All I Ever Needed Read online

  "No," East said firmly. "That is the one room where neither of you will go, under any circumstances." He ignored the startled looks that came at him from every direction. "Tell Mother about the house, Sophie."

  * * *

  A heavy fog crept up from the Thames and moved stealthily through the streets and alleys, blurring the architecture of homes and cathedrals alike until they were indistinguishable from the meanest brothels and warehouses. The hack moved slowly, horse and driver picking their way carefully along the cobbled streets, wise enough to know that their sense of direction could fail them when the city was as fogbound as it was tonight.

  Eastlyn did not mind the slow going. Sophie was curled beside him on the bench seat, and her head rested on his shoulder. She had allowed him to wrap her in part of his Carrick coat until she was fairly cocooned by it. He did not doubt that she could be made more comfortable in his own carriage, but it was hard to see how at the moment. She was quiet, though not sleeping, and he supposed it was too much to hope that she would fall into that dreamless state before they reached her home.

  "I think it did not go too badly for either one of us," she said. "Though your mother gave me a start now and again."

  "Only a start?" he asked dryly. "I thought she meant to box my ears."

  Sophie smiled lightly. "Has she ever?"

  "No. She threatens it often enough, but she can never bring herself to do the deed, not when I was yet a boy, and certainly not now. She remembers the scarlet fever, I think, and how the tips of my ears were cherry red and tender, and it stays her hand even when I have given her cause to use it."

  "I like her enormously. She spoke her mind and did not soften her words. We hurt her by not waiting to say our vows, no matter that we had our reasons for doing so. I am glad she did not pretend it was otherwise." Sophie snuggled closer as a gust of cold air found its way under the door and slipped under her gown. "Are you certain we cannot tell your parents more about my cousins?"

  "Did you not hear my mother? She knows more than she should about North and the Gentleman Thief. That intelligence she has directly from North's mother. And Southerton's mother is her source for every bit of knowledge that she has about Miss Parr. I am depending on my father to keep her from confiding in her friends about our marriage. He may well have to take her to the country to secure her silence."

  "But she is not a gossip, East. She would only speak of it to ease her own mind."

  "I know that, but no matter her motive, the end is the same. She will have to content herself with ruminating over the particulars with my father."

  "Poor Sir James."

  "He would concur."

  Sophie pushed at the hem of her gown and prevented another chilling slip of wind from reaching as high as her knees. "Is there really to be an intrigue at the ambassador's ball?"

  "I suppose that is a fair statement."

  "And I am to have a part in it?"

  "A small part. A very small part."

  "There is something to happen in the library, I collect."

  East sighed. "Yes. A trap is being laid, and I am to have the unremarkable task of making certain no one enters the library who is not supposed to be there—and that most certainly includes you and my father."

  "Well, now we shan't. Is the trap meant to catch the Gentleman Thief? This is exactly the sort of affair where he would show himself, isn't it? There will be jewels in such plenty that his most difficult task will be choosing what he means to take."

  East thought Sophie had rather too much enthusiasm for intrigue. "Then have a care what you wear."

  "That is no worry to me. What remains of my jewelry is paste. Except for the ring my father gave my mother, there is nothing that has not been sold or passed on to Abigail." She turned her head so that she might see East's profile in the dim lamplight. "You mustn't blame it entirely on Tremont. I sold a great many things myself when Papa was lying abed. It would have gone for opium otherwise, and I needed it for seed and necessities for the tenants."

  He marveled that she dealt so fairly with her cousin. If she had laid the whole of it at Tremont's door, it would have been understandable. He did not comment because she would have only shrugged it off. Instead, his arm slipped around her back, and he laid his palm against her hip.

  "Who is Colonel Blackwood?" Sophie asked. She thought she felt East stiffen momentarily, but it was so quick a reaction, then so effortlessly controlled, that she believed she might have imagined it. "Your father asked you if Colonel Blackwood knew about our child, and you said yes. I should like to know who he is."

  "He directs my work," East said simply.

