by Clee, Adele
He had raced on ahead of James, driven by a need to be with her, to hold her in his arms and claim her as his own. He should have known something was wrong when he discovered she had left before breakfast and without her brother’s knowledge. If he had bothered to check her room, he would have known she had taken nothing other than the clothes she had arrived in. If he had bothered to stop and call in at the mews, instead of insisting that Altair be brought out quickly, he would have known she had not taken Argo.
Instead, he had ridden all the way to Marchampton to discover, to his disappointment, that she was not there. He had waited three days, three days of pacing and worrying before James rode over to Westlands with the letter. A letter she had been written and sealed in his blasted study. He must have read it fifty times or more and still it did not make any sense.
“I take it Marie still refuses to say a word about Miss Beaufort’s mysterious disappearance.”
Sebastian stretched across the table, picked up the crystal glass and swallowed what was left of his brandy. He did not bother to ask if his friend cared for any refreshment. “Miss Beaufort has not disappeared,” he sighed in agitation. “Her letter stated quite clearly that she had enjoyed her freedom in town so much, she did not wish to return home. She wants to break free from society’s constraints and live independently.”
Dudley pursed his lips but could not prevent a small snigger from escaping. “You mean she found you far too domineering. I always knew you would have to settle for one of those wallflower types.”
Sebastian jumped up out of his seat and threw himself across the desk. “How can you sit there and jest about such a thing when you know my feelings on the matter. I’m in love with her, damn it,” he said prodding his own chest. “Me, the man who is always practical, the man who was going to choose a bride based on status and wealth and a host of other stupid notions. The man who would choose any reason to avoid making the same mistake as my father.” Sebastian dropped back into the chair and sighed. “Yet here I am, suffering a pain that rips and tears at my heart, suffering in the knowledge I have lost everything.” He was quiet for a moment and looked past Dudley to an invisible point on the wall. “If she walked through the door I do not know whether I would strangle her or kiss her until she could not breathe.”
Dudley cast him a pitiful look. “The problem is, you do not know how to deal with women.”
“If that’s all you’ve come to say, you can go.”
Dudley ignored his blunt reply. “You expect Marie to break an oath she made to a friend. Would you break such a confidence? No, you would not,” Dudley continued, answering his own question. He sat back in the chair with a smug grin. “You should have been far more cunning in your approach to the matter. Indeed, with a campaign involving a degree of delicate moves, it was not difficult to discover that Miss Beaufort has hidden herself away so you may marry someone deemed more worthy. Marie provided the opportunity for her to do so.”
Sebastian’s mouth fell open and he sat up straight. “What? How do you know this?” he asked, with some impatience.
“Marcus told me,” Dudley replied. “I stressed the importance of the situation and he obliged by persuading Marie of the seriousness of your suit.”
“But why would she tell Marcus?” Sebastian asked somewhat bemused.
Dudley raised a brow and shook his head. “Please tell me you are not that naïve. Marcus was always useful when it came to beautiful women. Although I fear, Marie is not such easy prey.”
Sebastian recalled a comment made by his coachman. “Haines did say she slapped Marcus across the face for being too familiar when they first met,” Sebastian sniggered. It was the first time he had laughed in a month. “Perhaps it was my fault for telling him she was the madame of a brothel.”
“I don’t know,” Dudley shrugged, “living in an old monastery does strange things to a man.” He removed a letter from his pocket and handed it to Sebastian. “The details are all in there. If you hurry, you could be with Miss Beaufort for luncheon.”
Sebastian could not stop smiling. He scanned the letter. “Dudley, I don’t know what to say … High Wycombe! She’s been in High Wycombe all this time.”
“I know,” Dudley laughed, “and I thought you were adept at locating runaways.” He held Sebastian’s gaze and said in a more serious tone, “Do not forget, Miss Beaufort believes herself unworthy of you. I would hate for you to say the wrong thing and ruin all of my hard work.”
