by Sabrina York
But of the one person he wanted to see, ached to see, there was nothing.
It was harder than he had expected, being apart from her, but until he was stronger, he could hardly storm over to her house and demand to see her.
Fear—that now that she was home she’d realized how unsuitable he was—haunted him. At night he was haunted by other specters as well. The memory of her hands, her mouth, her body on his.
When Violet and Kaitlin came into his room one morning to check on him, mercifully without their husbands in tow, Ned’s anxiety reached its peak.
“H-how is S-Sophia?” He choked on the words. He cleared his throat to swallow his panic and tried again. “Is she well?”
“She’s fine,” Violet said, handing him a cup of tea. He grimaced. He hated tea. It was all anyone had been handing him lately.
“And her back?”
“Healing nicely.”
Kaitlin, bless her, offered him a plate of biscuits. “She’s been tired though. Sleeping a lot. But that is to be expected.” She sat on the chair by the bed. “You two have had an ordeal.”
An ordeal? He recalled a night in a tiny room, hushed whispers, the glory of her embrace. Hardly an ordeal. This—this separation—was much worse. “When can I see her?”
Violet paled. “See her?”
Ned frowned. “It’s been two weeks.”
“When you’re better.” Kaitlin patted his hand.
“I’m fine,” he said. “It hardly hurts at all anymore. Why hasn’t she come to see me?”
“Oh, she has,” Violet said.
“She’s been here every day.”
Every day!
Hell and damnation. He started to throw off the covers until he remembered he wasn’t decent. He glared at his sister. “If she’s been here, why hasn’t she come up to see me?”
Violet sighed. “She’s an unmarried woman, Ned. It’s hardly proper for her to be in your rooms.”
“Besides which…” Kaitlin wrinkled her nose. “You smell terrible.”
“She does have a sensitive nose.”
He could have sworn the women were biting back smiles. Which was hardly kind. “I shall have a bath.”
“It won’t matter,” Kaitlin said. “Ewan has been adamant. She is not to visit your rooms.”
“Ewan?” he nearly spat. Fury raged. His vision clouded. Ewan was keeping her from him. He’d kill him.
“He’s even gone so far as to set footmen at your door.”
“Hell!”
“They caught her twice.” Kaitlin’s lips tweaked. “Once dressed as a maid carrying coals for your hearth and the other time as a stable lad.”
“She nearly pulled it off,” Violet said, stealing one of his biscuits.
“She did.” Kaitlin nodded. “It’s the hair, I’d wager.”
“Providential, that.”
“I must see her.” He sent his sister a pleading look. It usually worked. Or it had worked before she married Ewan. Now she simply sniffed.
“Ned, you have to understand. She is his sister. He went a little mad when she disappeared. And then, when he found her again, with you…”
“Everyone noticed.”
Ned frowned at Kaitlin. “Everyone noticed what?”
“The way you two were looking at each other. As though…”
“As though what?” he asked. But he knew.
Violet frowned. “As though you were in love.”
“We are.” A small voice for such a large confession.
Both women gaped at him. Then Violet shook her head. “You only think you are. It’s the excitement of the escapade.”
“The thrill of the adventure.”
“The exhilaration of sharing something such as this.”
“Ballocks.” He’d loved her long before he’d boarded that boat.
“Ewan feels—”
“Ewan can rot!”
“Ewan feels the two of you should be…”
“What? We should be what?” Alarm churned in his gut.
“Separate. He feels you should be separate. Until the reaction wanes.”
“Until the reaction wanes?” Hell. It would never wane. Never. “I am in love with her, Violet.”
“Ned—”
“In love. Don’t let him keep us apart.”
“You’re too young to be in love. Four and twenty.”
“You were in love and married long before then. And don’t tell me I am too young. I’m not. I might have been when I first realized my feelings, four years ago—”
“F-four years ago?” Violet blinked. She glanced at Kaitlin.
“The first time I laid eyes on her. When she came to London for her season and we sponsored her. God. I knew then.”
“Then, why?”
“Why? Why haven’t I claimed her?” He sat up straighter in the bed and forced himself not to grimace at the pain screaming in his shoulder. “Because Ewan told me, in no uncertain terms, I was not good enough for her.”
Violet leaped to her feet. “What?”
Ned appreciated her fury on his behalf. “He insisted I was to keep my distance, to ignore her and by all that was holy, never kiss her again.”
Kaitlin gasped. “You kissed her?”
And a damn sight more. He set his teeth and glared at the duchess.
Violet bristled. “Ewan St. Andrews said my brother wasn’t good enough for his precious sister?”
Ned blanched. He should never have let that slip. Violet looked furious. Oh, what had he unleashed? He’d never win Ewan’s support for his suit if he’d just soured the man’s marital bliss. “He has a point,” he found himself saying. “I don’t have a title or a fortune or any prospects to speak of.”
“Pish. Women don’t care about any of that.”
His intensity softened. “That’s what Sophia said.”
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve talked about this?”
“She knows how I feel and I know…” His throat worked. “I know she loves me too.” At least he hoped she still did. “But I have to get better before I offer for her.”
“Naturally.”
