Illusion. Emily French
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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