“You’re in a difficult spot,” Sarah agreed. “I know what it’s like to raise a child by oneself. But you mustn’t be too proud to accept help when you need it.”
“I’ll figure out something.” Violet pushed herself off the wall and drew her shawl around her, hiding her belly.
Sophie desperately wanted to help the young woman, but she didn’t have the faintest idea how. “I’ll give the matter some thought this week,” she said. “At the very least, you need a safe, comfortable home for you and your baby. Let me see what I can come up with.”
“You needn’t worry about me,” Violet said briskly—as if she were embarrassed by her uncharacteristic show of emotion. “I seem to cry at the slightest provocation these days, but I’m certain all will be well, eventually. In the meantime, I beg you both to keep my secret. I’ve no wish to bring shame upon my family—at least not until it’s absolutely necessary.”
Sophie was still thinking about Violet’s predicament a couple of hours later, when Reese met her just outside the tailor’s shop. But the sight of him pushed every thought, rational or otherwise, from her mind.
Moonlight glinted off his hair and dusted the broad shoulders of his fitted jacket. Silhouetted against the night sky, he stood there—a strong, silent Prince of Darkness—and her skin tingled with anticipation.
“Reese,” she whispered.
“You’re here,” he answered, exhaling in relief.
“Yes.” But there was a good chance that this weekend together would be their last. Since laying off the staff, her parents had been pressing her to announce her betrothal to Lord Singleton, and she didn’t have a particularly good reason to delay—at least not one she could tell them. “I’m glad to see you.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” He raked a hand through his hair, which inevitably made her wonder what it might feel like to run her fingers through the thick, closely shorn strands. She curled her fingers into her palms so she wouldn’t be tempted.
But her traitorous feet carried her toward him, stopping when she was an arm’s length away. Never had she felt such a strong pull toward someone. She suspected that if she got too close to him, the force of their attraction would be too great to escape. They’d slam together like two magnets that had crossed a critical line of proximity—and they might never be able to separate themselves, might never willingly break the bond.
“Tonight feels different,” she admitted. He was more sober than she’d ever seen him, and the vulnerability in his eyes took her breath away.
“It is different,” he said, his voice deep and sure. “Every time we’re together, you pull me a little farther out of the lonely shadows and into the warm sunlight.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” she said, her heart swelling. “No one should reside in the shadows.”
“You say that now,” he quipped. “But the sunlight is bound to reveal a lot of scars.”
“I’m not intimidated in the least,” she replied.
He arched a brow, skeptical. “Let’s wait and see if you feel the same way in the morning.”
A shiver slithered down her spine, but she tilted her head and looked deep into those beautiful, haunted eyes. “Nothing you show me, nothing you tell me is going to scare me away, Lord Warshire.”
For the space of three heartbeats, he said nothing. Then, “I suppose we’ll see. Let’s go.”
She sat beside him in the carriage, wholly preoccupied with maintaining a bit of space between them. It seemed she was constantly fighting forces that conspired to push them together. A rut in the road or a sudden turn could launch her across the seat and into Reese’s lap. While the wicked part of her prayed for a violent jolt of the cab, the more sensible part of her held tightly to the door handle.
When they arrived at Warshire Manor a short time later, Reese led her into the house and stopped in the dimly lit, marble-tiled foyer. As always, the sight of the stonework and buttresses filled her with awe.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked. “There are sandwiches, fruit, and cakes in the kitchen.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but I ate an early dinner. Help yourself if you’d like something, though.”
“No, I’m fine.” He hesitated a moment, then frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any entertaining diversions or romantic surprises planned tonight.”
“Reese,” she said gently. “I adored our night in the garden and on the lake. But I also loved playing cards with you at the shop. You don’t need to amuse me. I just like … being with you.”
“I like being with you too,” he said earnestly. “Maybe too much.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “How have you been sleeping this week?” she asked briskly. Between his bronzed skin, gold-flecked hair, and strapping muscles, he certainly looked well enough. But the creases around his eyes suggested that the demons were never very far below the surface.
“You changed the subject,” he said. “Usually, I’m the one who avoids difficult conversations. I must be rubbing off on you.”
“You’re right.” But she wasn’t certain how to tell him about the latest developments at home or the necessity of having to move up her engagement. Her relationship with Reese was like a tropical flower that was just about to bloom; the news that she had to marry sooner than expected would kill it as surely as a late spring frost. All she could do was pray that the flower was heartier than it appeared.
“We do need to talk. Would you mind if I went to my bedchamber and changed first?” she asked. “You could join me there in a few minutes.”
“I’ll bring up a tray of refreshments,” he said nodding. “In case talking makes us hungry.”
She tossed a smile over her shoulder and made her way upstairs to her room.
Chapter 18
Once inside her bedchamber, Sophie unlaced her dress, wriggled out of it, and removed all her undergarments. Then she slipped a soft, airy nightgown over her head and splashed cool water from the washbasin on her face.
