The Wedding Duel

by Katy Madison

  "Are you sincere?"

  "Yes, I am serious about this."

  "You don't even like me."

  True, there were many things he disliked about her. Namely, her lack of modesty and restraint. "I'm told it is not necessary for a successful marriage."

  Her eyes grew wider and then dropped. Her face was crestfallen. He cursed himself for being callous with her. She wasn't used to his sarcasm, and she had always been too open. He reached for her chin and tilted her head up. "I daresay I like you well enough in the ways that are important."

  He would have to kiss her.

  He reached for her waist, curling his hand around her side. Her slender suppleness beneath the layers of material pleased him. With his other hand he traced the delicate edge of her chin. Her lips parted before him. He leaned toward the meeting of their mouths.

  "Mama and Papa should never believe a failure to agree on marriage was your fault."

  He paused, his gaze shifting from the beckoning petals of her mouth to the bottomless blue of her eyes. Her sweet breath blew across his chin, and he wanted to taste her.

  Yet, the content of her words suggested she was thinking of a refusal. On one hand he absolutely wanted her release from his obligations. On the other hand he just wanted to use the remainder of his fifteen minutes to persuade her to become his wife, or at least share his bed.

  A small voice of reason crafted his words. "I should convince them my reputation has offended your sensibilities."

  She giggled.

  The sound touched off a welter of thoughts. Women he was about to kiss didn't usually find it a laughing matter, not that her laughter didn't touch a part of him that was amused. But the very form of her laughter reminded him of her relative youth and inexperience—at least he hoped she was inexperienced. The news of a man from Cornwall concerned him.

  All the while he was aware of the brush of skirts against his thighs. He smoothed his hand over the curve of her hip, involuntarily pulling her closer to his hardness.

  "My parents know that I have no sensibilities."

  He dropped his hand from her chin, trailing his fingertips down the column of her neck. Her pulse leaped under his touch. "I daresay it is time you found some."

  Her head dipped.

  How would he kiss her if she stared at her feet?

  He would be walking a fine line convincing his father that the refusal was solely Sophie's while preserving her reputation and good graces with her parents. That and a small voice in the back of his head pointed out there was really no reason to kiss her if she intended to turn him down. He would seduce a lot of women, but his cousin and unmarried gentlewomen weren't his usual prey.

  "Sophie?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you think you might give me an answer before your parents decide our tête-à-tête has gone on long enough?"

  "I just did."

  Her yes was the answer to the proposal? He placed both hands along the sides of her face. "Look at me, then."

  She looked up. Then her wide blue eyes darted away.

  "You will marry me?"

  She gave a short jerky nod.

  Her uncertainty tugged at him. His own ambivalence was bad enough. Somehow he expected Sophie to be more sure of her choice. She never did anything in half measures. He hadn't realized how much he was counting on her certainty.

  Perhaps his duty as a future husband was to reassure her. One aspect of their marriage was likely to be satisfactory to him at least. He wanted to believe that the quickened cadence of her breathing and the rapid leap of her pulse was proof that the physical side of their marriage would be pleasing to her. He also knew these symptoms could be nerves, as well.

  Not that he was used to seeing Sophie scared, but earlier when he'd pulled her in from the ledge her expression had the same fearful edge to it. Which had nothing on the pounding of his own heart.

  He smoothed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. He knew he should gentle her into his touch, but a quarter hour was such an awkwardly short time. Her eyes fluttered shut and back open. He leaned down to brush his mouth across hers.

  The full softness of her lips clinging to his shot fire through his veins.

  The door opened and frustration burst through Keene.

  "That's quite enough," said Farthing.

  Sophie sprang away from him.

  Concealing the growing hardness of his response was impossible given the knit pantaloons he wore. Keene found himself wishing for a book as he would have used in Eton days, not that there was anything particularly wrong with a man desiring his future wife. He just wasn't sure he wanted to display the evidence in polite company, especially in the company of such a morally staunch man as Sophie's father.

