“She belongs to me,” Dunstable continued with a smug grin. “Miss Sophie Carmichael – her father was Lord Carmichael, although he died recently and she was left to my care.”
“I am not yours,” Sophie but out, her words shaky but with some strength. “I have rejected you again and again, why can you not leave me be?”
“Be silent!”
Lord Dunstable’s words were like a gunshot, echoing through the room. Sophie shrank back, terrified that he would hurt her again.
“If she is your cousin,” Harrington began, quietly. “Then why did she end up with me, under some false pretense of being a servant?”
There was a short silence. Sophie, too afraid to say another word, prayed silently that Lord Harrington might take pity on her, might realize that her cousin was a tyrant, that she had been desperate to escape him.
“Because she is a foolish, foolhardy young thing who would not step in line,” Lord Dunstable said, with a trace of anger lining his words. “Selfish, headstrong and entirely willful.”
“And it is not because she was running from you, I suppose,” Lord Harrington continued, calmly. “Is what I walked in on how you treated her at home?”
Lord Dunstable chuckled. “She is mine to do with as I please.”
Sophie’s skin crawled with loathing and a prick of fear. If Lord Harrington turned his back on her now, then there would be nothing for her. She would end up as Lord Dunstable’s plaything, never to have a life of her own.
Lifting her head, she looked up at Lord Harrington, who had turned toward her. His eyes flashed with emotion -- of what, she wasn’t sure. Silent tears began to roll down her cheeks as Malcolm laughed.
“I think you ought to leave, Dunstable,” Harrington said, eventually. He walked to the corner of the room and pulled at the bell multiple times, despite the hour.
Lord Dunstable snorted. “Very well, but I shall be taking my cousin with me.”
“No,” Lord Harrington interrupted, firmly. “You shall not. You’ll never touch her again.”
“I really do not think this has anything to do with you, Harrington,” Lord Dunstable sneered at him as he walked over and grabbed Sophie by the wrist. “I apologize my cousin wormed her way into your home. We shall be going now.”
“You will go alone,” Lord Harrington stalked over to them, gripping Dunstable’s arm until he let go of Sophie, and she shifted as far away from Malcolm as she could. “And I do have a say as she is to be my wife.”
There was a pause, only for Lord Dunstable to start laughing incredulously. “Sophie?” he cried, mockingly. “You intend to marry her? Do not make me laugh so!”
Sophie, who was similarly aghast, although for different reasons, gazed up at Lord Harrington. He did not look at her, but grasped Lord Dunstable by the collar with strong hands and lifted him, bodily, away from Sophie.
“I said, get out,” he breathed, his voice dangerously low. “You are not welcome here. Stay away from me and away from the girl.”
“You will regret this, Harrington,” Dunstable exclaimed, his expression altogether ugly.
“Never,” Lord Harrington replied, opening the door to his study and practically throwing Lord Dunstable out. “I regret only bringing you here. Now get out and go home. I never want to see you in my house again.”
19
Benjamin did not know what to do, anger bursting through his veins as Dunstable glared at him through the open doorway, a sneering expression on his face as he carefully straightened his shirt.
“She’s mine, Harrington.”
Benjamin’s fingers slowly curled into fists as he stepped forward. “Get out of here, Dunstable. She’ll never belong to you.”
“You’re a fool,” Dunstable mocked, his lip curling. “A soft-hearted, stupid, fool.”
Glancing along the corridor to see two slightly weary-looking footmen approaching, Benjamin smiled darkly and stepped closer. “If you don’t leave my house this minute, I’ll have you thrown out. Never return, Dunstable, if you don’t want your actions on the lips of the biggest gossips of the ton.”
Dunstable’s eyes narrowed and, for a moment, Benjamin thought he might raise his hand at him, but instead he stepped away from Benjamin and began to walk down the hall. Benjamin watched him for a moment, aware of his straight back and clenched fists.
