“I am. But I’m losing my only daughter. Oh Sophie!” She shook with sobs.
Sophia hugged her closely, tears forming in her eyes. Arthur’s plan was going to rip their family apart.
“Let’s get ready to go, Mama. Papa hates it when we keep him waiting.”
Lord and Lady Hawkhurst’s annual ball was well attended, perhaps too much so. The ballroom was a complete crush, as was the refreshment room, although dozens more guests could have been received if the women’s skirts hadn’t been so voluminous. Dancing was a chore at times but Sophia’s dance card was full of fabulous partners. Unusually so. As if all the men who excelled in the waltz had decided to attend that very night.
The event was truly the height of the Season.
As she whirled a polka-mazurka in the arms of the Earl of Bedingham she spied Geoffrey dancing with Flora Sheffleigh. She couldn’t help but smile for him. He looked happy.
A wave of melancholy crashed over her. Was she really going to leave everything she knew and loved behind for an unknown life? She had been excited at first but now, seeing familiar faces, seeing Mama cry made Sophia a bit queasy.
Lord Bedingham relinquished her to Mama at the end of the dance.
“Oh Sophie, you look unwell.” Mama took out her fan. “Perhaps some air?”
“Thank you, Mama—”
“Perhaps a refreshment?”
The familiar and most unwelcome voice sent a stabbing chill up her spine.
“Your Grace,” Mama said with a curtsy.
“Lady Richmond, Lady Sophia.” Royston bowed too extravagantly.
“Yes, Sophia, a refreshment with the duke is a fine idea.”
She could not believe Mama had just said what she had said. “I think I’ll remain where I am, Mama.” Sophia tried to keep her cool. She whipped out her fan, waving it most obnoxiously. “My next partner will expect to find me in the ballroom.” She smiled when she spied him. The Earl of Croxley was handsome and a wonderful dancer although he was a bit old for her and already smitten with Lady Skeyton. But dancing with him would get her away from her tormentor.
Lord Croxley approached and gave his greetings all around.
She held out her hand. “My lord,” she said with a curtsy and an alluring smile.
“Our galop, Lady Sophia.” He offered his arm.
“Lord Croxley,” began Royston in an overly deliberate manner, “did I not see you in the garden with Lady Skeyton just an hour ago?”
“Your Grace?” The earl stiffened.
“Ah yes, it was you. I recall the color of your waistcoat. Your jacket was off, hanging on a tree branch. Of course the lady’s face was obscured by your muscular torso but she sounded as if she was enjoying herself.”
Lord Croxley flushed crimson.
“Oh dear.” Mama’s hand flew to her mouth.
The earl kept his head. “You were a long way off the walking path to have seen such a scene, Your Grace. One wonders what you yourself were doing there.”
“Taking the air, my lord.”
“Oh Sophia,” Mama said urgently. “I think you ought sit this one out.”
“But, Mama—”
“Listen to your mother, my dear Sophia,” the duke said too familiarly.
Lord Croxley bowed. “It looks as if I should take my leave, Lady Sophia.” He walked away, his head held high.
“Now how about that refreshment, my dear?” Royston stuck out a bent arm.
“Oh yes, Sophie. After that shocking incident,” Mama said, fanning herself vigorously, “you’ll need a cooling drink.”
Sophia wanted to throw her fan at something. Anything. “Actually if you would excuse me, Your Grace, Mama. I think I will repair to the ladies’ retiring room, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, my lady. I will be waiting right here for your return.” He leered. “Don’t be too long.”
She had to get out of there. But how? She had arrived with Mama and Papa. Maybe Papa could call for the carriage. She’d send it right back.
Her frantic thoughts clouded her vision and she almost crashed into a very tall man.
“Lady Sophia! You look as if you’re running from something.”
Geoffrey! Her savior. “Geoffrey,” she said, taking his arm despite him not offering it, “could you do me the biggest favor in the world?”
“Sophie,” he said quietly, “what’s wrong?”
