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She smiled seductively at him. “Again?”
“Are you too sore?”
“There is only one way to find out.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer.
Sophie dozed for a while before she awoke. She had never felt so wicked in her life. Sleeping with a man she had just met, laying naked next to him and feeling no shame. Never had she imagined anything could be so wonderful.
But it was over now.
She glanced over at his clock. It was already after one and she had to arrive home before her mother returned from her assignation. Her mother, the actress who pretended to be Sophie’s aunt to give her the slightest sense of respectability
. Sophie had always prided herself on not being like her mother. Now, after bedding a man she’d just met, she wondered. Perhaps she was far more like her mother than she might want to admit.
Easing her body off the bed, she stood and stared down at the man who had been her first lover. She prayed her vision about him was correct. If so, he would find her tomorrow. He would court her until they knew each other a little better. Then they would marry. While she wished she didn’t have to leave yet, prolonging her departure would only make this process harder.
As she looked down at the hard planes of his face, she wished she could draw him. Not that she had any talent. She left all ideas of painting and drawing to Jennette. Her friend would do an amazing job at capturing his strong features.
She blinked and realized it was time to leave. Two candles lit the room, allowing her just enough light to find the clothes Mrs. Costa had left for her. After slipping into the serviceable brown wool gown, she walked to the desk in the corner.
She could not depart without at least leaving a note good-bye and telling him where to call on her. Finding paper on the desk, she pulled out a quill and dipped it into the inkwell. She thought about what she needed to say and translated it into Italian. Hopefully, she had made no mistakes.
Staring down at the note, she hesitated. What if she had been nothing but a quick tumble to him? She shook the nonsense from her mind. Her vision had shown her that all would be well. She folded the note and wrote his name on the front of the paper.
The stack of papers on the desk intrigued her. She might be able to find out a little more about the man who was her first lover. Glancing back to the bed, she noticed he slept deeply now. Her gaze returned to the papers and she bit her lip. She reached for a well-worn paper. The note looked as if it had been lovingly read over the years.
As soon as she touched the paper, she felt the hum of emotional residue on it. Whoever wrote this note meant something to Nico. Obviously written by a woman, Sophie realized that he loved this woman a great deal. She closed her eyes and focused on the emotions running through the letter. The woman loved him in return but in a different way.
Sophie opened her eyes and stared down at the note. She should put it back on the desk and walk away. But something drew her to it. Some force propelled her to unfold the letter carefully.
It was in English!
Here she had been speaking and then struggling to write in Italian when the man could read English. Reading the salutation her hands started to tremble. It did not read Dear Nico, but My Dearest Nicholas and was dated three years ago.
The note was a warm letter regarding the social scene of London.
London!
She glanced back over to the bed. He could not possibly be English. She would have sensed it! If he were English then what happened tonight would be a mistake indeed. He would know or could learn who she really was—the bastard daughter of an earl and an actress.
God help her if he was truly English.
Biting down on her lip, she continued to read the letter but stopped when the woman mentioned the name Banning. It had to be a coincidence. Banning was Jennette’s brother and married to Sophie’s dearest friend Avis.
Unable to contain her curiosity, she scanned to the bottom of the letter for the signature. The paper dropped out of her hands, fluttering to the desk.
Sophie couldn’t move. She sat staring at the paper for at least a minute. The signature taunted her.
Jennette.
How did Jennette know this man? Sophie scanned a few of the papers on the desk until she found another letter written to Nico . . . Nicholas.
Only this letter was written to Lord Ancroft.
Lord Ancroft.
Sophie clutched the desk as her world began to spin around her. She could not have just spent the night with an English lord. An English marquess!
A man who’d paid his mistress to leave London and their daughter behind for him to raise. While not one of the biggest rakes in town, he’d had more than his share of mistresses and widows.
