“Yes, all the time,” she breathed airily before adding sadly, “though it'll never be.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'm betrothed to another, the repulsive Reverend Balfour, to be exact.”
Samuel's heart stilled in his chest as he pushed her back so he could look straight into her eyes. “How is that possible?” he asked a bit forcefully.
Sophia's head lowered, and he could swear he saw tears forming in her luminous eyes. “My father arranged it, knowing my potential for a favorable match has been drastically reduced, thanks to Gilbert. I suppose when you're a social pariah who is nearly on the shelf, you should be grateful for such a match, but I confess, I am not.”
Taking her shoulders into his hands, Samuel gave her a gentle shake. “Don't do it. Don't marry the Reverend. You'll be forever miserable, Sophia.”
“This I know, but my options are limited. What else am I supposed to do?”
“Marry me,” he suggested without thinking.
Sophia threw her head back and laughed. “I daresay this dream is the best one yet, Samuel. You've never proposed marriage before.”
Her sudden reminder that she thought she was merely dreaming brought Samuel up cold. Of course, if she were only dreaming, he couldn't trust a word she said. For all he knew, she wasn't really betrothed to another or hadn't truly enjoyed his kiss. He slowly pushed away from the wall, setting Sophia away from him as he did so.
“You're right; this is all a silly dream, little lamb. Crawl back into bed, and as soon as you awake, you'll realize you're not truly betrothed.”
“And that you don't truly wish to marry me?” she asked as he shooed her towards the cot.
He hesitated before answering, “Believe whatever you wish, for there's no harm in that.”
“Yes, my lord, whatever you say,” she said with a yawn as he carefully pulled the blanket over her body.
With one final kiss on her brow, Samuel turned and fled from the cottage, feeling as if a confusing jumble of emotions were chasing him, for, in fact, they were.
Sophia held her breath as she waited for Samuel to leave the cottage. As soon as he was gone, she let out a strangled sob. What had she done? She felt ashamed of herself for deceiving Lord Coldwell, for pretending she was asleep as she practically begged him to kiss her.
Shame washed over her as she thought of her actions, about how she'd allowed herself to be taken in by him, branded by his passionate kisses in a way that would forever alter her being. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't attracted to Samuel, for he was hard to resist with his broad shoulders, towering height, and dimples that could melt even the stoniest of hearts.
What she'd allowed to transpire between them just now was dangerous. Her cheeks burned at the thought of him discovering she'd lied to him, that she'd been fully aware of what she'd been doing the entire time.
Sophia would go to the grave with the secret in her heart.
Rolling to her side, Sophia gazed at the crumbling wall. What was Samuel doing at the woodsman's cottage anyway and had he meant what he'd said when he'd offered to marry her? Such a strange encounter and one that would leave her forever confused.
But though she was ashamed of her wantonness, Sophia couldn't regret the experience. At this point, she knew that her life would never be what she wanted it to be. She hoped to receive word from Aunt Caroline any day, in which case, she'd be off to Cornwall to start a new life as a runaway. It was either that or resign herself to the awful plight of becoming the Reverend's wife, a fate she refused to succumb to.
No, she'd never regret allowing Samuel to kiss her. For all she knew, it would probably be the only time she'd experience such a marvelous event. What she would regret, however, was the fact that it would never happen again. Who knew the Earl could make her feel so alive, so womanly, so cherished?
Pulling herself from her warm cocoon and her disturbing thoughts, Sophia attempted to right her appearance as much as possible. She knew she better return to the house before her parents grew overly concerned at her disappearance.
She flinched as she exited the dim cottage, the bright sun blinding her. Where had Samuel disappeared to, she wondered as she returned to her abandoned painting and began quickly packing her supplies away.
With her box of supplies beneath one arm and her now dry painting under the other, Sophia started back towards the house. Halfway there, she paused as a disturbing thought occurred to her, causing her to drop her belongings. Samuel was spying on her, that was the only explanation there was.
