“They wouldn’t let me see you, and I didn’t know if…” He worked his jaw but said nothing else as he intently held her gaze with his. “Are you in pain?”
“There is some discomfort if I move too quickly or stretch, but otherwise, I am well.”
“Right.” He nodded and slipped back into memories. “I couldn’t do anything for you.” His voice sounded forlorn and lost. “I had to wait, to hope.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. “After they removed the ball and you were gripped with fever, I walked the downstairs hallways, until Sister Agnes kicked me out for being underfoot. I visited the monastery, talked with Father Horacio—prayed.” His voice broke and she murmured appropriate words of consolation.
When he remained visibly upset, Sophia scooted closer to him. She finger-combed the wild blond hair from his forehead and then framed his face between her palms. “I must have done something good in my life, for I am here now, with you.” She whispered the words, couldn’t force what she wished to say past the tightness in her throat. “We’re both alive. That is what matters.”
Finally, he looked at her as if he really saw her, and he nodded. “Never have I been more glad of that.” He took possession of her hands once more, kissed the middle knuckle of each and then cupped her cheek. “Sophia, I…”
“Yes?” Her heartbeat accelerated. Every muscle in her body tensed. Would he declare himself, tell her everything she wished to hear?
“It will keep.” The grin he gave her was so startling and genuine she gaped and forgot the frustration that he hadn’t uttered those special words. Her heart constricted. He was devastatingly handsome when he did that.
“You should smile more often,” she whispered and then nuzzled her face more firmly into his palm.
“I believe that I will after this.” Jonathan drew the pad of his thumb along her lower lip. Shivers of anticipation chased over her skin. “But first, this.” He kissed her lips, gently moved over them as if reacquainting himself with the taste of her. “Ah, Sophia, I’m taking you home.” And he kissed her again with the same amount of leisure and tenderness.
When she stretched to wrap her arms about his shoulders, a twinge of pain skittered through her left side. She broke the kiss. “Perhaps if you join me on the bed, I can better maneuver—”
A soft cough came from the direction of the door. Both she and Jonathan glanced up. Sister Theresa stood in the frame with a tray of tea in her hands. “Viscount Trewellain’s visiting time has expired. He must return to the parlor.”
Sophia bit off the curse that nearly flew from the tip of her tongue. She slumped against her pillow. “Would it be possible for me to take tea with him in the parlor?” No doubt the nun had escaped prayers early.
“I’m sorry, no. You will need to remain in bed for the next few days to make certain your wound is healing.” The nun advanced into the room as Jonathan stood. She slid the tray onto Sophia’s lap. “After tea, you’ll need to sleep. I’ll send the viscount up for his second visit later this evening.”
Cold disappointment pooled in her belly. “Thank you.”
Jonathan shook his head. “I will be right outside your room, in my customary chair.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge as he glanced at Sister Theresa. “I won’t leave her.”
“I was confident you’d say that.” The nun grinned and didn’t chide him for his stance.
Tendrils of warmth wrapped around Sophia’s limbs. He was her noble defender, the stoic knight in battered armor that would never leave her side. There was so much she wanted to tell him, say to him no matter if he didn’t return the sentiment. “We can converse while you’re out there.”
“Yes.” He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “For the moment, it’s enough that you’re awake. I’ll be outside if you should need anything.” With a nod to Sister Theresa, Jonathan quit the room.
Sophia couldn’t quite hide her smile. Her stomach rumbled, betraying her need for sustenance that didn’t come from kissing the viscount. “Thank you, Sister Theresa. No doubt I owe you for more than just the tea.”
“It is what I’ve taken vows for.” But a faint blush colored her cheeks. “I will check on you in an hour.” She left the room and murmured a farewell to Jonathan outside.
Other memories surfaced and Sophia gasped. Lord Archewyne and the Duke of Rathesborne were in dire trouble. “We need to warn Lord Archewyne. Notify him and the duke of Lord Basselton’s plans.”