“And make my fortune.”
They stared at him. “Make your fortune?” Kaitlin asked.
Violet shook her head. “No. You should claim her now. It could take years to make a fortune. For some it takes a lifetime. Ewan wants her married this season.”
Panic flared. “This season?”
“He’s got a schedule of events for her to attend. A litany of suitors to present.”
Acid burned in his belly. A litany? “Dear God. I must see her. At once.” Speak to her. Remind her. Hold her.
“Ewan won’t allow it.”
“To hell with Ewan.” He whipped back his blankets—because who the bloody hell cared that his legs were bare?—and leaped from the bed. Those bare legs refused to hold him. He wobbled and then fell to his knees.
How mortifying.
That his sister squealed and the duchess fussed over him as though he were a babe didn’t help. Together they helped him back to bed. In that moment, he swore—swore—he would get stronger soon. He had to. Or he could lose her.
“Oh dear,” Kaitlin murmured as she settled him back in the damn bed and tucked the covers around him.
Violet swept the hair from his brow. “You should forget her.”
Ned’s chin firmed. There was no forgetting her. “As you could forget Ewan?” And to Kaitlin, “Or Edward?”
Violet paled. “Do you truly love her so much?”
“I do. She’s my everything. Won’t you please help me?”
“You’re asking me to defy my husband. My lord and master.”
The women exchanged a somber glance and then burst into laughter.
“Don’t worry, Ned.” Violet squeezed his hand. “We’ll see what we can do. Maybe between the two of us, we can sneak her in to see you.”
Oh yes. That would be lovely.
“W
e could do that. Or…” Kaitlin tapped her lip. “We could do something really daring and have everyone over for dinner.” Her tone was dry as dust.
“That would work too,” Violet allowed. Her expression firmed with a stubbornness Ned knew well. “But first I need to talk to Sophia and find out how she really feels.”
“She loves me.”
“Mmm hmm. I’ll talk to her.”
“And then?”
“And then if she does indeed love you, truly love you, then I’ll help.”
Ned wrapped his sister in a hug, which was a mistake because it pulled at his scar and started it bleeding again, but he didn’t care.
With Violet on his side, he couldn’t lose.
She was much more daunting than Ewan by far.
Chapter Thirteen
Sophia curled up in the window seat of her lavish suite and glared at the gardens. They were lovely and it was a beautiful day. Why this made her more miserable, she didn’t know.
It had been two weeks since she’d seen Ned. Two entire weeks. And though she haunted Wyeth House, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. She’d tried several times to sneak into his rooms but each time either Ewan or one of his minions stopped her.
Her heart ached for him.
She felt as though she was pining away.
She’d never been much of a piner. It was hardly in her nature to languish.
To make matters worse, her courses had come, and with them a dark cloud of desolation. In some deep well of her soul, she’d been hoping. Hoping if she were with child, Ewan would have to let her marry Ned.
As it was, whenever she brought him up, her brother would change the subject and start talking about Dittenham or the prince or this duke or that earl. She’d taken to avoiding him again so she wouldn’t snatch him bald. She’d taken to hiding in her rooms where no one could find her.
A scratch sounded at the door and she sighed. Apparently they could find her.
“Who is it?” she called. There was no one she wanted to see. Not really.
“It’s Violet, dear. And Kaitlin. We’ve brought cakes and tea. May we come in?”
“I don’t want cakes.”
A sudden silence welled on the other side of the door and then, “You don’t want cakes?”
“You don’t want cakes?”
“Oh dear. Sophia, do let us in. We need to talk to you.”
Talk, talk, talk. All anyone wanted to do anymore was talk. About marriage. About parties and musicales and balls. And some husband who wasn’t Ned. Bother.
“Go away.”
“We’ve brought news,” Kaitlin said in a hopeful tone.
“News?” Of what? Another dismal soirée?
“We’ve just come from Wyeth House.”
“We’ve just spoken to Ned—”
Sophia whipped open the door before Kaitlin finished her sentence. “Come in. Come in.”
The two swished inside. It was odd seeing Kaitlin herself carrying the tray but she hadn’t always been a duchess.
Sophia closed the door and followed them into the sitting room. “How is he? Is he well? Is he healing? Did he ask after me?”
Kaitlin laughed but Violet studied her with far too assessing an eye.
“Sit down, my dear,” she finally said. “We need to talk.”
“About Ned?” Because this was a pertinent point. If they wanted to talk about anything else, Sophia was like to hie back into her bedroom and lock the door.
“Yes. About Ned,” Kaitlin said, pouring three cups of tea from the Wedgewood pot. She handed one to Sophia, who set it back down. She didn’t want tea. Couldn’t bear it.
Violet took a cake and munched it. “First of all, he’s fine.”
“Though not yet steady on his feet,” Kaitlin added.
“No. Not very.”
“Did he ask about me?”
“He did, in fact,” the duchess said.
Sophia nearly collapsed in relief. She’d been frightened to death he’d had second thoughts about everything that had happened between them.
“He would like to see you.”
Sophia’s heart leaped, sang. She jumped to her feet and caught Violet in a hug. “Splendid! When can—”
“There’s a problem.”
