Best to get this over with now. A peaceful nap would elude her, for certain, if she did not. And more than anything right now, she simply wanted to sleep.
She pushed through a door to the adjoining sitting room and knocked on Lord Harold’s.
The man who opened it was not her husband, but must, she thought with a frown, be his valet. He was handsome indeed, and young, nearly as stylishly dressed as Harold had been that day.
He bowed. “My lady,” he said. And then opened the door wide.
“Is Lord… I’d like to have a word with my — Lord Harold,” she told him. But she felt as though she had entered a very masculine, very private, domain. The gentleman’s gentleman disappeared through a door across the room without saying another word.
After a moment or two, Lord Harold returned alone. He did not seem pleased to see her. But he was polite, as he’d proven to be throughout their engagement.
“I…” She’d thought they ought to at least make an attempt at friendship. “May we sit?”
He pinched his lips, as though he would rather have this meeting over quickly, but nodded and indicated she take a seat on the sofa. He sat across from her in a winged-back chair.
“What can I do for you?” he asked. “I had thought… that you understood.”
“Well, Harold,” she said, irritated, herself now, by his reticence at discussing anything with her, even now. “That is precisely why I would have a word with you. And why I would expect that you and I can at the least be clear regarding a few… matters…” And then she could not help but tack on one more word. “…honestly.”
His eyes did not meet hers.
Sophia persisted. “I asked you for some reassurance on a concern of mine last night, and I would have it now…”
His brows rose. “Oh, God, no! I mean. Of course, not. I’ve no plans whatsoever…”
Pleased, and yet somewhat shocked at his vehemence, Sophia could not help but feel a significant amount of feminine outrage. But then, as she looked at the floor and noticed he wore only stockings on his feet, she remembered. “Is she, is she terribly devastated by your marriage?” She could not claim it as theirs.
“She?” He wrinkled his brow, then a light dawned in his eyes. “Oh, yes, yes. Um… well… I suppose I have been able to offer… her some reassurances.”
Sophia nodded. That is something, she supposed. “And so, I have no reason to worry that you will wish to…?”
“Oh, no, absolutely not.” He was most convincing. Apparently, for now anyhow, she had nothing to fret over.
Sophia sat primly and nodded, wondering if he would make any gestures of friendship whatsoever to her; if he was not going to, then she would make one. “I was terrified one of us would lose our composure completely — at the altar,” she clarified.
But he seemed distracted. His eyes glanced toward the door from which he’d just emerged.
Surely, his lover was not in his bedchamber? Of course not. His valet was in residence. Furthermore, despite their agreement, that would be the height of disrespect, and yes, she would appreciate he not make a joke of her, as Lord Kensington had done to Cecily.
“You will not flaunt your infidelity?” she asked.
This caught his attention. “Of course not. Oh, Miss Babineaux, of course I would never.”
Sophia sighed and looked at him much as one of her governesses had when she’d forgotten something simple. “You must call me Sophia now.”
“I suppose that would be appropriate,” he agreed.
Sophia waited. “And…” she prompted him.
“Well, yes, of course, please call me Harold.”
They’d settled that at least.
“You are ready for travel tomorrow?” she asked, again, seeking some sort of rapport with him.
“I am. Yes, yes, I am.” And then he stood, indicating the end of this rather lovely conversation. “Is there anything else you need of me today?”
“No, it’s just…” She wanted to tell him her secret, but he was more than a little distant at the moment. She would wait. They had all the time in the world. “No, no… I— Nothing that cannot wait.” And she rose as well so he could escort her to the door.
Back in her chamber, Peaches jumped up and greeted her once again. “Would that he had even one tenth of the enthusiasm you have for me,” she said to the pup. Well, not really…
Penny crept quietly into the bedchamber and assisted Sophia out of her wedding clothes. After a long, hot perfumed bath, having her hair brushed and braided, and then more dabs of perfume, as per her mother’s instructions, Sophia was happy to send the maid away for the day.
Penny stepped out of the room, and Sophia locked all the doors.
Not that it was necessary here, but old habits died hard.
She reached for Peaches and climbed onto the large canopied bed. The mattress was soft, and she had no other place in the world to be. Sleep came quickly, even though the sun was yet high in the sky.
It was done.
When Sophia awoke, the room was in complete darkness. She fumbled around for a flint and managed to light a nearby candle. Holding it up to the large clock, she could barely make out that it was nearly midnight. She’d slept for ten hours!
She’d missed tea and supper, and…
Yes, yes, now she was quite hungry.
A bump from next door told her that Harold was awake too. Perhaps he’d had some supper brought up. Sophia did not wish to use the bell pull and awaken a maid. They’d already been called upon to do so much extra work that day for the wedding breakfast.
Stepping into her slippers and pulling on her dressing gown, Sophia tiptoed into the adjoining corridor between their two rooms. She would not knock, just in case the noise she’d heard had not come from his chamber. But she would take a quick peek and see if he were relaxing in his sitting room. Perhaps he would be more receptive to what she had to tell him, now, after resting up from the wedding, himself.