  Sophie considered what it was that Eastlyn didn't say. "You and your friends are something more than you seem, I think. I have not a complete understanding, but I am coming to it directly."

  "Is there anything I can do to set you on another course?"

  "I don't believe so, no. Soldier. Sailor. Tinker. Spy. That is what your mother said, is it not?"

  "She said a great many things."

  Sophie lifted her head and kissed East's cheek. "I don't mind that you mean to be uncooperative. I shall ask your mother. She will be appalled that you have not told me as much as you should. Now that it is arranged that she and your father will be at the ambassador's ball, I will have my opportunity."

  Eastlyn merely grunted.

  Chuckling, Sophie resettled her head against his shoulder. "I think your father might tell me also. He is possessed of a most amiable disposition, and I suspect he is the calm to your mother's storm."

  She was right in her assessment, but East did not tell her so. "My father likes you, Sophie. I could tell that he was pleased with himself for having the good sense to buy your novel. When the two of you put your heads together after dinner, Mother despaired that she would ever get you away from him. Watching you with Sir James, I confess to some envy. You were undeniably animated in your conversation. Were you discussing your writing?"

  Sophie was glad that East could not easily see her blush. "No," she said. "We spoke very little of that. Mostly we spoke of you."

  "Me?"

  "Yes. I was telling him of our first encounter."

  "Really? You were more expressive in the telling of it than you were on that occasion."

  "I suppose it must have seemed that way." She fell quiet for a moment. Except for the horse's steady clopping, there was hardly any sound from the street. It was as if the fog had not only distorted the appearance of the nightscape, but muted the usual cacophony as well. "Will Tremont attend the ambassador's ball?"

  "He was on the invitation list. Dunsmore also. They both responded that they would attend."

  Sophie did not ask how he had come by this information, but she was certain she could rely on it. She knew she was correct that her husband was something more than he seemed. Tinker. He had been honest with her about his work as a repairer of things; she was the one who had not understood the extent to which he meant it.

  "It troubles you?" he asked when Sophie made no reply.

  "No. Not at all." She realized of a sudden that she was not serving up a lie to ease his mind, but that she spoke the truth of hers. "It is because you will be there, I think. Even if we can spend little time together at the ball, I will know that you are observing me from the corner of your eye. You don't mind that I depend on you for that?"

  "No. Is it your intention to dance with a great many young bucks?"

  "Oh, yes. But it will all be in aid of softening the rumors that might attach themselves to us."

  "Of course."

  Sophie's agreeably sleepy smile became a wide yawn. She stifled it with her fingertips and closed her eyes when East encouraged her to do so. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep under East's heavy greatcoat and the equally heavy blanket of fog.

  The house that Eastlyn had secured for Sophie was in a respectable neighborhood on the verge of being only tolerably so. It was impossible to find her better lodging without giving rise
to comment as to the means of her support. Sophie's distant connection to Lady Harriet Gilbert of Berwyn in the Lake District, and the consequence she lent by coming forward to chaperone Sophie's return to London, provided suitable companionship, but Lady Gilbert was known to have been living in genteel poverty and could not have provided more in the way of creature comforts for her great-niece-once-removed.

  They agreed on the tale Eastlyn had woven in Clovelly, namely that Sophie had come by a small settlement upon the death of a relative even more obscure than Lady Gilbert. East wished that he could have created a dead relative with deeper pockets, but that would surely have brought Tremont and Dunsmore around to her home, demanding to know the particulars and demanding a share.

  Lady Gilbert was asleep in a chair in the drawing room when East brought Sophie in; nevertheless, she roused instantly to take command of the situation, directing the servants to make certain Sophie's bed was turned down and that her room was suitably warm. She would not hear of East accompanying Sophie to her bedchamber and insisted that he set her on her feet at the bottom of the stairs.

  Although their acquaintance was short, East learned quickly that it was better to follow Lady Gilbert's directions than to go his own way. Her ladyship's slight frame and lack of height did not diminish her strength. She wielded an ivory-knobbed cane with considerable force when she thought she was being crossed, and East was in no mood to feel that tip being jabbed at his ribs.

