by Lee, Jade
Sophia blinked, surprise making her step forward. "But you cannot mean to remain as our butler?"
The major merely raised an eyebrow, and Sophia folded her arms in disgust.
"You cannot be serious. Think, Major, it is insupportable that you will be forever underfoot, kissing me at nighttime, then serving me tea in the day!"
His expression did not change, but Sophia felt his sudden amusement, as if he had laughed out loud.
"Why are you so stubborn?" she exclaimed, belatedly realizing she echoed his very words back to him.
He merely shrugged. "You keep repeating the word freedom. I have lately come to realize that perhaps you are like a soldier on furlough, drunk on his own independence. You wish to try everything, including... kissing. I suspect you will grow bored in time. You will soon find life as empty as it was in London. Then you will turn to me."
Sophia felt her jaw go slack at the arrogance of the man. "You intend to be forever underfoot until such time as I grow bored? But, that is ridiculous!"
"It was successful tonight."
"Nonsense!" She was fervent in her protest, but suddenly she feared he was correct. She had left her bedroom intent on finding something—or rather, someone—and the thought made her even more irritated. "I will not marry you out of boredom!"
He merely sketched a mocking bow, telling her without words that he would wait and see. Watching him, Sophia knew her first moment of true worry. He was a strong man, and for some unknown reason, she had been drawn to him from the very beginning. Even in his sickbed, she had been anxious for him, coming directly to his side nearly every day of his recuperation.
How many times had she wondered at her own behavior? How many times had she tried to explain away her strange attraction to this arrogant, bull-headed man? And so she knew he was right. If she allowed him to remain in the house, forever around every turn, she had no doubt she would eventually capitulate. The man was simply too fascinating for her to hold out against him forever.
"Very well," she said, grasping at straws. "I shall make a bargain with you. If you agree to leave this house, to remove yourself immediately, I... I will consider your offer. I will allow you to court me. But, if in three weeks' time I have not changed my mind, you must leave Staffordshire immediately."
The major frowned, his expression pensive. "You will allow me to be your exclusive companion for three weeks? For every outing, every excursion?"
Sophia nodded. "But they must be my choice of excursions, my decision as to our destination."
"Of course. I shall be pleased to accompany you wherever you wish to go."
Sophia nodded, a plan already forming in her mind. "You will cease to function as our butler, and you must swear, on your honor, to leave the county if my answer is still 'no' at the end of three weeks."
He did not hesitate. "I swear."
Sophia took a deep breath, feeling a sudden elation. "We have a bargain?"
"We do," he said. Then he smiled, his brown eyes lit by the silvery caress of the moon. "I regret to inform you, Lady Sophia, that I am unable to continue as your butler. And I shall be pleased to call on you tomorrow at exactly two in the afternoon."
Sophia shook her head. "Aunt Agatha and I intend a trip to the milliner's. You may come the next day. At noon."
He bowed to her, his own expression smug. "Very well. Noon in two days. Good night, Lady Sophia." Then he left the room.
Sophia watched him go, her smile slowly fading as the door slipped shut behind him. She wished he had remained, sharing kisses with her to seal their agreement. But that was foolishness, she told herself. And that was exactly why she had insisted he depart. Because she was much too vulnerable around him. She might want to give a kiss, but he would want so much more.
At least in public, there would be no illicit kisses, no lingering caresses, no hunger for an unknown something that came alive whenever he was near.
Three weeks would be over in no time. Then, at last, she would be rid of him. The thought left her strangely sad, but she ignored it as something else struck her.
Remembering their conversation, Sophia realized that the major had agreed exceedingly quickly. There had been no hesitation in his voice. No reluctance in his demeanor. Could he already be tiring of her? Was this his way of retiring gracefully from the field?
Panic clutched at her heart even as her mind told her this was exactly what she wanted. Then she remembered his smile and the devious twinkle in his eyes. He had agreed to her proposal with such speed, as if... As if he had a plan of his own.
Sophia groaned. Of course he had a plan. What military man did not have a plan of some sort? Well, she decided, she would just have to devise a scheme of her own. Something that would put the major off her entirely. Some excursion that would shock him down to his regimented toes.
And she knew just the outing to do it.
Chapter 7
"The cockfights? You wish me to take you to a cockfight?" Anthony stared at Sophia, his thoughts reeling.
When she'd first suggested their bargain, he believed he had won. She merely wished for the formality of a courtship before accepting their marriage. Now, he saw that she once again intended to dissuade him.
But Anthony had not survived war in Spain without his own fair share of stubbornness. He would allow her this wild outing—if only to show her what a vulgar display a cockfight could be. He knew with certainty her first glimpse of the event would be enough to send her scurrying home. Lady Sophia was much too refined for so coarse an event.
"Very well," he said with a short bow. "Do you know of one we could attend?"
"Absolutely," she said with a radiant smile. "Mary tells me there shall be a fight today. There is a pit behind the butcher's home. Do you know where that is?"
Anthony nodded, feeling the movement pull at the taut muscles in his shoulders. "I know the place," he said curtly. Then his gaze traveled the length of her light rose walking dress, admiring her lush curves and remarkable features. "You might wish to change your gown. The field can get quite muddy."