“Your hard work,” Sebastian mocked, patting his friend on the shoulder as he hurried towards the door. “What about Marcus?”
“I have it on good authority that Marcus Danbury has thoroughly enjoyed pursuing this particular line of inquiry,” Dudley whispered to himself as he heard Sebastian’s footsteps bounding up the stairs.
With her trowel in hand, Sophie stepped back from the border and admired her work. It had been a laborious task, clearing the neglected garden, but it had kept her busy, kept her mind from straying to thoughts of Dane.
She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and then rubbed her lower back. Being bent over for such long periods had taken its toll. It would take too long to heat enough water for a bath, so she would settle for a cup of tea instead and then perhaps a long walk. That would straighten her out, she thought, as she cleared away her tools and basket and nipped inside to wash her hands.
As lovely as the cottage was, with its thatched roof and quaint little windows, Sophie could not see Marie living happily in such seclusion. Even someone used to a rural way of life, as Sophie was, would find it quite lonely at times. Oh, the days were fine, as there was always plenty to do. It was the nights that were the most difficult; it was the nights when all the memories came flooding back.
She’d always known it would be a challenge, but the hole left by Dane’s absence was growing bigger by the day, swallowing her up bit by bit. Sometimes, she would wake at night and imagine him lying next to her, imagine the warmth radiating from his body, enveloping her. Sometimes, she would catch his masculine scent in the air, but when she tried to locate the smell it always faded away, dissolving into nothing.
The lengthy absence had proved one thing: her soul would be forever entwined with his. No matter where she went or what she did, she would never feel complete again.
After dabbing at her eyes with the pads of her fingers, she looked out through the window. An image of Dane formed before her, of him standing tall and strong as he tied his horse to the post next to the gate. Her foolish heart skipped a beat and she cursed.
Was it not enough that her visions disturbed her dreams? Was she now going to be taunted during her waking hours, too?
In a fit of temper, she marched over to the cottage door and flung it open, in the hope such a torturous image would disappear so she could be left alone in peace.
“Am I late for luncheon?” Dane asked, lowering his hand as though he had intended to knock.
Sophie placed her hand over her heart as she studied the magnificent form filling the doorway. “Dane,” she whispered, sounding breathless. She put her hand out and touched his blue coat, the tips of her fingers barely grazing the material. “Is it really you?”
Dane glanced over his shoulder. “Who else were you expecting?” He removed a glove, lifted a hand and wiped something from her cheek. The feel of his warm fingers was too much to bear and she suddenly felt dizzy. She put her hand to her head and blinked in a bid to dispel the sparks of bright lights flashing before her eyes.
Then everything went black.
When Sophie opened her eyes, she was lying on the bed and immediately thought she’d imagined the whole thing — until Dane walked into the room carrying a cup of tea. He’d removed his hat and coat and as he placed the cup on the bedside table, a lock of hair fell over his brow. Straightening, he brushed it back and offered her one of his boyish smiles. It lit up his whole face and he had never looked more handsome.
“I shall end up with a permanent stoop after
a week of living here,” he said jovially as he glanced up at the ceiling, which was only an inch or two above his head. “I have hit my head three times or more.”
Sophie simply stared at him. “How did you know where to find me?”
Dane folded his arms across his chest and grinned with smug satisfaction. “Marcus Danbury wrote to Dudley. Apparently, he tortured Marie until she told him.”
Sophie gasped. “If he’s hurt her —”
“When I say torture, I do not mean in the literal sense. Danbury can be very charming and extremely persuasive. He is renowned for his expertise with women.”
“I cannot believe Marie would be so weak as to fall prey to such a libertine,” Sophie replied, attempting to sit up so she could drink her tea.
“Weak!” Dane exclaimed stepping forward to offer his assistance, but she dismissed him with a wave of the hand. “It has taken him the best part of three weeks to accomplish something he would normally achieve in an afternoon. Under the circumstances, I believe Marie has been exceptional in her attempt to defy him.” He glanced towards the end of the bed and said, “May I sit?”
