CHAPTER TWO
Sophia cradled her spinning head in her hands. She had
drunk a glass or two more wine than normal tonight, but
nothing to deserve this misery.
"Is he still there?"
Jenny cracked open the door and stuck her nose to
it. "Yes, sitting by the hearth like he has a right to be
here."
Sophia gestured to the two women mopping up the water
around the tub. "Leave now and go to bed. The rest can
wait until morning."
Lisette and Linette bustled to the door. As they slipped
out Sophia caught a glimpse of the man sitting amidst her
hounds.
Adrian Burchard. She knew of the Burchards. Randall
Burchard, the Earl of Dincaster, had been a friend of her
father.
The only thing that she knew about this particular
Burchard, however, was what she had learned from Jenny. He
was here on an errand from the King, no less, to bring her
back to England.
"Send him away."
"I do not think that he will go. He said that he would
wait until you were well enough disposed to speak with
him."
Sophia pushed Jenny aside and stuck her own nose to the
crack. Adrian Burchard drank her wine, gazed at her fire,
and scratched Yuri's ear. It was a wonder he had not
removed his shoes. He cut a stunning figure with his dark
tousled hair, dark eyes and black evening dress. Many
women would not mind finding him ensconced in their
chambers.
He possessed a compelling presence that affected her even
in her pitiful condition. Still, he struck her as somehow
fraudulent. The cut of his clothes and the manner in which
he lounged announced his Englishness. He exuded an English
aristocratic breeding that could not be faked. But . . .
his face, yes, that was it. There was something
suspiciously un-English about his face.
He did not resemble the fair-haired Earl of Dincaster.
This man had thick, wavy, black hair, and very dark eyes,
deep-set and shaped the way they are in Mediterranean
countries. The contrast with his fair skin created a
slightly unnatural appearance. There was something foreign
about his mouth too, a hard definition that gave it a
cruel aspect.
She could not shake the impression that if he changed his
clothes, demeanor, and a few physical details, Adrian
Burchard could pass for a Spanish prince much more
successfully than that rapscallion Stefan passed for a
Polish one. Which was peculiar because while Stefan might
not be a prince, he most certainly was Polish.
The more she peered, the more familiar Burchard looked in
ways that uncomfortably pricked at her recollections. She
tried to brush aside the thick clouds that obscured the
events of the night. It was extremely disconcerting to
realize that several hours of your life had passed without
your awareness of them.
Jenny held up some stays for her attention. "Will you be
feeling well enough to dress now, my lady?"
"I have no intention of getting fully dressed again to
greet him. Fetch my violet undressing gown, do something
with my hair, and throw a shawl over my shoulders. If he
is shocked, I do not care."
"Oh, I do not think you could shock him," Jenny mused
while she pulled open doors of armoires. "After what he
has already seen, it would be peculiar if he was
scandalized by a perfectly respectable undressing gown,
wouldn't it?"
Well, now, that depending upon what it was that he had
already seen.
"What do you think of him, Jenny?"
Jenny glanced to the door. "He is very formidable. He does
not frighten the way your father did, but there is
something to him that makes one want to put things in his
hands, because he is sure to make it come out as he
intends. And he is every inch a gentleman. Charles said
that while he carried you up here you were partly exposed,
and not once did Mr. Burchard look."
Sophia's unsettled stomach kicked in outrage. Through some
bizarre misadventure, this stranger had seen her partly
undressed.
"And he can be very gentle, my lady," Jenny continued
while she tried to tame Sophia's curls with combs. "He
carried you to the bath like a baby, and when you got sick
he assisted and showed no dismay."
Sophia felt her face burn. Suddenly that memory broke
through the mist. Sloshing water. Masculine hands holding
her chin and forehead over a porcelain rim. Yards of
ruined, soaked red silk.
Jenny pinned her curls back and encased them in a thin
net. Sophia rose to don the violet satin sack gown.
Gathering the tattered shreds of her dignity around her,
she made as grand an entrance into the next room as
circumstances permitted.
The effect, if any, was wasted. Adrian was bent over
Yuri's prostrate, panting form, giving a good scratch to
the stomach slavishly begging for attention.
Sophia waited. He had heard her entrance but was
pretending he had not. He planned to make this a contest.
She really was not in the mood, even if his dark looks
left her mouth dry.
He finally acknowledged her. Rising, he snapped his
fingers and pointed Yuri back to his place by the hearth.
Sophia did not miss the symbolism. Your household is
already mine to command, the gesture said.
He gave her a sharp assessment with those wonderful eyes.
His expression implied that he expected to find the next
conquest quick work too.
He advanced and she presented her hand. He bowed over
it. "Under the circumstances, perhaps we should start at
the beginning and repeat the introduction, Duchess. I am
Adrian Burchard. You are feeling better? I took the
liberty to ask that some food be brought up. It will help
if you eat something."
Tea and cakes waited atop a table. He guided her over, sat
her down, poured her tea, and settled himself several feet
away. Masterfully.
"Please eat something." It wasn't a request. Not really.
She reached for a cake in spite of herself. She nibbled
and drank a bit of tea under his watchful approval. A
silly, still-inebriated part of her wanted to glow with
delight that he was pleased.
A different, sensible part, the part that had developed a
gargantuan headache, knew what he was doing. He was taking
her in hand, as if she was some dimwit.
"You are one of the Earl of Dincaster's sons, are you not?
I met your parents, years ago." She was amazed that she
got the words out. He was so handsome that she couldn't
concentrate. She had to force herself not to stare at his
face. Close like this, she found it astonishing in its
severe beauty.
He possessed a square jaw and defined cheekbones and his
eyes positively glowed in the candlelight. His black hair
fell carelessly about his forehead and face and collar,
but not in the carefully mussed styles seen in drawing
rooms these days. Rather it seemed to really grow that way
because nature decreed it be a little wild.
Tell me, Mr. Burchard, as I have always wondered. What is
it like to be so beautiful that hearts skip when you pass
by?
"I am his third son, after my brothers Gavin and Colin."
Third son. After the "heir and a spare". Lady Dincaster
had been as fair as her husband, Sophia recalled. She
examined Adrian's dark, foreign appearance with new
interest.
"You have a letter for me, I believe," she said, barely
swallowing a tactless query regarding his legitimacy that
wanted to blurt out.
He extricated a small missive from inside his frock coat.
Sophia noted the royal seal.
"What does it say?"
"The King was surprised that you did not return to England
upon your father's passing. He summons you at once. It
would be his pleasure to welcome the newest peer to her
position."
It appeared that they were going to talk about sad,
complicated things.
She found him a tad less attractive all of a sudden.
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