Dear Stranger Read online

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night at the theatre.”

  His words were innocent, but his expression told her that he had something more in mind. She could only nod and watch in silence, her pulse racing, as he sprang lightly onto the curricle. With a flick of the reins and a meaningful glance in her direction, he drove away.

  On legs that were not quite steady, she made her way into the house. She pushed the front door closed, careful not to draw attention to her return, and sagged against it when she found the hallway was empty. She closed her eyes and waited for almost a full minute before her racing heart began to slow. It had been an eye-opening afternoon and she could no longer deny the truth. She couldn’t marry Henry Hearst because she was very attracted to his brother.

  * * * *

  Needing to get away from his own thoughts, Dearbourne headed to White’s. His demeanour must have been off-putting, because—to a man—after greeting him, everyone at the club gave him a wide berth. His mood wouldn’t have stopped his close friends, of course, but none of them were there at such an early hour. If he were being honest with himself, he was relieved. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. A server approached, but he waved him away.

  He’d hoped that spending time alone with Sophie would allow him to push aside his very inconvenient interest in her. Their first meeting had been unusual, to say the least. Given the nature of that encounter and the unfulfilled desire Sophie had awoken, it was only to be expected that he’d been unable to think of, let alone desire anyone else. Watching her at far too many balls after that evening, as she’d laughed and danced with his brother, had been a special kind of torture. He’d danced with many women at those balls, but the highlight had always been the one dance he permitted himself with Sophie. It had been nowhere near enough interaction for him, but to risk more would have drawn unwelcome attention to his interest in her.

  He had to know if that interest was merely thwarted desire or something more. Which was why, when he’d learnt Sophie’s aunt would be away from home that afternoon, he’d decided to pay Sophie a call. He’d hoped, of course, that in the clear light of day the infuriatingly tempting Miss Crandle would seem less appealing.

  She wasn’t like all the other young women who flocked into town each spring looking for husbands, most of whom had little to recommend them outside of their genteel background. He’d glimpsed in her a depth of character that most young women lacked, and he’d been struck by her honesty. She didn’t simper when he paid her a compliment, or attempt an ingratiating twitter when he made light, as did most marriage-minded young women. And it was impossible to ignore her beauty. Her dark hair and pale skin set off her exquisite features, particularly those striking green eyes of hers. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever met. But, beyond that, he was impressed by her intelligence, and the fact that she wasn’t intimidated by him or his title.

  Deep in thought, it took several moments for the unnatural silence that had fallen over the club to catch his attention. Glancing around him, he saw everyone had turned towards the entrance, where his brother now stood. He should have known it wouldn’t take Henry long to hear about his outing with Sophie and to seek him out.

  His brother wasn’t a member, but no one stopped him when he entered and made his way over to him. He could see the unmistakable signs of wagers being laid. Ignoring their audience, he concentrated on Henry.

  “Do you plan to just stand there glowering at me?”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t learn you’d taken Sophie for a drive? It appears to be the only subject on everyone’s tongues.”

  Knowing just how much rested on this conversation, Richard tried to mask the annoyance that rose at his brother’s rash words.

  “Unless you wish to subject Miss Crandle to further gossip, I’d suggest you lower your voice and join me.”

  It was only then that Henry took note of the other men present. They pretended to carry on with their various amusements, but it was obvious everyone’s attention was focused on them. Henry sank into the chair opposite him with barely concealed anger and silence stretched between them.

  Richard spoke first, choosing his words carefully. “I have been thinking of the past and I realise I may have been a bit heavy-handed in my treatment of you when Father died and I came into the title.”

  Henry’s scowl deepened. “You were a bloody tyrant.”

  Richard frowned. “Yes, well, I suppose I was, and for that I apologise. I won’t try to excuse my behaviour. I was young and I found myself suddenly solely responsible for the family’s finances. Having no other example to follow, I tried to control you the way Father used to do with me. It was wrong, and I mean to do better in future.”

  Henry’s expression was wary. “The timing of your revelation is more than a little suspicious. Does it have anything to do with Sophie?”

  Richard deflected the question, deciding it would be better not to discuss his interest in the woman his brother was currently courting.

  “Actually, it has to do with Ellen Westing.”

  Henry started to stand, but Richard waved him back down.

  “At least listen to what I have to say.”

  Henry hesitated before finally sitting again. “Make your point quickly.”

  Richard had been considering how best to get the three of them out of their current awkward situation, because, unless he’d totally misread her, Sophie Crandle was not immune to him. He’d finally settled on what he hoped was the perfect solution. It all rested, however, on Henry’s feelings for Ellen Westing, the woman he’d once claimed to love.

  “I want you to know that I applaud you for your practicality. I’ve seen you flounder under the financial restrictions both Father and I have placed on you. And I know you have neither the temperament nor the inclination to enter the army or the clergy.”

  Henry’s jaw tightened, his suspicion clear, but he continued to listen.

  “I have been thinking that perhaps it is not fair to ask you to make such a large sacrifice to secure your independence. Tossing aside a relationship with a woman you profess to love in order to pursue a more practical one.”

