They'd met privately several times over the last few days to discuss Sophia's upcoming departure. Lydia had proved a valuable asset in helping her with her plan. The Duke and Duchess's estate, Channing House, was not overly far from Tisdale Manor and would prove a most excellent place to deposit the horse she was planning to borrow from Lord Emberson's stables in exchange for one of Lydia's to use as she continued on her journey to Cornwall.
Sophia felt lighter than she had in days as she entered her chamber and quickly locked the door behind her. She'd already told Ellen she wouldn't need her help that night, so she was certain she'd have the privacy she needed.
In the past few days, neither one of her parents had treated her any differently than they had before, reassuring her that they'd not found her letter to Captain Wallace. Putting her fears aside, she'd allowed Lydia's excitement to bolster her own. Her only regret was Lydia was not going with her, for the journey would be much more exciting shared with a friend.
Wandering into her dressing chamber, Sophia set down the satchel and the candlestick she was holding and began unbuttoning the back of her gown. She was only able to reach the top several buttons before having to shimmy out of it, hoping she didn't rip it in the process. Once relieved of the gown and her confining corset and stays, Sophia slipped into a white cotton nightdress trimmed in delicate ivory lace and pulled a wrapper tightly around her.
With the satchel in one hand and the candlestick in the other, she made her way from the dressing room to her bed, all of her thoughts focused on the task at hand. She was about to open the satchel when she heard the loud clearing of a throat and nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Who's there?” she called out, her voice shaking.
“It's time you tell me the truth.”
He watched as her eyes found him in the dark, her face turning from fright to anger. “What are you doing in here? This is highly improper, my lord.”
“I'm taking a very calculated risk, little lamb, and I trust you will cooperate.”
“I don't understand,” she admitted hesitantly, holding the satchel tightly to her bosom.
Leaning forward, Samuel propped his elbows on his thighs and held her gaze. “How come you didn't tell me you were engaged?”
Sophia's blue eyes widened in surprise. “But I did,” she stammered.
Samuel rose from the chair and was quickly by her side. She could feel the heat emanating from his body; he stood so close. “No, you didn't.”
She turned from his gaze and decided to confess her secret. “It was the afternoon in the woodman's cottage.”
He drew near, pressing his chest into her back as his arms went around her waist. Surprised at his nearness, she dropped the satchel to the ground, hoping its contents would remain inside. Using her foot, she scooted it beneath the bed and out of his sight, hoping he didn't notice her actions.
His breath was warm behind her ear, “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I lied,” she admitted airily, unable to think straight while he was touching her.
“You mean to tell me you were a willing participant in all that transpired between us?”
Sophia hesitated before shrugging her shoulders and muttering, “Perhaps.”
With a forcefulness that surprised her, Samuel grasped her shoulders and spun her around in his arms. His gray eyes bore into hers for the briefest of moments before he crushed his lips to hers hungrily. Sophia let out a little whimper then clung to him to avoid falling.
“You want me,” he whispered fiercely between ravenous kisses.
Sophia couldn't answer, for each time she tried to form a coherent thought, his lips would find hers once more and erase any logical thinking from her mind.
He smelled of sandalwood and his mouth tasted of brandy. It was a heady combination that made her feel weak in the knees. When his mouth finally broke from hers to trail kisses down her neck, she found herself winding her long, slender fingers into his thick hair and holding him tightly to her person. She was experiencing sensations she never imagined feeling and ones she never wanted to end.
Her fingers slid from his hair to his muscled shoulders as he hoisted her into his arms and carried her to the bed where he set her down on the edge then slid to his knees in front of her. Taking her hands in his and looking her squarely in the eyes, he asked, “Why did you allow me to kiss you at the cottage and then again tonight when you are betrothed to another?”