Sophia sank back in her chair. “Ewan.” Her nose curled. Blast her brother. Damn and blast.
“May I ask you something?” Kaitlin asked.
“Certainly.”
“How do you feel about Ned?”
Feel? About Ned? She picked up a cake, though she didn’t want one. “What do you mean?”
“He seems to think you are in love with him. You know how men are.” Violet tittered a laugh but Sophia suspected it was not genuine. “They have an adventure with a girl, maybe exchange a kiss or two and suddenly you’re in love with him.”
“I am in love with him. And it was a damn sight more than a kiss or—” She paled. The cake crumbled. Oh dear. Perhaps she’d said too much.
Both Violet and Kaitlin gaped at her. She brushed the crumbs from her skirt and tried to appear as innocent as she could but neither of these ladies was a fool. They caught her meaning and quickly.
“I see.” A smile teased Kaitlin’s lips.
Violet’s expression, on the other hand, was ferocious. “I’ll kill him,” she said.
“You will not kill him.”
“Ewan will.”
“No. He won’t. Because you aren’t telling him.”
Violet frowned. “He needs to know. He needs to realize. Why, even now, he’s negotiating with an Italian count.”
Sophia’s gut churned. “I’m not marrying an Italian count. I’m not marrying anyone but Ned. And if Ewan tries to make me, I shall run away again.”
Kaitlin squeezed her hand. “He will never approve of a match between you and Ned.”
Violet frowned. “I understand what he is trying to accomplish. I understand he has sacrificed so much for your future and wants the best for you. But I do have to admit, it annoys me that he thinks my brother is not good enough for you.”
“It annoys me as well.” Ned was a hero. He’d saved her, he’d saved Edward. He’d saved everyone.
“The two of you are perfectly matched,” Violet said. “You would be brilliant together. And it appears you love each other. Why can’t Ewan see the truth of it? Blast, he is such a stubborn man.”
“Although…” A glimmer lit in Kaitlin’s eye. “If you’ve been compromised, well and truly compromised, he cannot refuse Ned’s suit.”
A silence settled around the small table; a slow smile curled on Violet’s face. “Isn’t there a masquerade next week at Lady Billingsly’s?”
“My lady Billingsly?” Sophia gaped. Prudence?
Violet nodded. “A pirate theme, I believe.”
Sophia laughed. Naturally.
“And doesn’t Lady Billingsly have that lovely secluded garden?” Kaitlin tapped her lips.
“And imagine if, at just the right time, Ewan and I, and, oh, I don’t know, Lady Jersey, should happen to stroll by and find his sister in Ned’s arms?”
Sophia could imagine it.
She could also imagine Ewan killing Ned right then and there. Lady Jersey be damned.
But she couldn’t say no.
It was a chance to see Ned. To talk to him and, maybe, to kiss him once more.
She couldn’t say no.
* * * * *
Ned worked very diligently to strengthen his legs and within a few days he was able to walk around his room for a bit before collapsing, and before long he was able to tackle the stairs.
He made it a point to eat heartily and sleep profusely and follow the doctor’s orders to a tee. One thought drove him—seeing Sophia again. When Violet told him of Ewan’s plans to introduce Sophia to an Italian count at an upcoming ball, Ned knew he had to be well enough to attend.
But before he saw her again, he needed to speak with Ewan and express his intentions. It was only right.
/> He called a meeting with Ewan and his brother. Technically he didn’t need Edward there but figured he might need the protection.
His knees wanted to knock as he dressed for the encounter but he did not allow it. When he arrived for the meeting, which was to be held in Edward’s study, he was ten minutes early.
Still, they were both waiting.
Ewan did not look pleased. He was seated across from Edward at the enormous desk at the far end of the room. It seemed to take forever for Ned to traverse the space.
“Edward.” He nodded. “Ewan.”
“What’s this about, boy?” the bear snarled. No so much as a how do you do.
“Sir.” Ned cleared his throat.
“Aw, fuck.” Ewan raked his hair. “Anything that starts with sir cannot be good.”
“Sir, I know your sister is everything to you.”
“Damn right she is.” His enormous fists clenched. Ned did not care. He didn’t care if Ewan killed him here and now. Without Sophia his life had no meaning.
“She’s everything to me too—”
“Stop right there.” Ewan shot to his feet and glowered. “I doona want to hear any more.”
“You must!”
“Must I?” His face went a little red and the muscles on his neck bunched. “A worthless pup like you? Sniffing around my sister’s skirts?”
“Ahem,” said Edward. “That is my brother of whom you speak.”
“And?” Ewan’s fists tightened.
“And your wife’s brother.” Edward let that sink in for a moment. “Her beloved brother.”
Even though his throat worked and a hint of horror swept over his features, Ewan stood his ground. “I will not consider it.”
Ned stiffened his spine. He had expected no less. “Are you certain?”
Ewan crossed his arms. His jaw clenched.
“A pity, that. I had hoped this could have been worked out civilly but I see that I shall have to resort to my backup plan.” He headed for the door.
“Ned!” Edward’s call stilled his steps. “Your backup plan?”