Callum rolled onto his back and lay staring up at the ceiling while his breathing got back into some sort of order. That had been good. Sophia had been so responsive—way beyond his hopes. Not perfect, of course, for either of them, but that would come.
She was naturally sensual and she would learn fast how to pleasure him. His body felt heavy and utterly relaxed. Sated, he thought, hauling his eyelids open as they threatened to descend. Not quite sated, perhaps. It would be good to do that again in a little while. He had never felt that close to a woman while he was making love to her. Perhaps there was more than the usual sense of responsibility to make it good when the woman was one’s wife and that was all it was. Yet somehow he had sensed her desire and her nervousness, her pain and her yielding almost as if they had been his own.
He found he was smiling and turned his head to look at Sophia. He had given her some pleasure, of that he was certain. As he moved, so did she, to turn her head away, but not before he saw the fat tear running down her cheek.
‘Sophia!’ He sat bolt upright and she curled away from him defensively. ‘What is it?’
She said something in a low mumble. He bent over her, but all he could make out was ‘… Daniel.’
‘What?’ he snapped. For several seconds he thought she was not going to answer him, then Sophia sat up and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. They were wide, almost bemused.
‘I …’
‘What is wrong?’ he asked again, trying to keep his voice down. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Well, yes, but I expected it. It did not matter.’
‘You enjoyed it? I gave you pleasure?’ It was the first time in his life that he had needed to ask that question and it was not doing his temper much good to have to ask it now, of his wife.
Sophia ducked her head so he could not see her face. ‘Yes. Yes, you did. Of course.’
‘You said Daniel’s name.’
She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I have a confession to make,’ she said, her face still stubbornly hidden from him.
‘What?’ He made his voice gentle with an effort. To be jerked out of that post-coital, sensual happiness was a shock. But what secrets could she possibly have that could provoke this reaction?
‘I did not love Daniel,’ Sophia blurted out.
Callum found he was staring at her hands, twisted together in distress. ‘Of all the things I might have expected you to say, that one would never have occurred to me,’ he said after a moment.
‘I know. I swore I would love him. I meant to. But I fell out of love, I suppose.’
‘My God.’
Sophia looked up, her eyes swimming with tears she was somehow holding in check. They were very lovely, blue and wide in the candlelight. ‘You are disgusted with me for being so fickle, I realise that.’
‘No, I am not. Of course not. I always thought the betrothal was wrong—you were both too young.’
‘You told me I would fall in love again, properly, when I was grown up. How angry that made me!’ She managed a smile. ‘I thought you were pompous and condescending.’
‘I probably was, pontificating on the subject of marriage at that age,’ he admitted. Hell, all those years of nagging Dan to write, feeling guilty about not making him come back and marry and all the time …
‘Why didn’t you write and break it off?’ he asked.
‘And jilt Daniel? After the promises I had made? But I didn’t realise, not for years, that was the trouble. If I had, early on, I would have written. Instead I settled down into being comfortably betrothed, I suppose. It gave me a little freedom that other girls did not have. I had my art and that absorbed me.’
‘Art?’ She was surely not still spending her time with those endless scribbles and daubs, was she?
‘Oh, yes.’ Sophia’s mouth curved into a smile and the tears were gone. ‘That is the most important thing in my life. Except my family. And you now, of course,’ she added. He hoped that was not an afterthought.
‘And there was no other man?’ Callum could have laughed at the surprise on her face at the question, but he kept his own straight. Deep down he had no idea how he felt about this revelation, other than a fixed resolve not to reveal his suspicions that Dan had fallen out of love even faster.
‘No. Honestly, I was faithful to him,’ Sophia said with an earnestness that shook him. Dan had not been faithful, not at all. But then, no one expected the man to be under those circumstances. The idea of Dan embracing almost ten years of celibacy was impossible to contemplate.
‘I am sure you were.’ Callum discovered that he had put one hand over hers. The twisting fingers stilled and after a moment threaded confidingly into his. ‘But you have grown into an attractive woman. Other men must have noticed.’
