It was as if all his cynicism had been purged from him. Gently, he lifted his weight and lay down on the bed beside her. He pulled her to him and smiled as she nuzzled her head against his chest.
For a moment, they lay there in silence while he trailed his fingers over her silken backside. When she lifted up to look at him, her bright and brilliant eyes shone with pure love. He tensed as she confirmed what he saw. “I love you, Nathan.”
Before he could fight against his fear and see if he could offer her the words he knew she wanted to hear, a knock came at the bedchamber door.
“Sophia, I had a nightmare,” Harry called.
Sophia bounded out of the bed and donned her white night rail. She disappeared from his view, then reappeared just as quickly. “Harry is used to sleeping with me. He’s scared.”
Nathan saw the unspoken plea in her eyes. Hell, he could not believe what he was about to say. “Let him come in. I’ll make myself a pallet on the floor, and he can sleep in the bed with you.”
Sophia raced back to Nathan and kissed him. “There’s no need for a pallet!” she exclaimed. “We can all fit nicely on my bed.”
Hours later, as Nathan lay there listening to the even breathing of Sophia and Harry in sleep, he rolled over to get more comfortable and almost fell off the bed. Growling, he flipped onto his back. Tomorrow he would have a man-to-boy talk with Harry. He listened to their breathing awhile more and he realized with a start that he was smiling yet again. Sophia made him happy, and he fought back against the feeling he knew was not bound to last.
Sophia awoke the next morning alone with a smile on her face. Any man who would allow his wife’s brother to sleep in bed with them had to care. She rolled to her side to get out of bed, and as she did, she saw a folded note with her name on it on the pillow Nathan had slept on. Her first love letter, perhaps? Grinning, she snatched the note up and unfolded it.
Dear Sophia,
I received an urgent missive from my cousin, Ellison, my Aunt Harriet’s son. When I’m absent from London, Ellison reads all correspondence I receive in regard to my recently purchased shipping line, Zephyrus Shipping. It seems one of my ships was caught in a terrible storm. It sustained great damage, and we lost several of the crew.
Sophia’s breath caught in her throat as she read. How awful!
I cannot, in good conscience, leave it to Ellison to inform their families, as I am the owner.
Sophia looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. She was supremely glad Nathan was the sort of man who felt compelled to notify the unfortunate relatives personally, even if it did mean it had taken him from her side.
Rest assured, I will be back within the week. And as I think I know you a bit by now, you can quit worrying. I did not wake you to say good-bye because it would have been that much harder for me to leave, and time was of the essence.
A grin quirked Sophia’s lips. He did know her mind. She had wondered, and now he had just set her at ease and given her hope. Not only had he been concerned about her feelings but he had admitted that leaving her would be difficult. She pressed the letter to her chest for a moment before lowering it and continuing to read.
I’ve informed Mr. Dobbs and Gibson that you are completely and utterly in charge in my absence. If you need anything at all, simply ask them. Now, there is a surprise in the stables waiting for you. Go there and find Mr. Burk the stable master.
Your husband (that feels odd to write),
Nathan
She lay there for a moment and pondered his last words. That feels odd to write. Was it bad that he’d written that or was she reading too much into it? After all, it felt strange to her that she was now a duchess. He could have just signed the note Scarsdale and not Your husband. But he was, indeed, her husband.
Forever.
The small nugget of hope that her mother had told her to keep in her heart was now a large boulder. Humming, she got out of bed and struggled valiantly into one of her new morning gowns, which was made of a delicate, rose-colored muslin. Of course, the proper thing to do would have been to allow Mary Margaret to dress her, but honestly, it seemed a tad ridiculous to constantly be dressed by someone else. She had been putting on her own clothes her entire life, and whether that made her less of a lady or not, she intended, for the most part, to keep taking care of herself.
After donning another pair of new slippers―it felt very indulgent but lovely to own two pairs of shoes―she took a quick glance in the looking glass and went downstairs in search of Harry. She found him in the dining room, cheeks puffed with a mouthful of food. She told him she was headed to the stables and he could meet her there, and then she made her way out the door.