  He put Sophie down and steadied her. She gave him a sleepy smile, but it was her aunt's proffered cheek that she kissed. East placed his hands on Sophie's shoulders, turned her toward the stairs, and watched her mount them. It was only when she disappeared around the corner that he relaxed his vigilance.

  Lady Gilbert rapped East lightly on the shin with her cane. He immediately gave her his full attention, which was what she hadn't had when she said his name only seconds earlier. Being in love, she thought, was as near to being dotty as a young person got. She made no apology for using her cane. "May I have a word with your lordship?"

  East could not imagine that she would accept any answer but his assent. He nodded and gestured her to precede him to the drawing room. The hall clock began to chime the midnight hour as they passed, and for East it was a reminder of how late he had kept Sophie out. He should have been more considerate, he thought, but it had been a full fortnight since he had been in her company. He had left Clovelly soon after their marriage ceremony and had immediately set about arranging for Sophie's safe return to London. It was with a mixture of relief and anticipation that he greeted the news that she had finally arrived. That was three long days ago, and it chafed that he had to share her with his parents this evening and with Lady Gilbert at almost every other turn.

  East closed the pocket doors behind him as soon as he entered the drawing room and waited for Lady Gilbert to choose a chair. He wanted to remain well outside of the sweep of her cane.

  Lady Gilbert ignored every one of the room's fine appointments and chose to stand with her back to the fireplace instead. She tugged on the ends of her shawl and drew it more closely about her shoulders. "Tremont was here this evening," she said without preamble. "His son also. Sophia was gone no longer than half an hour when they arrived."

  East had not thought they would learn of Sophie's return so quickly. He was uncertain that it could be kept secret until the ambassador's ball, but he had allowed himself to hope she would have a few more days of peace. "Did they say what they wanted?"

  "To see Sophia, of course. They were rather surprised that she was gone from home when I was yet about. Oh, do not concern yourself that I said anything more than I ought. Tremont in particular was easily convinced that I am not all of a piece."

  "Did you have cause to wallop them with your weapon?"

  "I gave Dunsmore a good poke with it."

  Eastlyn almost felt sympathy for Harold. "How did you explain Sophie's absence?"

  "I did not. I simply spoke all around it. I find that it is the best of diversions, and since neither of them knew of my connection to Sophia through her mother, I recounted the family history for them in great detail over tea. They cannot possibly deny that such a connection exists now, and I satisfied their curiosity about Sophia's inheritance. They were disappointed it was not a larger sum."

  East had no difficulty believing that. "Did they say they would return?"

  "No. And I did not invite them to do so." She tapped her cane against the fireplace's marble apron. "I am not yet in my dotage, though perhaps you would prefer that it were otherwise. You and Sophia have told me little enough, but I am not without eyes in my head. I also hear well enough when I set my mind to it. You would have me believe that Tremont presents some threat to my niece, but it occurs to me that the real threat may be you." Lady Gilbert's large, arthritic knuckles turned white as she gripped the knob of her cane more tightly. "Is it your intention to marry the gel or do you mean for her to give birth to your bastard?"

  * * *

  Two evenings following his reluctant explanation to Lady Gilbert, East stood outside the darkened house at No. 14 Bowden Street. Eastlyn observed it from the front, rear, and sides before determining how best to make his entrance. Tremont was now staying in his own town residence, but Dunsmore was at home tonight and was unlikely to sleep as soundly as his drugged wife.

  East found a window on the ground floor that had not been properly latched. He pulled it open and soundlessly boosted himself onto the sill. Swiveling around, he dropped to the floor, the toes of his boots tapping lightly on the wood. He listened and heard nothing. When Sophie had shared stories with him about Dunsmore's children, she couldn't have suspected how he would use the information. Robert and Esme were, in fact, his largest concern. Children were unpredictable, and a nightmare could rouse the house. There was also young Robert's penchant for setting traps for the servants, and East did not want to be caught by one of those. In retrospect, he knew that on his first nocturnal visit to this house, he had been extremely fortunate to escape unscathed by anything but the sharp edge of Sophie's tongue.