‘Which other men? We could not afford for me to have a Season—and anyway, why should we? I was betrothed. Local society, with the exception of William at the Hall, is very confined. My friends are in St Albans, but that is also a small society; people knew I was spoken for. And I never saw anyone I was tempted by,’ she added with a shy glance from under her lashes.
‘Hmm, very virtuous.’ Did that look mean that he would have tempted her? No, if she had fallen out of love with one twin, she was not going to fall for the other. ‘When did you realise?’
‘When I got the letter telling me that you were both coming home. It came the day the wreck happened, I calculated afterwards. Daniel sent it by a faster, smaller ship that had left Calcutta a few days before yours.’
Callum looked back over almost a year and remembered the conversation at a party in Government House when he realised that Dan had not warned Sophia of his return. He had nagged and his brother had gone off guiltily to scrawl a note.
‘That night, with his return so close, I realised that I did not want to marry him, that I had fallen out of love.’
‘Would you have told him?’
She looked appalled. ‘I do not know! How awful, I never thought of that. I just knew that I had left it far, far too late to break it off and that anyway, we were so desperate for the money I did not dare.’
‘It was that bad even then? I did not realise.’
‘Oh, yes. It was bad, although our creditors were holding off because of the betrothal, they knew they would be paid eventually.’
‘So when you realised what had happened you knew it would plunge you into serious financial difficulties?’
No wonder she had been so distressed even though she had not loved Daniel. She had behaved with great control and dignity, but the stricken look in her eyes had penetrated even his own black grief.
‘Yes. I felt—I feel—so guilty about worrying over that at such a moment. I tell myself there is no value in fretting over what might have been, regretting what I did not do—that helps no one.’
‘You should have asked William for help. We would have done something,’ Cal protested. The slender fingers interlaced with his tightened. ‘Pride?’ he asked.
Sophia nodded. ‘And guilt, I suppose.’
‘Then what were you going to do? What would you have done if I had not come back and asked you to marry me?’
‘I told you. Find paid employment,’ she said. ‘I think we would have had to sell the house as well. Mama would have lived with Mark when he was ordained and had a parish.’
‘In your shoes I would have bitten the hand off anyone offering to rescue me from those straits,’ Cal said. ‘Not resisted as long as you did.’
‘No, you would not,’ she contradicted. ‘You would have stuck out that stubborn chin and refused. Can you imagine yourself accepting a marriage of convenience to a wealthy woman because you needed money?’
‘It is different for a woman,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Sophia agreed with a somewhat watery attempt at a smile. ‘I discovered that. But this is all beside the point. Callum, do you not see? I let you believe I still loved Daniel and you felt you had to marry me out of duty to him. But all the while I should have been honest with both myself, and with him, and released him from the engagement years ago.’
‘It was not easy, was it?’ he asked her, wondering why anger was not stirring inside him. She had broken her word, failed to love his twin, done nothing to release either of them and then married him to save herself from penury. He should be angry. ‘You had to struggle to bring yourself to do it.’ Perhaps that was why? She had not snatched at his offer lightly, greedily.
‘I could do my duty by my family, which was to marry well, or be honest with you.’
‘And you do not know me, let alone love me, so your course of action was plain—do the best for your family.’
‘Yes. I should not have told you, I can see that now,’ she added, her expression miserable. ‘I should have been strong enough not to ease my conscience by admitting it. At least then you would not have known that you had married me for nothing.’
‘Nonsense,’ Callum said briskly. ‘I needed a wife and I have found one without delay. We will deal well together, never mind how we happened to come to this point. I do not regard it and neither should you.’ Did he mean it? He had no idea, but he had to say it. Anything else would be cruel. Sophia was his wife now, for better or worse.
He gave her hand a squeeze and released it, slid out of bed. ‘I’ll leave you, you must be tired now.’
