DisobediencebyDesign

by Regina Kammer

  “Yours as well, I suppose.”

  “I hardly think a vicar and his wife will refuse the offer of a viscount’s heir.” She smoothed his hair back into place. “Your business associates as well. Lord Petersham. I’m sure Mr. Phillips and Lady Sophia won’t find it shocking.”

  “No.” He chuckled. “Sophia will be miffed you did not confide in her.”

  “A lady’s maid does no such thing with her mistress.”

  He took her hand between his. “Just think of the fun you could have had switching places.”

  “Oh you are wicked.” She leaned forward, placing her palm on his leg above the knee, the heat emanating from his crotch sparking arousal within. That he wanted her as much as she wanted him was exhilarating, liberating. But she would not give in.

  She eased her hand closer to his hip, the tips of her fingers curling around the flesh of his inner thigh. He drew in a sharp breath, his brow crinkling in hopeful expectation.

  “If you feel the need to appease your urges, I will allow you to take a lover,” she said quietly. “I won’t be so cruel as to deny you your pleasures while we wait for approbation from your family and colleagues.”

  He swallowed and glanced at her hand. “I doubt I will need a paramour when you will occupy my dreams every night.”

  She smiled and melted into him, closing her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her, the movement of the carriage an accomplice to their forbidden affair.

  Chapter Twenty

  When their hired dogcart pulled into the drive before the cottage at Lamberton Sophia breathed a sigh of relief. Amazingly Arthur’s plan had worked. She and Joseph had arrived in Scotland without ever having seen Royston.

  Which possibly meant that Anna and Geoffrey had encountered him. She shuddered and prayed he would not persist in his pursuit. Joseph put Mr. Briggs on night watch just in case.

  They spent their first night alone, Joseph coaxing her into his arms, out of her clothes, to open for him. Afterward he held her, murmuring reassurances that all would be okay. Had she really just left behind everything she knew and loved? No, not really. She loved Joseph and Arthur and Geoffrey. Anna even. But she also loved long strolls across the lawns at Harwell Hall, birds and clouds floating above, the crisp, spring air reddening her cheeks. There would be no more springs in the countryside. By next spring she would have a newborn and would be living in America.

  Geoffrey and Anna didn’t show up for a whole day and too late for the parson, which was just as well. Joseph was certain he was a few days shy of the requisite twenty-one and he was adamant there should be no irregularities.

  Anna looked a proper lady in Sophia’s clothes and acted as one as she kissed Sophia’s cheeks in greeting and relief. They had been delayed twice by the duke, once in London then in Peterborough when they saw him at the station. Anna had suggested they stay in Peterborough a day, which they did. Royston was probably heading for Harwell Hall but they didn’t want another encounter on the railway.

  Despite their misadventure with the duke, the pair was in good spirits. Geoffrey’s eyes twinkled whenever he looked in Anna’s direction as he gave his account of their journey. She glowed and beamed in Geoffrey’s presence, blushing when he said she should simply sit down and let Mrs. Reed serve the tea. Anna was very pretty when she smiled. It was the first time Sophia had seen Anna truly smile.

  “Will the two of you be visiting the parson as well?” Sophia needled.

  Anna gasped and paled while Geoffrey looked down at his teacup. Joseph let out a guffaw.

  “I promised Miss Colney a proper wedding,” Geoffrey said, meeting Anna’s gaze. “But only after a proper courtship.”

  Sophia clapped her hands to her face. “Oh Anna! Is this true?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  She stood and pulled Anna from her chair and into a hug. “I am so happy for you!” She kissed her cheeks. “For the both of you,” she said to Geoffrey.

  “We don’t mean to take away from your happiness, my lady.”

  “You aren’t. And you must call me Sophia.” She turned to Joseph. “Or after tomorrow, Mrs. Phillips.”

  “I dare say, Sophie, you will be Lady Sophia Phillips,” said Geoffrey.

  “We’ll see how Papa and Mama react first.”