She did not carry a candle with her so it was easy to see the light shining through a minuscule crack near the door hinges. Ever so quietly, she turned the knob and gently pushed it open. Just a tad, and if he were sleeping—
He was not.
Sleeping, that was.
Nor was he alone.
By the light of several well-placed candelabras, Sophia had difficulty making sense, at first, of the sight before her.
The valet — yes, that was the handsome valet — bent over Harold, who was face down over the arm of the sofa where she’d sat earlier.
Neither of them were clothed.
Their bodies, together, formed a kaleidoscope of masculinity and passion. Harold’s hands were above his head, seemingly captured by one of the valet’s and pinned in place. The valet was slimmer but more muscular than Harold. If not for the tenderness she could see as his other hand stroked Harold’s thigh, she would wonder if he were not attacking him.
Harold moaned as the other man…
What was he doing from behind? Oh, good Lord!
Oh, good Lord.
The scene ought to be repulsive, her logical mind reminded her, but instead, it was oddly…sensual.
And suddenly provided the answer to so many of her questions.
She pulled the door closed. She did not wish to intrude! She would perhaps be more horrified than either of them if her presence were to be discovered. The door closed with only the lightest of clicks before Sophia let out the breath she’d not realized she’d been holding.
No wonder.
No wonder!
Oh, what a stupid, stupid fool she’d been. Had her stepfather known? Of course, he’d known! And the duke! And St. John! And even the duchess, most probably. Yes, that was perhaps why she’d gone out of her way to be kind to her.
Sophia was to be the mask for her husband’s… unusual preferences.
Had Brookes known? Of course, he’d known!
Sophia returned to her own chamber and began pacing. What did this mean? Did t
his change anything?
No, not really, not at all.
Except that now she could be quite, quite certain she would not be expected to lie with her husband.
Could he even? She wondered? What if she wanted a child? This image of her turning into the prunish spinster as his wife was becoming more and more of a reality as she considered the ramifications of what she’d just seen.
She’d known they were to be trapped together, and perhaps she’d thought that if so, perhaps after a few years, or several even, they might decide to have a child.
But could such a man?
Her restlessness woke Peaches, who now danced circles around her and intermittently scratched at the door.
Sophia was no longer thinking of food, but she could not stay inside of her chamber either. She would take Peaches outside. Even though she and her dog were in a strange place, with a host of virtual strangers, she felt no worry for her safety.
With a candlestick in one hand, she slipped out of her bedchamber with Peaches following her enthusiastically.
Which way were the kitchens?
Turning to her left, Sophia aimlessly meandered along the corridor.
When she came across a stairwell, she moved the candlestick to her other hand, picked Peaches up, and carefully maneuvered them both downward. The steps were steep, and the small dog had not mastered staircases. She most likely never would. Her legs were far too short.
At what she presumed to be the ground floor, Sophia placed Peaches on the floor and entered a different corridor. This one was oddly familiar, but she was not entirely certain why.
Ah, yes, she’d walked with the duchess through here. Peaches burrowed behind a curtain and revealed a glass-paned door leading outside into what appeared to be a small courtyard.
Perfect. It was perfect.
Not wanting to be locked out, Sophia propped the door open with a nearby rock, and Peaches dashed past Sophia into the moonlight.
Obviously, her little dog had been here before. Peaches sniffed around in a large circle and found a place to squat. Well, that was one less thing to worry about, anyhow.
“Good girl, Peaches,” Sophia whispered and then shivered a little. Although the day had been warm, a chill hung in the air. When Peaches returned, Sophia removed the rock and allowed the door to close. Only now that she was inside again, she had no idea how she was going to find the kitchens. Navigating one’s way about Prescott House was difficult enough during the daytime. She ought to return to her room and call a maid.
Perhaps the maid could bring her some ratafia.
Anything to stop the image of her husband and his lover together, replaying itself over and over in her now lurid imagination.
She did not hate Harold for what he had been doing. She did not hate him for being… of such a disposition.
But she was furious!
Furious with him, with Devlin — with all of them for keeping it from her!
Little detail she ought to know, perhaps?
For it did change things. Didn’t it?
It effectively extinguished any long-term possibility of her ever having any semblance of a normal marriage. Or, she thought most likely, children.
For she was more certain than ever that Brookes and Harold had been considering an annulment as the means with which to end this marriage… but that was out of the question. Ever since Dudley had mentioned the requirements for such…
Would she never be a mother? Could she embrace a life of infidelity for herself?
But for her want of children, and but for the emotions she had experienced with Captain Brookes, she most likely would never have any need…
Giving up on her quest for food, Sophia called to Peaches, who’d begun sniffing around curiously. “Let’s go back to bed!”
The animal ignored her completely.
She’d caught the scent of something interesting, it seemed.
“Peaches!” Sophia whisper-shouted. “Peaches!”
The little dog looked up again and then took off at a run.