“Lord Dunstable is leaving us,” he said to one of the footmen. “Have his carriage called and ensure he is packed and gone within the hour. Rouse the cook and have her send up a tray for Miss Carmichael.” He saw the flicker of confusion on the footman’s face but did not explain. “I will need some cool compresses, food and hot tea. And then inform the butler that the house is to rise two hours later than usual. There will be no need for an early breakfast.”
The footmen, who had clearly been sleeping and had risen on hearing the bell, looked both pleased and relieved.
“Right away, my lord,” one of them murmured, and together they walked after Lord Dunstable.
Benjamin, relieved that he did not need to concern himself with Lord Dunstable any longer, allowed his fury to cool for a moment longer before returning to the study. His eyes searched the room for Sarah – Sophie – only to find her huddled in a corner, her hands over her eyes.
His body was rife with emotions. The anger still simmered within him, and his stomach twisted when he thought of what Dunstable had done -- and what he had tried to do. But why had she lied to him, hidden in his home as a maid? He was baffled. That question, however, would have to wait.
“Come,” he murmured, hurrying towards her, helping lift her to her feet. “You need to sit by the fire.”
Sophie dropped her hands but winced as she tried to put weight on her foot. “I am terribly sorry for all that I have done,” she said quietly, unable to look at him. “I will leave your house at once.”
Benjamin shook his head, firmly. “None of that,” he promised, bending to scoop her up into his arms. “Now, if you will permit me.”
He heard Sophie gasp as he lifted her, and he realized just how light she was. His eyes took in her swollen face, his anger beginning to burn in his belly once more. Carefully, he carried her towards the chairs by the fire and, setting her down gently, he bent down to push her hair out of her face. She jerked away from him, and he cringed at the reaction, but after a moment she moved back towards his touch. He persisted with gentle motions until, finally, he could see her face in its entirety.
He tried to keep his rage toward Dunstable from rising to the surface again as he took in the marks on her face. He felt sick that he had caused this to happen.
“Why did you not tell me?” he rasped.
Her eyes finally rose to meet his, although they continued to dart away now and again.
“I am sorry, my lord, I tried --”
“You should have told me before I invited the man into my home,” he said rising, angry now that he had brought the very man that she was running from to his house for his own mere amusement. “In fact, you should have told me the moment you arrived. I would have provided you what you had needed, rather than making you work as a servant in my house.”
Bloody hell, he had done exactly what he had come here to avoid -- take after a young woman, desire her, act on it, steal kisses and nearly more while she had been here hiding from a man just like him.
“You were afraid of me,” he said quietly, realizing her reason for keeping silent. “You were afraid I was like your cousin. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps I am not so different. I chased after you, attempting drunken kisses and to undress you by the fire.”
“You are not like him at all,” she cut in with vehemence. “I knew from the start you were not like him. I saw good in your character. I saw that you had the desire, the need to change into the man you wanted to become.”
“The man my father wants me to be, else I shall lose my inheritance,” Benjamin added, but Sophie shook her head.
“No,” she stated, with a degree of firmness he
was not expecting. “I saw that you wanted to change your ways for your own self. You looked back at your past with regret, not with delight. That was why I wanted to speak to you, to tell you the truth about who I was and why I had made myself a servant in your home.”
“And yet you did not say anything,” he said, “despite the fact we sat in here together, day after day.”
“I could just never find the words,” she said, looking at him with eyes begging him to accept her explanation and apology. “And I tried, truly I did, multiple times, but we were always interrupted or another matter arose.”
He knew, however, it was more than that. She may say she thought he was a changed man, but somewhere, niggling in the back of her mind, he was sure she was concerned that he was the same sort of man as her cousin -- a man who would take what he wanted without thinking of how his actions might affect her. And was he truly that different from Dunstable? Benjamin had left London for nearly similar reasons to what he had done here with her. If word got out that Sophie had been in his home for days now, spending solitary time with him, closed in his study at all hours of the night, she would surely be ruined.