“I have to leave. I have to get out of here. Please can you take me in your carriage?”
“Yes. For you I’d do just about anything.” He led her quickly to the coat room. “Home?”
She did not want to go there. “No.” She needed to be with someone who would listen to her. “Can you take me to Arthur’s? Do you know if he’s at home?” She hadn’t thought it through, she just hoped.
“I saw him at the club this afternoon, so he’s possibly having an evening in.”
If Arthur wasn’t home, then Joseph might be. “Yes. Please. Could you take me to Arthur’s?”
* * * * *
Geoffrey knew something was terribly wrong with Sophia. Once inside his brougham she drew the shades and slunk back against the squabs yet despite her efforts hid behind her hood and fan until they were well on their way. Only when they were far beyond the Hawkhursts’ did she fold the fan, revealing her twisted, trembling face. She said nothing as Geoffrey put his arm around her and pulled her against him. Her perfume drove him mad but it was clearly not the time to pursue a dalliance.
Arthur’s house was dark and Wittering took forever to answer the door. Sophia tugged her hood over her face and stayed close to Geoffrey. In the foyer, with the door closed behind them, she looked around then drew back her hood.
Arthur trudged down the stairs, still sleep-addled, but perked up the instant he saw them.
“Wittering, go wake up Mr. Phillips, please,” he said as he reached the bottom riser.
“Yes, my lord.”
Sophia ran to him. “Arthur! I had nowhere else to go!” Her eyes were studded with tears.
“Geoff.” Arthur raised a brow in query.
“Arthur,” he responded with a shrug.
“The library might still be warm.”
Arthur wrapped his arm around Sophia and steered her through the door. Geoffrey tried to get her to sit but she declined, preferring to wring her hands and pace while Arthur stirred up the dying embers.
The door opened. Sophia stood stock still for only a second before she ran into the arms of a stunned and sleepy Joseph, kissing him full on the mouth. He kissed her back, initial surprise swiftly melting into surrender, his practiced hands skimming her curves.
Geoffrey stared, bereft of breath, as if he had been kicked in the gut. Finally he snorted an exhale. “I should have known something was up,” he said, folding himself into an easy chair, attempting a smile.
“Geoffrey!” Sophia gasped. “No! It’s not what you think.”
He chuckled, crossing one leg over the other. “It looks a great deal like what I’m thinking.” He sobered. “However, you were running away from something, Sophie. I think I deserve an explanation.”
“Please forgive me,” she said softly. “I had to leave as soon as I could.”
Arthur turned to her. “What happened?”
“Royston. Mama tried to foist me off onto Royston.”
“What?” Arthur gaped.
“Shit,” Joseph muttered.
“Will someone please let me know what is going on?” Geoffrey inquired politely.
Arthur flashed a glance first at Joseph then at Sophia. They nodded.
“My parents have a notion to marry Sophie off to the Duke of Royston, as you know.”
“I do and I still cannot believe I’ve been bested by such as he.”
Sophia smiled. “You’ll always be the better man, Geoffrey.”
“You also know Sophie’s never been interested and I wasn’t altogether pleased but I suppose we were both ready to accept our parents’ wishes. Until
a month ago.”
Interesting news. “Oh?”
Arthur looked at his sister. “May I?”
She nodded.
He let out a juddering breath. “Sophia was beaten and almost raped by Royston at the Wrexham ball.”
“Good God.” Geoffrey made a move to get up but she indicated he should stay put. “Sophie, I had no idea.”
“Joseph came to my rescue. And Arthur. Mama and Papa made sure everything was kept a secret so no one would know.”
Geoffrey was incredulous. “And they still expect you to marry the man?”
“It’s frustrating and strange really,” agreed Arthur. “But they are equivocating on the matter so it’s not a done deal. Still they have not shut him out. But that’s not all. Royston was instrumental in Henny’s death.”
“What? Henny?” The story grew more fantastical by the moment.