  “Come now, Richard, aren’t you laying it on a bit thick? Since when do you care about such things as love? As I recall, you laughed openly when I spoke to you about my feelings.”

  Richard shrugged. “Just because I don’t believe in such emotions doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the fact that you do.”

  Henry leant back in his chair, apparently warming to the conversation. “You know, it wouldn’t take much for a man to fall in love with Sophie. She is a lovely woman. All that a man could want, really. I’ve come to know her quite well over the past months and I think the two of us would do very well together. It wouldn’t be too much of a sacrifice to marry her.”

  Richard flinched inwardly at his brother’s words, but he kept tight control of his emotions. It wouldn’t do to tip his hand lest it lead Henry, out of spite, to refuse the offer he was about to make.

  “You can, of course, choose to marry whomever you wish. All things being equal, I would have thought you’d choose to marry Miss Westing.”

  Henry’s mouth twisted. “We both know things are not at all equal. I can’t support Ellen, and must, therefore, marry for money. I only consider myself lucky I found such a woman as Sophie.”

  “Ah, but you are wrong,” Richard said, keeping his voice even. “I have decided to give you Sommerfield. It is one of the lesser estates, but it has the advantage of not being tied to the entail so I am at liberty to dispose of it as I see fit. With the income from the property you would be able to support a family.”

  Henry opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. Richard watched the play of emotion on his brother’s face. First hope, followed swiftly by doubt and suspicion. When he finally spoke, it was suspicion that won out.

  “I thought as much. You are doing this because of Sophie.”

  “Does it r
eally matter what my reasons are? Come, Henry, this is exactly what you wanted. To be independent and able to provide for a wife of your own choosing.”

  “And if I choose to marry Sophie?”

  Richard had to play this hand out. He’d decided on his course of action and must now follow it through, whatever the outcome.

  “I am placing no restrictions on you, Henry. I am done trying to control you. You are free to marry whomever you wish.”

  Henry was silent for some time before rising to his feet. Richard followed and accepted his brother’s outstretched hand with caution.

  “Thank you,” Henry said. A smile crossed his face as he continued. “I believe Ellen and I may just name our first son after you.”

  The smile that tugged at the corners of Richard’s mouth at his brother’s words was genuine. Until that moment he hadn’t allowed himself to think about just how much he’d missed the closeness he and his brother had once shared.

  “I wish you well,” he said, meaning it.

  Henry’s smile dimmed. “Sophie is a special woman, Richard. Don’t treat her as callously as you have your other conquests.”

  Richard didn’t reply, but his brother’s warning rang in his ears long after he’d left.

  Chapter Three

  The following evening, Sophie took great care with her appearance. If she was to be discomposed by Dearbourne’s presence at the theatre, it seemed only fair that she try to inject a small amount of unease into his evening as well. To that end she had her maid take extra care with her hair, ensuring the dark curls that framed her face and highlighted her fair complexion were perfectly arranged. She chose to wear a rose-coloured gown, which she knew brought out the green in her eyes. It also had the most daring décolletage of all her evening gowns and she hoped it would lead Dearbourne to remember gaining a much closer view of what it displayed.

  True to his word, Lord Dearbourne found Sophie and her aunt shortly after they had arrived at the theatre. There was more than a hint of appreciation in his eyes as they swept over her.

  “Miss Crandle,” he said, greeting Sophie, “I was worried that perhaps you’d changed your mind.”

  “And miss what is said to be the best performance this theatre has seen in years? Not even your presence could keep me from that.”

  Her aunt inhaled sharply at her rudeness, but Dearbourne only laughed.

  “And rightly so.” His smile warmed Sophie right down to her toes. He turned to her aunt. “It is lovely to see you again, Lady Turner. You look very regal this evening,” he said, taking her hand and bowing over it.

  Although her aunt did not entirely approve of Dearbourne, it was clear she wasn’t immune to his charm. No doubt the fact that he was an earl went a long way towards making up for his less than stellar reputation. Sophie was amazed when Aunt Jane preened at his compliment.

  “We were very pleased to receive your invitation. But then, given the very close relationship between your brother and Sophie, it can hardly be a surprise. I was hoping to see him here tonight.”

  Dearbourne’s demeanour cooled with the reminder that Sophie’s aunt was still hoping for a marriage between her and Henry. He gave her a look that held a hint of accusation and she wanted nothing more than to assure him that she could no longer go through with such an arrangement. With her aunt standing right there, however, she could do nothing but wince inwardly.

  “Unfortunately, my brother will not be joining us this evening,” he replied, his manner stiff.

  In her disappointment, Aunt Jane didn’t notice Dearbourne’s displeasure. Sophie cringed when her aunt opened her mouth to say something else, but she was interrupted when an elegant couple joined them.

  “There you are, Richard,” the woman said. “We should make our way to the box now. The play is about to begin.”

  Sophie was surprised by the annoyance that swept through her upon hearing the familiar manner with which the speaker addressed Dearbourne. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the petite, fair-haired woman. Almost a full head taller, Sophie felt like an ungainly giant next to her.