As she did so, she noticed a footman slip out behind her, and when she inquired as to why, he informed her that he was to accompany her wherever she went. She smiled at the thought that Nathan was concerned about her safety, even if it did seem a tad overcautious. She didn’t see how a stranger could possibly slip past all the staff here.
Sophia strolled onto the terrace where the steps led to the garden, the footman walking a respectful distance behind. She made her way through the topiary garden with its formal plots lining both sides of a gravel path she knew led to a tunnel-like arbor. Inside the tunnel, she took a deep breath and filled her lungs with the crisp scent of the fresh, chilled air.
As she ventured closer to the stables, her jaw dropped open. The building was so grand it could be a house all on its own. It was a quadrangle, and at the main entrance, benches sat along each side of a covered space.
Male voices drifted from the interior of the stables, and then four men came ambling outside. As they saw her, the laughter and talking stopped, and they all stared at her. She suddenly felt very self-conscious, but she straightened her spine and raised her shoulders, determined to make Nathan proud.
“Are one of you perchance Mr. Burk?” she asked.
The tallest of the men—a barrel-chested, red-haired, red-bearded man—raised a hand. “Aye, that’d be me. Can I help ye?” His words held the ring of a Scot.
She nodded. “I’m Sophia.”
“Criminy!” Mr. Burk pulled off his hat and sketched a jerky bow. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
The three other men quickly removed their hats and bowed, as well, each mumbling their apologies.
Sophia laughed. “Heavens! There’s no need to apologize. My husband said to find you, Mr. Burk, that you had a surprise for me.”
“It’s a grand one,” he said with a twinkle in his sky-blue eyes. “Go on with the three of ye.” He waved his hand at the other men. “Ye too,” he commanded the footman who had been following her.
“But I’m to stay with her when she’s out,” the young man replied.
“I’ll watch her, ta be sure, and deliver her back ta the house myself.”
The footman nodded, and all the men departed with backward glances and whispers. Sophia self-consciously straightened her gown and toyed with her short hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Mr. Burk staring at her. “I suppose I’m not the sort of duchess everyone would have expected Nathan to marry.” She was sure they wondered why he had not chosen a great beauty.
Mr. Burk smiled as he motioned her ahead of him and through the door. “No, Yer Grace, ye are not, but that’s a good thing, not a bad. Yer husband has a great deal of good in him and a keen mind, but until ye, he never seemed ta use his mind when choosing his female company.”
She felt her eyes widen in surprise at the man’s honest words, and his face turned so red it nearly matched his beard.
“I’m sorry I overspoke,” he mumbled.
“You didn’t. You just surprised me with your candor.”
He laughed. “My mother always said the good Lord gave me too much of it.”
“I think you have the perfect amount,” Sophia said. “Have you worked for Nathan long?”
“Oh, aye. I’ve been stable master here longer than His Grace has been alive. I was here when he was born
, helped him grow into one of the finest equestrians around, and then watched him get into a heap of mischief. If ye ever want ta hear some stories, just say the word.”
With that, Mr. Burk strode ahead into the stables, which were two-stories high and resounded with male voices, yapping dogs, and neighing horses. He passed three stalls and stopped at the fourth, where a glorious white horse stood majestic and silent.
“That is the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen,” Sophia whispered in awe.
“That’s good, Yer Grace, because Scarsdale purchased her for ye.”
“But I don’t even know how to ride!” Sophia exclaimed.
Mr. Burk chuckled. “I know. Scarsdale told me. He intends to teach you himself, but I’m ta get you started. He jest did not say it was ta be today.”
A wonderful thought occurred to Sophia. “Mr. Burk, how long would you say it would take to learn to ride a horse like this?”
“Well, it depends on the person doing the teaching and the person being taught.”
She locked gazes with the man. “Well, Nathan will be the teacher and I’ll be the pupil.”