Anger bubbled up inside of her. Why would he be spying on her, she wondered as her mind tried to concoct a feasible explanation. Though she failed to come up with a reason, her instincts told her it was true. The only rational motive for Samuel being on Goldborne property sequestered away in the abandoned woodsman's cottage, was if he were spying on her.
Fear slithered up her spine. Something wasn't right, she could feel it deep in her bones. She instantly allowed her fear to turn to anger as she retrieved her belongings and quickened her pace. Oh, what a coil this entire afternoon had been, she thought with an irrational amount of anger, that was merely trying to disguise the confusion and fear she felt.
What could she do now? She felt an even greater urge to flee but was rational enough to realize that it wouldn't be wise until she knew she had someplace to go. With a heavy heart, she returned to the house, knowing that she needed to devise a backup plan in case Aunt Caroline took too long to get back to her.
Without hesitation, she dashed to her bedchamber and took out a quill and parchment and began penning a letter to the only other person in Cornwall she knew—Captain Conrad Wallace, a man she once vowed she'd never speak to again. She found it darkly ironic that she was now writing to him seeking his assistance, but desperation did funny things to a person.
For days, Sophia refused to leave Goldborne Hall. She didn't want to subject herself to the spying eyes of Samuel. She still hadn't figured out precisely what he was doing on their property, but she knew it involved her. To combat that, she'd holed up in the house, hating every dull moment of it.
Reverend Balfour came calling once more, his children in tow, and she'd been unable to escape. She sat properly on the settee as he introduced each one to her as they stood in order of the oldest down to the youngest one.
“This is Henry, Eliza, Matilda, John, Gabriel, Ruth, and Esther,” he said proudly as each child gave a small curtsy or bow.
Sophia smiled at each child, wishing she didn't harbor such awful feelings towards becoming their mother. It was clear that they were nice children and could use the influence of a kind woman, but she refused to believe that woman had to be her.
“Pleased to meet you all,” she said through gritted teeth. “Would you like some refreshment?”
The children's eyes grew wide with excitement at her offer as she rang for the maid to bring tea.
“We are eagerly counting down the days until you return from your house party,” Reverend Balfour said as he took a seat on the settee next to her.
All Sophia could do was offer him a tense, insincere smile, for she could feel her mother's glare burning into her, warning her not to be rude.
“Yes, it will be such a happy occasion,” her mother interjected to cover Sophia's lack of response. “I trust everything is in order?”
“Yes. I've even managed to dispose of all of my late wife's belongings, so you don't feel uncomfortable in your new home,” Reverend Balfour said proudly as he glanced at her.
Sophia wanted to scoff. As if that action alone would make her comfortable in his home.
“Your mother has also generously arranged for your maid, Ellen, to come with you into your new life. A gesture we both thought would make your transition easier.”
“Oh, how kind,” Sophia quipped dryly.
The conversation ran dry while the children eagerly began to partake of the plethora of refreshments the maid just brought in on the tea cart. Sophia sipped slowly on a c
up of tea as she waited eagerly for the visit to end.
Once everyone had finished their tea, Reverend Balfour began rounding up his children so they could leave. After their final goodbyes were said and the entire family had disappeared, Lady Whitworth turned to Sophia and chastised, “Would it hurt you to treat the man with kindness? He is doing our family a great favor.”
Appalled, Sophia retorted, “Have you ever stopped to consider that we are doing his family a great favor as well? I'm not an idiot, mother. I do realize that Father has offered to pay the man a large sum in exchange for taking me off of your hands.”
Her mother gasped. “It's your dowry, Sophia, not a bribe. We didn't arrange for you to wed the Reverend to dispose of you. This marriage is for your benefit, and someday I hope you will realize that.”
“Not likely.”
Her mother rose from her seat and straightened the front of her dress. “I daresay I pray you are more pleasant to be around at Tisdale Manor, for I shall be much ashamed if you continue acting like a sullen child at the house party.”
