The Scandalous Life 0f A Betrayed Heiress (Historical Regency)

by Lucy Langton

  “My future is laid out before me. It’s very clear.”

  “It is not,” Philip said definitively. He watched as Sophia considered his words, and their meaning. Yes, Philip was conveying that her future was certainly not set in stone, nor was his own. In his estimation, anything in life could happen, and being stuck in a bad marriage was not one’s fate. Even if that bad marriage just so happened to be with his own brother.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to read more books at Willow Grange. There’s scarce anything else to do,” Philip said, referring to the pace of life, and also his useless brother.

  “But the library there is so paltry. Books about philosophy and history and geography are well enough, but my heart requires fiction.”

  “I’ll build you a new library, one of your own,” Philip said. In truth, it wouldn’t be hard to do.

  “Where would you put it?” Sophia asked.

  “I’d tear down my brother’s library and build yours over it.”

  “Oh, stop,” Sophia replied with a grin.

  “It’s true. The chap would never even notice.”

  “I find that hard to believe. He sits at his desk constantly.”

  “He’s just pretending to do things,” Philip assured her. “That’s his way. Timothy masks that he’s nursing a hangover by seating himself at his desk and staring at papers that he can scarce comprehend.”

  “Do you enjoy books?” Sophia asked, tilting her head to the side.

  “I do not.”

  “But how can that be?”

  “I read a great deal of those history and philosophy books in that library, and I retained most of the information. I studied military history a great deal to become a soldier. But I must admit that I don’t have the mind for fiction. And these days, I’m much more content doing things than I am thinking about things.”

  “I suppose that is admirable. Unfortunately, I could spend the better part of my life being trapped in my imagination.”

  “I would imagine that’s a lovely place to be.”

  Silence followed and Sophia returned to her book. Philip frowned yet again, as it meant that her attention was stolen from him once more.

  Philip looked down at his hands. Rough hands that were not the hands of a gentleman. Was he being utterly ridiculous in thinking that a woman of Sophia’s calibre could ever share his affections? He was a soldier, would never be a duke. Although he did not lack for funds and intelligence, there was another brief moment where Philip considered how different his life would be if he were the older Clumber brother and not the younger.

  Although Philip had slight moments of introspection and doubt, what really crystallised his character was confidence. True confidence. And he knew that above all else.

  “May I ask you another question?”

  Sophia put her book down and rolled her eyes. “I can’t prevent it,” she replied.

  “Would you read your book aloud to me? Just a passage?”

  “Are you being serious?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

  “Naturally, I am.”

  “If you insist,” Sophia replied with a pleasant smile. She looked down at her book and began.

  As the days and weeks passed, Marina could scarce understand the way that Lord Beckett looked at her when they passed in the hall. He would poke his head into lessons in the morning, checking to see that Marina was occupied, happy, and even safe.

  This kind of curiosity, protectiveness, and concealed interest shot shivers down Marina’s spine, and filled her with a longing that she had never tasted before nor could she ever understand.

  Lord Beckett never touched her, never spoke with her, and yet, she could hear his words throughout the day, feel his touch from afar, and sensed that his presence was always with her, no matter where in the grand mansion she might be.

  Was it love? Marina tried to grasp the meaning of it. She had never felt what it was like to have a man in love with her, let alone a man that employed her, and so the sensations and general experience of it were foreign to her, at best.

  Sophia closed the book and placed it in her lap, awaiting Philip’s reply.

  Philip took a moment to consider the passage, Sophia’s reading of it, and the thoughts that it brought to mind. He began to laugh uproariously.

  “Are you laughing at me?” Sophia asked, confusion and exasperation on her face.

  Philip was laughing so hard; he was not able to reply.

  “Fine, go ahead and laugh,” Sophia protested, picking up her book yet again. “I will simply ignore you.”

  “Please don’t do that,” Philip said through his laughter, unable to make it stop.

  Sophia continued to ignore him and read her book.

  “Lady, I beg of you,” Philip said, clutching his belly from the pain of the laughter.

  After a few moments, Philip noted that Sophia was keeping to her word, because she was thoroughly ignoring him. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he brought a hand up to hers, to try to get her to bring the book down.

  “Lady, please,” he protested.

  “Please, what?” Sophia asked, still slightly annoyed by his laughter.

