by Trisha Telep
They arrived at the wooden gate at the rear of the garden and silently slipped into the mews. After helping her into the waiting carriage, Ian settled himself on the seat opposite her, then tapped on the roof, and the vehicle started with a jerk. Ensconced in the safety of the dark, curtained interior, moving swiftly away from the party, Sophia drew what felt like her first deep breath since she’d seen Ian standing across the ballroom.
As much as she dreaded their upcoming conversation, there was no avoiding it. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible then send him on his way back to Scotland. She’d listen to his explanations, offer her own – making absolutely certain he understood there could be no further relationship between them. Then they’d both return to their lives.
Lives that had briefly intersected, but never would again.
Four
Sophia’s pulse jumped when Ian moved from the opposite side of the slow-moving carriage to sit next to her.
He reached out and touched her cheek. “Sophia. God, how I’ve missed you. You’ve not left my thoughts for even a moment these past six months.”
The anguish in those whispered words flayed her. “I’ve thought of you, too, Ian, but—”
He pressed a fingertip to her lips. “No ‘but’. The fact that you thought of me is enough for this moment.”
“Where are we going?”
“Mayfair. I’ve let a townhouse on Park Lane.”
Sophia’s brows shot up. “That’s the most exclusive part of town.”
“Aye.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “Ye didn’t expect an earl – even a Scottish one – to stay in a hovel, did you?”
Embarrassment heated her face. “Of course not. I’m simply not accustomed to thinking of you as an earl, especially as you seemed very much at home living in the groundskeeper cottage.”
A sheepish expression crossed his handsome features. “That was actually my private hunting lodge, and I’m used to being there alone. I enjoy occasionally fending for myself, not being surrounded by servants. It’s my … sanctuary. No one has ever accompanied me there.” He raised her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm. “Until you.”
Her common sense screamed at her to pull her hand from his, but her inner voice whispered to take this opportunity and enjoy his touch.
The whisper defeated the scream.
“How long do you intend to remain in London?” she asked.
“Just a few days. I must return to Melrose to attend to estate affairs I’ve put off.”
“Put off because you were looking for me?”
“Aye. They paled in importance to finding you, but now that I have, there are duties I cannot postpone any longer.”
Silence swelled between them. Ian looked at Sophia and bludgeoned back the desire threatening to strangle him. He’d inwardly vowed not to pounce on her like a starving mongrel, yet he knew he’d do exactly that if he gave in to the overwhelming temptation to kiss her again.
Determined to keep the promise he’d made to himself, he said, “I’m waiting to hear why you kept your title a secret from me.”
“I’d prefer to hear your explanation first.”
“Very well.” He drew a deep breath, then began, “The day I met you had, until that moment, been very difficult for me, as had the entire preceding year. It was the anniversary of a carriage accident. One that took the lives of both my parents and my sister.”
His words seemed to hang in the air between them and Ian braced himself for the onslaught of painful memories bombarding him. Shocked distress filled her eyes and she captured his hands in hers. “Oh, Ian. How awful. I’m so sorry.”
He gave a tight nod and gripped her hands. Bloody hell, he hated talking about this. Hated the horrible images flashing through his mind. Determined to get this over with, he continued in a rush, “We were returning to Melrose after an extended visit with father’s sister and her family. It had rained hard the night before, and the roads were rutted and slippery. We should have waited to leave …”
He looked down and whispered the words that had haunted him since that day, words he’d never spoken aloud. “It was my fault.”
“Ian, no––”
“Yes.” Gut churning, he raised his gaze to hers. “I’m the one who wanted to return to Melrose. For a riding party scheduled for the following day.” A bitter sound escaped him and he pulled his hands from hers to press the heels of his palms against his throbbing forehead. After drawing a shuddering breath he continued, “The carriage threw a wheel and went over a rocky ledge.” The sickening sensation of the carriage rolling over and over tightened his stomach and the sound of his mother’s and Fia’s screams, mingled with his father’s and Ian’s shouts echoed through his mind. And then the silence … the terrifying silence.
He dragged his hands down his face. “I lost consciousness. I don’t know how long for. When I came around, I discovered that my mother, my father, my sister Fia, as well as the driver were dead.”
The carriage passed beneath a gas lamp, illuminating Ian’s features and Sophia’s heart squeezed at the raw anguish in his eyes. “Dear God, Ian.” She reached out and once again clasped his hands, noting that they were cold and trembling. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m so terribly sorry for your loss. And that you must stop blaming yourself.”
“Why? If I hadn’t been so intent on returning home, they’d still be alive. They all died, yet I was barely injured. Just a bump on my head, some bruised ribs and a broken arm.” He looked at her through bleak eyes. “Why I didn’t die as well? God knows I wanted to, and God knows I considered taking my own life.”
The pain in his eyes, in his voice pierced Sophia’s soul and she clung tighter to his hands. “Thank God you didn’t.”