“He accosted her, she tried to fend him off and in the tussle she fell down the stairs.”
Geoffrey trawled his fingers through his hair. “Jesus. Does the marquess know this?”
“No. He would just say it is her word against Royston’s and the fact of the matter is she’s dead. But we have already reported the rape of a servant and have since been informed of another incident.” Arthur swallowed hard. “The attack on Sophie should have been enough to change the marquess’ mind. It wasn’t. But it was enough to change my mind.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “And Henny’s revelation that Royston insulted her when she was just a child simply reinforced my decision. Now I know I will do anything to stop the marriage of my sister to that man. Anything.”
Sophia stared at him blankly. “He hurt Henny when she was young?”
“His abuse was the real reason she refused to marry him. Luckily she had a supportive father.”
Knowing Arthur, there was more. “So what is the ‘anything’ you are willing to do, Arthur?”
“Ah, this is the awkward part,” muttered Joseph.
Geoffrey turned to him. “How so?”
“Well you see,” Arthur started, “it turns out Sophie’s had a case on Joseph here and the feeling is mutual—”
“I gathered that.” Geoffrey shook his head, ever the fool.
“Yes well,” Arthur stammered. “You see, Royston has a particular letch, divulged to me by Henny—” He stopped, stared blankly at Geoffrey, flushing crimson. “For virgins.”
Geoffrey could almost feel what was coming. “And?”
Sophia’s voice surprised him. “Arthur and Joseph thought that if I were not a virgin, the duke would no longer want me.”
Arthur smiled weakly at his sister. “And the best way to announce a woman is no longer a virgin is for her to be…well…with child.”
“Jesus,” Geoffrey hissed. Unbelievable. Joseph was quite possibly the luckiest man alive. For a second the fantasy of them sharing her bedeviled him.
Arthur’s voice snapped him back to reality. “We hope that would force our parents to reconsider their ill-advised choice of husband.”
“And that they would let me marry the father of my child.”
They were all mad. But a villain’s evil would render one so. Geoffrey stood and sauntered to the hearth. “Phillips, how old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Look—if what you want, what you wish is to get Sophia with child, then do that. However, as you are twenty-one, there are easier ways to avoid parental consent laws.”
“Such as?” asked Arthur.
“The banns. More than likely the Richmonds will choose to ignore such a public declaration so as to avoid any attention.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted Arthur. “But Royston being in the same parish allows him to object. We can’t chance that.”
True. “All right. I suppose you could go overseas to America, although I don’t know what the marriage laws are over there,” he said thoughtfully. “And you,” he said, turning to Joseph, “might be accused of seduction. Unless Arthur accompanied you.” He stared into the glowing embers. “You could spend the requisite twenty-one days in Scotland.” He chuckled darkly. “It might appear suspicious if Sophia were with you but I’m not sure how you would get her with child otherwise.”
Arthur chewed distractedly on a finger. “Looks as if we need to think this through a bit.” The worry lines on his face deepened.
Geoffrey approached Sophia and took her hands. “Sophie, we’ve been friends for a long time. I’m happy for you and Joseph. Believe me, I am.” He only partially lied. “If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. She blushed.
He let go of her. “I’ll return to the Hawkhursts’ and look for Lady Richmond. I’ll let her know I brought you here and that you are safe.”
He nodded Joseph’s way. The American looked dumbstruck.
Sophia threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Geoffrey. For everything.” She kissed him again, this time on the lips.
Christ! She shouldn’t arouse him so. He gently urged her away from him.
“Sophie,” Arthur interjected, “I’ll also send a message around to Mother and Father letting them know you were not feeling well and you came to me.”
“Thank you, Arthur.”
Arthur offered a sympathetic smile and grabbed Geoffrey’s arm. “Shall I see you out?”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Geoffrey glanced behind as he left the library. Sophia was back in Joseph’s arms, looking quite comfortable.
He really had to stop thinking about the three of them together.