His words made her feel as if he'd doused her with a cold bucket of water. “Are you trying to discredit my honor, sir? Correct me if I'm wrong, but the kisses we've shared say just as much about your honor, or lack thereof, as they do mine. Did you not think I was sleeping when you first kissed me? Where's the honor in that? And what of tonight? You knew I was engaged but still did not refrain.”
“I can assure you my reason is noble.”
“Noble?” she asked doubtfully.
“Sophia, I'm in love with you.”
Sophia gasped as she searched his gray eyes for sincerity. He looked for all the world as if he'd just confessed his darkest secret and she wasn't certain how to react.
“No, no, you can't be,” she said shakily as she tried to back away from him.
He held her hands firmly in place. “I've tried to deny it too, but I can't run from my feelings any longer, little lamb. Please tell me you allowed my kisses because you feel as strongly for me as I do for you.”
Sophia was speechless. Before her were two options out of her predicament, but honestly, the one Samuel presented to her scared her far more than running away to Cornwall did. If she married him, she knew he'd never allow her to continue her work as a spy. He'd expect her to sit at home and provide him with an heir. The prospective tediousness of life as an aristocratic wife made her want to go mad.
On the other hand, Sophia quickly recalled her time in Cornwall with Aunt Caroline, how her dear aunt had introduced her into the world of a spy by taking her on her first real-life adventure aboard a pirate ship. It had been exhilarating, purposeful, and fulfilling. Could she truly give all that up in exchange for Samuel's offer of marriage?
“No, I can't,” she said, hoping to sound confident in her refusal but was disappointed to hear her response came out sounding weak and unsure.
Samuel's gray eyes filled with confusion. “You'd rather wed Reverend Balfour?” he asked, hurt.
Her eyes slid from his face, not willing to subject herself to his pain. “I'd rather not marry at all.”
“It appears that's not an option.”
“There's always another option,” she quipped.
Samuel rose to his feet. “I hope you know what you're doing,” he said with a mix of sadness and concern.
“I always know what I'm doing,” she said confidently, wanting to leave him with no concern for her future. “Now, leave me be.”
“As you wish, little lamb,” he whispered sadly, before retreating from her room.
Sophia remained silent until the door clicked behind him then crumpled into a ball in the center of her bed. What a vexing, vexing man, she thought before allowing her overpowering emotions to drag her from the bed where she crouched down and retrieved the satchel. Pouring the contents out atop the mattress, she began going through the items one by one, if only to distract herself from thoughts of Samuel.
Unsurprisingly, there was a pair of breeches, a billowy shirt, and a knit cap for her to use as a disguise when fleeing Tisdale Manor. What did surprise her, however, was the addition of an envelope which had been sealed with a nondescript seal. Sophia quickly broke the wax and gasped in shock at the contents; it was stuffed with one pound notes. She hugged the envelope to her breast as warm tears filled her eyes at her friend's generosity. The unexpected gift was just what she needed to feel confident in her decision to leave.
Frantic knocking on her door caused Sophia's heart to beat rapidly as she was pulled at once from her dreamless sleep. Had Samuel returned? Who else could it be? Pulling herself f
rom the warm cocoon of her bed, she hurried to the door and pulled it partially open while her eyes adjusted to the dark.
“Let me in,” Lydia said as she slithered into the room, pushing the door closed with her back. In a hurried whisper, she continued, “I've found it.”
“My letter?” Sophia asked incredulously.
Lydia grabbed Sophia's wrist and dragged her deeper into the room where the low fire burning in the grate offered a measure of light. Shadows flickered across her face, which looked more pale than usual as she held the missive out towards Sophia, her hand shaking slightly.
“You'll never believe who had it.”
Panic swelled in Sophia's breast as she nervously took the letter. “Who?”
“Lord Coldwell.”
Sophia gasped. “That can't be. How'd you discover it?” Her mind swirled with so many thoughts. If Samuel knew of her plans to run away, why hadn't he said anything about it tonight? Why hadn't he told her how foolish she was, like the Samuel she had come to know would be expected to do?
