by Stacy Reid
Sophia was for a moment, incredulous. “Surely not! How can you bear it?”
“She is now Countess Riley and is on her honeymoon in Greece.”
It felt right that Lucy was already married. The only time she had met Hetty, they had laughed and talked about how grand it would be when they could have fun at balls and dance all night with beaux. Lucy had been more confident in her dream, where Hetty had been wistful and had wondered later if as the daughter of a country rector she would ever visit London and take part in the Season’s amusements.
“Sophia!”
She glanced around sharply, expecting to see a wildly waving Hetty by the confectionary store with sugar dusting her cheek, her bonnet askew. But the remnants of the memory faded along with the imagined sound of her sister's voice.
“You miss your sister,” he said gruffly.
“Everyday. How did you bear being away from your family for so long?”
“It was not easy, but I needed the space to breathe and to live. Only a few weeks after learning of your supposed passing, my mother was callously recommending ladies to me to become my prospective bride and inviting mothers who had daughters she thought suitable to Hawthorne Park. My father also tried to use his continuing illness to force me into marriage, and when I resisted, he asked me to vow that I would not marry below my station.”
Sophia flinched and then tried to push past the awful sensation that lodged in her stomach. “You are a duke,” she began, appalled that her voice trembled.
“Sophia.”
She met his gaze.
“You are my equal in every way that matters.”
Her heart trembled perilously, the knot in her stomach untangled, and she could only stare at him in astonishment. There was a tenderness in his eyes that was almost painful to look upon.
“I wrote often,” he continued as if he’d not just flustered her. “To my mother, Simon, Lucy, and my middle brother Edward who is in America, but I missed them every day. Edward is to return soon for us to meet his wife. I daresay, Lucy will be home shortly as well, and I shall be very glad to see her.”
“I still cannot credit that you insist nothing adventurous happened in your life; you were never the boring sort when you courted me.”
He sent her a glance of affront, and she laughed.
“Well, one Miss Phoebe Cranston tried to compromise me into marriage, and I fought a duel in France.”
“William!”
There was a twinkle in his eyes. “Shall I leave those recollections for later when we repose by the fire?”
“You would not dare. I thought you were in India all this time. However did you end up in France!”
“Each place I visited was spent in the pursuit of pleasures and anything to distract me from your loss.”
“You…you’ve had other lovers,” she said, her eyes widening.
Dark eyes slashed to her. “I thought you dead. And even then, it still took me years before…before a woman interested me in that manner.”
“I do not judge you for it, nor does it make me uncomfortable.” But she did have the awful thought she might not have measured up to his exotic experiences be the reason why he’d made no attempt to ravish her again.
She narrowed her eyes on him, and his eyes widened in mock alarm.
“Sweet mercy, what are you thinking about?”
“I wondered if you found me boring compared to...” she waved a hand, unable to voice the sudden doubt which had burned through her. “Your other women which is why…since that day…”
A shocked gaze collided with hers.
She looked away, suddenly made uncomfortable.
“No, you will look me in the eyes.”
The command was laced with steel, and she snapped her head up. Her gaze clashed with the savage brilliance of his. It was then she realized their horses had stopped in the middle of the street. Thankfully only one parked carriage was about, and it was some distance away.
Her heart was suddenly suffused with an ache. “William, I—”
“You will listen to me and listen well.”
Sophia felt her heart begin to beat a little harder. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m listening.”
He nodded once, tightly. “Do not ever compare yourself again to women and situations I do not even recall. You were all I thought about when we were parted. I grieved for the loss of your sweet presence. You are all I think about…all I dream about. That day by the river, you damned near killed me with your sweet, wanton responses. You will always be the most desirable woman to me, Sophia. Do not ever doubt it again.”
A startling warmth invaded her, and the shock sent prickles all over her body. It wasn’t a declaration of love, that would have scared her, but his sincerity pierced that cold, lonely place that had existed deep within her for so long and filled her with a burst of heat. Tears burned her eyes and throat. She blinked them away, dashing her hand across her eyes.
“I’ll not,” she whispered.
The hard edges of his mouth softened into a pleased smile. “Good.”
They continued, and he showed her the new sewage system that had been placed in Mulford after the tragedy years past. It was then she noticed with some astonishment how cleaner and crisper the air felt, that several buildings in the town had been painted and refurbished, and as she toured with him, she realized it had all been his doing.
“How have you accomplished so much in Mulford?”
“I started before I left England. And though I was away, I continued my work through letters. I trusted the stewards I left in charge.”
A few people in the village had looked at her with shock and alarm, and Sophia nodded politely to those who had known her and her family.
“They too thought I had died,” she said faintly, at the buzz of interest that followed her and the avid stares and whispers behind fans.
“Yes,” he said gruffly, bringing their horses to a halt in front of a memorial.
He dismounted and then assisted her down from her horse, and with a gasp, she walked over to the exquisitely craved standing marble piece, her heart shaking when she spied her name along with eighteen others.