  That night Joseph was seized by a sudden sense of chivalry, deciding that he and Sophia should not sleep together until after they were man and wife although it was possibly merely a ruse so he and Geoffrey could stay up half the night drinking brandy and exchanging lurid stories of bachelorhood.

  She and Anna did not get much sleep either, Sophia from nerves, Anna from giving in to Sophia’s prodding about Geoffrey while they lay in bed in the dark. Anna also confided the account of her rape by Royston, leaving Sophia sullen and guilty.

  “I should have done more to protect you,” she said, staring at the night-blackened ceiling.

  “How could you when you were his victim as well?” Anna exclaimed. “It’s no one’s fault but his, my la—Sophia. We’ll not talk about it any longer.” She turned onto her side, tucking her hands under her head. “Geoffrey’s a good kisser, isn’t he?”

  Sophia laughed. They giggled into the night until sleep overtook them.

  When Sophia awoke, the sadness for her past had lifted. Her future lay with Joseph and she was eager for their new beginning.

  The marriage took place at the Lamberton tollhouse near the border with England where clandestine and irregular marriages had traditionally taken place before the law was changed to not encourage elopement to Scotland. The parson, Dr. Ardwell, a jovial fellow as tall as Geoffrey and as brawny as Joseph, boomed an exuberant welcome to the foursome, putting everyone immediately at ease. Sophia expected to have butterflies in her stomach on her wedding day. Instead her heart threatened to burst from an excess of joy, lifting her as if she were walking on air, her feet barely touching the wooden floor in the little stone building, her head in a fog, barely hearing Joseph and Dr. Ardwell discussing fees and paperwork. She didn’t remember saying “I do” but was certain she did, for suddenly there she was signing the registry.

  And when she looked up Anna was blushing crimson as Geoffrey whispered something in her ear, his lips twisted in a sly smile he once reserved for Sophia, a smile now suffused with a difference, with contentment and satisfaction.

  Dr. Ardwell’s assistant shooed them away as the next couple approached. In lieu of a wedding breakfast, Geoffrey suggested they drink a toast in a nearby pub. On the way Joseph sent a quick note to Arthur.

  After they celebrated their wedded bliss and the health of their child Joseph returned to business.

  “We’ll travel to London together as quickly as possible. Arthur will want to see the marriage certificate.”

  “We can leave today,” suggested Geoffrey.

  “But what about a honeymoon for Mr. and Mrs. Phillips?” Anna pouted.

  How sweet for Anna to look out for her but they did not have the time.

  Joseph caught her eye. “I think we already did what we were supposed to do on our honeymoon.” He winked. “I promise we’ll go somewhere, do something special.”

  Sophia did not doubt that. They would go to America at least. The thought made her a little uneasy but if she were with Joseph, she knew she would be, as he would say, okay.

  * * * * *

  Arthur studied the paintings of his ancestors outside the door to Father’s study. He remembered his grandfather, and the oil portrait captured beautifully the glint of mischievousness in his eyes above the stern line of his mouth. Grandpapa got that same expression when Arthur did something wrong—well, something Father thought was wrong at least. Grandpapa had been far more forgiving of Arthur’s boyhood foibles. He wondered if the old man would forgive the adult as well. Arthur was prepared to do something very bad indeed.

  He had made an appointment with Father and had insisted Mother be in attendance to discuss an urgent family matter. He shook his head. Grandpapa had alwa
ys been ready to listen. No appointment needed. Arthur missed him terribly.

  All sentiment dissolved the moment Billings opened the door and invited him in. The oppressive atmosphere of the study came not just from the dark wood paneling but from the foul mood of his parents, Father in a position of power behind his desk, Mother primly poised on a stuffed visitors’ chair. They gave no greeting, no offer to sit.

  “Royston tells us Sophia ran away,” Father growled. “Where did she go?”

  Arthur stood before the desk, his hands folded behind him as if an admonished schoolboy. “Scotland.”

  “Oh my word!” Mother whimpered, raising her hands to heaven.

  Father’s eyes bored into him. “She did what?”

