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“After your betrothed died, I just didn’t think you would be interested in me. And truthfully, I didn’t have the courage.” Nicholas walked back to the sofa. “I was certain you didn’t feel the same way for me.”
Jennette stared at the rug. “You might have been right. I felt so guilty over John’s death.”
“Because you didn’t love him. You loved Blackburn.”
Jennette only nodded. “You are most likely right that even if you had confessed your affection for me, I would have turned you down.”
“Because you loved Blackburn,” Nicholas said again. As uncomfortable as this conversation was, it felt good to clear the air. While he would always love Jennette, since meeting Sophie, his feelings for her had changed.
“I suppose so.” She smiled slightly. “What are you going to do now?”
Nicholas leaned back against the cushion and shook his head. “I have no idea. How can I convince her that I don’t love you that way any longer?”
Jennette giggled. “You could tell her the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell Sophie you love her, not me.”
He closed his eyes in thought. Did he really love Sophie? Or was it just lust? He honestly didn’t know. He felt certain that if he married her, they could be happy. But was that enough? Was that love?
“It’s not that easy, Jennette.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Make her see reason.” And the only way he could do that was to talk to her without her henchmen throwing him out of her house. His lips lifted slightly.
“Oh, I know that smile,” Jennette said. “What devious thoughts are you thinking?”
“Nothing at all.” At least nothing he could tell her about. Tonight he would get into Sophie’s house, one way or another.
Sophie placed her book on the table and then snuffed out the candles in the parlor. No matter how hard she’d tried, she could not concentrate on reading the entire day. After Jennette and Nicholas left, her thoughts had remained on them. Jennette had appeared very offended by Sophie’s insinuation of an affair.
She said good night to the footman on duty for the night and walked upstairs. Her mind buzzed with questions. Was it possible that she was wrong about Jennette? It seemed as if she seldom got anything right since her trip to Venice.
Maybe she had jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Entering her room, her maid assisted her with her clothing and into a nightgown. Instead of lying on her bed, Sophie paced the room examining the evidence in her mind. All she had was the knowledge that Nicholas loved Jennette and an overheard conversation regarding a baby.
Sophie stopped by the window as a cool breeze fluttered the marigold curtains. She glanced outside at the quiet street. She was right. Jennette had told Nicholas that it happened the night he returned from Venice. And that they both had had too much to drink.
She rested her head against the window frame. In the time she had known Nicholas, she had never seen him drink more than two glasses of any type of spirit. While Jennette could drink most men under the table.
The sound of a floorboard squeaking made her look back into the room just in time to see Nicholas before he clapped his hand over her mouth.
“Not a word. If you call for a footman, I will carry you out of here before they arrive. Then I will take you to my house until we have this discussion. Do you understand?”
Sophie swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. She had never heard him sound so furious. Nor so fierce. With a hand over her mouth, she had no choice but to nod.
Slowly he moved his hand away. She turned to face him and his ire. “Why are you here? And how did you get in?”
“You left a window open in the back of the house.”
“But how did you get upstairs without anyone noticing?” She moved away from the heat of his body before her thoughts went in a very bad direction.
“I have been in your house since eight. I just had to wait until your servants went to dinner and then I sneaked up here. Perhaps Somerton was right that you need more footmen.”
“Why are you here, Nicholas?” she demanded as her own anger escalated. He had no right to be here, invading her home as he did her thoughts.