Jonathan popped his head around the door frame. “As soon as the opportunity arises, we will, but your life—your safety—comes first. Archewyne and Rathesborne can handle themselves if evil should reach them before our warning.”
“Very well.” Feeling deliciously naughty, she crooked a finger at him. “We have an hour before someone comes back. Share tea with me?”
His eyes darkened and a wicked promise glinted in his gaze. “While I want so much more from you, tea will be an acceptable start.”
“So it will.” Perhaps it was merely a matter of waiting him out, discovering the best time for such an intimate conversation, for the dormitory of a convent wasn’t conducive to romance. “I have missed you, Trewellain.”
He winked. “I have missed you as well.”
For the moment, it was enough. When he was ready, he would tell her everything. It wouldn’t do to push such a stubborn lord.
Chapter Twenty-four
March 8, 1822
For the third time since he’d met Sophia, he awaited her presence in a parlor. Only this time it would be to escort her back to England… where he would ultimately decide his fate and her future.
The sound of voices in the hallway beyond the door brought his pacing to a halt and then she was there. His heart seized when she walked into the room, clad in the blue gown he’d insisted Sister Theresa hang in order for the wrinkles to work free. Seeing it in her bedchamber had given him hope each day he’d waited for to awaken. Every time he’d looked at that dress, he envisioned her in it and it had allowed him to go on another day even when things seemed bleak.
And now here she was in the blue satin garment, a vision of ethereal loveliness with her wheat blond hair piled upon her head and bead-encrusted Spanish combs embedded in her tresses. Thirteen days ago, he feared she’d never again look at him with those bluer than blue eyes let alone stand on her own two feet. The fact that she had defied all odds stole his breath as much as her delighted smile upon seeing him.
The words he’d uttered in that underground cavern network, the plea and realization he’d had in the subterranean chapel came back to him as he looked at her. Yes, he had much to tell her, had much to share. It was now a matter of finding the right time. He was horrid at romancing a lady, but Sophia deserved everything good in life, and he wished the start of their life together to be exactly that.
“Good morning, Jonathan.” Her heeled satin slippers made gentle tapping sounds as she crossed the floor and offered her hands to him. “I can hardly believe the day is here that we’re going home to England.” Her grin faded slightly as did the light in her eyes. No doubt she thought about her future and their false engagement.
He kept his own counsel for the moment. Now was not the time for heartfelt words or declarations. “Good morning, Sophia.” Despite the urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless, he quelled it. As long as they were on the convent grounds, touching her in any sort of carnal capacity was prohibited. “We cannot linger here, can we?”
“No, I don’t suppose we can, though,” she dropped her voice as Sister Agnes and Sister Theresa entered the room. “This leg of our mission doesn’t have the charm and intensity that being in the thermal pool did.”
His eyes widened, but he had no opportunity to answer, for the sisters had reached their location. “Sister Agnes.” He nodded to the older woman as he released Sophia’s gloved hands. “Sister Theresa.” He nodded at her as well. “You will never know the depth of my appreciation for what you’ve done for Sophia.�
�� His throat crowded with tears and he swallowed them. Today was not a day for weeping. “Without your timely assistance and tender care, she would not be here with us today.”
“It was our duty and our pleasure,” the older nun said, and for the first time a wide smile wreathed her face. She glanced at Sophia. “Your life was spared for a reason, Miss Wickham. Don’t waste the opportunity.”
“I promise I won’t.” She engulfed the woman in a hug that widened the nun’s eyes. “However can I repay your kindness?” she asked when she pulled away.
“Do good, be kind, show love.” Sister Agnes stepped back with an expression of embarrassment. “That is all we require.”
“I will. I promise.” Tears sparkled in Sophia’s eyes and Jonathan’s heart ached for the gratitude she showed. He felt the same and they two would soon be watering pots if they weren’t careful. She turned to Sister Theresa. “You have been everything wonderful to me. I’m saddened to leave you and your friendship.” Like she’d done to the older nun, she gave the younger a hug.
