After Innocence by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

are neither rich nor beautiful, and despite your age, you are far too innocent. You were very foolish tonight, allowing him to carry on with you, encouraging him. I am telling you to stay away from him for your own good.”
    Sofie was hurt. She should not have been; she knew she was a plain, lame woman and could never be considered even remotely beautiful, and she had always known that. But it was a moment before she could speak. “I am not as foolish as you think. I did not entice him, or encourage him, and I never will.”
    Suzanne suddenly smiled, reaching out to hug her daughter. “I do not want to see you hurt, Sofie, dear, surely you know that. I, more than anyone, know what it’s like to love that kind of man. I am trying to protect you.”
    “I know, Mother,” Sofie said quietly. She had understood the reference to her father, but would not dispute it tonight. “You know I am not interested in men.”
    Suzanne looked at her. “All women find a man like that interesting, Sofie. You could not possibly be an exception.”

3
    T here was not a chair to be had in the salon, but Hilary Stewart stood when Sofie came in, giving her a soft smile. Sofie sat down promptly. Hilary’s kind gesture was not a surprise; Hilary had always been warm and friendly to her, and Sofie had always liked her. Most of Suzanne’s friends actually pitied Sofie, and did not quite hide it. Sofie in turn ignored their condescension, carrying on as if all were as it should be. But Hilary did not pity her. Nor did she pretend that Sofie’s limp did not exist. Hilary’s manner was breezy and warm in general, and it did not change when Sofie was present. Still, Sofie could not get over the fact that her elegant neighbor was a seductress in disguise. She did not feel quite as friendly towards Hilary as she once had, and she was dismayed to realize that.
    Sofie became aware of the other women in the parlor, whose glances kept straying in her direction. She grew uncomfortable. She recalled what Suzanne had just said to her. Did everyone think she had been encouraging Edward Delanza as Suzanne did?
    Everyone had seen him flirting with her; how could they not? Now the ladies kept looking at her with real curiosity, hardly hidden, and the attention she received had nothing to do with her limp. She was certain of that. Even Hilary cast a few speculative glances her way.
    Suddenly Sofie felt very angry. Nothing had gone as it should that day. She was inordinately tired, inordinately distressed. She had seen things she shouldn’t, felt things she shouldn’t, glimpsed possibilities that were impossible for her. Edward Delanza had so casually upset her carefully balanced world, without his even knowing it.
    Yet there she was, lame, eccentric, and plain, waiting for him to return to the salon, hoping he would flirt with her again. She should be upstairs, working. Her life was her art, and it was a serious, dedicated life. And it wasn’t fair that today Edward Delanza had entered her world, making her aware of him in a way she had never been aware of any man, making her aware of herself as a woman. No, it wasn’t fair at all.
    “Sofie, dear, what do you think?”
    Sofie had just decided that she must leave the gathering, as soon as possible, before Edward Delanza returned, before she made a fool of herself publicly, or worse, before her feelings exploded into some immense emotion that might never go away, but Carmine’s words jerked her to attention.
    Carmine Vanderbilt was plain and thin—Sofie saw that with her artist’s eye—but one hardly noticed because she dressed in the most exquisite and flattering custom creations from France, because she dripped the most expensive, stunning jewels, and because she had a hairdresser who worked wonders with her only real physical asset, her heavy blue-black hair. Most important, she was the greatest heiress in New York, if not the land. Everyone knew she would marry an impoverished British nobleman. It had