A humourless sound escaped him. “The only reason I didn’t was because the people of Melrose and the neighbouring villages that had depended on my father and Marlington lands for their livelihood now depended on me and the responsibility wasn’t one my conscience would allow me to shirk. Looking back, I’m not certain how I did it when the mere act of drawing a breath seemed an effort.”
“I understand that feeling very well,” she murmured. “Losing someone you love is like losing part of yourself. I cannot imagine the pain of simultaneously losing three people you loved.
He nodded, then continued, “It wasn’t the responsibilities of running the estate that confounded me – my father had taught me well. Indeed, I was grateful to have something to occupy my time. What I couldn’t tolerate was people looking at me with pity. And the constant talk of the accident – I didn’t want to talk about it. The stream of callers never stopped, and as the months passed the callers came to include mothers toting along their marriage-aged daughters. That’s when it dawned on me that I was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Scotland.
“In the months that followed, I felt like a hunted man. I couldn’t venture into the village without hearing the whispers. Matchmaking mothers from every level of the peerage sought an audience with me under the guise of sympathy calls, not to mention the women themselves who thought a man in my position required a mistress, or at least a short term liaison. I finally stopped accepting callers and no longer left the estate. I soon was referred to as a crabbitty recluse.”
With his gaze steady on hers, he said, “The day I met you, I’d wandered the estate for hours, reflecting on the horror of the past year and all I’d lost. Wondering how, where I’d find the will to face another year. To face another day. And then I saw you. You were like a vision in the sunshine, sent to remind me what happiness looked like, felt like. I’d been numb for so long, and when I realized you didn’t know who I was, thought I was the groundskeeper, I couldn’t resist allowing you believe it, at least for a little while.”
He reached out and Sophia’s breath caught when he gently brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “That first magical afternoon with you was the first time in a year I’d felt anything other than pain and misery. You
saw only Ian – no title, no wealth. You cannot imagine how refreshing, how liberating that was. Plus, you were clearly no more anxious to speak of the past than I was, a relief to be sure. After you agreed to send for your things at the inn and stay with me in the hunting lodge you believed was the groundskeeper cottage, I decided there was no immediate need to tell you. I knew in my heart I needed to, but as the weeks passed I was not only unsure how to tell you, I also feared you’d be so angry I hadn’t been honest from the beginning, that you’d leave. And I wanted you to stay. More than I wanted my next breath. But you left anyway. And I had to find you. To tell you the truth. To beg your forgiveness for being less than completely honest. And to let you know how much our time together meant to me.” He regarded her through solemn eyes. “Everything, Sophia,” he said softly. “It meant everything.”
Hot moisture pushed behind Sophia’s eyes. Framing his face between her hands, she said, “I knew the moment I saw you that you’d suffered great loss – it was the source of the immediate kinship I experienced with you. I simply didn’t know how very great that loss was. I’m sorry for all you’ve suffered. Sorry you still blame yourself. It was God’s will, Ian, and something only He understands. Please don’t blame yourself for living. Embrace the gift of life you were given and live it to the fullest. You’re a wonderful man. In every way. And you deserve every happiness.”
A shudder wracked his large frame. He closed his eyes and turned his head to press a fervent kiss against her palm, a gesture that made the area surrounding her heart go hollow. “Thank you, Sophia. Telling you everything … I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”
His whispered words blew warm against her palm, and unable to stop herself, she touched her lips to his forehead. “I’m glad. And for that reason alone I wish you’d told me sooner. And now I owe you the same courtesy – the truth.”
After pressing another kiss against her palm, he leaned back. “I’m listening.”
“I travelled to Scotland because I was desperately unhappy. And lonely … so horribly lonely. Even when I was surrounded by people I felt alone. Not even the company of my closest friends brought me comfort. I prayed that a holiday somewhere I’d never been would cure my melancholy. That a complete change of scenery, where I knew no one and no one knew me, would help me regain the part of myself that had died along with my husband.”
“You must have loved him very much.”
“Yes … but not at first. My father, who wasn’t titled, inherited a great fortune when I was fifteen, one he was determined to use to marry his only child into the peerage. I was apprehensive, especially as Robert was nearly thirty years my senior, but my fears were allayed when I met him. He was very kind and needed to marry an heiress to fill the empty family coffers. It wasn’t a love match, but our affection grew into a mutual love and respect. He was an exceptional man. Intelligent and witty. A loving husband.” She hesitated, then added softly, “And father.”
Ian went perfectly still. “Father? You … you have children?”
“A son. Edward.”
“How old is he?”
“Fifteen.” As it always did, her heart swelled at the thought of her son. “He’s a compassionate and extraordinary young man. After Robert’s death, Edward became the only bright spot in my existence, which I learned is a terrible burden to place upon a child. Rather than concentrating on his studies at Eton, Edward spent his time worrying about me. I was bereft last year at the thought of once again being alone when the new school term commenced after his summer holiday. While I never told him, he clearly sensed my distress because he informed me he didn’t wish to return to Eton. He wanted to remain in the country with me and be taught by private tutors. He wouldn’t admit that my melancholy was the reason, but of course it was. That was the moment I realized I had to fix myself – for my son’s benefit as much as my own.”