  “You heard me, Father. Sophia went to Scotland with Joseph Phillips with the intention of getting married.”

  “I will have her brought back at once. Billings!” He stood, both hands gripping the bureau’s thick mahogany edge. “She’s not spending three weeks with that man.”

  Billings entered promptly. “Sir?”

  “She doesn’t have to,” Arthur drawled. “I sold the Lamberton property to Joseph months ago. It’s listed on our contract as his residence and usual place of business. He’s already spent three weeks there and…” He had to contain a surge of victorious glee. “I’ve just received word that they were successful.”

  “That’s a lie. I’ll challenge it in court.” Father dismissed the secretary with a backhanded wave.

  “Harold, please. Think of the scandal,” Mother said quietly.

  “I will have the blackguard arrested for seduction.”

  “And have it spread all over the newspapers?” Arthur asked coolly.

  “Oh Harold!” Mother squawked. “We cannot have Sophie dragged through the mud!”

  Father narrowed his eyes. “Did you allow this to happen?”

  “Yes, Father, I was instrumental in saving my sister from harm’s way.”

  “You are no son of mine—”

  “Harold!” Mother’s screech pierced the air. She stood and approached the desk, leaning toward Father. “You are not to say that ever again.”

  Arthur chilled at the scene. He had never seen his parents engaged in a clash of wills. Father turned beet-red under Mother’s steely stare then flicked his gaze to Arthur.

  “This is outrageous!” He slammed his fist on his desk.

  Both Mother and the inkwell jumped.

  “More outrageous than marrying your daughter to a true blackguard? An absolute brute? More outrageous than aborting your own grandchild?”

  Father turned his back to him to glower out the window.

  “All Royston has ever done is tell you lies, Father. I do not understand why you continue to listen to him. He beat and almost raped Sophie. If it hadn’t been for Joseph, she would have been defiled by that man. Now Sophie carries the child of the man she loves, the man she wanted to marry, the man she did marry. The man with whom she will raise your grandchild. Your first grandchild. Quite possibly your only grandchild.”

  Mother gasped. “Arthur? Whatever do you mean?”

  “I mean, Mother, that you had your chance with Henny. Henny was pregnant when Royston threw her down the stairs—”

  “What?” Her jaw dropped as her hand flew to cover her mouth.

  “That’s right. He was responsible not only for her death but for the death of our child. She had to suffer with the knowledge of a miscarriage then suffer with the knowledge she might not ever carry another child.” He drew in a breath to steady himself. “I will not produce an heir for a title whose current holder has faith in the most barbaric of men.”

  “Arthur…” Father growled, turning to face him.

  “Does the idea vex you, Father?” he snapped. “I am well aware that I am the last of the Harwell line, the final male heir to the Marquessate of Richmond. I wonder if Sophie has a son, where he will fit into the lineage? And then if I refuse to have a son? What then?”

  “I will petition for a special remainder.” But the words of defiance were tinged with a touch of fear.

  “In favor of whom? Some unknown fourth cousin by marriage? The marquessate as you know it will die.”

  His father glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “If allying with men of Royston’s ilk is what the peerage is all about, I want no part of it.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  Arthur angled over the massive desk separating father and son. “Then tell me what it is I should think, Father.”

  The marquess turned a horrific shade of crimson and looked away.

  “I do not know what sort of hold Royston has over you,” Arthur bit acerbically, “what sort of blackmail he demands or spell he has you under, because that is all it can be. He is a most reprehensible beast, completely ill-suited for your sweet, innocent daughter. I cannot believe you continue to believe in the charade that is their engagement.”

  Mother sobbed quietly into her handkerchief.

  “Because of him I no longer have the woman I love and we will never share the joy of children. I will not allow you to destroy Sophie’s one chance at happiness. When they return to London I will shield her and protect her as I should have done for Henny. When you give up this damn pretense I will let you see your daughter and grandchild.”

  Arthur turned on his heel and left.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sophia was exhausted from the journey and from the baby but giddiness burbled through her as the cab from Kings Cross headed toward Arthur’s house. When the foursome arrived her brother was glum and dull. But she wasn’t going to let him spoil her good news.