Mr. Burk tilted his head. “I’d say a good month for ye ta feel steady.”
Joy spread like fire through her veins, rapid and consuming. Nathan wanted to spend time with her. And she was going to use every moment of it to show him that he loved her, too.
Nathan went straight to White’s when he arrived in London late at night three days later. He wanted to speak to Ellison and learn what he knew about the accident with the ship. Ellison always spent Saturday night at White’s. He made his way inside, and after handing off his overcoat, gloves, and hat, he wound through the crowded room searching for his cousin, nodding to acquaintances as he went.
Near the front of the establishment, at the table occupying the space in front of the bow window, Ellison, Aversley, and Harthorne sat engaged in conversation. Nathan strode toward the table, and as he did, he caught Ellison’s eye. His cousin waved a hand in greeting and then said something to the men. Aversley, never one to show emotion, glanced at Nathan and raised his drink as if he was toasting.
Nathan frowned. He had a suspicion Ellison had told them Nathan had married, and when he neared the table and Harthorne turned and grinned at him, he knew it had to be so. Wariness caused him to slow his progress toward the table. He’d not told Harthorne or Aversley about his impending marriage when he’d come to London to get his aunt because he’d known they’d ask questions, and frankly, he’d not known exactly what to say. He raked a hand through his hair as he reached the table and realized he still didn’t know what to say.
He’d married Sophia out of pity and guilt. Now something more was there, but he was not ready to speak of it. He didn’t even understand it yet.
“You old devil!” Harthorne exclaimed as he shoved his chair back, clapped Nathan on the shoulder, and thrust a drink into his hand. “I would have bet my entire fortune—not that there’s much of it—that you wouldn’t succumb to marriage for at least another ten years! Thank God, I didn’t make that bet. I cannot believe you’re married. A toast!”
Nathan glanced around the room. This was one of those times when Harthorne’s perpetual optimism was annoying. Luckily, the other gentlemen in the club appeared too preoccupied with their own conversations to pay attention to Harthorne.
Harthorne elbowed him in the ribs. “Raise your glass, Scarsdale. Don’t you want to toast your marriage?”
Nathan raised his glass to his lips, downed the liquor, and savored the instant warmth the brandy created from his throat all the way to his belly. He pulled out a chair and sat beside Aversley as Harthorne returned to his seat.
Aversley stared across the table at Nathan with assessing eyes. “I noticed you didn’t answer Harthorne when he asked you if you wanted to toast your marriage.”
Nathan ground his teeth. He should have known Aversley would not miss a thing. “I toasted it, didn’t I?”
Aversley drummed his fingers on the rim of his untouched glass. “Not really. You gulped down your drink, which is not the same. Why didn’t you tell us you were getting married?”
“How did you know I was married?” Nathan shot back.
Aversley glanced at Ellison, who shrugged. “Sorry, but how the devil was I supposed to know you didn’t want anyone to know?” Ellison defended. “I’d say that’s going to be a pretty hard secret to keep unless you plan to never bring your wife to London and introduce her to Society.”
Nathan stared down at the glass in his hand and swirled around the few drops of liquor that remained. Ellison’s innocent suggestion held a certain appeal, but only because Nathan didn’t want the ton to change Sophia, or worse yet, hurt her with cruelty.
“Good God, Scarsdale, your cousin isn’t right, is he?” Harthorne demanded, his face turning red with, knowing Harthorne, indignation. “Even if you’ve been trapped into marriage, you cannot keep your wife a secret. That’s callous, even for you.”
“It’s nice to know you think my callousness has its limits,” Nathan said.
“You know what I mean,” Harthorne replied.
The problem was Nathan did know what he meant. He was callous to most people because he believed it better to be unfeeling than wounded. But Sophia had made him question himself. “I was not trapped into marriage,” he said, choosing his words with care.
Harthorne grinned. “I knew it! You married for love!”