Chapter Seventeen
Joseph pulled Sophia more closely to him. He had been dreaming of her before Wittering had awoken him, a very lascivious dream, which he lamented having to give up as he put on his trousers and dressing robe. But once he saw her in the library, feminine and emotional, he had no regrets.
“You look beautiful tonight, Sophie.” He drew his fingers across the bare skin of her shoulders and back. “I should come to these events just to see you in your finery.”
She snuggled into his chest. “You mean to see me with such low-cut necklines.”
He grinned and kissed her hair. “That is definitely one of the attractions, yes. And probably the only one since I would not be allowed to dance with you.”
She looked up at him. “We can have a dance now.”
“Here? In the library? And me in my robe.”
“Would it shock you to know I once danced with a half-dressed man in a billiard room?”
He held his arms in a waltz stance and she followed suit. He whirled her about as much as the furniture and her full skirt would allow. The first time they had done such a thing she had been abashed, uncomfortable in the arms of a man she found desirable. Now her face glowed with delight and anticipation.
“I fear I’ve done this all wrong, my lady,” he said. “I believe the flattery comes after we walk into the dark recesses of the garden and not before we dance.”
“Oh but Mr. Phillips, you may flatter me whenever you wish.”
“May I kiss you whenever I wish as well?”
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
He bent over as he continued the dance, touching his lips to hers, her soft moan inciting him to deepen their union, the taste of her tongue riling his senses, inflaming his body as it had been during his dream.
“I wish to seduce you, Lady Sophia,” he murmured, still moving her in the dance. “Will you allow such an outrage?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, Mr. Phillips. But not here in the library.”
“Then let us take our walk upstairs.”
He held out his arm and she took it excitedly.
But the closer they got to the door the more his gut twisted, and when they were safely inside his bedroom, the door shut and locked, his heart thudded wildly.
Damn.
How many times had he done this be
fore? But he fumbled as he unfastened her dress, faltered as he unhooked her corset, wavered as he untied her petticoats, trembled as he pulled off her stockings.
He had bedded a dozen women a hundred times but this time it was different. This time it was Sophie. She was the love of his life.
“Have you ever been with a virgin?”
Could she tell? How could she possibly? Of course she could. They had been intimate before and he had not then acted like a callow schoolboy.
“Yes but I was one myself so I hardly knew what I was doing or what to expect.” He took off his robe. “I fear I did not give her the most enjoyable of experiences. It was over too quickly.”
What had changed? Nothing and yet everything. They were still in love but what was to happen would irrevocably affect their future. Their mutual future.
Once they made love it would be tantamount to marriage. The stakes had never been so high.
And he had never wanted to win so desperately in his life.
She led him to the bed and under the covers, allowed him to enfold her in his arms, let him kiss her, let him touch her anywhere, everywhere. She directed him to suck first one nipple then the other, urged him to stroke her clitoris to excitement, encouraged him to open her thighs and nestle his body between them.
She looked intensely into his eyes as he positioned himself and nodded her assent.
He entered her slowly. Her rapturous sigh swelled his heart to bursting. He tempered his movements, relishing the throbbing wetness as he pushed in, the warm tightness as he pulled out.
Her breathing quickened to a frenzied pace. She cried out as she clenched his cock, the force of it almost his undoing. She searched his eyes, intently, questioningly.
“Your crisis, love.” He kissed her cheeks, her lips.
“More,” she said, breathless. “I want more.”
He increased his tempo, building steadily.
“More.”
Her desires were one with her body’s reactions, grasping, flexing, wanting, needing. She came again, her orgiastic cry goading him to join her, the force of her body almost compelling him.
But he wanted more too.
He forged ahead, giving her what she demanded, hugging her to him as he drove into her faster and deeper. Her eyes fell shut, her mouth slackened, lost in the bliss before climax. He pounded harder, urging her to the point of ecstasy, her cries matching the beat of his thrusts until she bucked up, gripping him with the strength of surrender.
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