  “I’m married, Arthur! Can you believe it?” She threw her arms around his neck and let him kiss her cheeks.

  His grin was tempered with fatigue. “I’m so very happy for you, Sophie.” He turned his smile to Joseph as he took her arm. “For the both of you. And I’m just glad it is you who is my brother-in-law.”

  Sophia squeezed his arm. “We’ll not speak of anything but my future happiness, Arthur.”

  “Of course. Let’s to the drawing room for a little celebration.”

  Like the best brother in the world that he was, Arthur had champagne and a small fruit cake to fete the wedding. The mood in the room was of weary victory, except Geoffrey was overly attentive to a blushing Anna.

  “I’ve a small dinner prepared,” Arthur announced. “I’m sure you are all famished from your trip.” He turned to Anna. “You are welcome to join us, Miss Colney. I fear you are embroiled in our plot now.”

  Anna curtsied. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Arthur twisted his lips and sighed. “Let’s not use such formalities in private. Please just call me Arthur.”

  Anna blushed again with a smile.

  Dinner was simple. The three men discussed business and Anna occasionally flashed Sophia questioning looks. Sophia explained what she could but was quite distracted by just watching Joseph engaged in conversation with Arthur and Geoffrey. He had an intensity of conviction and a camaraderie with the other two men that was quite appealing, quite…arousing.

  She picked at her peas. Food cravings had become routine in the last few weeks but she hadn’t expected to crave Joseph—her husband—and his virile charms. Her hunger for him was increased by the fact they hadn’t had a proper wedding night. And she couldn’t stop thinking about what they might do on that special night.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. She flicked her gaze around the table to see if anyone could tell she was at that very moment, at the dinner table, having very naughty thoughts. But the men were guffawing over something and Anna was clearly enjoying wearing a low-cut gown and eating at an elegant table rather than in the servants’ hall.

  After dinner they all repaired to the library, the men forgoing cigars but not Arthur’s port as he kept the finer liquor near his books. They drank another toast to Sophia and Joseph, then Arthur invited everyone to take a seat.

 
“Sophie, not to put a cloud over your happy day but I do need to mention a few things. Mother and Father are not happy. However, I don’t think they will threaten a legal suit against Joseph—”

  “Why would they do such a thing?” Sophia was horrified.

  “For seduction,” Geoffrey said softly.

  “But he didn’t…I mean, I did too—”

  “It’s a legal term, Sophie,” Geoffrey explained. “You are not an adult in the eyes of the law. Until a young woman not in her majority is married her father retains all legal rights over her person. The marquess could sue Joseph, essentially, for loss of his property.”

  “Repugnant,” muttered Joseph.

  “Yes but he won’t,” said Arthur. “The scandal would be horrendous. Libelous attacks on the honor of fifteen generations of Richmonds would be utterly shameful to him.” Arthur sipped his port thoughtfully. “You’ll live here with me—and Joseph—for the duration of your confinement. You too, Anna,” he said to her.

  Sophia stared at him in disbelief. She was never going home again.

  “I’ve sent for the rest of Anna’s personal property. Unfortunately for you, Sophie, everything you have is essentially owned by Father. I don’t want to upset him further.”

  “Everything? My new gowns?”

  “We’ll have a modiste visit whenever you wish.”

  “May I write to Mama?” She longed for her advice. It simply hadn’t sunk in that mother and daughter would not share in the joy of a grandchild.

  “Yes of course,” he said curtly.

  The sullen silence was broken by the rustle of Anna’s silk skirts as she got up from the sofa.

  “I think I’ll retire now, if I may.”

  “Yes, Anna,” said Arthur. “Thank you.”

  Anna glanced at Geoffrey, who got up immediately and walked out with her.

  Arthur sat next to Sophia and took her hand. “We’ve put ourselves in a terrible mess but it’s a damn sight better than you being married to Royston.” He gave a little squeeze. “I’m just happy you’re safe and with me.”