  Did Sophie have any idea that he would like to be hiding behind her skirts at the moment? He couldn't even sit down until the ladies took their seats. Keene turned to the fire, not that he needed the extra heat.

  Sensing three pairs of eyes crawling all over him, he held his hands out to the fire. The onyx signet ring on his pinkie reminded him he had not given any thought to a ring for Sophie. The practical thought slid away as he mulled over the kiss that had ended far too soon. He cleared his throat.

  "Well," said Jane.

  "Sophie has done me the honor of agreeing to be my wife." That they had really gotten no farther than that astounded him. They had not made it to a discussion of when or where the marriage should take place. "But that is all we have settled."

  "We shall have the banns posted this Sunday," said Sophie's father. "There is no point in waiting. After the first of February, when the banns have been read three times, we can have the ceremony."

  Keene glanced at Sophie to see if she objected to the speed with which they galloped toward the altar. "Will that allow you enough time to assemble your trousseau?"

  Sophie blanched. She cast a desperate glance in her mother's direction.

  Jane leaned forward and poured tea for her husband. "We shall be able to make accommodations for what Sophie needs. Would you like some tea?"

  He needed a brandy. Keene looked between the three of them and felt on the outside of an inside joke without the humor. Farthing gestured toward him. "Would you care to accompany me to the library? We'll pick out a book to read aloud."

  That Keene's input on a choice of a book was superfluous quickly became apparent as Farthing beelined to a Hannah More treatise. Instead, Keene was treated to a homily about his disgusting display with Sophie and informed that he should not be allowed to be alone with her before the knot was tied.

  Keene felt bound to protest. How was he to fix Sophie's affections if he was not allowed access to her and a modicum of privacy? "I daresay it is not so uncommon to seal an engagement with a kiss."

  "That is well and good, but that is quite as far as it needs to go. You have no further need to be alone with Sophie. As her protector I must protest your familiarity with her person."

  "If I might speak frankly, with all due respect, with our marriage in less than a month perhaps I should allow her to grow accustomed to my person so she is comfortable with me."

  Farthing turned pale. "She is a gently bred young woman. I am sure she will understand and submit to her duty, but there is no reason to expose her to any unpleasantness before necessary."

  Keene leaned against a bookshelf. He was not asking permission to seduce the man's daughter, although with the engagement agreed upon it was not such a horrible crime. But Farthing was putting the worst possible spin on his words, like only an extreme moralist would. "I assure you she would not find my company unpleasant. As we have not spoken much in these last few years, I think it would do well for us to reacquaint ourselves with each other. I am thinking of her comfort."

  Certainly not his own; he wasn't particularly looking forward to getting reacquainted with Sophie. Although getting to know her in the biblical sense did have a certain appeal, he could wait three weeks.

  "I have not spoken of it as you are m
y wife's cousin, but your reputation precedes you. I shall only rest easy when she is tied by the church to you. Until then, I will not allow you to be alone in her company."

  Might as well throttle the cat with the bell. "My word as a gentleman, I shall not tempt her into my bed before I have the right."

  Farthing looked positively sick. "I wish your word as a gentleman that you will not assault her person."

  "Sir, I would never assault any woman's person."

  Farthing looked like he might have an apoplexy. Detailing that no woman found his kisses an assault might take too much time, thought Keene. If approaching the claws dead on didn't help, perhaps he should try milksop and toast. "I give you my word as a gentleman that I will attempt no familiarity beyond holding her hand."

  Farthing drew up stiff. "That, sir, will be entirely too much. Your influence upon her is not the sort I would wish for her in her unmarried state. It will be best if you leave after the paperwork is settled. I shall notify my solicitor at once so we might have the agreement worked out quickly."

  "As soon as the marriage contract is signed, I shall be on my way."

  Farthing nodded.