  “Just, please . . . “ Philip said, and before he even knew what he was doing, Philip leaned across and placed his lips upon Sophia’s, stealing a gentle kiss.

  The deliciousness of it was past description, for Philip could feel the warmth of Sophia’s full lips against his, and his next inclination was to open his mouth, begging her to do the same. It was the one impulse that Philip managed to keep at bay, for he continued to gently kiss her, and was delighted that Sophia did not pull away. With one hand on her wrist, he took the other to her cheek and pulled her even closer. Sophia softly moaned, and from Philip’s chest came a growl of hunger.

  After the kiss had gone on for some time, Sophia pulled away and Philip felt that his heart might explode from the finality of it. Was that the last kiss? Might he never enjoy that sweet taste again? His fears were confirmed when Sophia finally spoke.

  “Sir, you must never do that again,” she said softly.

  Philip’s heart pounded in his chest. “I cannot promise that,” he replied. He was being utterly honest. Sophia deserved no less.

  “I beg of you to swear to me that you’ll never do that again,” Sophia demanded once more.

  “I cannot,” Philip said softly, turning and looking out of the window. At his side, Sophia turned and did the same. As the carriage gently swayed back and forth, Philip revelled in what had just happened. He was already dreaming about it in his imagination and thinking of when it might happen again.

  Then compunction hit him. What must Sophia be feeling? Certainly, she felt guilt, maybe even regret. It pained Philip to think she might be feeling these things.

  “I apologise for that,” Philip finally said.

  “We mustn’t ever speak of it, that’s all,” Sophia reasoned.

  “If it would make you more comfortable to do so, then we shan’t,” Philip replied.

  He was out of breath. His heart continued to pound, and his head was spinning. He hoped that Sophia would think of that kiss as often as he was going to think about it. He hoped it might comfort her in times of darkness and distress, for Philip was certain that what Sophia would discover in London would bring her distress. It would not be long before Timothy would reveal his true nature. His terrible secret. He couldn’t keep it from Sophia much longer.

  Philip wished to protect Sophia, but it was important that she learn the truth sooner rather than later, if only so that it might pull her into Philip’s arms, instead of the arms of his brother.

  Chapter 12

  Lord Timothy was in a state. He had been in London for an entire week and Lady Helena had not yet come to him. There had been letters, of course, stating her affection and her desire to see him. But she still would not allow him a visitation. What in bloody hell was going on? Why was the woman being so hot and cold, and why did that excite his imagination even furthe
r?

  Should things continue in this way, Timothy feared that he might need to come to her whether she invited him or not. He’d show up at her door, break it down if he had to, if only to be in the same room as Lady Helena for as long as she would allow him.

  Timothy considered the fact that his wife was arriving soon. Poor Sophia. He did wish to give her what she needed, but thoughts of Lady Helena plagued him no end, and Timothy found that he could scarce think about anything else. When Sophia arrived, he’d be cordial at best. That was all he could do. He would ensure that she was well taken care of and entertained during her stay.

  And if they attended a ball or two, which they inevitably would, he would feel pride with his wife clinging to his arm. What’s more, he’d be looking about the entire time to see if Lady Helena was beholding his happy union. Perhaps that would get a rise out of her. That would stir her. For it seemed like nothing else in that moment was doing the job.

  Despite his turmoil, Lord Timothy remained calm. He refused to bark at the servants or take his grief out on anyone else. He’d remain upright and composed, and he would wait. Surely, if he was patient enough, Lady Helena would come to him. Or he would go to her? Oh, his mind was in shambles! That was the nature of true suffering, Timothy was sure of it. Suffering was longing desperately for another and being led back and forth all the while.

  If only he could inspect Lady Helena’s mind. If only she would sit down with him and lay herself bare, in more than one respect. Then she would be his. If Timothy merely understood what he was working with, he’d be able to mine the treasure that was Lady Helena White.

  “M’Lord, Lady Sophia has arrived,” the head footman proclaimed.

  “Very well. Show her in,” Timothy replied.

  As Lady Sophia was taken directly to her chambers, Philip took it upon himself to find and greet his brother. “You look like hell,” he said.

  “You give new meaning to the term ‘brotherly love’,” Timothy replied, more than a tad annoyed.

  “Perhaps you’ve been working too hard getting the house in order,” Philip said, and Timothy noted dubiousness in his brother’s voice.

