged himself unworthy of her. Anyone with half a wit could see the truth in that.

  And if they somehow discovered that she’d dismissed him?

  That thought sobered her instantly. As punishment they might forbid Julian to call. Worse yet, they could banish her to her father’s West Riding estate, as they so often threatened to do. Then, what was she to do?

  For one miserable moment her confidence wavered. But she remembered Julian’s kiss that evening, and her resolve hardened.

  Fine. If they forbade him to call, she would tryst with him in secret. And if they tried to send her away? Well, then they would flee to Gretna Green. Once they were wed, her aunt and cousin would have no choice but to accept him.

  Enraptured by the thought of elopement, Sophie closed her eyes and pictured her beloved. Oh, but he was handsome. Handsomer even than Quentin Somerville, though she knew there were those who would debate her bias. As for his brother …

  Unbidden, the image of Lord Lyndhurst intruded into her mind. She shuddered. No one, not even Lydia, could dispute the fact that Julian was far and away better-looking than him. Where Lyndhurst’s hair was dun-brown, Julian’s fashionably coiffed mane was a rich, gleaming gold. Julian’s eyes were the clear azure of the August sky, where Lyndhurst’s …

  A frown knit her brow. What color were his eyes, anyway? In truth, she’d never been able to see past the hideous scar on his cheek to note their hue. Come to think of it, she’d never really looked at his features, either. Not that they mattered. For even if they matched the perfection of those of his brother, they would be rendered ugly by his marred cheek.

  “Sophie, dear?” Her aunt’s voice pulled her from her reflections, delivering her from the frightful vision of Lyndhurst’s disfigured countenance. “Are you suffering from a touch of dyspepsia?”

  “Dyspepsia?” She opened her eyes.

  Her aunt, who sat on the opposite seat next to her cousin, leaned forward, frowning her concern. “Perhaps it was the oysters,” she said. “They sometimes cause dyspepsia, you know.”

  “They do?” Sophie stared at her aunt blankly, then the meaning of her words soaked in and she shook her head. “Oh. No. It wasn’t the oysters … or anything else. I’m fine. Whatever makes you ask?”

  “It’s just that you had the oddest expression on your face just now. Didn’t she have an odd expression on her face, Eddie?” Heloise asked, deferring as she often did to her son.

  Edgar spared Sophie the briefest of glances, then shrugged and resumed staring out the window. “She looks fine to me.”

  “She does now, but her expression was markedly distressed only moments ago.” Heloise pursed her rosebud lips, clearly displeased by his indifference. “As her guardian, you really should note these things and inquire after her health.”

  He made an impatient noise. “Fine.” Pinning Sophie with his glittering onyx gaze, he ground out, “Are you well, cousin?”

  Where her Uncle John, her guardian from the time of her parents death in a carriage accident when she was eight up until his own demise five years earlier, had been a comfortable sort of man, there was something about her cousin that unsettled her. What that something was, she couldn’t say.

  Perhaps it was his habit of watching her, his expression shrewd and calculating, as if he measured her for some secret purpose. Or the way his smile never seemed to reach his eyes. Maybe it was simply the fact that he was thirty-two years old and seemed to have forgotten what it was like to be seventeen. Whatever it was, it disturbed her.

  Like it was doing now. Tensing as she always did beneath his regard, she murmured, “I’m quite well. Thank you for asking,” praying that her reply would satisfy him and that he would turn his attention elsewhere.

  Apparently someone above was listening, for he nodded once and resumed his observation of the world beyond his window.

  “I, for one,” Heloise shot her son’s averted profile an exasperated look, “am glad to hear that. It wouldn’t do at all for you to be indisposed. Especially tomorrow. It’s a day you shall no doubt wish to remember and cherish for the rest of your life.”

  “It is?” Sophie frowned. All she had planned for tomorrow was taking tea with Lady Kneller and attending the Seabright’s rout, neither of which promised to be particularly memorable.

  Just as she was about to say as much, Heloise poked her son in the ribs with her fan, chirping, “Shall we tell her the marvelous news, Eddie? Or shall we let it be a surprise?”

