Chapter 13
Sophia realized that Mr. Belvedere had followed her when they found themselves temporarily alone on the slippery steps down to their quarters. He took her arm—quite as a gentleman—although now she knew better.
“Allow me,” he said solicitously. “If you bumped your head only yesterday, you must take great care. My crony Traversham bashed his head playing cricket, and next thing we knew, he’d fallen down the stairs of the tower. Truth! Broke his leg.”
“I’m quite steady,” she said. Sophia wasn’t sure of his purpose in following her. Did he just want to annoy her—or worse—flirt? Or did he think he might catch her looking for that dratted necklace or checking some ingenious hiding spot? She hated that he was so certain of her guilt.
It was odd how different he appeared to her now.
Even when playing the earnest young man, she could see through it.
His eyes when he looked at her were not those of a callow youth.
She had been shocked and preoccupied with his suspicions against herself, but now she grew curious about his situation.
He certainly sounded as if he had truly been at Cambridge, but she began to think he might’ve done excellently well on the stage.
It was impossible to say which parts of his story were true.
The dining room was empty when they entered, and it was rather malodorous now that she had escaped the smell for some time.
“I think I am safe from here, sir.” Sophia opened her door pointedly.
“Of course. I hope you’ll soon feel better,” he said. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Scott.”
But while his words were perfectly correct—he instead took her arm and silently pushed her into her cabin. He followed after her and closed the door behind himself.
Sophia gaped.
“There,” he said. “It is nearly impossible to find privacy on this ship, but as long as we talk quietly, none will hear.”
“What—I’ve no desire to talk quietly. Get out!” She wanted to shout, but her voice came out in a harsh whisper.
“Yes, that’s the dandy. If anyone is listening, the last thing they heard was my goodbye.”
“But what do you want? I do not have that horrid necklace. You can search if you want; I promise you it isn’t here.”
“Good for you; I assumed you had it somewhere safe,” he congratulated her. “Are you aware that Mrs. Wentworth was eavesdropping on your conversation just now?”
“Anne? No.”
“Yes. I deliberately interrupted—loudly—to prevent you saying anything you’d regret.”
“Well—that’s—I wasn’t going to say anything I’d regret!”
“Are you sure? She looked quite concerned; she heard something that piqued her interest. Is your father in on it, too?”
“My—father?” Sophia scoffed. “Sir Mark is not my father.”
Mr. Belvedere’s air of certainty finally faltered. “Is he not? With Lady Marston’s manner toward you, we all had the impression you were one of his—er—I’m not sure which term is most polite—”
“Oh, are you to be polite now?” She looked pointedly at the door. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ve heard them all: by-blow, side-slip, bastard—”
His eyebrows rose.
“I’ll not beg your pardon for I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”
“I have; but—Sir Mark is not your father?”
“No, and I have no desire to discuss my parentage with you. Out you go.” She tried to edge around him, but he put his hand on the door latch, holding it shut.
“Could it be—Lady Marston?” He pursed his lips in a whistle, but then he seemed to recall that they were being quiet and licked his lips. “Of course. It’s hard to believe a dragon like her was so indiscreet—but you look like her.”
“No, I don’t—”
“It’s not an insult; I heard she was a beauty in her day.”
“You’re trying to flatter me—”
“I’m not. But I admit I’m confused. I considered it thoroughly, and I decided that Sir Mark had put you up to it.
” He squinted at her in the semi-darkness of her one shuttered oil lamp.
“The amethysts could be ‘lost’ during this journey, and he could quietly sell or pawn them in Lisbon with Lady Marston none the wiser. That would follow, for I know Sir Mark is in Dun territory.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Why, I can always recognize a man who’s dipped too deep. Why his snuff is so cheap I could hardly bear it, and I have taken some rough sort in my day.”
“Well—I don’t know about that, but neither he nor I have any plan to rob Lady Marston. Neither of us took that necklace.”
“You’re either very good, or I’m making a great cake of myself.”
She raised her brows.
He grinned. “I’m actually quite adroit; haven’t embarrassed myself since Eton.”
“If you actually went to Eton; I begin to suspect that you are a wholesale liar.”
“Forgive me, but I must cut this delightful interlude short. We must finish soon if we are not to be discovered.”
Sophia gasped in outrage. “I’m not keeping you.”
“If you truly aren’t in the plot—where did this bruise come from?” He stroked her forehead and temple with his thumb—so lightly that she could barely feel it. “I was certain you must have seized on the opportunity of the storm and come to grief.”
Sophia froze. Not that there was anywhere much to go, the bed was already against the back of her knees. “I—I explained. I fell out of bed.”
“Definitely false. I’m an old hand at this, very hard to fool.” He frowned. “Unless—Sir Mark didn’t strike you, did he?”
“No! No one struck me, nor did I go looking for the necklace.”
“You didn’t fall out of bed either. The storm was rough, yes, but unless you threw yourself out, it was not so violent as to shake you loose.
If you were in the corridor, however, or the cargo hold, I could readily believe you might be shaken into the bulkhead.
And the crew quarters were cleared out at times when all hands were on deck. ”
He touched her bruise again, and it was one of the most deceptively gentle things she’d ever felt.
Sophia gathered her wits. “You are determined to profit on this imaginary plot, aren’t you?
You mentioned being cut in before, but I didn’t realize the extent you would go to procure this fantasy payoff. ”
A flash of guilt crossed his face, and he dropped his hand. “The thought has crossed my mind, but would you believe I’m actually concerned about you?”
“No, I wouldn’t. I know a rogue when I see one. You want the money.”
His mouth tipped up. “What if we said it was fifty-fifty?”
“You can keep all hundred.”
“Very well, I’ll go. If I am wrong—well, then I apologize. But I don’t think I’m wrong.” He smiled winningly, with such warmth in his expression that invited her to confide in him. She was almost tempted to tell him what was going on—
Goodness, was she doomed to be a fool who attracted scoundrels?
Worse, a fool who was attracted to such scoundrels?
Her late husband and now Mr. Belvedere, both criminals of some sort.
How unutterably awful. Did Mr. Belvedere sense the lawlessness of her past—did it cling to her like a persistent aroma?
“If you decide you need help with whatever is going on, I do hope you’ll tell me. I’m good in a tight spot.” He put his ear to the door and listened intently. Between one breath and the next, the door opened and he was gone.
“I really hate that man,” Sophia muttered.
She ignobly put her own ear to the door to be sure.
No, nothing. There was only the creak and whine of the next cabin door, and then his footsteps retreating back to the upper deck.
He had probably—to give him his due—fetched something from his cabin to excuse his absence from the upper deck.
He was undoubtedly a problem.