  East lighted a candle and cupped his hand around the flame to hide the glow and protect it from a draft. He was not yet where he wanted to be. The rear parlor was not likely to give up any secrets. He paused at the door, pressing his ear to the wood. Greeted only by silence, he eased the door open and stepped into the hall. He knew from his previous visit, as well as Sophie's descriptions, that Dunsmore's study was on the opposite side. He was prepared for it to be locked and almost did not test the handle to prove that this was so. When the door opened easily, he nearly stumbled into the room, half expecting to confront Dunsmore sitting behind his desk in the dark.

  The study was unoccupied, however, and East released the breath he had been holding so carefully that the candle flame did not flicker. He crossed the room to Dunsmore's desk and set the candle in a dish. He glanced around, taking in the study's appointments before he sat at the chair behind the desk. Experience had taught him there was usually a way to find something that did not require upending an entire room. Leaving evidence of his presence behind had never been an option for him; the colonel required discretion in all things.

  Now, faced with the task of finding proof of Dunsmore's participation in the opium trade, East placed himself squarely in the viscount's seat and began a slow, thoughtful examination of the room. Private papers, by their very nature, demanded that they be kept away from prying eyes. The door to the study had been left unlocked, though, so East had to wonder if Dunsmore was merely careless or was so confident of his hiding place that he could permit an open invitation to the room. With small children living underfoot, it seemed to East that it must be the latter.

  He gave the desk a cursory inspection, first with his eyes, then his hands. There were no hidden drawers that he could detect and no false bottom. East moved his attention to the paintings on the far wall, studying their arrangement and whether something might be hidden behind them. Books line
d the shelves at his back and to his right. On his left, a fireplace with an ornately carved mantel took up most of the wall space. East left his chair so that he could examine the fireplace more closely. The scrollwork was intricate, the design embellished with roses in full bloom and many more that were only buds. He ran his fingertips along the carving, just beneath the mantelpiece. There were no protrusions or indentations that might have indicated a spring or a catch. He retrieved the candle and studied the carving with benefit of the light. It required two careful examinations before a fine line in the wood extending vertically from the apron to just above the top of the right andiron caught his eye. It could easily have been mistaken for a crack of the aging wood except that it did not follow the grain and was split so precisely that it likely had been made deliberately.

  Eastlyn found the opening for the cleverly concealed door by pushing at each individual rosebud until he found one that could be turned. The slender door sprung open, and East rocked back on his heels as more than a score of tin soldiers tumbled onto the apron. He could not have been more surprised if a hand had reached out from inside the cupboard and pulled the door closed.

  Chuckling under his breath at what he had found, as well as his reaction to it, East pushed the soldiers out of the way and knelt on the apron. He saw the ledger immediately. It was unlikely that Dunsmore knew his children used the cubbyhole to quarter their soldiers, else he would not have left his ledger there.

  The discovery presented a dilemma for East. If he took the ledger and left the soldiers, Dunsmore would accuse Robert and Esme of stealing. If he left all as it was, then Dunsmore would eventually make the same discovery he had and move the ledger to another hiding place. East decided the best course was to take Dunsmore's book of accounts and return the soldiers to the nursery. If the children were as wise as Sophie had led him to believe, then they would not go to their father to raise the question of how their troops had managed to break camp.

  He held up the candle while he leafed through Dunsmore's accounts. Some of the entries were cryptic, but there were others that East had no difficulty understanding. His knowledge of the ships and captains involved in the trade made some connections obvious. He could see at a glance that Dunsmore had had the misfortune to invest in the Nineveh and Minerva, neither of which made it to Chinese ports. Nineveh was reported lost in a storm around the Cape of Good Hope, and pirates roaming the Indian Ocean took Minerva. Whatever debts Sophie's father had left, East could not imagine they were as damaging to the estate as those of Dunsmore. If Tremont's investments were as badly conceived as his son's, it was little wonder that they had pinned so much hope on a good marriage for Sophie.