Before Sophia could give her bitter response, her father appeared in the room. “We are ready to go, my dears. The carriage is packed and waiting.”
Sophia raced out of the room, feeling a sudden need to get away from her parents, but it was no use. As soon as a footman assisted her into the carriage, her mother and father joined her and sat on the seat across from her. She laid her head against the side of the carriage and closed her eyes, hoping she could feign sleep and avoid further conversation for she knew it would likely turn into an argument anyway.
“Sophia, wake up. We are approaching Tisdale Manor.”
Sophia felt her mother gently shaking her arm and roused from the deep sleep that had overtaken her. It seemed nearly impossible for her not to fall asleep inside a carriage. The rocking motion almost always managed to lull her to sleep.
Pushing the curtain away from the small carriage window, Sophia glanced out as the manor house came into view. Her skin tingled at the thought of seeing Lord Coldwell, and she felt her cheeks instantly heat. To distract her from her unruly thoughts, she quickly snatched her bonnet off the bench beside her and began furiously tying the ribbons beneath her chin.
The carriage came to a halt before a long line of footman dressed impeccably in their livery. At the end of the line of footmen were Lord and Lady Emberson and Lord Coldwell, waiting anxiously for their arrival.
A young footman helped them alight from the carriage as the others began promptly unloading their trunks. The Marquess and Marchioness came forward to greet them while Lord Coldwell stood back, politely observing the scene.
“How was your trip?” Lady Emberson asked as she greeted the family.
“Uneventful,” Sophia muttered as her mother rolled her eyes.
“Yes, perhaps for you it was. You slept the entire ride.”
Sophia did not miss Lord Coldwell's smirk. Apparently, he remembered their carriage ride back from Scotland when she'd done the same thing.
“Well let's get you settled. A maid will show you to your chambers where you can freshen up. Levi and Lydia are already here, along with Lady Phelps, so we will enjoy dinner together in two hours’ time.”
As soon as Lady Emberson was done giving instructions, Lady Whitworth graciously replied, “We want to thank you for your generous invitation. We are delighted to be welcomed at Tisdale Manor.”
“Of course. We are all pleased to have you here, aren't we, Samuel?” Lady Emberson asked with an amused glance towards her step-son.
“Certainly,” he replied stiffly, and Sophia wondered how the next fortnight would play out. Would he be stiff and informal towards her the entire time or would he act friendly to her after all they'd endured together?
Out of the corner of her eye, Sophia watched him as he walked next to his step-mother. She'd heard stories of how he'd actually been betrothed to Lady Emberson since birth but had kindly let her out of the arrangement when she'd fallen in love with her future father-in-law instead. It was an unlikely pairing, but one that suited them both, as it was apparent that the Marquess and Marchioness were truly fond of one another.
Once Sophia was settled into her bedchamber, decorated in various shades of purple, she sat on a chair before the hearth and watched as Ellen began unpacking her trunk. Her emotions were all a jumble as she thought of how excited she should be to be at Tisdale Manor, especially since she hadn't seen her friend Lydia in months. But instead of excitement, she felt mostly dread. She had to figure out a way to escape from here, so she wouldn't have to return to Goldborne Hall and marry Reverend Balfour. She also wanted to try and discover why Samuel had been spying on her.
As soon as Ellen was finished unpacking, Sophia dismissed her to go below stairs with the servants of Tisdale Manor. With a sigh of relief at finally having some time to herself, she reached into the pocket of her pelisse that was draped over the end of her bed and found the missive she'd penned to Captain Wallace.
Holding the letter out in front of her, she figured now was the time to post it. She'd hesitated to send it the day she'd written it only because she was hopeful Aunt Caroline would reply to her correspondence before they left Goldborne, giving her no reason to communicate with the odious pirate captain. But now, it appeared as if she needed to enlist his help since Aunt Caroline still hadn't replied. Folding the letter, she slipped it into the sleeve of her dress and quietly left her bedchamber in hopes of finding a servant willing to post the letter for her.