“When I returned to Mulford…I only went to the rectory,” she murmured, tracing her name. “A new rector had not been appointed, and the place was empty. The key still rested underneath a flowerpot. The gardens my mother tended so lovingly had been choked with weeds, and many flowers had withered. There was an air of desolation about our empty cottage. I did not stay long. I could not bear it. I collected a few belongings which had been boxed, and just left there. I could have taken my aunt’s carriage to your home, but I needed to walk through the forest, to smell the heather on the air and the moss and the oak. To hear the animals as they scuttle in the bushes. I trekked to Hawthorne Park, and in that long walk, for the first time in weeks, I found a measure of peace.”
She glanced up at him. “I was so devastated by your mother’s dismissal and your leaving that when I returned to the carriage, I insisted on leaving Mulford immediately. The journey had been difficult…I remembered when I returned to my aunt, I took to my bed for several days. I had never returned to Mulford until now.”
He drew her closer to him. “I’ll have it corrected immediately.”
She stared at the memorial for a long time, memorizing the names and recalling the faces of those she had been friendly with. Sophia bowed her head in a silent prayer for a minute, then turned away and allowed the duke to help her remount.
As they rode back toward Hawthorne Park, her heart felt unburdened, empty of any pain or grief, and she smiled, a peaceful sort of happiness blossoming through her. She sent him a sideways glance.
“Thank you for taking me with you today.”
That night, Sophia stared at the connecting door, leading to the duke’s chamber. She tossed restlessly, unable to sleep. Huffing a breath, she scrambled from the bed and went for her valise. She opened it and removed the painting of her mother’s that
she had wrapped. It wasn’t large, and she’d had it framed. Taking a deep breath, she padded to the connecting door and opened it without knocking.
William stood by his window in a dark blue silk banyan, a drink in his hand. Her feet sank into the plush oriental carpet, and she saw the slight tightening of his elegant fingers around the glass. Sophia smiled and paused by the foot of his large canopied bed in the center of his room.
He faced her, and a flash of hunger lit in his eyes before he masked his reaction. She wore a loose short-sleeved night rail, the neckline cut low enough to show a hint of her unbound breasts. Sophia admitted she had wanted to see that burn of desire in his gaze and had deliberately not tugged on a robe. Her heart stumbled in her chest before continuing with a more frantic beat. She curled her bare toes into the carpet. “I wanted you to have this,” she said huskily.
He made his way over to her and took the offered painting.
“By God, this is exquisite!”
“My mother painted it,” she said softly.
“This is of my father when he was a much younger man.”
“Mama said she met him once when she and Papa called upon Hawthorne Park at the duchess’s invitation. Mama said he had been so compellingly handsome to her, that she went home and had to render his image against the backdrop of the night stars and the forest. I…I thought you should have it.”
“Thank you,” he said huskily, drawing her forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
They stayed like that for a minute, where she closed her eyes and simply basked in being so close to him. She stepped back and smiled. “Sleep well, William.”
His dark gaze watched her as she turned and walked away from him.
“Stay with me for the night, Sophia.”
He arrested her retreat with that firm command. She spun around, his eyes collided with hers, and he held her gaze for a long, timeless moment. He rested his glass on a small table before the chaise longue and led her to the bed.
They slipped beneath the covers, Sophia turned to her side, and the duke curved behind her and slipped his arms around her. His hardness pressed against her thighs, and she felt when his manhood flexed. A shiver of want darted through her body, and her core ached. She wiggled experimentally, and a harsh groan slipped from him, but he made no move to seduce her.
They stayed like that, and she snuggled back further into his arms, loving that she was surrounded completely by his warm, masculine form. She felt safe…cherished, and with a soft exhalation, she relaxed and allowed her eyes to drift closed. “This is where I want to be,” she murmured.
“And here is where I want you.”
“Why are you not seducing me?”
She felt his smile on her hair.
“I’m waiting,” came his rejoinder.
“On me to pounce on you?” she asked, teasingly and quite sleepily.
Yet something warned her it was not that, even if she were to face him now, fling one of her legs across his hip and nip at his throat he would show restraint.
“What are you waiting for?”
He made no answer, and as she drifted into a deep slumber, she heard a low murmur at her ears, “For you to fall in love with me, my darling, Sophia.”
Chapter 9
The last two weeks had been an exercise in torture, not in restraint. As William stared down at Sophia in his bed, with a feeling of such contentment he had never known before filling his heart. Last night with her softness curved into his body, he had slept deeply without disturbance for the first time in several days. His nights had been restless as Sophia had stolen his ability to sleep. He wanted her by his side forever, he admitted ruefully, a thing he doubted she would want to hear. In her eyes, as they peeked at him occasionally, he saw an aching need but at other times he discerned wariness. As if she was afraid that she was falling too much back under his spell.
He drew aside the dark silver and blue tasseled drapes letting in the bright sunlight into the room. She muttered some choice word under her breath, and twisted away from the light, grabbing the pillow and slapping it over her head. Delight filled him. His Sophia was not a morning person, and the sheer nightgown had ridden up high on her thighs and bared one of her luscious cheeks to his gaze.