  He flinched at her jabbing assault. “By all means tell her so she can properly primp. We want her in looks tomorrow.”

  “Our Sophie is always lovely, which is why she’s had such a splendid offer.” Looking ready to burst with excitement, Heloise took her dumbfounded niece’s hand in hers, gushing, “It’s true, dear. You’ve had a fine offer. Your cousin received a letter this very afternoon phrased in the most flattering of terms. He spoke with the gentleman this evening and gave him permission to call on you tomorrow morning.”

  When Sophie merely stared at her, too dismayed to respond, she prompted, “Well? Isn’t that the most marvelous news?”

  Marvelous? A giant hand seemed to tighten around her chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs. The only suitor she wished a proposal from was Julian, and she knew for a fact that this one wasn’t from him. Her aunt would be locking her in her room instead of beaming like she’d just landed a prince if such were the case. No. It could be from only one man.

  Lyndhurst.

  Her stomach gave a sickening lurch, roiling as if she’d indeed eaten a bad oyster; a sensation that intensified to a gripping nausea as her cousin slowly turned his head and fixed her with his unnerving stare. After subjecting her to what felt like an eternity of scrutiny, he more barked than said, “Well, girl? Aren’t you even interested to learn your future husband’s name?”

  “No, no, Eddie!” her aunt chimed in, playfully stabbing him with her fan again. “Let her have the fun of guessing. Not, of course, that it will be an easy game.” She flashed her niece a proud smile. “Not with our Sophie’s legions of suitors. Why, it could be any one of a dozen gentlemen. Even — “

  “It’s Lyndhurst,” her cousin interjected flatly. “And you will accept him.”

  Accept him, indeed! Of all the high-handed, unreasonable — Sophie opened her mouth to voice her protest, but the words strangled on her outrage and all that came out was a squawk.

  “You will also make him wish to be wed as soon as possible,” he continued, pointedly ignoring her unintelligible outburst. “Perhaps if you kiss and tease him a bit, you might even rouse him to whisk you away to Gretna Green.”

  For a long moment she merely gaped at him, her mouth working soundlessly as she fought to vent her fury. Then something inside her exploded, and she erupted forth, “How dare you! How dare you demand that I marry that horrid man. You know I detest him!” Edgar released a harsh grate of laughter. “I dare, dear Cuz, because he’s worth over seventy thousand a year and is heir to the Marquess of Hereford.”

  “Bicksford,” Heloise corrected him. “I do believe Lady Seabright said that his father is the Marquess of Bicksford. Or was it Hartsford?” She shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know where my mind is these days. I simply cannot seem to keep the titles and names of the ton straight. I do, however, remember quite distinctly that his family seat is in Somerset and — “

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Hereford. Bicksford. The name is of no import, only the fortune attached to it.”

  “But what of the man himself? What of my feelings toward him?” Sophie demanded, barely able to believe her ears. Why, they were talking of selling her like silver at a debtor’s auction.

  Edgar spared her an impatient look. “What of your feelings?”

  She flailed her arms in
exasperation. “Don’t you think it even the least bit important that I love the man I marry?”

  “No.” It was more a snort than a reply.

  “Well, I do.”

  Another snort. “And what, pray tell, does a green chit like you know of love?”

  “Obviously more than you do,” she retorted with a sniff.

  His eyes narrowed. “Oh? And I suppose that you’re going to tell me that there is someone you love?”

  She met his gaze defiantly. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  “Oh, my. Sophie … dear,” Heloise wheezed, short of breath as she always grew when anxious. “You haven’t done anything … ruinous … have you?” “Calm down, Mother. Of course she hasn’t.” Edgar shifted his gaze from his rebellious cousin to the now panting Heloise. “She hasn’t been out of our sight long enough to do more than steal a kiss or two.” Turning his attention back to Sophie, he drawled, “Now, Cuz. Shall I guess with whom you shared those kisses?”