Sister Theresa patted Sophia’s cheek once they parted. “We will forever remain friends, my dear. As Sister Agnes said, let your second chance at life guide your steps into the future. Perhaps someday you can do the same for another.”
“I will.” When Sophia trained her shining gaze on him, he nearly threw himself onto his knees before her. Yet he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as she smiled at him. “Of course, none of this would be possible if you hadn’t persevered in those caverns.” The tendons in her delicate throat worked with a hard swallow. “You are an extraordinary man, Viscount Trewellain.” She brushed at an escaped tear. “Thank you seems so inadequate.”
Heat crept up the back of his neck and into his ears. The nuns looked at him with expectation. The muscles in his stomach clenched. He refused to tell Sophia the contents of his heart in front of these women. “I could do nothing less for you, Miss Wickham. The past several weeks in your company have been… illuminating.”
A tiny sigh escaped Sister Theresa, and he felt it deep in his soul, especially when confusion creased Sophia’s brow and she hunted in her reticule for a handkerchief. Once she’d secured that dainty square, she moved to a window to undoubtedly regain her composure.
Jonathan glanced at the younger nun. “You have my eternal gratitude. You both do.” He moved forward and grasped a hand of each of them, and in a low voice meant only for them, he said, “Know that I intend to make everything right and proper where Sophia is concerned, and that I’ll do my level best to keep her happy for the remainder of my life.”
Sister Theresa’s eyes shone with joy. “I’m so glad. You two are meant to be together.”
The older nun’s response was more taciturn. “Do not live in sin longer than you ought, Viscount Trewellain.” But a tiny smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I agree with Sister Theresa. It has been a long while since I have witnessed such devotion between a couple.”
The tension eased from his shoulders as he nodded. At least he had their blessing. Raising his voice to a normal level, he said, “I would be remiss if I didn’t offer you some sort of payment for your work.”
“That is not necessary,” Sister Agnes protested, but she followed when he tugged both nuns over to the low table in front of a settee.
“Oh, but it is.” As Sophia came forward with a frown, he gestured at the items he’d placed on table before their arrival. “Though I feel this isn’t nearly enough for what you’ve done to save Sophia’s life as well as my sanity, it is a start. Once I arrive home, I will be sure to send another payment.”
The agate chalice shone and glimmered in the morning light streaming in from the window. Inside the shallow bowl, the emerald and the cross he and Sophia had found in their ill-fated quest sparkled, and beside the chalice, the bracelet and necklace of aquamarine and diamond meant for Lavinia glittered. He no longer needed those pieces, for he’d set her memory free. It was time to look toward the future.
All three women gasped, and he grinned. Never would he forget the nuns who had changed his life forever. “Please say you’ll accept this token of my gratitude. Perhaps it will help to replace the treasures stolen from the monastery during the war.”
“Though we’ve taken a vow of poverty…” Sister Agnes’ words trailed off. She glanced at Sister Theresa with a helpless shrug.
“We would be honored.” Sister Theresa swiftly embraced him and then pressed a quick kiss on both of his cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” He nodded and then looked at Sophia and held out a hand. “We should probably take to the road. We have many days ahead of us.”
April 8, 1822
Bourges, France
Jonathan stretched his limbs and then he alighted from the private coach they’d ridden in since departing Barcelona. He assisted Sophia down and escorted her into the posting inn where’d they spend the night, just as they’d done throughout the month-long journey.
He’d made certain their pace was slow, mostly because he didn’t wish her injury jostled more than necessary, and he didn’t want their time together to end before he could confess the secrets of his heart.
Of course, he could have chosen any of the past thirty days to reveal all, but he hadn’t for the days they spend touring the sites or enjoying what the French countryside had to offer were so idyllic he didn’t want to risk the chance she’d refuse him. Instead, it was much like a courting period where he’d bring her trinkets and flowers, took dinners and strolls with her, and above all, he refrained from bedding her out of respect for her healing as well as fulfilling his promise to the nuns that he’d be a gentleman.
