The Rake's Redemption(19)

The urgency of Rod's knocking did not cause the door to open with more  than usual dispatch. The imperturbable Smithers opened it with no trace  of having hurried.

"If you will wait in the small parlor, Mrs. Thatcher will receive you  momentarily," Smithers said as he ushered them into the comfortable room  Dominic had visited once before.

Dominic looked at the bountiful flower arrangements and lack of clutter  that so clearly represented Juliana's hand; he was consumed with  schooling his demeanor, determined that his carefully cultivated facade  would not slip. Once again he was subjecting himself to sweet torment,  like a moth battering itself against the window at twilight desperate to  reach the candle flame that would consume it. He was many things, but  not a coward. That was why he had agreed to the morning call with  Freddie, and again today with Rod. His walls of defense were built high  and strong, fortified over the years of passionless embrace with many  women who had never touched him except physically. This one woman would  not breach them and so he would prove to himself. There was enough honor  left to him that he knew what he must do.                       
       
           



       

Sophia found Dominic leaning against the mantel dressed with careless  elegance in a chocolate brown coat, whipcord breeches and tan leather  boots; while Rodney, splendidly attired in correct morning clothes,  reclined uneasily upon a narrow bench, which sagged a little with his  weight. He rose with remarkable agility when she entered.

"Sophia … ," Rodney breathed her name once as if it were a greeting, and reaching out, raised her fingers to his lips.

"Your servant, Sophia," Dominic said to her, a complacent smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.

Sophia sank down upon the settee and Rodney joined her, once again  retaining her hand between his large palms. She sighed. "Please excuse  my niece for not attending you, but we have an illness in the house."

"Juliana?" asked Dominic sharply, all trace of satisfied boredom suddenly gone. "Is she ill?"

Sophia hesitated, studying him for a moment. "No. Although she will be  if she does not give over some of our nursing duties. It is young Ben,  the postboy  …  perhaps you remember him from the day of the accident,  Dominic?"

"Carrot-topped lad? Face full of freckles?"

"Yes. He is Benjamin's only son. His mother died last spring. Juliana is  quite fond of him  …  as she is of all the children at the Park. Insisted  on moving him down to the spare bedroom next to her own, and is nursing  him herself. She has hardly slept since he fell ill."

Rodney stroked her hand, which Sophia found surprisingly soothing. "Has a physician been called?" he asked.

"Last evening. He calls back today. He said all the spots should be out  by then. But the fever is still raging  …  I trust you have both had the  measles?"

"Yes, in the nursery. You had them, too, Dominic. I remember you were one big spot."

A light smile played at the corners of Dominic's lips and he laughed. "I can't recall, Uncle."

"Take my word for it, my boy. Your mother cared for you with just such devotion as Juliana is giving young Ben."

Sophia saw it again, just as she had in the parlor of the Blue Boar Inn.  One moment Dominic was leaning leisurely against the mantel, a  self-assured smile on his appealing face, and the next instant there was  something in his eyes and a tightness across his lips that she did not  understand.

His beautifully shaped mouth curled into a sneer. "Hah! Motherly  devotion from Leticia! Surely you jest, Uncle. She was much too busy  with her lovers!"

Sophia's gaze was fixed on Dominic's face, and she felt the flush creep  up her cheeks when she saw his cornflower blue eyes darken to almost  navy in disgust. "The black widow did not nurse her children. She  destroyed them," Dominic declared fiercely.

His words hung, echoing like distant thunder on a sultry summer night  when the air is heavy and one can feel the power of a storm building all  around. Sophia's face must have mirrored her horror at his words, for  suddenly he was staring appalled into her startled eyes, and without a  word of regret, he turned and walked quickly from the room, the door  slamming shut behind him.

"Damn my fool tongue!" In a rough voice Rodney broke the spell.

Sophia looked at him, trying to gather her thoughts and make some sense  of all Dominic had said, and all that had not been said, but that could  be read in the shadows marring his face. "I do not understand, Rodney,"  she said softly.

"Of course, you do not, my dear. I hardly understand it myself!" His  harsh voice betrayed the depths of his feelings, but seeing Sophia's  shocked face his expression softened. "It was nothing you did. It was  me. I should never have mentioned his mother. It was my mother that  nursed him, of course. Leticia didn't come near the sickroom for fear  she would be infected. Or Jules."

"Jules?"

"Dominic's older brother by five years." Frowning, Sophia shook her head. "Older brother? Then how is Dominic the marquis?"

"Leticia was a widow with a young son when Charles met her. She was  French you know. Married the Comte de Saville when she was young. After  his death she came here visiting relatives. Charles met her and married  her within a month."

Sophia was silent. There was more here than Rodney was telling. Much  more. "She and Charles were happy, I presume," she probed finally,  searching for the right words. "I mean, of course, they were pleased to  have such a handsome son as Dominic."

Shrugging, Rodney lowered his eyes. "Suppose so. Wasn't that close to my  brother at the time, Oxford and then on the town you know."

She studied his downcast face for a moment before standing and moving to  the empty fireplace, staring at it moodily for several minutes. Making  her decision, she turned back to him. "I hope I do not speak too frankly  when I say that since we have met again I feel that, this time, we may  become even closer."                       
       
           



       

"It is my fondest hope," Rodney replied softly, for an instant looking nearly as young as he had twenty years ago.

Going back to the settee, Sophia sank down beside him. "Then I wish to  know about Dominic and his mother. Am I being too forward, my dear?"

Grasping her hand, Rodney studied her long, thin fingers, his head  bowed. "It is not my place to tell, Sophia, since I do not know it all."

"I have grown very fond of Dominic and would help if I could. Perhaps you could tell me what you do know," Sophia ventured.

"Yes. Of course." His voice firm, Rodney looked at her with great  seriousness narrowing his pale blue eyes. "Leticia's beauty hid her true  nature from all of us. If you had seen her, you would understand. She  cajoled everyone with her radiant smile and black flashing eyes. She had  that French vitality that sparkles and draws you to its flame  …  But  after she produced an heir, she locked her bedroom door against  Charles."

Rodney stopped, but Sophia tightened her grasp on his fingers urging him  on. "What a deplorable marriage in which to rear children! But what of  Leticia's relationship with Dominic and Jules?"

"She had very little time for Dominic, although for some reason he  adored her. She devoted all her time and energy to her own comforts and  those of Jules. Dominic loved his brother. But I always felt he was hurt  that Leticia seemed to love Jules more than him." Rodney shook his  head, squeezing her hands a bit tighter. "Not Jules's fault. It was  Leticia who was possessive of him, almost unnaturally so. She called him  her ‘little count.' Perhaps because he is the image of his late father.  She would always compare Charles to Jules's father  …  and her other  lovers."

"Well," Sophia stated matter-of-factly, "It is not unknown in the ton for ladies to take lovers."

"Sophia, you don't understand! She flaunted her affairs in front of  Charles. No one was safe from her. Even I … " Rodney looked away, his  chubby cheeks crimson.

"Oh, no, Rod!" Sophia moved closer to him, placing her hand over their  clenched fingers, trying desperately to keep the shock out of her voice.

She obviously failed, for Rodney's head shot up, his pale blue eyes  wide. "Good God, Sophia, I didn't  …  I mean . …  there she was stark naked  in my bed  …  didn't know she was there  …  ran all the way to the stables  and fled to London. Had the devil's own time explaining my abrupt  departure to the duke."