She sat and watched him as he walked around the bed to pick up his robe, the sheet clutched to her breasts, her eyes still dark. Like this, she was beautiful. Desire surged back and Callum tied the sash tightly around his waist. He might want her, but he would not make love to her again tonight, not while he had this new reality to come to terms with. And, strangely, the one question that was beating at his brain was, Why don’t I mind about Daniel?
‘Nothing. Sleep well.’
There was little chance of that, he thought as he closed the door quietly behind him.
Callum was in the dining room, addressing himself to a large steak when Sophia came downstairs the next morning. She had to confess to herself that she was grateful for the presence of Hawksley to open the door for her and Michael to hold her chair so that she was occupied with thanking them and seating herself and did not have to meet her new husband’s gaze until he had resumed his own seat.
‘Good morning, Sophia.’ There was a newspaper folded beside his place and a pile of letters at his other hand, but he seemed content to neglect them for conversation.
Sophia managed a composed smile and pushed to the back of her mind the embarrassing realisation that the staff knew what they had been doing last night and that Callum was probably thinking about it too. Soon she would get used to it, she supposed, but for now, the more she thought about what had happened in bed, the more blush-provoking it seemed. She had screamed. What if anyone had heard her?
Or perhaps all Callum was thinking about was her disloyalty to his twin and the fact that she had deceived him by allowing him to think she had still been in love with Daniel.
‘Good morning. It seems to be a very pleasant day. Yes, coffee, please, Michael.’
‘There is post for you.’ She blinked and came back to the present as Callum lifted the top three letters from the pile and passed them to her. She recognised her mother’s hand on one; the others were from friends in St Alban’s. ‘Hawksley, please see that Mrs Chatterton’s post is handed to her directly in future.’
‘Sir.’
This was, Sophia knew, a considerable concession. Most husbands would expect to have all the incoming post pass through their hands as a matter of course. She smiled her thanks, met a heavy-lidded look and glanced away, blushing. Callum had not stayed with her last night, or come to her room this morning. He had been gentle when she had confessed, but doubtless he was displeased with her.
Her tongue had certainly seemed to freeze. She had wanted to tell him that she would do her best to please him in bed, that she felt very grateful that he had taken her in Daniel’s place, but the words had sounded gauche and foolish even as she began to whisper them, and her voice had been choked with the tears that had welled up in shock at the sensual pleasure, the discomfort, the confusing way Callum had made her feel.
Instead her confession had tumbled out, proving to him that he could not trust her to do the right thing.
If she had tried to explain her feelings, she would probably only have embarrassed him. Mama had warned her that men did not like to speak about emotions or deep personal matters once the first courtship was over. Besides, he might think she was trying to tell him that she had fallen out of love with Daniel and into love with him. She cringed inwardly at the thought. The wonderful intimacy that she had felt with Callum for a few minutes, skin to skin, heart to heart, was something for the bedroom. Perhaps she would feel it again. For the rest of the time well-bred restraint was obviously appropriate.
Michael put a plate of eggs and ham in front of her and she began to eat, surprised at how hungry she felt. Callum pushed away his own empty plate. ‘I must go to Leadenhall Street today and I expect to be away until dinner time, I am afraid.’
‘Leadenhall Street is where East India House is, is it not?’ Sophia recalled. ‘You will have a great deal of business, I quite understand.’ It was a relief, in fact. She would have the opportunity to explore and talk to the servants and start to feel less like a guest and more like the mistress of the house. ‘I will need to discuss menus with Mrs Datchett. Will you dine at home every night this week?’
‘I have no idea. I ate out most of the time before—bachelors do. Now I am married it would be more fitting for me to entertain here. I may need to bring colleagues home to work in the evening. Surely the woman can improvise? My Indian cooks always did.’
‘She would not want to serve an inferior meal to your guests. Indian cuisine is different, I am sure.’ Sophia felt herself bristling at the implied criticism of one of her staff.
‘It certainly is. Tell her that if I do bring guests without warning we will not expect a formal dinner party. Will that help?’
