What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

“While I understand your sentiment,” Dudley replied, glancing once more at Sophie’s attire. “I believe Mis

s Beaufort is more than capable of taking care of herself. Besides, it may be her only chance of discovering what happened to her brother.”

“And tell me, would you afford your wife the same courtesy?” Dane said fiercely.

Mr. Spencer smiled and said with assured ease, “But Miss Beaufort is not your wife.”

A look passed between the two gentlemen, suggesting the conversation was at an end. Mr. Spencer had been deliberately provoking and Sophie could not help but wonder if the physical connection that existed between herself and Dane was apparent to others.

“More tea?” Charlotte asked, offering some distraction from the hard stare Dane directed at his friend.

Sophie obliged, grateful to have something else on which to focus. For although she had no intention of ever becoming Dane’s wife, Dudley’s remark stirred vivid memories of their passionate liaison, memories that caused her pulse to race and her breath to quicken. Now she knew why gentlemen found it necessary to loosen their cravats when emotions ran high. As she sat there sipping tea, she tried in vain to think of something, anything other than the deep sense of longing the memory evoked.

She gazed across at Charlotte, the perfect image of domestic respectability. Expecting her first child at Christmas, she was radiant, charming, and graceful. Most importantly, she was in love with her husband. Sophie had noticed the discreet glances she secretively stole. She noticed the way he looked back with a profound tenderness, as though she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

“I believe I am in need of some air,” Charlotte said with a smile, holding the arms of the chair to stand. While both gentlemen also stood, Mr. Spencer offered his assistance by placing his hand at the small of her back and guiding her to her feet. “Would you care to join me, Miss Beaufort? Or am I supposed to call you Mr. Shandy?”

Sophie placed her cup on the table and stood. “I would love nothing more.”

As she turned to leave, Dane touched her lightly on the elbow and bent down so his mouth brushed against her ear. “I would prefer if you would walk in the garden and not out in the square,” he whispered.

“Of course,” she consented with a small nod of the head. Had he asked her the same question a few days ago, she would have told him to go to the devil. Indeed, had his request involved hindering her progress in finding James, she would have said exactly that. In agreeing to this request, she hoped he would understand she was not opposed to everything he suggested.

As Sophie stepped out into the hall, Charlotte’s maid came scuttling down the stairs carrying a fur-trimmed shawl, which she placed around Charlotte’s shoulders.

“We shall not be too long,” Charlotte began. “I believe they have some making up to do.” She laughed as she gestured to the drawing room where the low, rumbling tones suggested the gentlemen were already deep in conversation.

Sophie could not help but be intrigued by their relationship. “Are they always so … so direct with one another?”

Charlotte glanced affectionately towards the closed door. “Perhaps not in company, but the freedom with which they speak stems from a bond forged during their travels abroad. It was a dangerous time.” Her eyes widened to add intrigue to her words. “Who best to turn to for advice than a man you know would die for you,” she said slipping her arm through Sophie’s and leading her out into the garden.

The rectangular shaped garden was what one expected from a townhouse in a more affluent area. It was formal in design, with three flowerbeds placed along the central axis, all edged in neatly trimmed box and smaller beds lining the outer walls. The design would be even more spectacular when viewed from an upper window, Sophie thought, as they stepped out onto the gravel path that wound around the central beds in a figure of eight.

“You do not mind if I take your arm?” Charlotte asked. “I have been prone to bouts of dizziness and Dudley is such a worrier.”

“I am more than happy to be of assistance,” Sophie said a little too formally. She stopped abruptly. “Oh dear, I fear I sound more like Mr. Shandy every day. Of course I don’t mind,” she rephrased with a grin.

Charlotte was silent for a moment and then took a deep breath. “May we be candid with one another, Miss Beaufort?”

“Please, you must call me Sophie,” she replied, eager to further their acquaintance. It was the least she could do after all the wonderful clothes she had been given.

“Sophie,” Charlotte corrected. “It must be wonderful to be able to discuss anything and know you may trust the answer you receive.” Charlotte gave Sophie’s arm a little squeeze. “I do not see why the gentlemen should be the only ones afforded such a luxury.”

“I agree,” Sophie nodded, regaining her composure. “You may be candid with me, Mrs. Spencer.”

“You are doing your Mr. Shandy thing again,” Charlotte said with a chuckle, “and please call me Charlotte.”

Sophie chuckled, too. “If the gentlemen have forged their friendship through danger, then perhaps we shall forge ours through laughter.”

Although Sophie doubted there was anything dangerous about spending years on a grand tour in the company of loose women. If Dudley Spencer had spent time abroad with Dane, then perhaps he did not want Charlotte to know he’d assisted the marquess in pursuit of pleasure while his estate went to rot.

As they reached the bottom of the garden, they sat down on a stone bench with armrests in the shape of swans.

“I believe Sebastian is in love with you,” Charlotte announced in a rather matter of fact tone.

“What?” Sophie jumped to her feet so fast anyone would have thought she’d just sat on a bee. When she agreed to talk candidly, this was not the sort of topic she had in mind.

“Please, sit down,” Charlotte said in a calm tone as she patted the seat next to her. “I did not mean to frighten you. I just wondered if you knew and now it is obvious you do not.”