Illusion

“One of the reasons I called so late, Sophy, was because I knew you would invite me to a meal,” Pieter confessed, accepting a good-size portion of pie on his plate.

“Good management of a household leads to domestic happiness.” Heinrich’s voice carried its own conviction. “Sophy was never interested in sensible things like crewelwork and watercolor painting or the pianoforte, so we were relieved when she made friends with Marcel and learned to cook.”

“Much better than stuffing her head with all that mathematics, politics and financial knowledge, which is neither attractive nor necessary in a woman,” Pieter teased, with considerable glee.

Bernard simply enjoyed the food. It was, after all, no use trying to slip the least word into the conversation with Sophy and Pieter becoming immersed in one of their endless arguments on women’s rights.

Sophy glanced at Seth, who had a mouthful of pie and was chewing with enjoyment. He was satisfyingly engrossed in the meal. There was no reason to dissemble, so she took up her cousin’s taunt, a fire of righteous indignation heating her words.

“Don’t be so idiotic, Pieter. The winds of change are already blowing. It won’t be long before women take their rightful place in society.”

The suppressed fierceness in her voice caught at Seth. He looked up, met her misty gaze. She stared at him as if they shared an immediate, unspoken secret. It was a spark, like the new electricity he had seen demonstrated once, a spark that jumped the space from wire tip to wire tip.

For a moment something very soft and vulnerable flickered across his face before a ghost of a smile creased his cheek. Tonight, sentiment betrayed him. Sophy. Her laughter compelled him to share it. Her glance compelled his to meet it.

Pieter grinned at his cousin, his eyes challenging. “Women are all fools, even the smart ones. No, especially the smart ones. They are so determined on outmaneuvering their men that they cause themselves, and everyone else, endless trouble.”

The spell broken, Seth returned his attention to his laden plate.

“How can you say that?” Sophy demanded. “Women react as they do because men give women indulgence as a substitute for justice. I tell you it is not good enough!”

Seth found himself at once irritated and bemused by his wife’s philosophy. Because she used her tongue as a weapon? Because there was an element of truth in her assertion? Perhaps because of the deeper truth, that no man can entirely relinquish all remnants of his own masculinity.

Catching Bernard’s eye, Seth gave him a conspiratorial smile and put a forefinger to his lips. “Why not?” His tone was one of innocent inquiry.

Surprise flashed across Heinrich’s face, and he practically choked on a piece of asparagus.

“Why not?” Sophy tried to restrain her sudden surge of annoyance, failed and launched into her argument. “A woman’s entire future depends on her husband!”

Seth’s eyes, which had been communicating with Pieter’s over the top of her head, came back to her. What a little firebrand she was, so easily touched to the quick, changeable, lashing out. Never lose your advantage. Of course, the colonel had been talking of the battlefield, but the advice was apt here.

“Just as it should be. How else are we to keep our wives in their place? If this idea of universal suffrage gets out of hand, we’ll find women dictating terms to us, and what will happen then?”

“Anarchy and revolution!” Pieter contributed.

“Can you imagine it?” Seth murmured, with an air of masculine amazement that set Sophy’s teeth on edge.

Pieter drained his wine and announced in sepulchral tones, “This movement must be nipped in the bud.”

“Just think what would happen if women were entitled to vote? The infection would spread. Next they’d be wanting to become doctors and lawyers!” added Bernard with enthusiasm.

Sophy, seeing him seething with barely suppressed delight at the gathering dispute, felt decidedly annoyed. Bernard was too young to have any opinions on the matter. And, if he did, he was young enough to change. It would be one of her projects.

“But that is iniquitous! It leaves women with no choice, no pride, no...” She trailed off, realizing she was being baited.

A serene smile touched her lips. “Odious creatures. Do not tempt me into an argument. You promised, Cousins, if I fed you, not to mention universal suffrage or discuss the role of women.”

Seth caught the tranquil smile, and his heart leaped. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps seeing her in Greene Street had been a figment of his imagination. The mask of politeness that had been clamped down upon his face suddenly split into fragments, and he laughed.

“Promises and piecrusts are made to be broken.”

This time, everybody laughed.

“Isn’t Sophy an angel to put steamed fruit dumpling on the menu?” Bernard appealed to Seth a little later, licking the last dollop of cream from his spoon.

“A veritable angel indeed,” Seth agreed, turning to Sophy, watching the mobile curve of her mouth.

All his doubts came rushing forth, sucked back by memory. The inconceivable happened. The words that had plagued him for hours in his mind sprang from his lips.

It came as quite a surprise to Sophy when he leaned forward and asked, his voice rich and warm, “How did you get on in Greene Street?”

His question had been quite casual, but it had an instant effect.

Utterly shocked, Heinrich van Houten nearly choked on the portion of dessert that he had just placed in his mouth. He managed to splutter just one word, “Sophy!” as if the sky had fallen in.

Bernard made a peculiar sound. Seth thought it was a quickly stifled chuckle. Pieter preserved a tactful silence.

Sophy felt the heat flow into her cheeks as she recalled the scene with Madame Bertine. Swiftly averting her eyes, she played for time. She looked down at her spoon, rubbing her thumb against the embossed silver handle. Her lashes rose.

“Greene Street? What do you mean?”

Seth’s expression hardened. Her hair framed her face in a mass of dark ringlets that cast strange shadows on her elfin face. Candid, clever, guileless face. A strange conflict rose in his breast. Propriety bade him prod her no further, but he felt his anger returning.

With a menace that would have made any soldier tremble, he probed. “Did you, or did you not, go there this afternoon?”

Sophy swallowed. Her heart pounded unbearably at the bitterness in his voice. She thought she recognized what was wrong. In her ignorance, she had blithely visited an area where, she now knew, no decent woman would dare to go.

Seth’s sense of honor was offended. Which was very stupid. She had never doubted the usefulness of knowledge, and Madame Bertine had proved most informative. Of course, she had never paused to see with what coin such information could be bought.

She nodded. “Er... yes, I did.”

He curled his palms around the neck of the glass in front of him. Smiled at her, the merest slant of his mouth. The smile of a beast hot on the scent of its prey. “Well, how did the visit go?”

Sophy recalled Madame Bertine’s sage advice on love, sex and marriage. Her eyes lit up. “It was... interesting.”

Uncle Heinrich gave a deep sigh, which seemed to come from the very depths of his being. Twin blue flames glittered in Seth’s eyes. Pieter ran his eye swiftly over Seth’s face, and raised his eyebrows. Bernard rolled his eyes as he pursued with his tongue an errant drop of cream that was rolling down his chin.

“I see. Do you intend going there again?” His words were level, but his eyes spoke a different message. They were accusing, questioning, as if in some way she had hurt him.

Sophy’s ringlets vibrated. She looked enormously pleased as the affirmation issued from her lips. “Oh, yes. I have another appointment for the day after tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you would like me to accompany you?” There was a lazy, taunting quality in Seth’s voice. He took a sip of his wine. “As your husband, it is proper that I share your... interests. Will you take me along on your next visit?”

Without hesitation, Sophy shook her head, her voice warm and earnest. “Oh, no. No. I couldn’t do that. I don’t think you would be interested in what I have planned.”

The moment she had spoken she realized that she had made a foolish admission that might lead him to suppose that something less innocent than concocting a new wardrobe was on the agenda.

But he only shrugged and remarked, “Of course. No interference in your projects, no comments even, isn’t that what we agreed?” Seth spoke smoothly, covering his anger. His hands clung to the wineglass as to a lifeline. Not where he’d like them to be—around his wife’s neck.