  She shrugged. “Why bother with games? I’ve made no secret of my feelings for Lord Oxley.”

  “Oxley. Bah!” He spat the words as if the taste of them offended him. “A mere viscount with only ten thousand a year. He might do well enough for a vicar’s daughter or a chit with no expectations. But you, my dear, can and will look much higher.”

  “And by higher you mean Lyndhurst, I suppose?” she sneered.

  “Indeed I do. Why settle for a viscount when you can have a future marquess? And a rich one at that?” “Because I don’t love Lyndhurst, and I would rather be the viscountess of a man I love than the marchioness of one I abhor.”

  Edgar’s eyes narrowed further until they were little more than glittering slits. “And how, pray tell, do you intend to rub along on his paltry ten thousand a year? You’ve spent close to that amount on frippery and gewgaws this year alone.”

  “You seem to be forgetting the fortune my father left me,” she smugly pointed out. “Combine that with Julian’s ten thousand and we shall get on quite splendidly, I assure you.”

  “Edgar,” Heloise puffed. “I really think you should tell — “

  “Let me handle this, Mother. It’s your overindulgence that has made her so willful. Besides — ” his thin lips twisted into a cynical smile ” — as you’re so fond of pointing out, I am her guardian. As such, it is my duty to see that she makes the best possible match. And I’ve decided that that match is Lyndhurst.”

  “And if I refuse to marry him?” Sophie flung back. “Then you shall be hauled off to King’s Bench prison, where the best offer you’re likely to receive will be one of whoredom.”

  Sophie gasped, momentarily taken aback. Then she saw the words for what they were: a vain attempt to bend her to his will, and she laughed. “What utter rubbish! You can’t send me to prison for refusing to marry Lyndhurst!”

  “No. But your creditors can send you there for being unable to settle your accounts,” he grimly retorted.

  “But of course I can settle them. You know I can,” she exclaimed, ignoring the implication of his words. “You yourself have put it about time and again that I have sixty-eight thousand pounds, plus a fine income from my father’s estate.”

  Edgar looked away, rubbing his temples as if they suddenly ached. Closing his eyes, he gritted out, “The estate was sold three years ago, and your sixty-eight thousand pounds are gone.”

  “What! But that can’t be!” she cried, desperately telling herself that it was another ruse. “You told the entire ton — “

  “Lies to buy you entree into society. With your charm and beauty, I was certain that you would land a rich husband and save us all from debtors prison.”

  “And you have. You’ve landed Lyndhurst,” her aunt piped in, giving Sophie’s hand a squeeze. “Marry him, and you shall never have to worry about funds again. None of us will.”

  Sophie tore her hand from her aunt’s, glancing wildly from her to Edgar and then back again. “But my fortune … how . .

  Edgar and Heloise stared at each other, as if trying to fob the duty of explaining off on the other. Then her aunt sighed and turned back to Sophie. Her voice hitching with breathlessness, she began, “It’s all the fault of your Uncle John, God rest his soul, and his fondness for gambling hells.”

  “Are you saying that he gambled away my entire fortune?” Sophie exclaimed, unable to believe her kindly uncle capable of such villainy.

  Her aunt shook her head so hard that motes of jet down floated from the plumes in her hair. “Oh, no. No! He never touched a shilling of your inheritance. Your sixty-eight thousand was fully intact when he died. Indeed, he even managed to save an additional twelve hundred pounds from the annual income you received from your father’s estate.”

  “Then, how … but … I-I don’t understand,” she choked out, beyond bewilderment.

  Heloise shot her son a beseeching look. When it was clear that no help was forthcoming, she sighed again and replied, “Well, you see, dear. After he died, we discovered that he’d left some rather, um, astonishing debts. Indeed, he’d even given a note of mortgage on Mar-wood Manor.”