His mouth dried as his cock jerked in anticipation of being inside her again. William studied the elegant curves of her hips, which were sensually flared, and the rounded globes of her buttocks that made him want to lower his teeth and bite that firm flesh. He sat on the edge of the bed and could not resist the urge to touch her…just once. He smoothed his hand over her back, relishing the feel of her delicate curves, the feeling of rightness.
She purred and breathed his name on a whisper of a sigh.
What if she never falls in love with me again? A painful, aching tightness lingered inside of William and a cold knot began forming in his gut. Despite the wicked temptation of Sophia, and the invitation to make love which glowed in her eyes with more heat daily, he had been waiting to see that softness in her eyes, that shining aching love before he took her to his bed again. Once he saw it there, he would make an offer of marriage and pray that love would be stronger than the fear of eventual loss.
He could not keep her at Hawthorne Park forever, not with the considerable risk he’d already placed her reputation in. Nor would he set her up as a mistress. Never would he truly dishonor her in such a manner. If she did not come to him soon, with more than fire and passion, he would urge her to return to her aunt and then try his hand publicly at courting her.
She would possibly run from him if it came to that, but he dismissed it. The Sophia he knew and the woman before him now were so courageous and not afraid to face life. The fact that she had flourished when so many hardships had been stacked against her was a testament to her strength. A feeling of loss suddenly tore through him. He should have been there over the years to see her stunning growth into the charming, bold, and impetuous woman she was now.
You’ll make a fine duchess and the best of wives, he silently praised her.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and left her to sleep. It was still early yet, but he had business to attend to. One of the cotton factories he’d invested in was on the cusp of shutting down, and another housing venture had run into problems. There was also the matter of the recent investments he had made in the London Stock exchange, and another of his estates in Cornwall which needed modern mining and farming equipment.
Reluctantly he made his way from the room to his library to meet with his steward and one of his solicitors. His meetings were intense and moved slowly for the day, and he blamed it on his fractured thoughts.
Sophia distracted him to the point that his man of affairs threw him several glances, and after only two hours, he conceded defeat and rescheduled his meetings for the following week. The thought of eventually relinquishing her if she refused to come to him left a bitter taste of regret in his mouth and a dark pain in his heart. He needed to step up his game and start a more ruthless campaign against her heart.
* * *
A few days had passed since Sophia had awakened in William’s bed feeling peacefully contented, when he announced he had a wish to fulfill. She had thought he desired to give her something in return for the painting she’d given him. Sophia had hurriedly assured him that reciprocation was not needed, and the dratted man had only given her a mysterious smile.
Following his instructions, they had traveled to London discreetly where they had booked into Brown’s Hotel in Mayfair. Of course, she was suitably disguised in trousers which fitted her frame perfectly, an evening jacket, a white shirt, and a silver waistcoat. To her delight he had even procured her a short dark blonde wig, and fake spectacles which were perched on her nose. Sophia did not believe she looked like a man at all, but society seemed content with the disguise for no one had paid her any particular notice each time that she had walked through the hotel lobby.
The carriage rumbled through Mayfair, and Sophia tapped
her feet on the floor of the equipage barely able to contain her excitement despite not knowing exactly where they were heading. She bit into the soft flesh of her lips to prevent herself from asking William about their destination for the third time. The man was very tightlipped, and she had to admire his single-mindedness.
She brushed aside the carriage curtain and peeked out into the darkened streets. They trotted past townhouses and a few parked carriages, but nothing she saw indicated where they were going. “William…”
He grunted, and she grinned. She launched from her seat and landed in his lap with all the grace of an elephant.
Oomph, he groaned, looking pained.
She slipped her hand around his neck. “William, my darling,” she began to cajole.
“I’ll not tell you,” he replied, amused at her eagerness. “I see the mischief in the twinkle of your eyes and the curve of your lips. Let me inform you, Miss Knightly, no threat can loosen my tongue, no kisses or soft touches can entice me.”
She fisted her fingers through the thick strands of his hair and melded her mouth to his in a very soft but persuasive kiss. “Not even one like this?”
“I am made of stern stuff,” he said, returning her brief kiss before leaning back with a scowl.
“You are heartless!” she murmured, nipping his chin. With a sigh, she went back to sit facing him, folding her arms beneath her breasts and glaring at him.
The dratted man winked, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back his head against the squabs as if he would go to sleep.
Sophia smiled, a piercing tenderness swelling inside her chest. William had arranged a surprise for her. Suddenly it did not matter what it was, only that she would treasure it. She got up, sat beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. He relaxed with a sigh of contentment as if he had been waiting on her.
Oh, William…how I wish I were braver.
For the last few nights, she had slept in his arms, and despite their snuggled proximity, he hadn’t seduced her. Sophia found that she relished the comfort of being in his arms, and she found herself yesterday wondering what it would be like to stay with him always.