Slowly, the worries about her family, Violet, and Lord Singleton receded, lingering in the back corners of her mind. Tonight was about making the most of her time with Reese—and seeing if there was any chance that their feelings could blossom into something lasting and true.
Sophie sat at a small vanity and began removing the pins from her hair. When at last it hung loose down her back, she retrieved the hairbrush from her portmanteau and methodically untangled her curls until they slid through her fingers like silk.
When Reese knocked at the bedchamber door, she jumped up and let him in. He carried a tray full of fruit, bread, and cheeses, along with a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses, and when he saw her in her nightgown, his eyes flashed with heat and awareness. Her blood thrummed in response.
“You look…” He frowned, as though at a loss for words.
“Exceedingly comfortable?” she ventured. “In a state of utter dishabille?”
“No,” he said firmly. “Beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I may have forgotten everything I wanted to say to you.”
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the glass of wine he’d poured for her. She sat in a soft, cozy armchair and tucked her feet beneath her. “I’m nervous too. But all we need to do is say what’s in our hearts.”
Reese sank into the chair beside her and set his wineglass on the low table in front of them. He’d shed his jacket, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing strong, sinewy forearms and large, tanned hands. Her mouth went dry, and she took a fortifying sip of wine before looking at him again.
When she did, he leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, and gazed at her earnestly. “A little over a month ago, I was at the end of my rope, barely hanging on to my sanity. But on the night you walked into the tailor’s shop, everything started to change.”
“Isn’t it strange,” she mused. “If I hadn’t needed to rent a space, I might never have met you.” The mere thought left her feeling vaguely unsettle
d and hollow.
“At first, I assumed the valerian-root tea was responsible for the subtle changes, but I was deluding myself. It was all you. Once I realized that, I thought that seeing you once a week, adhering to your rules, and never crossing the boundaries we’d set … I thought it would be enough.”
“I know that the rules are exasperating,” she said. “They are for me too. But I’m afraid they can’t be helped.”
“There’s something important I need to ask you,” he said. “And I need for you to tell me the truth, even if you fear I won’t like the answer.”
“I’ve never lied to you,” she said. But she did have a few secrets.
He pressed his palms together and swallowed as if he were mentally bracing himself. His dark brown eyes shone with a mix of fear and hope. “My question is this: Do you love Lord Singleton?”
She blew out the breath she’d been holding and looked down at her lap. The safest course of action—for both of them, really—would be for her to say yes. If she did, Reese would retreat, and her future with Lord Singleton would be all but etched in stone.
Her heart pounded as she slowly shook her head. “I don’t love him.”
“Do you want to marry him?”
“No.”
He dragged his hands down his cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would it have made a difference?” She’d tossed the question out lightly, but it felt as though her whole life teetered on the edge of his response.
“I don’t know.” He stood and paced the length of the bedchamber. “Maybe.”
“Lord Singleton is fully aware of my family’s financial predicament,” she explained. “He still wants to marry me and has generously offered to help. Moreover, I believe he’s a good and decent gentleman. Given the circumstances, it’s very difficult for me to refuse his proposal.”
“Even if you don’t love him,” he said, his voice distant and cold.
“I would do anything for my family,” she said, a tad defensively. “And many people marry for reasons other than love.”
“Many people do,” he agreed. “But not you.”
Anger bubbled up in her chest. “You have no right to judge me, Reese. I’m sure it’s difficult to imagine yourself in my position. But if you were, I daresay you’d do the same thing.”
He braced his arms on the back of his chair and dropped his chin to his chest. “You’re right; forgive me. I just wish things were different.”
“How so?” she whispered, perilously close to tears.
He pressed his lips together, thoughtful, then sat across from her once more. “I wish that I could touch and hold you. I wish there were no secrets between us. But most of all, I wish I could be the man you deserve.”
“I don’t even understand what that means,” she said, frowning.
His eyes filled with regret. “It means I’m not—and I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”
“I see.” A wave of hurt and disappointment crashed over her, but she refused to let it pull her under. “Then it was definitely prudent of us to set some boundaries from the start.”
“This conversation isn’t going as I’d hoped,” he admitted. “What I was trying to say is that I’ve begun to change. I’m still not whole, not worthy of someone like you. But if you can give me some time—”
“Reese,” she interjected. Though she longed to hear more, she couldn’t, in good conscience, let him go on. Not until she’d told him about her family’s rapidly deteriorating situation—and how it might cut short their time together. “There’s something you should know.”
“What is it?” he asked, instantly wary.
“My parents had to let most of the staff go this week because … because we can’t afford to pay them. I hadn’t realized things were quite so desperate when I agreed to this arrangement, but now that I know, I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury to delay my betrothal till the end of the season. I’m going to accept Lord Singleton’s proposal this week—which means tonight must be our last together.”
“Sophie.” Reese said her name like a plea.