  “That’s exactly it.”

  “Or maybe your mistress is bringing you woe.”

  Timothy looked at his brother silently.

  ***

  In her chambers, Sophia was still reeling from what had happened in the carriage ride. Aside from the heart pounding and difficulty catching her breath, she could also feel a dampness between her thighs that she had never felt before. The sensation was delicious and confusing at the same time. What had Philip done to her? How was it that he had been so bold? It all happened so quickly that she found she could not wrap her head around it. In fact, she could scarce think clearly at all.

  Almost as passionate as the kiss itself was the way that Philip looked at her when she pulled away, as though by doing so he had suffered a kind of death. She wished to linger longer, and even to go further, but to do so would be a social suicide the likes of which Sophia never thought herself capable of.

  She couldn’t bear to speak to her husband when she entered the townhouse. Sophia demanded to be shown to her room immediately so that she might escape and consider things. As her senses began to return, she looked about the room and noticed how well-appointed her chambers were, upholstered in a soft blue with an ample bed. Would she finally get to share that bed with her husband? Sophia feared that the bed might only be used to dream of Philip at night in the secrecy of the darkness.

  “M’Lady,” Arabella said, and Sophia jumped at the sound of her voice. “Are you quite all right?”

  “Yes, you merely startled me,” Sophia replied, bringing her hand up to her chest to still her pounding heart.

  “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “No, no.”

  “Might I bring you some tea?”

  “That would be wonderful, Arabella. I thank you,” Sophia replied.

  Yes, a good, strong cup of tea was what she needed. Sophia had not eaten on the long carriage ride to town, nor did they stop for rest. That combined with the kiss made Sophia feel as though she was not standing on solid ground.

  Sophia seated herself in a chair before hearing a gentle rasp at the door. She feared that it was Philip, checking in on her or, worse, wanting to take things further. She was both relieved and disappointed to see that it was her husband at the door.

  “May I come in?” Timothy asked.

  “Of course,” Sophia replied, straightening her dress. It was as though he had caught her in the act of kissing. Sophia was suffused with guilt and embarrassment by her husband’s presence.

  “I trust that the journey was not too tiring,” he said, seating himself upon her bed. Seeing him on her bed filled Sophia with a number of other confusing feelings.

  “I fear that I am exhausted,” Sophia replied.

  “Arabella has gone to fetch tea. She said as much as we passed in the hall.”

  “Yes, that should strengthen me. As well as something to eat.”

  “I’ll have something sent up.”

  Timothy looked at Sophia tenderly, which led her to believe that he did not suspect a thing. But why would he ever suspect? She’d never tell him of the kiss, nor would Philip. In fact, it would never be spoken of for the rest of her days. She’d go on with her life as it was laid before her and that was that. In time, perhaps the memory would go away, and Sophia would be free in her conscience.

  “I fear that I have a rather busy day, as I expressed in my letter,” Timothy said.

  “Yes, you sound terribly busy. Best to take care of business and not worry about me.”

  “There is a ladies tea tomorrow that I have secured you an invitation for. It’s a rather important affair. All of society’s most important ladies will be there, including the patronesses of Almack’s. You will want to wear your best gown,” he instructed.

  “I look forward to it,” Sophia replied.

  It was something of a lie, for although Sophia was a woman who knew her own worth, she was still nervous to be introduced into society. Philip had warned her about it, and his demeanour was quite dark when he did so, and for that reason and so many more, Sophia was going to need to be on her guard.

  The lilac dress would be the right choice. After Timothy excused himself and left her company, Sophia went to work making preparations, for she found that doing so kept her mind off of things.

  She laid the lilac gown upon the bed and selected some amethyst jewels to accompany it. Arabella would see to her hair, which she always did to perfection, and then she’d be off to face England’s most terrifying women. And they did come from all across England, after all. Since it was high season, it meant that all the wealthiest families from the country were spending time in town. There was no room for mistakes or imperfections of any kind. It would be one of the most important days in Sophia’s life as a future duchess.

  “Here’s the tea, M’am,” Arabella said, entering with a tray.

  “Put it over there, Arabella,” Sophia replied kindly.

  “Such a beautiful gown,” Arabella said, putting the tray down and walking over to the bed.

  “It’s one of the finest I’ve ever owned.”

  “The colour suits you. Purple is for royalty.”