  "Please make my excuses to the ladies, I think I shall retire." Keene didn't want to sit through an evening of Holy Hannah. Especially not since he expected certain passages might be illuminated for his edification. Why would Farthing accept his marriage proposal for his daughter if he found Keene's lifestyle so aberrant? How would his influence after marriage be more acceptable?

  Keene shook his head as he read the spines of the books on the shelves.

  * * *

  Later, he decided he'd had enough of the expurgated version of Shakespeare he'd chosen from the limited selection in the library. Reading the bard's work in a sanitized form was sort of like deciding if a man had an attractive beard after all his facial hairs had been shaved.

  He shed his coat and pulled his untied linen cravat away from his throat. He debated whether or not to ring for his valet. As he was reaching for the bellpull a tap on his door sounded. He didn't think his valet capable of clairvoyant communication, but he called out, "Enter."

  Sophie darted around the door and shut it with a stealthy gentleness.

  He wasn't sure if he was shocked or it was the sort of behavior he expected from her. "Come to put me to bed?"

  She had the grace to blush. "Of course not. I hope Papa did not upset you earlier. He told Mama he thought he might have offended you, but he thought it was necessary."

  "Perhaps it was. Sophie, you don't belong in here."

  "I know. They told me I am not allowed to be alone with you. Which is silly. When your room is just down the hall and as none of the doors have locks, I should not know how they propose to prevent us from sneaking together if we have a mind to."

  Keene's pulse took a little leap. "Have you a mind to?"

  "Of course not. I just don't understand why you have offered for me. If you felt we were too familiar earlier when you helped me in the window, I am sure there is no need for you to make reparation. No one would know my reputation has been sullied with me buried in the country like I am."

  Keene cursed the promise he had given earlier. Even though Farthing had not found his pledge to pass on seducing Sophie sufficient reassurance, he could not ignore his word. "Sophie, I came here with the intention of asking for your hand. Your parents knew that. I had thought they would have told you."

  She plunked down on the chair he had just vacated. "They applied to you for aid." Her words were between a question and a stoic recitation of a casualty list.

  "I believe they applied to my father."

  She watched him with a furrow between her delicate eyebrows. "And your father asked you to help?"

  "Something like that."

  "You don't always do as your father wishes."

  How did a woman who so often ran around like a trooper still manage to look so feminine? "I often do the opposite."

  "I am confused, because I thought you didn't like me."

  He knelt beside her chair and took her hands in his. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. "If you don't wish to be my wife, all you have to do is say so."

  "I fear you would take a refusal with too much glee."

  She had grabbed the tiger, wrestled him right to the ground and belled him, but then, with her penchant for unladylike pursuits, he shouldn't have been surprised.

  He doubted an explanation of why he consented to his father's plan would aid the situation. His reasons were more complicated than he understood. Not only Richard's death, but George's trials in the past year affected his decision to go along with his father's command. "Sophie, if you should be content, I shall consider myself lucky. And I promised your father I should not be overly familiar with you, so you should go back to your room."

  She winced. "Papa is excessively worried about your reputation."

  "My reputation is overdone."

  "I don't think so. With Richard by your side following your pursuits, no one called him a rake."

  Richard fell in love too easily. He never had the reserve to be seen as a rake, not that Keene was sure he deserved the appellation. "And how do you feel about the rumors about me?"

  "I should be relieved you do not think of yourself as a shining example of perfection."

  He grinned. "Oh, but I am."

  "You are not. Papa is nearer to perfection than any man, and it is a sore trial to live with when one is so very imperfect. Mama says my high spirits are the problem, but I am often in a pickle. Papa thinks it is the impurity of my character. I should think that since you often indulge in your own pleasures, you should be more understanding of my weaknesses."

  "What weaknesses?"