Throughout the trip, Sophia never complained. Though she’d appeared to enjoy their travels, at times he’d catch her staring at him with speculation and concern in her eyes. When that happened, he’d cajole her until she smiled and laugh, he’d tell her tales from his childhood or he’d steal teasing kisses, but he’d never let the embraces advance into heated passion.
It was strange, this denying his body’s urges, especially when he had a warm and willing woman beside him, but he wished to do right by her, show her the respect and honor he should have done earlier. He loved her to distraction and hoped he showed that to her beyond what they could find twisted in sheets. Once they reached Paris, if things went as he’d hoped, then perhaps he would let desire consume him, but not before.
The slight pressure of her fingers on his yanked him from his musings and into the present. “This is a lovely village. I wouldn’t mind strolling along the Yèvre river once we’ve rested.”
Jonathan nodded. “Your wish is my command, love.” He would deny her nothing. When they entered the inn, he led her to a table near a large fireplace. “Rest here. I shall secure a private dining room.”
She huffed in frustration. “I’m not an invalid. My wound has healed nicely. There is no more danger.”
“Be that is it may, I’d prefer if you didn’t do anything strenuous.” Once she settled into a large leather chair, he made his way to a counter at the rear of the room. As he passed another gentleman going the opposite direction, he laid a hand on the man’s arm. “What the devil are you doing here, Carlisle?” he asked of the raven-haired man, and one of his friends. They often went to clubs together in London, and before he’d met Lavinia, they had jokingly pursued the same women. He was also twin to Lord Castlereagh, and a junior agent currently under Lord Archewyne’s wing.
The Earl of Carlisle, Elton Courtenay started and then grinned when he recognized Jonathan. “Trewellain! Good to see you, old boy.” The two clasped hands. “I’m on my way home. There’s a post coach leaving in ten minutes and I aim to be on it.”
“Why are you here in France?”
The younger man shrugged. “Why not? I’ve nothing else of interest to do.”
“Your duties to parliament might say otherwise.”
Carlisle snorted. “The doddering lords be damned. I’m always in th
e drink with them.”
Ah, he was still trying to understand the reins of his newly inherited title. “Responsibility isn’t so bad. You might try it some time.” Jonathan nearly rolled his eyes at himself. Three months ago, he was just as devil-may-care as this man. “In any event, if I dash off a missive, will you personally deliver it to the Duke of Rathesborne? Do not leave him until he breaks the seal personally.” He could have sent a missive before, but Sophia had taken his attention, and he’d meant what he said that the duke and Archewyne could handle themselves. They were trained for it. Perhaps the duke would forgive him someday.
“I would be honored.” A frown pulled at his lips. “Must be dire if you’ll involve Rathesborne.”
“It is, quite.” To a man behind the counter, he requested stationery, a pen and ink, a candle and sealing wax. Then he led the earl to a nearby table. “Life or death, I’m afraid.”
Once the supplies were delivered, he began the task of composing a succinct missive.
Rathesborne,
I am well and en route to your villa on the Rue de Rivoli in Paris. My mission has been compromised. I have failed. This is the first chance I’ve had to write. Lord Basselton is not missing, but performed acts of treason against the Crown. He is working for none other than Nigel Hawkins, and I’m afraid Basselton eluded capture, as my attention after his escape turned toward survival. Nigel seeks revenge against you and Archewyne as well as any other king’s agents who he feels have wronged him. Take my warning to heart. He won’t stop until you are all dead. I feel things will come to a head and soon. Perhaps they already have while I’ve been out of pocket.
Meanwhile, Miss Sophia Wickham travels with me, and I mean to marry the woman as soon as we return to London and a special license can be procured. Our adventures were many, long and death defying, but I won’t wait to claim her. Will brief you after my return, but be advised, I do not want my arrival in London bandied about. I mean to enjoy a brief honeymoon period of sorts before I am available to the public and to my duties.
What the Stubborn Viscount Desires Page 27