  Sophie felt as if someone had punched her in the belly. “He lost Marwood?” she whispered, remembering the stories her mother had told her of her happy childhood at the estate, as well as her own jolly memories of the place. That her own children would never float toy boats upon the garden pond or play hide-and-seek in the maze of hidden passages brought tears to her eyes. Her aunt nodded solemnly. “The man holding the note seized it two months after your uncle’s death.” She wrinkled her nose. “And a more distasteful person I’ve never seen. Anyway — ” she shook her head as if to dispel the thoughts of Marwood’s unsavory new owner — -“without the income from the estate, we hadn’t a prayer of repaying the rest of the debts. So you see, Eddie had no choice but to borrow the funds from your inheritance to discharge them.”

  “And exactly how much did he ‘borrow’?” Sophie inquired, not even trying to mask her bitterness.

  “Forty-two thousand,” Edgar snapped. “And as your new guardian, it was all quite right and legal that I do so.”

  “But how can it be legal? I was told that the income from my father’s estate was to be used to keep me, and that the sixty-eight thousand we realized from the sale of his business interests was to be my dowry.”

  Edgar’s lips flattened into a harsh line. “Oh, it was perfectly legal, I assure you. You see, Cuz, while it’s true that your father’s will bequested everything to you, your inheritance was entrusted to my father, your guardian. Therefore, it was up to him to determine how best to administer your monies, and he decided upon the plan you just described.”

  “And an excellent plan it was,” Heloise commented with a nod.

  Ignoring her annotation, he proceeded, “When he died, your guardianship naturally fell to me, as did the right to govern your funds. And I decided that the best use for them was to discharge my father’s debt so we could continue to provide you with a home.”

  “B-but what of my remaining twenty-seven thousand pounds? What of my father’s estate?” Sophie choked out, not certain if she should scream or weep.

  It was Heloise’s turn to explain. “You see, dear. About three years ago, Eddie met a man who offered him a chance to invest in a shipping venture to China. He said that he could more than triple his investment. Thinking it a way to pay back the monies he’d borrowed from you, plus make a handsome profit for himself, he invested the remainder of your fortune.”

  “And?” Sophie prompted, though she already knew that she wasn’t going to like the outcome of the tale.

  Her aunt looked away. “The man turned out to be a fraud.”

  “And so you lost everything. My dowry. My father’s estate.”

  “No. Not the estate,” Edgar quickly interjected. “That I sold to keep us for the last three years, and to finance your launch into society. At least we had enough to pay for part of it. As for the balance, well, once I’d purchased us the ill
usion of wealth, the tradesmen were eager enough to extend credit.”

  “Credit you expected to hoodwink my husband into paying,” Sophie spat.

  Heloise made a clucking noise and patted her knee. “Really, dear. You mustn’t think too unkindly of Eddie. He only did what he had to do to insure your future. And it will be insured if you marry Lyndhurst.”

  “Will it indeed? And what happens when he discovers our deception?” she demanded. “Even I know that settlements must be made and dowries paid before the wedding can take place.”

  Edgar eyed her coldly. “I’ve already told him that our solicitor’s son was wounded in Alexandria and that he has gone there to bring him home. Naturally, he’s not expected back for several months.” He laughed. “By the time his lordship learns that there is no solicitor, you’ll have eloped with him and he shall have had his wedding night. A man with Lyndhurst’s pride isn’t going to risk letting it be known that he was played for a fool.” “Perhaps not,” Sophie whispered brokenly, suddenly more tired than she’d ever been in her life. “But he shall no doubt hate me and strive to make my life miserable.” “Cuz …” Edgar looked almost regretful as he reached over to take her hands. She jerked them away and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him in a way that clearly conveyed the hurt and betrayal she was helpless to voice. He dropped his hands to his lap with a sigh. “See here, Sophie. I realize that things will be difficult for you at first. And I’m sorry for that. I truly am. However, I feel certain that he’ll come around and forgive you once you present him with an heir.”

  “And if I fail to conceive before he learns the truth? What then? I doubt he’ll seek the bed of a woman he loathes.” Was that really her voice, so weak and raw?

  “Well, then we shall just have to hope that his lust is stronger than his pride.”

  Sophie shuddered at the thought of suffering Lyndhurst’s lust. Yet what choice did she have?