Nathan stiffened. He’d not yet decided if he could relent to love and he certainly wasn’t going to discuss it here and now.
Harthorne leaned forward and motioned to Scarsdale and then Ellison. “Pay up. I win.”
“You bet on why I married?” Nathan said, irritated that his marriage had been the topic of a wager.
“Stop glaring, Scarsdale,” Aversley replied. “We included no one in the wager but the three of us. It’s not as if we announced your marriage to everyone here.”
“At least one of you comprehends when to be discreet,” Nathan snapped, spearing his cousin with a look, which Ellison carefully avoided meeting.
“So,” Aversley began, “as much as I know it pains you, you must confirm or deny if you married for love so I will know whether to pay my greedy brother-in-law the large sum I wagered.”
“How much did you wager?” Nathan asked.
“One hundred pounds. Did you or did you not marry for love?”
“I did not,” Nathan said, wishing his conscience would let him lie, but it simply wouldn’t.
Aversley grinned triumphantly at Harthorne and Ellison. “You both owe me one hundred pounds.”
Harthorne groaned as Ellison cleared his throat. “Not so fast, Aversley. We do not yet know why my cousin married. I may be the winner, after all. You said it was because he was trapped and he’s already told us that was not the case. So, cousin, I wagered that you married for pity. After Mother described what your new duchess looks like, I knew it had to be pity. And no one knows better than I that you have an abundance of that one particular emotion. Tell us, did you marry the wench out of pity?”
Nathan’s pulse pounded in his ears as he searched for a thread of control. Normally he would have felt remorse that he’d unknowingly made Ellison feel pitied, but the anger surging through his veins washed away any regret. He placed his palms flat on the table and leaned in. “You have crossed a line, Ellison. I suggest you retreat or the consequences will be dire.”
Ellison didn’t respond, but Nathan noted his cousin’s flared nostrils and sweat-dampened brow. “Never refer to my wife as a wench. That will get you an appointment with my pistol. Are we clear?”
“Yes.” Ellison swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry.”
He would have accepted an apology from his cousin for almost any slight he could think of, but not one against Sophia. She didn’t deserve it, and he wanted to make the point unforgettable. “Never ask me again why I married.” He made sure his gaze included Aversley and Harthorne. “It’s none of your
damned business. I value each of your friendships, but I will cut all ties and never look back if you ever say another word that could hurt my wife.”
“Agreed,” Ellison said weakly.
“For the record,” Harthorne replied, “I never uttered a disparaging remark against the duchess. I’ll be pleased to meet her and count her as a friend.”
“I appreciate that.”
Nathan turned to Aversley, who shrugged. “Your secrets are yours to keep. Who am I to pry? And another point for the record, I don’t give a damned four Sundays to the next why you married. I simply like to win and felt I would. Amelia and I will do everything in our power to help ease your wife into Society. If you think she needs help, that is.”
The tension vibrating through Nathan trickled out of him. He leaned back in his chair and raised his glass to signal he needed a refill. As the waiter appeared and whisked their tumblers away, he thought about what Aversley had offered. “To be blunt, I’ve not yet decided whether Sophia will live most of her days in the country or stay in Town with me when I’m here. But I do plan to introduce her to Society as is proper. I hadn’t considered it until now, but if there is a chance Amelia would lend her expertise in helping Sophia prepare for that eventuality, I would appreciate it. I could have you both out for an extended stay, or just Amelia, if you could spare her.”
“I make it a habit never to let Amelia out of my sight,” Aversley said. “I’ll come, as well. When and where?”
“To Whitecliffe. Two weeks should be sufficient time.”
“What brings you to Town now?” Aversley inquired as the waiter reappeared and handed them each a fresh glass of brandy.
“One of my ships was caught in a storm, and I lost several of my crew. I’ve come to let the families know, assess the damage, and determine how much it’s going to cost me.”
“I told you it was ludicrous to buy a shipping line,” Ellison said. “Trade is for the lower classes.”
My Seductive Innocent Page 20