“So you travelled to Scotland.”
“Yes. I promised Edward that if he would focus on his studies at Eton, I would return as the mother he’d known before Robert’s death. I had no idea how I intended to keep that vow, but I was determined to do so. Pure chance led me to Melrose. For reasons I didn’t fully understand, I omitted my title when registering at the inn there. Looking back, I suppose I was trying to recapture the happy, carefree days of my youth, before I became an heiress and was sought after for my fortune.”
“Not very pleasant – being wanted primarily because of your wealth.”
“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “So, in Melrose, I was merely Sophia Mallory. Eager to explore, I went for a walk as soon as I arrived. I wandered into a beautiful meadow and picked a handful of roses. Holding those flowers, feeling the warmth of such a lovely day, it suddenly felt as if something inside me shifted – like a dark cloud dissipating so the sun could shine through. A joy I hadn’t felt since before Robert’s death bubbled up inside me. I spun around in pure delight, feeling free in a way I hadn’t since I was a girl. And when I stopped spinning, I saw you. I considered telling you my title, but when you confirmed you were the groundskeeper, I changed my mind. A groundskeeper wouldn’t converse so informally with a countess – and I had no desire to end our conversation. By the end of our walk through the garden I knew I wanted us to become lovers.”
His lips twitched. “I’m heartbroken it took you that long to realize it. I knew the instant I laid eyes on you.”
“I still considered telling you, but after a few weeks with you in the cottage, my title simply ceased to matter. I loved the simplicity of our existence. Loved being simply Sophia. I knew I’d have to return to my world, but until that time, I didn’t want anything of my life in England to intrude on my happiness. Because Ian, I was truly happy. I never thanked you properly, so I hope you’ll accept my gratitude now.”
“Then why did you leave? And so abruptly?”
“When you mentioned me staying longer than the two months I’d planned, it burst the bubble surrounding me. I realized I’d inadvertently led you to believe our arrangement could continue for an extended duration. It seemed too late to tell you the truth, yet I couldn’t bring myself to lie to you any longer. That last night, it became clear that your feelings for me were stronger than I’d ever anticipated them becoming.” She drew a deep breath, then added, “As were my feelings for you.”
Fire, and something that looked alarmingly like hope kindled in his eyes. He lifted her hands to his lips and gently kissed the backs of her fingers. “You’ve no idea how glad I am to hear of these strong feelings for me, Sophia.”
Before she could tell him that he shouldn’t be glad, that those feelings were impossible, the carriage jerked to halt.
“We have arrived,” Ian said softly.
Five
Sophia halted just inside the drawing room. “What’s all this?” she asked, sweeping her arm towards the round table set before the hearth where a cheery fire crackled.
Ian assessed the table with a critical eye and was pleased to note his instructions to the staff had been perfectly carried out during his absence. “A surprise. For you.”
She walked across the room then slowly circled the table. “Roses, cherries, marzipan, scones and raspberry conserve,” she murmured, gently trailing her fingertips around the polished wood edge. “All my—”
“Favourite things. Aye.” Ian leaned against the hearth and crossed his arms over his chest – the only way he could keep from yanking her into his arms. Bloody hell, if he’d thought it difficult not to pounce upon her before, it was nearly impossible not to do so now, when no more secrets existed between them. When he’d bared his soul to her, and she’d admitted to having strong feelings for him.
Based on her reaction to their kiss on the terrace, he didn’t doubt he could seduce her, but he wanted more than a quick romp. Wanted more than her body. He wanted her heart. And wanted her to know she owned his. Although she’d owned it from the moment he’d seen her, he’d never told her so, something he’d castigated hims
elf for every day for the past six months. Surely if he’d told her, she wouldn’t have left him. He’d intended to, but hadn’t felt the need to rush, especially as he believed she knew, even without the words, how deeply he cared for her. Bloody hell, it had seemed as if his feelings all but glowed from him.
It was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. Before this evening was over, Sophia would know, without a doubt, how much he cared for her – out of the bedchamber as well as in it.
So, instead of sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the nearest bed, he offered her a smile and teased, “I’d wager you’re now sorry you never expressed to me a love for diamonds and emeralds.”
She laughed, a magical sound that flowed over him like warm honey. “In truth I’m not overly fond of diamonds or emeralds. I much prefer—”
“Pearls.”
“I mentioned that?”
He nodded. “Once.”
“And you remembered?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I suppose I am.”
She returned her attention to the table and picked up one of the sea shells decorating the surface. As he knew she would, she held the shell up to her ear, and his heart turned over at the delighted smile that lifted her lips. “You also remembered how I love the sound of the sea.”
“I recall every detail of our time together. Everything about you is … unforgettable.”
Colour rushed into her cheeks and she quickly set the shell back in the bowl. “Ian, what I said in the carriage regarding my feelings … there are things we need to discuss—”
“I agree. And what better way to begin than with your favourite things?” He slid back one of the mahogany chairs from the table in invitation.