  She pulled her hands away and stood. "That I often indulge in frivolous pursuits for my own pleasure." She shrugged. "Like I would read novels instead of Hannah More—a great sin according to Papa. I prefer galloping across the fields to sitting with my embroidery." She took a step away from the chair, clasped and raised her hands. "I should very much just like to dance, but Papa considers all those things precursors to more indecent behavior. He feels my morals are sorely lacking."

  "Yes, I am aware he is a very moral man." So much so that he found normal pursuits objectionable. "I daresay he thinks I am doomed to hell."

  "Papa is just not sure you are to be trusted."

  A sinner in one regard apparently made one suspect in all other matters. Keene wondered if his restraint with Sophie in his bedroom would be seen as honorable or if he should fail for not ushering her out immediately. "Is that why he would rush us through the banns and ceremony?"

  Sophie shifted her gaze to the door. "He might fear if you know me too well you would cry off."

  He smoothed his hand down her arm. "If I knew you too well, I should be obliged to make an honest woman of you."

  A slight shudder moved down from her shoulders.

  "Sophie, go now or spend the night in my bed."

  Her eyes widened. "Should you like that?" she whispered.

  "I daresay I shall be gravely disappointed in myself for not honoring my word to your father."

  She turned away from him and clasped her upper arm with her other hand. "And if I should disappoint you?"

  She needed reassurance. Trouble was he wasn't sure he should use any more persuasion than he already had. "I daresay you shall disappoint me sooner or later, although I doubt that it will be in bed."

  He gave up on restraint and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him with her back to his chest.

  She trembled against him. Although he doubted she would regret it if he persuaded her to stay, he didn't want to callously trample her innocence. His approach had less finesse than usual and that was reason enough to send her on her way. He couldn't ever remember demanding a woman share his bed or leave. "Sophie, you are not ready for this, and there is no reason to rush."

  "I should like to get it over with."

  He steered
her toward the door. "I think not. A rake like me has a reputation to protect." His women were always willing.

  When he had the door open, he propelled her through it. He slid his palm down her spine to the small of her back where he rubbed his thumb in a light circle. "Sleep well."

  He backed away before he slung her over his shoulder and tossed her on his bed without regard for her sensibilities or the sensibilities of his host, who seemed much more likely to take offense. He shut the door and leaned his head against it. If she knocked and asked for readmittance, he wouldn't be able to exercise any restraint. His total lack of control overwhelmed him.

  He couldn't even take pride in that he had ultimately done the right thing, because he wanted so badly to fling open his door and march boldly into her room and exercise rights he didn't own yet.

  Sophie stared at the shut door with a mixture of emotions: relief and disappointment, exhilaration and anguish. She thought perhaps Keene desired her. She wondered when this fine turn of events had happened. Perhaps a rake desired all women and that was what made them successful in their pursuits. She was none too sure he truly wanted her as his wife, but she had no reason to question his purpose. Still, she was uneasy that all was not as well as it seemed.

  That thought was echoed the next morning when she learned that Keene had chosen to spend the entire day in Mr. Ponsby's company. Her mother patted her hand and said, "He is a gentleman much used to following his own pursuits. If you want a husband who is not like Mr. Farthing, than you shall have to be content when he is about his amusements."

  "Truly, Mama, I shall not mind, if he offers me the same license to amuse myself."

  "Sophie, I know you do not understand the ways of the ton. And like your father I think they are unsavory, but you shall be expected to deliver an heir and a spare before you are free to seek your own . . ." Her mother blushed. "Not that I approve of such goings on, but Keene is not known to be content with one woman's company. It should be unlikely he shall change after marriage."

  "And I am not to notice?"

  "No, you may notice, but you are not to object. You shall make yourself miserable if you do. I can tell you, it shall only make unpleasantness if you insist on loyalty from a man who does not feel it in his heart."

  Her mother stole a peek at the doorway. "Mr. Farthing should have an apoplexy if he heard me speak to you of such things. But I had a dear friend who married a libertine and she was quite miserable. You see, he was interested in her for a short while, but then he moved on, as his sort are wont to do."