The spacious halls were empty as she embarked on her journey, giving Sophia the chance to observe her surroundings with curiosity. Tisdale Manor was tastefully decorated, classy but not ostentatious, much like it's owners. But every now and then her eye would catch something that would make her come up short. She spotted many objects on her journey that seemed rather out of place amidst the classic style décor, such as the turquoise pianoforte she noticed in the corner of the ballroom when she stuck her head inside to get a glimpse of the room.
The strange items that almost clashed with the rest of the décor reminded her very much of Samuel. From the outside, one would find him nothing more than an average gentleman of the ton, handsome, poised, and wealthy, but Sophia knew that wasn't all his character was made of. There were hidden delights within Samuel, but most people couldn't see them, so blinded as they were by the image he painstakingly tried to present to the world.
“Snooping, I see.”
Sophia's shoulders stiffened as Samuel's voice startled her from her thoughts. Taking a deep, calming breath, she turned towards him and noticed his eyes were sparkling with mirth and not disdain. “I was merely looking for a servant.”
“Is there something you need?” he asked with sincere concern.
Sophia hesitated, not certain she wanted to tell him. “I was simply wondering how I might go about posting a missive while staying at Tisdale Manor.”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “You can give it to me, and I shall see that it is posted.”
His eagerness to aide her made her suspicious. “I haven't anything to post yet,” she lied. “I was merely wondering how I would go about it if I wished to do so.”
Samuel stepped closer. His nearness made her feel uneasy. It reminded her too clearly of being in his arms several days prior. “I hope you feel comfortable enough with me by now to know that I'm always willing to assist you with anything you are in need of.”
Without thinking, she blurted, “I don't trust you, Lord Coldwell.”
“I must admit, little lamb, that your admission causes me pain. Have I done anything to warrant your distrust?”
Sophia glared at him for a moment before admitting boldly, “I know you've been to Goldborne to spy on me.”
With great intensity, she watched his face, hoping his expression would give away the truth, but he managed to remain impassive. It was maddening. “You're mistaken, my dear. I wasn't there to spy on you.”
“Oh, is that so?
Then what precisely were you doing?”
“Do you not remember how Whitehall promised to keep your family safe?” Sophia slowly nodded her head as he continued, “Well, I've merely been helping with the task.”
Taking a step away from his overwhelming nearness, she quipped, “I don't believe you.”
“We've been partners, Sophia. We've been in situations that have placed our lives in jeopardy. Must I also remind you that I saved your life not too long ago? Does that not warrant at least a tiny bit of your affection, if not trust?”
“I've told you time and again that I am grateful for that, my lord, but I can't help but feel as if you are full of secrets.”
Samuel reached forward and took her chin in his hand, making Sophia's skin prickle with awareness. She hated how much he affected her. Twisting from his grip, she refused to look into his captivating gray eyes.
With a small chuckle, he reached out and trailed a long finger down her bare arm which caused her skin to pucker into gooseflesh. “Have you no secrets yourself, my lady?”
“You know I don't,” she snapped, peevishly.
“That's where you're wrong, Sophia. I happen to know you're a collector of them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your eyes tell me everything I need to know,” he said smoothly as he placed both hands on the sides of her face. “You've yet to succeed in training them to remain impassive.”
“You're simply saying that to disarm me.”
“I'm simply stating a fact. They give too much away. It's perhaps your greatest downfall.”
Sophia took a quick step back, breaking the contact between them. “And your arrogance, sir, is your biggest downfall.”
She wanted to make him as mad as he was making her, but it was apparent she hadn't succeeded when he let out a hearty laugh. “Now who's trying to disarm whom? I know you only hurl insults at me to try and disguise the truth.”
“What truth?” she asked hesitantly.
“That you, little lamb, are madly in love with me.”
Sophia groaned loudly as she rolled her eyes heavenward. “You are insufferable. I am not, nor will I ever be in love with you.”
The Earl's Dangerous Assignment Page 6