“You’re going to be fine,” she assured him, even though her own heart was breaking. “You already look much healthier than you did a few weeks ago. It’s obvious that you’re sleeping more soundly, even when I’m not here.”
“But that’s because I was anticipating your return. I looked forward to you coming back,” he rasped.
“We both knew that our time together was limited,” she said, trying to be stoic even though she wanted to bury her head in Reese’s chest and beg him to never let her go. “We would have said goodbye in a couple of weeks anyway. In the long run, it will probably be easier this way.”
“Nothing about saying goodbye to you will be easy,” he said. “And just to be clear, this is not about me sleeping or not sleeping. This is about my feelings for you.”
“What are your feelings for me?” she asked, knowing that the answer she most longed to hear would also be the one that crushed her.
“I think about you all the time. I always want to be with you. I live to see you smile.” He dropped his head into his palms. “God, Soph. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”
She fisted her hands so she wouldn’t reach out and caress the back of his neck or run her fingers through his hair. “Then I propose that we don’t think about goodbyes right now. Let’s enjoy the time we have left.”
“Do you want to walk down to the lake?” he asked, and she could tell he was trying to compose himself for her sake. “Or maybe stroll through the garden?”
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “I just want to stay here. With you.”
* * *
Reese looked at Sophie, sitting in the chair beside him, apparently oblivious to the fact that the earth around him had started to crack and was about to swallow him up. His heart raced like he was about to dive off a cliff, and panic clawed at his chest.
All because this was their last night together.
He understood why she had to accept Singleton’s proposal. She had no other options.
Maybe if Reese had met her a little sooner, or if she could have waited a little longer, he could have been the one to propose marriage. He’d have enough money in his coffers to swoop in and save her. But he had little of value to offer her. He was too broken. Too undeserving. Too weak.
He couldn’t even bring himself to open a few goddamned letters. Couldn’t even fulfill a solemn promise he’d made to a bosom friend.
Lately, Sophie had helped him to feel more human. Like perhaps he was capable of being the man she thought he was. But this latest news had sent him into a backslide. And without her, he’d never recover.
He gripped the arms of his chair, trying to ground himself. She was still there, in his guest bedchamber—at least for now. Dressed in a white nightgown, her hair a golden cloud around her shoulders, she was a vision to behold. But she was more than beautiful. She was kindness, patience, and courage personified.
And sometime in the past month, she’d become the sun that his dark, decaying world revolved around. The sun that had the power to heal him.
Now that their time was about to run out, he couldn’t help but think he’d squandered it. She deserved to know how she’d helped him—and what she meant to him. He wasn’t particularly good with words, but he knew one gesture he could make that might please her.
“Sophie, I want you to know that the tailor’s shop is yours to use for whatever purpose you like, anytime you like, for as long as you like. In fact, I’m happy to draw up papers and sign the property over to you, to make it official.”
She blinked at him, her blue eyes full of emotion and sadness. “That’s incredibly generous of you, but I don’t think I’ll require the use of the shop much longer. Only a few more Friday evenings.”
“I see,” he said, pretending he wasn’t devastated to learn that the one, tenuous connection he’d hoped to maintain with her would soon be severed as well. �
�I know I promised not to ask about your use of the building, but I have to admit I’m curious. Mostly because whatever it is—I can clearly see that it’s important to you.”
“It is.” She pressed her lips together for a second, then continued slowly—as if choosing her words very carefully. “I’ve been hosting a weekly meeting there. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details, but it’s something I’m passionate about.”
“Are you as passionate about your meeting as you are about gardening?”
She smiled and tilted her head, thoughtful. “Almost.”
“And yet, you’re giving it up in a few weeks,” he said, arching a brow in question. “Is that because you think Lord Singleton wouldn’t approve?” Reese didn’t know the marquess, but he already wanted to strangle him.
“Partly,” Sophie said, pulling her knees to her chest. “It’s complicated. And I don’t think it would be right to keep secrets from my … future husband.”
“But you don’t feel like you can confide in him.” Reese paused. “Just like you don’t feel like you can confide in me.”
“It’s not like that. I want to tell you, and I trust you. I’ve no doubt you’d understand. But our members made a pact not to reveal the nature of our business, and I need to adhere to the rules—rules that I set forth.” Her forehead wrinkled and her eyes pleaded for understanding.
“You’re quite fond of rules,” he teased. “I wonder why that is.”
“I can tell you why,” she said softly—and he knew she was thinking about the no-touching rule. “It’s because rules keep people from doing things that seem like a good idea at the time but are actually quite counterproductive at best, dangerous at worst. Rules keep people from listening solely to their hearts when they should listen to reason and good sense. Sometimes rules are the only defense against scandal and impropriety—and utterly devastating heartache.”
“That’s true,” Reese admitted. “But when you find a person who understands and supports you unreservedly, trust takes over. Then, maybe, the rules aren’t necessary anymore.”
When You Wish Upon a Rogue Page 13