Sophia smiled, her laughter rich and full. "Oh, no, Major. You shall not delay me today. If I took the time to change, I am certain the event would be over before we arrived."
"There is plenty of time yet," he responded evenly, but she merely shook her head.
"I am determined, Major. You cannot fob me off."
Anthony raised his eyebrows. "I had no such intention," he responded with complete honesty. "I am breathless with anticipation to view your reaction." He reached out and brought her hand to his arm. "This is your first cockfight, is it not?"
Her laugh sounded a bit forced, and for a moment, he thought she would lie to him. Then she shook her head. "This is indeed my first fight, but I have been anxious to view one since I overheard Geoffrey after attending his first. He was most enthusiastic."
"Most young men are," he responded dryly as he stepped toward the door. "You are quite sure you do not wish to change your gown?" he repeated. "That rose is wonderfully attractive, but it is also..." He paused a moment, searching for the right words. "Your beauty makes you somewhat conspicuous."
She turned to him, and he distinctly saw a twinkle of mischief in her eye. "Do you wish me to wear something brown, nondescript, perhaps rather shapeless, and overly large, so as to disguise my appearance?"
"That would be the, uh, more prudent course," he answered. "The women who attend these affairs are not at all... of your sort."
"What would you know of my sort?" she responded archly. "I am a spinster now. I can go wherever I wish."
"As long as you are unmarried," he responded softly, "you shall never have the freedom you crave. You shall always require an escort, especially if you intend to frequent events such as this one."
She turned abruptly, and he saw anger in her eyes, but he could not tell if her ill humor was directed at him or her situation. They both knew that even as a spinster, she had restrictions on her behavior.
&nbs
p; "A lady can always find an escort," she finally said.
"Can she also find a child to hold or something to fill the hours other than meaningless and coarse distractions?"
Sophia did not respond except to turn her back on him and walk regally to his waiting curricle.
Anthony watched her go, frustration making his shoulders heavy and his leg ache. She had done it again. He had resolved to be urbane and civilized, agreeing to whatever she wished without so much as a blink of his eye. Yet, despite his much vaunted self-control, they were already at daggers drawn.
Very well, he decided. He would exercise his self-mastery. He could afford to be patient. He would take her to the cockfight. When she ran sick from the sight, then he would have his victory. She would know her country diversions were as meaningless as the civilized ones of London. In the end, she would turn to him.
She would.
With a sigh that felt like a call to arms, he jammed his hat on his head and moved to join her on the curricle seat.
* * *
Sophia could hardly keep from squirming, unsure whether she should feel elated or humiliated. When she had first conceived of attending the cockfight, it seemed the perfect choice. Not only was it a scandalous thing to do, but she truly wished to attend such an event.
But planning to fly in the face of social convention was entirely different from actually doing it. As more than one gentleman lifted his quizzing glass to inspect her, Sophia was hard put to sit still. Suddenly she wished she had indeed put on a shapeless brown cloak as the major had suggested. But there was nothing for it now except to brazen her way through.
The major brought their curricle within distant sight of the center area while Sophia occupied herself by looking about, trying to see everything except the haughty stares of other attendees. There were vehicles of every sort, from flashy carriages to dirty, broken-down wagons. She recognized gentlemen who frequented haut ton ballrooms next to tradesmen and footmen. They all made their way to the tiered seating surrounding a sand pit. And though Sophia could see the wealthier patrons sneer behind their gloves at the lower classes, she saw the same eagerness on everyone's face.
And the same shock as the major pulled his curricle into place.
"They are all staring at me," she whispered to him.
"I did try to tell you that ladies, even spinsters, do not attend cockfights."
Sophia mustered a polite smile for an elderly gentleman who had courted her in her second Season, but her words were for the major. "I have noticed women of all classes enjoy vulgar amusements," she said more tartly than she had intended. "Think of all the ton who attend hangings."
He turned to her, and suddenly, Sophia felt the weight of his keen gray eyes. "Have you ever had the desire to attend a hanging?"
She could not repress a shudder. "No. Absolutely not."
His smile was slow in coming, but it relaxed his entire body, showing her how truly handsome he was. And how fully sure of himself, for in that moment, Sophia realized her mistake. By coming here, she had meant to show him that she was vulgar and uncouth, but her response showed him all too clearly what she thought of most bloody sport.
Sophia ground her teeth in frustration. Why could she not guard her tongue around this man?
"Shall we find our seats?" she asked coolly.
"If you wish."
"Of course." And with that she allowed him to assist her out of the curricle.
His hands were warm where they touched her, but Sophia refused to think of it. She was attending her first cockfight, she reminded herself sternly. Now was not the time to think of how large and strong Major Wyclyff's hands felt where they held her arm.
They crossed the field together, coming to the tiered benches in good time. But as the major helped her to a seat, Sophia could not help but notice how those around her seemed to react to her presence. The men were outraged, some even muttering curses under their breath. As for the women, they were too intent on attracting the men to do more than glare occasionally at her.