  Dearbourne turned to greet the couple. Sophie’s annoyance grew into something darker when the woman kissed Dearbourne on the cheek.

  “Allow me to introduce you to my guests, Lady Turner and Miss Sophie Crandle. And this impatient person is my cousin and her husband, Lord and Lady Wells.”

  Sophie tried not to examine the relief that swept through her upon learning this woman wasn’t one of Dearbourne’s paramours.

  Dearbourne offered his arm to her aunt and together they made their way to his box.

  “It’s a pity Henry couldn’t join us,” Lady Wells said as they entered the box. Sophie noticed the look Lord Wells aimed at his wife, which was clearly meant to stop her speech, but she ignored him and continued, “I understand he was quite anxious to get home. That was a very generous thing you did for him, Richard.”

  “How do you know about that?” It was clear Dearbourne was surprised.

  “He paid us a visit, of course,” Lady Wells said. “He never would have heard the end of it from me if he’d left town without saying his goodbyes.”

  Sophie ignored the dark look her aunt aimed at her. Her thoughts spun with the implication of Lady Wells’ words. Henry had returned to the country without a word to her. Just one week ago they were on a path they’d both known would end in their betrothal, but now he had abandoned her for other pursuits. She knew exactly whom to blame for that.

  Dearbourne.

  The current turn of events made it impossible for her to concentrate on the play. She should have been angry at Dearbourne’s interference, but anger was the furthest emotion from her mind. If his goal had been merely to prevent his brother’s marriage to a woman he found unsuitable, that goal had already been accomplished, and he didn’t need to be here with her now. She couldn’t help but replay in her mind their last conversation the day before.

  She had to know what he was thinking. Lord and Lady Wells sat at the front of the box with her aunt, leaving her to sit next to Dearbourne behind them, but she couldn’t talk to him without the others overhearing. She’d hoped to gain a moment during the intermission, but a steady stream of visitors to their box prevented that.

  When the curtain rose again for the next act, Sophie could wait no longer. She needed to speak to him now because after the play was over they would again be surrounded by people. She placed her hand on Dearbourne’s arm to get his attention and indicated with a slight movement of her head that he should follow her, before leaning forward to tell her aunt she was feeling unwell and needed a little air. Dearbourne murmured something about making sure she was all right and followed her from the box.

  She wasn’t sure where she was headed, but she knew she needed to find a place where they could talk. Dearbourne grabbed hold of her hand to stop her wandering.

  “What is the matter, Sophie?”

  “I need to speak with you,” she said. “In private. I don’t know when we’ll have another chance, and I don’t think we can talk here.”

  Understanding and a hint of wariness entered his eyes. With a curt nod, he led her down a corridor she’d failed to notice. He opened a door at the end of the hallway, and, after checking to make sure it was empty, held it open for her to precede him. There was no one in the room, but it was far from empty. It appeared to be a storage room of some sort and the only light came from the moonlight that streamed in through one small window, high on one wall. She’d wanted privacy to speak to him, but when he closed the door she was acutely aware of just how alone they were.

  She took a deep breath before saying, “I need to know what is happening.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that. “I had the same question.”

  She knew he was being deliberately obtuse. “I need to know what is happening with you and me.”

  His eyes warmed and he took a step towards her. “Do I really need to explain it to you?”

  She nodded. “Yes, you do. Hen
ry made no secret of the fact that he was courting me, but now I learn he’s left London without saying one word about it to me. I don’t know if he’s planning to return, or if he’s given me up entirely…”

  Dearbourne caught her arms and pulled her to him. She didn’t protest, but she did raise her hands to his chest to keep a small amount of distance between them. He was almost unnaturally still as he stared down at her for several seconds, his only movement a slight flaring of his nostrils. He was angry.

  “Are you disappointed my brother isn’t here? Is that what you wished to speak to me about?”

  She shook her head.

  “I think you know what is going on here. Tell me, Sophie, if I kiss you now, who would you be kissing?”

  How could he even doubt that?

  “I’d be kissing you.”

  He brought his hands up to cup her face. “Richard,” he said. “Call me by my name.”

  Her heart began to race. “I’d be kissing you, Richard.”

  It was the merest hint of a whisper, but his response was immediate. He lowered his mouth and took hers in a fierce kiss that should have been alarming, but that mirrored her own frustrations. It had felt like an eternity since he’d last held her like this and her hunger for his touch almost bordered on desperation. It was impossible to think of or want anyone else when her thoughts were so full of the man now kissing her.

  He was still plundering her mouth when she felt his hand on her dress, starting to raise the skirt. Startled, she pulled back.

  “We can’t. Not here.”

  “Shh,” he said, dragging his mouth across her cheek and taking her earlobe between his teeth. A shiver went through her and she didn’t protest when he raised her skirts higher. The scorching sweep of his hand along her outer thigh alarmed her, but her uncertainty turned to anticipation when he brushed his fingertips along the bare skin of her inner thigh, under the edge of her pantaloons.