He sighed. “Tell me how you came to be here,” he said, taking the seat across from her, noticing as he did how she flinched when he walked by her.
Sophie nodded, closing her eyes for a moment as pain crossed her face. “He was so persistent,” she said as she opened her eyes, her expression blank. “I managed to hide in my room and I wore the only key around my neck, but the servants told me he intended to bring in a blacksmith so that I should have no escape.” She swallowed and looked away.
“Malcolm’s cook, she was kind to me,” Sophie continued as a shudder ran through her. “She made arrangements with her sister, Mrs. Potts, for me to escape and find my way here. If she had not, then I might now be – ”
“Do not think of it,” Benjamin replied, firmly, hating that she was so shaken. He gently caught her hands and, much to his relief, she did not pull away. Instead, she drew in one long, shaky breath, letting it out again slowly as her trembling began to diminish. “You are quite safe now, Sophie,” he continued, softly. “I meant every word I said to Dunstable.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, staring down into the fire that was beginning to wan. “However, I will not hold you to the promises you made.”
“I -- I’ll marry you, if you so wish it,” he said, hating that he stuttered over his intention. “I will not ruin yet another woman.”
Her eyes flew up to meet his.
“You … you ruined someone?”
He felt the heat creeping up his neck as he realized he had said more than he meant to. “I’ve told you Sar -- Sophie, I’m not the most reputable man. The rumors you have heard are true. You should know this before agreeing to marriage with me.”
“Why do you want to marry me?” she asked, as if she had not heard his previous words.
“Why?” he asked. “Because you are a young woman who has spent a week living in the home of a man who is known for his rakish ways, who has nearly ruined women before. Because you need protection from Dunstable. I am only the third son of a duke, but a duke nonetheless. I would be a good match for you.”
“That is all?”
“That is more than enough reason!” he exclaimed.
She nodded but said nothing.
“I believe I should retire for the night,” she finally said, after a silence stretched between them. “It’s been a trying evening.”
“Of course,” he nodded, and walked over to help her but she shrank back from him. He gave her the space she required as she limped past him to the door.
“Goodnight, my lord.”
“It’s Benjamin, Sophie, remember?”
She nodded, then stepped into the hall, quietly shutting the door behind her. He didn’t know what to make of the woman. She was typically quiet and demure, and yet possessed an inner strength and a will of steel. She would not bend to the desires of others, and still knew how to treat all with kindness. She was willing to see past the faults of most people to the goodness within.
She had been through so much in the past while. He wanted to do right by her, he truly did. Though he had seen the way she looked at him, the way she retreated from him when he came too near. Perhaps she would never truly want him. Was he ready for this -- for marriage? He cared for her, yet knew so little about her.
He sighed as he stood, ringing the bell for Mrs. Martins. The woman arrived in her nightclothes and wrapper, brushing sleep from her eyes. When he explained what had happened and that Sophie required some attention, Mrs. Martins came awake at once.
“Of course, I shall go to her immediately, my lord,” she exclaimed. “You say Lord Dunstable is gone?”
“Yes, he’s been escorted out by the footmen,” he said with a nod. “If only I had known…”
He looked at the woman, who had her head bowed.
“Were you aware of this, Mrs. Martins?”
“I -- yes, I am afraid I was, my lord.”
“And you did not think to inform me?” he crossed his arms over his chest.
“My lord… Lord Dunstable, he’s an earl, and I am a housekeeper. I would not like to make accusations against one of his stature.”
Benjamin began to pace the room. Did all his staff think him in the same company of such a man, that he would overlook Dunstable’s actions?
“In the future, Mrs. Martins,” he bit out as he walked circles in the carpet before coming to stand in front of the bewildered housekeeper. “You will keep me informed of anything you may know of guests who have been invited to my home. In addition, should the staff require anything for their comfort or safety, you will come to me with it. Now, please see to Sophie. I assume you know her true identity, as all but me seem to be aware of the goings on of this household. Dunstable left some marks on her that need attending to. And, if you would, move her to a guest chamber.”