In the wrong direction, of course!
Sophia followed her to that large rolling gate and groaned inwardly. Peaches had slipped through the bars near the floor.
Blast! The tiny fiend must have hidden a toy sometime earlier behind one of the statues. Gnawing at a mangled doll, her tail wagging happily, Peaches showed no sign of returning to Sophia anytime soon. “Come back here, Peaches!” Sophia whispered loudly. This was the last thing she needed tonight. She loved her pet, but, oh, sometimes! “You beetle-headed little monster, come out of there!”
At Sophia’s tone, Peaches paused, appeared to consider her mistress for but a moment, and then went right back to gnawing at the toy.
Not wanting to unlock the gate and push the noisy apparatus into the wall, Sophia got down on her hands and knees to attempt to reach through. If she could get a hold of the toy, then Peaches would follow it back to this side.
Sophia could almost touch it.
She slipped her head between the bars, and her arm could now reach a few inches further. Almost…
Yes! She had it.
But as she went to slip back out, the metal bars halted her.
Sophia adjusted her position and, reaching up to tuck her ears down, attempted again to slide her head through the bars.
How had she slipped through so easily, moving forward?
She cocked her head to one side and pulled again.
And then to the other. She tried standing, and then sitting lower, until her lack of success began to chaff nearly as much as the sides of her face.
Sophia had heard swear words spoken by Dudley and his friends. She’d never used any of them, however, until the frustrations of this particular situation overtook her.
Releasing a long stream of profanity, she maneuvered into a position that would be somewhat comfortable. How was she to get out of this debacle? On her knees, she placed her elbows on the bar so that she could rest her chin on her hands.
That was slightly better.
She was trapped in a ridiculous situation.
The irony of it did not escape her.
Chapter Twelve
Normally, Devlin would not have stayed at Prescott House, but since the purchase of Dartmouth Place, he’d let go of the lodgings he normally kept in London. He now sat in his uncle’s library and wondered if he should be sent to Bedlam.
For he was beginning to make plans for when he moved out to the country. Plans that might involve bringing a wife along with him.
For Harold, he was certain, had committed to their chosen course of action.
Devlin would travel with the family to Priory Point and provide his assistance in the matter.
Sophia would also have need of him. The fallout could prove tricky, indeed.
It could be a beginning for the two of them, if all went as planned. It would be necessary that they wait, of course, but they would take this one step at a time.
If it was what she wanted.
He was reasonably certain it was her desire to be with him. She’d told him she loved him, for Christ’s sake. But so much needed to be resolved.
And much of it hung upon the courage of a cousin who had lacked confidence for all of his adult life, a man who doubted his own right to happiness because of deep-seated guilt and shame.
Dev threw back one final mouthful of scotch and contemplated the possibility of taking Sophia with him to Surrey. An interesting thought on today, of all days — her wedding day to another man.
He chuckled to himself as he recalled the spectacle the bride and groom had nearly made of the formal ceremony. Devlin had had eyes for only her, and he’d realized what was happening the first moment she’d stifled her laughter. She must have been near hysteria. The farce of it too much.
Thank God, they hadn’t lost control.
They did not need any further complications. Dev would have Harold execute their plan so that he, Dev, could propose, get a special license, and th
en take such vows himself with Sophia.
And mean every damn one of them.
The clock on the mantel showed it to be nearly one o’clock in the morning. With a long day of travel planned for the morrow, he probably ought to try to get some rest tonight, something he’d resisted for some reason. Or something he thought might simply elude him.
What with knowing that Sophia, on her wedding night, slept in the same house…
Alone…
He stood and stretched before extinguished the few candles he’d left burning. Just as he turned to head upstairs, the pitter-patter of four tiny feet caught his attention.
Peaches stood on the floor before him, tail wagging. She spun in an impatient circle and let out one quick bark. She then spun in two more circles.
It was obvious the dog wanted her to follow him.
Had she gotten locked out of Sophia’s room, somehow? He strode quickly behind the red, exasperated little body, as she ran forward and then back, returning to make sure he was following, several times. They were not headed toward the wing where he knew Sophia’s chamber to be.
Growing more curious by the moment, Dev dutifully followed the impatient little canine.
And then, as he rounded a corner near the gallery, he could not help but smile at the unexpected sight before him.
This must be the reason he’d not gone to bed earlier. For, shoved into the air, in a childlike sort of pose, was Sophia’s nightgown-clad bottom, wriggling temptingly before him.
At first, he could not discern what she was doing, but then he realized her blond head was bent awkwardly forward, poking through the bars of the gate leading to the gallery.
And she was cursing like a bloody soldier.
His assistance was, indeed, most necessary.
“Sophia, Sophia,” he said as he got closer to the little bundle of frustration, “what on earth are you doing?”
“Oh, just sitting here, staring at the floor.” Makin a vain attempt to pull herself out, she winced at her efforts. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Er, well…” Was this a trick question?
Dashing Dukes and Romantic Rogues Page 54