‘I am sure it will.’ Sophia gestured to the footman to pour more coffee for both of them. Callum had been used to a bachelor existence with Daniel. No doubt their servants had improvised to cope with whatever their young masters wanted and the brothers would not stand on too much ceremony. England was quite another matter and no doubt his comments would find their way back to Mrs Datchett’s ears before long. Diplomacy would be called for.
‘Madam’s cards have arrived, sir.’ Hawksley proffered a salver and Callum picked up the rectangle of pasteboard on it, nodded his approval and passed it to Sophia.
‘There you are. We must be married, it says so there.’
Mrs Callum Chatterton
Half Moon Street and Long Welling Manor, Hertfordshire
The card was stiff, gilt edged and elegant. ‘Oh. Thank you.’ How daunting. These were for when she made calls without her husband. At home her name had been on Mama’s card, so this was the first time she had had her own. But who on earth was she to call upon? She knew no one in London.
‘Right. I’ll be off, if you will excuse me. I’ll leave you to get on with your letters.’ Callum rose and came to bend over her shoulder. Sophia turned to say goodbye and was surprised by a kiss on the cheek. Against her skin his was smooth, with just the faintest hint of bristle after his morning shave. Castile soap, a trace of sandalwood, virtually no trace of the warm smell of heated male skin. Even so there was a tug, low in her belly, as her newly awakened body responded to the closeness of his.
‘Goodbye,’ she said, with an attempt at cool composure and hoped her thoughts did not show in her voice. ‘Have a good day in the City.’
His grimace made her smile and then he was gone, leaving her alone in her own house, with her own servants. Her first day as a married woman.
Sophia finished her coffee and bread and butter as she listened to the sounds of her new home. Carriages in the street, snatches of conversation as people passed, the clatter of booted feet running down the stone steps into the narrow area at the front of the house and then more voices as someone in the kitchen opened the lower door. Callum’s voice talking to Hawksley in the hall, the bang of the front door, the slight sound of Michael shifting his stance as he stood by the buffet waiting for her next order.
All she had to do was to make this household run like clockwork. Her husband was a hard-working man with a lot on his mind; he must come home to domestic perfection, a home that ran so smoothly he never even noticed. That was not so hard, she told herself, even if she had no idea what Callum’s likes or dislikes were yet. And by the time she had managed that, then perhaps she would have made some acquaintances, begun to create a new life for herself. ‘Michael, please give my compliments to Mrs Datchett and ask her to join me in my sitting room in half an hour.’
That had sounded confident enough; she only hoped the woman was easy to deal with. She had rehearsed everything they needed to settle in her head and was waiting, a list to hand, when the cook-housekeeper entered. She seemed a pleasant, competent woman, Sophia decided after a few minutes. She suggested things that needed to be bought for the kitchen and scullery, announced that the staff quarters and service area were most satisfactory, nodded agreement to the housekeeping allowance that Sophia proposed and then asked, ‘And will you be entertaining much, ma’am?’
‘I expect so. In the meantime my husband may well bring colleagues home to dine at very short notice. He does not expect a formal dinner on those occasions. Is that likely to be a problem?’
‘No, ma’am. If we agree the menus for the week I’ll make sure we have enough food in the larder to add extra dishes as required.’
That was a relief. ‘Can you cook Indian food, Mrs Datchett?’
‘No, ma’am!’ She frowned. ‘No, but there’s a receipt for a curry in one of my cook books. That’s Indian, I think.’
Mrs Datchett bustled off back downstairs and Sophia set herself to explore her new domain. Her bedchamber and dressing room were well appointed; they just needed a fresh coat of paint and some new hangings, as did the rooms on the ground floor and the hall, stairs and landings.
Which just left Callum’s study and bedroom. The doors were unlocked and he had not said he did not want them disturbed. Even so, it was with the sensation that she was entering Bluebeard’s chamber that she turned the handle on the bedroom door.