The woman said nothing, but nodded at him with wide eyes and left nearly as quickly as Sophie had.
Benjamin moved to the sideboard and poured himself a good measure of brandy. He took a sip, staring into the contents of his glass, then frowned at himself. Old habits were hard to dismiss. Resolving that this would be his one and only drink of the evening, he sat down heavily in his chair in front of the fire and contemplated what to do now.
He had told Dunstable he would marry Sophie in order to force the man to leave. He had then told her he would follow through to save her reputation. He put a hand to his face. Yes, he wanted her, but did he want marriage to her? He had thought so, but she seemed frightened of him, as despite his best efforts he had proven to be the man they had all thought him to be. The rake who took women as he wished, preferring the company of friends who turned out to be less than savory characters. He thought back to Miss Simons, the woman he had nearly ruined in London. Did she see him as Sophie did Dunstable?
He sighed and decided that come morning he would speak to Sophie and determine what she wanted. He would go through with this marriage if she so wished, but if not, he would consider how best to help her. He thought of the pretty smile and joy he had seen in the wide hazel eyes during the hours she had spent in his study, and the way they had darkened when she had wanted him the night in front of the fire. That a man like Dunstable, a man he had brought into his home, should dim the spirit within her, make her into the timid, spooked creature she was tonight, made his heart ache.
He would do right by her, in whatever way she wished. It was the least he could do.
20
When Sophie woke, the first thing she felt was panic. She had overslept! There were duties to perform and….
Pulling back the linen bedsheets, Sophie swung her legs around, only to discover that she was not in the room she had thought. It was not her servant’s room, nor her small, uncomfortable bed, but rather the large, beautifully decorated bedroom that Mrs. Martins had led her to last evening. Floral patterns adorned the wal
lpaper and carpet, the draperies of the bed a dusky pink.
She also realized that her ankle was still aching.
Relief coursed through her veins as she pulled herself back into bed, drawing the covers up to her chin and settling her head back on the pillow. Warmth began to seep back into her limbs as she lay there, the niggling of fear still creeping at the edges of her mind, but she told herself to crush it. For the first time in years, she should have faith that she was truly safe.
She had nothing to fear any longer. There was no one coming to try and take something from her she did not want to give. There was no threat of violence. She was no longer alone.
She thought of Lord Harrington’s words the night before. If she so chose, she could be his wife. He had offered his hand to her freely. She frowned, however, as she thought of the reasons he had provided to her. He would marry her to protect her reputation as well as her body from Dunstable.
It was for better reasons than many married, but is this what she truly wanted? Now that she had come to know him, the man he truly was, she wanted more than that from him. She wanted him to marry her because he cared for her, and wanted more than her body. She wanted his love, she realized with a start, as she became aware of the depth of her own feeling toward him. She loved him.
When he had rushed into the study last night, she had felt a crushing relief. She trusted in him, knew he would protect her. Despite what he said of himself, she saw the man he was, the man he was growing to be. He was a man who saw the good in a person, who had simply needed a purpose to keep himself from throwing his life away.
He was all she could have asked for. If she chose, he could be her family, her protector, and her lover. That brought a rush of heat to her core, and Sophie did not deny that the thought of being in his arms again was a wonderful one. Was it to be, however? Should she hold him to his promise of marriage, or let him go?
She knew she wasn’t worthy of him. He was the son of a duke, and she the daughter of a mere viscount, who had acted as his maid, for goodness sake. He was marrying her out of a sense of duty, to prove to himself and his father he was not the man he once was. That was not the basis of the marriage she now wanted with him. She may have depths of emotion for him, but enough that she did not want to tie him to her if he did not feel the same. But if she were not to stay with him … where else was she to go?
Hearts of Trust Page 12