To add discomfort to humiliation, the major settled close beside her, his manner protective. "We may leave, if you like. I understand there is a lovely drive along the creek."
She stiffened, feigning surprise, though inside she was tempted. "How could you suggest such a thing?"
"Because I can see you are uncomfortable, and I have no wish to ruin our afternoon together because of this nonsense."
Sophia shifted, turning to face him so that his body did not press so closely against hers. "I have told you, I will not be ordered by society or by you. I have chosen to attend this event, and stay I shall."
His sigh was heartfelt, and Sophia felt his broad shoulders move with the sound. She was being willful and stubborn, she knew, but he would just have to accept that. This was the new Sophia Rathburn. And she attended cockfights.
The event began with little preamble. The butcher, who apparently owned most of the roosters, walked into the center of the sand pit. After a brief introduction, he began listing the bloodlines of the first two opponents, who were being carried into the ring in the arms of their handlers.
The butcher continued, his voice ranging easily over the noise of betting, while the two handlers turned their backs on each other, rocking back and forth as the heads of their huge roosters stuck out from beneath their arms.
"Why do they do that?" she whispered, leaning into the major to be heard.
He shifted, allowing her to settle closer to him, and she was too interested in his answer to keep herself from pressing into his solid form. "To excite the birds," he said into her ear. "See how they eye each other?"
Indeed, the birds seemed to be glaring at each other even as they were swung closer and closer.
"Set your birds!" called the butcher, now safely out of the pit.
The handlers dropped the roosters, then rapidly scrambled out of the arena. At the pit's center, the fowl began circling, eyeing each other with murderous intensity. All around, the crowd cheered and yelled, goading the animals on.
"This is exhilarating," Sophia gasped, leaning forward in her seat to see more. "They are such stately creatures. I had not thought how proud they could look." Sophia watched with rapt attention, the crowd's excitement stirring her blood. The noise, the tension, even the heated press of bodies—the major seemed closer than ever—intensified the atmosphere.
Suddenly one bird lunged at the other, and, as if on cue, the crowd erupted into a cacophony of noise. Nearer to the ring, betting seemed to increase a hundredfold, as the birds, those beautiful, stately creatures, suddenly attacked each other in a mindless fury of violence.
"Oh, my word," she whispered, her eyes widening as she took in the sight. Feathers. And blood. All surrounded by cheering, sweaty, bellowing men.
The stands swayed beneath her, but Sophia barely noticed. She was too mesmerized, too horrified to turn away. One bird lunged, gouging deep into the gullet of the other. Blood poured out of the open neck wound. Yet the wounded bird continued to attack, aiming for the head of his opponent. With a fierce peck, the cock lost an eye, a bloom of red appearing on his stately feathers. And all around her men cheered for more.
Sophia pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to keep her nausea at bay. Then she felt Anthony press nearer beside her, firmly twisting her, drawing her face from the sight.
Suddenly, she was gripping his arm, screaming into his face. "Major, they... they are fighting!"
"Yes, Sophia. I know." His voice was gentle, but it was no cure for the sight she had just seen.
"Anthony, they are tearing each other apart! And the men are cheering."
"Yes, I know."
How could he be so calm? He must not truly comprehend what was occurring. She clutched his lapels, shaking him as she tried to make him understand. "But they will kill each other!"
"Likely only one will die, Sophia."
"Anthony!" she cried, but the weak sound simply merged with the screams all around her.
The major pulled her close, drawing her into his arms as he spoke softly into her ear. "What did you think a cockfight was?"
"I did not think..." Sophia swallowed, struggling against his chest. She was no match for his steady warmth, and with a shudder, she finally surrendered. "I guess I had not thought too thoroughly through what it would be like—only that it was scandalous, and I had never been." She took a deep breath. "It is a horrible, brutish sport."
"Yes."
"These men are savages to watch such a thing."
She felt his shrug, but he did not disagree with her. After a moment he rose, clambered down, then pulled her out of the seating and down against his side. "We will take that drive now." It was not a question.
Sophia walked with him, silently matching his measured tread. Her emotions had settled somewhat, but the sound of the cocks screaming and the men cheering still pounded in her head. It was not right. Those beautiful animals should not have been forced into such barbarity.
Lord, it was almost like London, where Society took sweet young girls and threw them into the vipers' nest of the haut ton. Before long, the girls either became vicious fighters, meting out social death to their competitors, or they became victims. It was not right here, and it was not right there, either.
It had to be stopped. Sweet, beautiful creatures should not be forced to brutalize one another. It was hideous, and it had to be stopped.
But how?
She glanced sideways, watching the major. She could appeal to him, but likely he would not help her. He was a man, after all, and she had only to look around to see what men thought. And he'd only shrugged at seeing her horror. Still, she thought perhaps to ask.
"Major..." she began.
He turned immediately to her, his expression attentive.
"Shouldn't we try to, um, stop this somehow?"
He frowned down at her, his expression gentle. "I know you are upset, but truly, roosters are dumb creatures, bred for this. And if it amuses these men, keeping them from other bloody sport, what harm is there in it?"