“In his bedchamber. I just came from there, in fact,” she said proudly. “I'm not certain where he is, but he's not there. I snuck in to investigate, and as luck would have it, I found exactly what I was looking for. I'm not sure how long he's had it, for it was tucked away in a secret drawer in his nightstand.”
A golden brow arched high on her forehead as Sophia looked curiously at her friend. “Precisely how did you know about this secret drawer?”
“I didn't initially, but I discovered it during my search. My father had a similar one in his study, which I became quite adept at picking the lock with my hairpin.”
“You amaze me, Lydia. I daresay The Crown should consider enlisting you as a spy.”
A large, pleased smile spread across Lydia's face. “You know Levi would never allow it.”
Yes, and that's precisely why I will never wed, Sophia thought to herself.
Returning to her present predicament, Sophia turned worried eyes on Lydia as she asked, “What am I going to do Lydia? Samuel has the power to thwart my plans.”
“Indeed, he does, but that is why I came here so late instead of waiting until the morning. You must leave at once. We cannot afford to wait a few days for you to depart.”
“But I'm not ready,” she pointed out, feeling panicked at the thought of fleeing so soon.
“Ready or not, it must be done. You have your disguise, as well as plenty of money to see you through. You will leave for Channing House tonight, and on the morrow, I will tell everyone that you have taken ill and cannot participate in the entertainments of the day. That will buy you some extra time before anyone becomes aware of your absence.”
Doubts filled Sophia, but she didn't know how to voice them all. “But what if they learn of your involvement? You are risking a lot, Lydia.”
“I'm risking no more than you did when you set out to save me. Besides, no one will be the wiser. I pride myself on being an excellent actress.”
Sophia looked at her friend in amazement. “Does Levi know what kind of woman he married?”
“All too well. Now, change into your breeches so you can depart. The household is asleep; your escape will be easy. As soon as you leave, go to the stables and procure a horse. The stable boys have retired for the night, and if you're quiet, no one will be the wiser.”
Without further conversation, Sophia did as she was told. She loved the familiar comfort of breeches and tried to focus on the upcoming adventure instead of the fear of what could go wrong. She tucked the last lock of golden hair inside her cap and turned to find Lydia waiting, the leather satchel in her hands and extended towards her.
“Don't forget this.”
Sophia grabbed the bag and gave Lydia a grateful smile as she secured the strap across her chest. “I'm forever in your debt, dear Lydia. If I never see you again, know that I will never forget your kindness and bravery in assisting me.”
“It's been my honor.”
Lydia waited in the dark shadows of her bedchamber as Sophia silently escaped the room. Her heart was beating so loudly she feared it would wake the household, but it never did. As soon as she slid from the house and into the chilly night, she took off in a mad dash towards the stables, anxious to be on her way.
Samuel stumbled towards his bedchamber in the dark, just now realizing that perhaps he'd consumed a bit too much brandy after he'd disappeared to the library upon leaving Sophia's bedchamber. He didn't know how else to handle the confusing emotions he was experiencing, so he drank.
He'd silently retreated from her bedchamber earlier in the evening, knowing that sleep would elude him that night, though he'd been convinced of one thing; Sophia was in love with him. He could see it in her eyes, and he could taste it in her kiss.
She couldn't be a traitor to England, he thought over and over again. Conflicted by his feelings for Sophia and his duty to The Crown, Samuel was furious he'd yet to prove her innocence. In fact, the only evidence he currently had was the letter to Captain Wallace, which was quite incriminating.
He groaned as he slipped into his chambers, more than ready to fall into his bed and let sleep release him from his over-thinking for awhile. Free him from thoughts of Sophia's refusal to accept his marriage proposal.
The minute he advanced into his chamber, he knew something wasn't right. All of his senses went on high alert as the drunken haze he'd been in seemed to evaporate at once. Someone had been in his room. He could smell the faint stirrings of femininity in the air. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if Sophia had come to him.
