by Mary Nichols
‘Is that a proposal, your Grace?’
‘It is. And my name is James. Let me hear you say it. Say, “I love you, James.”’
‘Oh, I do. I love you, James.’
‘Are you two going to lie there on the floor until the tide comes in and drowns you both?’ Richard’s teasing voice brought them back to a sense of where they were.
‘No, of course not.’ James scrambled to his feet and held out his hand to help Sophie up. She was still very shaky and could hardly stand, though whether that was the result of her ordeal or the proposal she had just had, she did not know. She only knew she was light-headed with happiness. He picked her up in his arms to carry her to the door. Halfway there she caught sight of the package he had brought with him, lying on the floor.
‘No. We can’t go without my book.’
‘Yes, we can. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, yes, it does. Put me down.’ She struggled in his arms, but he held her tight, laughing. ‘Put me down, James Dersingham. If you think I am going to abandon six months’ work, you are sadly mistaken. Put me down at once.’ She was fighting in earnest now and the tears were rolling down her face, tears of frustration and disappointment. Nothing had changed; he still did not understand.
‘My, what a virago,’ Richard said, grinning. ‘You’ve got your hands full there, my friend.’
James set Sophie on her feet and watched as she retrieved the parcel. The outer covering was torn and, as she stooped to pick it up, she saw newsprint. With dawning understanding she tore the cover off. It contained newspaper, nothing but newspaper. She turned towards him. ‘You devil! You let me think…’
He laughed and took it from her, tossing it on the table. ‘Did you think I would risk losing it? You would never have forgiven me. Now, will you please come home? I want to find somewhere private where I can kiss you without being interrupted.’ And he glared at Richard, who grinned back and led the way along the path to a road that went round the coastline of the Isle of Dogs. Here, to Sophie’s immense relief, stood a carriage that she recognised as the Duke’s. Sadler was sitting on the box, whip in hand, ready to convey them back to Belfont House.
James turned to Richard. ‘How did you manage to follow me?’
‘I didn’t. O’Grady was persuaded to talk. He told us about the hut and I felt sure that was where Cariotti would bring Miss Langford. I am sorry if I startled you, miss, but I had to get my shot in before he turned round and saw us. He would have had no compunction about using you as a shield.’
‘Then I thank you with all my heart.’
‘Did he tell you anything else?’ James asked.
‘All he knew, enough to convict Cariotti of conspiracy to murder the Duke of Wellington.’
‘And Alfred? How involved was he?’
‘Not really involved, except as a dogsbody. He simply wanted to prevent you marrying Miss Langford. He thought if Cariotti compromised her, you would not have her.’
‘That was flawed thinking. I could have married someone else…’ He grinned at Sophie to reassure her. ‘Theoretically.’
‘Perhaps he was more perspicacious that you give him credit for and knew no one else would do.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘To everyone but the two of you, it seems. Anyway, I do not think we need trouble Mr Jessop, we have evidence enough without him.’
‘Good. I would not like to see a kinsman of mine in the dock on a treason charge.’ He ushered Sophie into the coach and climbed in beside her. Richard shut the door. ‘Have a safe journey, my friend. I will come to you tomorrow…’ He looked up at the eastern sky, where a pink dawn tinged the horizon. ‘No, later today…’
‘Much later,’ James said, laughing and taking Sophie’s hand. ‘I shall be busy for some time.’
The horses were whipped up and they were on their way. James put his arm about Sophie and drew her head on to his shoulder, where it nestled comfortably. ‘Such an adventure,’ she murmured. ‘It is all a fairy tale, like a book…’
‘Don’t you dare! Write what you like, I will not mind, except the story of our adventures and how they came about. They are private. For one thing, I would not like it noised abroad that the Duke of Belfont was so besotted by a self-willed hoyden, he turned into a quivering mass of fear that he might have lost her…’
She tipped her head up to his. ‘You, fearful? I do not believe it. You were as cool as ice in that hut.’
‘I was shaking with fear.’
‘It did not show.’
‘I am still shaking. He held up his hand and made it tremble. ‘See. That is what you do to me.’
She seized his hand and put the palm to her lips. ‘Is that better?’
‘Yes. Do it again.’
She obliged. He laughed and pulled her on to his lap and kissed her soundly, making her ache with desire, a desire she had tried to stifle but had never succeeded in doing. If they were not in a coach, travelling at some speed, she might have given it free rein. But she could wait; she could savour it in the anticipation, as well as in the act when the time came. She was not afraid because she trusted him. She put her arms about his neck and pulled his head down so that she could kiss him back.
When he finally came up for air he was laughing. ‘Richard was right. I certainly have my hands full, but I was never so thankful or grateful. You did say you would marry me, didn’t you?’
‘I do not remember saying it.’
‘What? But you said you loved me…’
‘So I did. So I do. It is not the same.’
‘You mean you won’t?’
‘I did not say that either. I am waiting for you to ask me.’
‘I did. Days ago.’
‘I mean again. Properly.’
‘Oh, Sophie.’ He dropped to his knees on the dusty floor of the coach and took her hand. ‘Miss Langford, will you take pity on this poor wretch who loves you so very, very much, and agree to marry him?’
‘Oh, how could I ignore a plea like that, it would be heartless…’
‘And you are not heartless, are you?’
‘Only in as much as I have given it to you.’
‘Does that mean yes?’
‘Of course it does, silly.’
In the middle of hugging, they were interrupted by a discreet cough from the box and realised that the coach had come to a standstill. ‘Home,’ he said, opening the door and jumping down before turning to open his arms for her. She sprang into them. He held her a moment, then gently set her down. ‘Let’s go and have breakfast and tell Harriet our news.’
ISBN: 978-1-4592-2517-6
BACHELOR DUKE
Copyright © 2005 by Mary Nichols
First North American Publication 2007
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