Page 56 of Seducing Sophia (Scholars of Seduction)

CHAPTER14

“Idon’t care if you dismiss me for saying, sir, but you were a damned fool to let that lovely young woman go.”

Mrs. Davis’s words still rang in Adrian’s ears as he strode along St. James’s Street. Years of tending to his family brought forth a familiarity and frankness of speech often absent in servants. But he’d never seen his housekeeper so perturbed—or heard her utter such a profanity in his presence. But, regarding Sophia, the woman had unsheathed her tongue and sallied forth into a battle that he could never win.

And Mrs. Davis was right. He had been a fool—a damned fool. And he knew it as soon as he’d watched the carriage disappear down the drive from Roseborough House. The pain in his heart told him the extent of what he had lost. As did his conscience, and his reason.

He’d loved Will—by God, he’d loved his best friend—and that love had blinded him to his friend’s weakness. Wicked Willie Blackstock had been a drunkard and a debaucher of women. But Adrian had loved him, and hadn’t spared a thought for Will’s conquests—the countless women he’d seduced, then tossed aside.

Until he’d fallen in love with one of them.

Sophia—his Sophia.

And he’d also fallen in love with her little boy, Henry—who was Will’s son.

Oh, Will—you bloody fool! What treasures you had—yet you cast them aside.

But Adrian himself was the greater fool.

Almost as soon as the carriage had returned to Roseborough, he’d ordered it to be readied to follow Mrs. Black to London. Only Mr. Davis’s protests on behalf of the welfare of the horses had prevented Adrian from leaving immediately.

But, in the end, it hadn’t mattered. Though he had gone to Summerton Hall on his arrival in London, he’d been refused admittance. Despite the strains of piano music coming from the building, Mrs. Black—according to the servant at the door—was not at home.

Neither had she been at home the following six times he’d called.

He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaped up the steps to the front door of White’s. The footman let him inside the club, bowed, and took his coat.

“Good afternoon, Colonel FitzRoy.”

Adrian merely grunted in response.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“Yes, perfectly so,” Adrian said. “Fetch me a brandy, would you?”

“Sir?”

“A large one.”

The footman raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Is it your place to question me?” Adrian barked.

“My apologies, sir,” the footman said, coloring. “It-it’s just—you don’t take liquor.”

“Today, I do.”

Adrian entered the clubroom and spotted Peterton and Oxton sitting together by the window, overlooking the street.

Peterton waved at him. “FitzRoy! Come and join us.” He nodded toward Oxton. “Georgie here was just regaling me with tales of his latest conquest.”

Adrian settled into a button-backed chair with a creak of leather.

“Don’t tell me,” he sighed, “another redheaded doxy. You know they wear wigs, don’t you, George?”

Peterton gave a chuckle. “A man only knows about the curtains once he’s inspected the carpet. But I doubt, once Georgie’s reached his destination, he cares much about what she’s wearing upstairs. Once a woman’s spread her legs, you might as well take what’s being offered, then you can move on to the next conquest as quickly as possible.”

Oxton wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Why do you have to make it sound so sordid, Dominic?”

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