Rushing to the fireplace, he bent and lit a candle and held it high so he could get a clear glimpse of the room. To his disappointment, it was empty. His eyes scanned the room with the shrewdness of a spy, picking up on details others might easily overlook.
One corner of his coverpane was rumpled, the chair closest to the fireplace was knocked out of place, no longer in exact alignment with its matching pair, and the drawer to his nightstand was open just a crack.
Anger and fear coursed through him as he dashed to the nightstand and quickly pulled open the drawer. He found the small brass key in his fob pocket and unlatched the secret compartment, hoping and praying it had not been discovered.
It only took a moment for him to realize that someone had discovered his most personal of belongings. Sophia's letter to Captain Wallace had been taken.
“Dammit,” he cursed loudly as he angrily ran one hand through his hair.
Mumbling another curse, he continued taking inventory of the contents and was relieved to learn that nothing else was amiss. He grabbed his small, leather-bound notebook from the drawer and held it to his chest, grateful it had not been taken, though he couldn't be certain if the intruder had read its contents or not. Hopefully, if they had, it's jumbled notes wouldn't make any sense to them.
After replacing the contents and securing the lock on the secret compartment, Samuel advanced to the fireplace and propped his elbow on the hearth as he gazed into the smoldering ashes. He had to figure out what to do.
The brandy he'd consumed dulled his senses, and he found it nearly impossible to come up with a solution. He cursed his stupidity; he never allowed himself to drink so much. Yanking his cravat angrily from his neck, he threw it carelessly across the room then continued to deposit the rest of his clothing on the floor alongside it.
Crawling into bed, he stared up at the canopy above until sleep finally overcame him. Perhaps in the morning, once he'd slept off his hangover, he'd be able to think rationally once more.
“Sophia isn't well?” Lady Whitworth asked with concern.
Lydia nodded her head sullenly. She hadn't slept much the previous night, worrying about this exact moment, hoping she could play her part well enough to be believed. “I went by her bedchamber to see if she'd like to walk with me to breakfast when I learned she had taken ill.”
“Shall I send for the doctor?” Alexandra asked with concern.
“O
h, no, that will not be necessary. She was quite insistent she just needed to rest, hopeful that by tomorrow she'd feel better.”
“I will send Ellen to see to her,” Lady Whitworth said, as she twisted her napkin in her hand.
“I fear that would not be wise, for it would only disrupt her rest. Let her be for now, and I will go check on her myself later.”
Levi finished chewing his bit of food before saying, “Dear, that won't be necessary. I do not wish for you to catch whatever it is Lady Sophia has succumbed to. Let her servant tend to her.”
“Oh, I do not mind,” Lydia quickly added, with only a hint of nervousness that went undetected by the rest of them.
“But I do,” Levi said solemnly. “If Ellen informs us Lady Sophia is feeling better by this evening, I will allow you to go visit her and see how she is faring.”
“Allow me?” Lydia was clearly perturbed. “You should know by now that I do as I wish.”
Next, to Levi, Aaron chuckled. “Yes, Levi, your wife's attitude should be of no surprise to you.”
“Fiend seize it,” Levi grumbled, “you're supposed to be on my side.”
“I choose no sides; I simply find you two amusing.”
Levi ignored Aaron's comment and looked to his wife. “Perhaps we should discuss this matter in private.”
Rising from the table, he discarded his linen napkin on the table, offered Lydia his arm, which she reluctantly took, then led her from the room.
“Darling,” he bit out as soon as they were alone, clearly trying to curb his annoyance. “Though I've admitted to finding your defiance amusing in private, in public it is quite another matter. I do require a measure of respect from my wife. Can you at least allow me that?”
“Oh, Levi,” she cooed, sounding for all the world like she was contrite, “I'm sorry I let my concern for Sophia overrule my good judgment. Can you forgive me?” she asked as she looked up at him with her sea-green eyes.
The Earl's Dangerous Assignment Page 8