Sophie nodded reluctantly, for to be in such close proximity would only cause more pain and disappointment. She took another sip of tea and placed the cup back on the table. “What did you mean when you said you would develop a stoop living here?”
“Exactly that,” he replied. Examining the bed, he added, “Perhaps I should spend an equal amount of time lying down. This bed is rather on the narrow side, but it shouldn’t be a problem. I am sure you —”
“You cannot stay here,” Sophie interrupted, overcome with a wave of panic. “We cannot continue as before.” Although there was nothing she desired more.
Dane smiled. “I know that,” he said softly, his warm brown eyes melting her heart. “But I am not leaving, not now, not ever.”
Sophie wanted to throw her arms around him, to draw him down, to feel the weight of his body, to plead with him to keep his vow. But she held her resolve. “And do I not have a say in the matter?” she said coolly.
Dane searched her face and his gaze came to rest on her mouth. “If that beautiful mouth of yours would just speak the truth. If those sumptuous lips would convey what was in your heart instead of what is muddling around in your head, then I would gladly listen to what you have to say.”
He was still staring at her mouth and she moistened her lips. “I have told you, told you in my letter. I want to be left alone, left to live independently and away from —”
Dane leaned forward and placed his finger on her lips to silence her. “No, you don’t,” he whispered. “Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid to be yourself with me. I know what you want, what you desire. I know what you need because you live inside me.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Our lives are entwined whether you wish it or not.”
Sophie placed a trembling hand on his arm. “Do you not think I know that? Do you not think I feel it too?” she cried allowing her emotions to run free. “But you must think of your responsibilities. You have not worked all these years to be saddled with a hothead. I am wild, impetuous, and untamed and would probably cause you no end of embarrassment.”
Dane gave a frustrated sigh. “Sophie, there is no woman in this world I admire and respect more than you. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for your family. What man could ask for more from a wife? What child could ask for more from a mother? He leaned forward again, this time to wipe a tear from her cheek. “I love you. I have loved you from the moment I pulled you down from your horse. I have loved parrying words with you in my study, loved the look of wonder on your face at Rockingham Pool. I particularly love your passion for secluded carriage rides.”
His words enveloped her like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night. “It’s because I love you, so very much,” she cried, “that I cannot let you make such a sacrifice. There is no dowry. I have nothing to offer —”
“I do not need money, Sophie,” he laughed incredulously. “Dudley and I, we were sensible enough to invest our earnings in order to provide a yearly income. I shall never need to think about money again. Besides, if you care anything for the welfare of little Mary Hodges and the rest of my tenants, you have to marry me.”
Sophie raised a brow and smiled coyly. “Oh and why is that?”
“Because without you, I am afraid I may resort to buying diamond-encrusted watches or be forced to start a collection of rare snuff boxes, all in the hope of dulling the pain.” He shuffled forward and cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. “I cannot live without you. I am even prepared to write to Bertram and offer him the running of Westlands. If you’ll let me stay here with you.”
Her heart skipped a few beats and a lump formed in her throat. He would sacrifice everything he had ever worked for, everything he had achieved, for her. She could not live without this man and he could not live without her. Somehow she would make it work.
“There will only ever be one Mr. Shandy at Westlands,” she replied, “and it will not be your second cousin Bertram.”
He took her hand in his. “Say you’ll be my wife?” Too impatient to wait for her answer, he pulled her up into his arms and kissed her deeply. “Marry me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll marry you.”
Amidst breathless kisses, the words I love you passed back and forth between them until Dane suddenly stopped. “Wait there,” he said rushing out of the door. He returned with the red velvet pouch. “It was to be a wedding present, but I can’t wait.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “Is it my mother’s necklace?”
“No,” he corrected. “It’s your necklace.” He removed it from the pouch and held it out to her. “Here let me put it on. I have spent a whole month dreaming of you wearing this.”
“I can’t wear it with this dowdy old dress,” Sophie exclaimed, gesturing towards the brown muslin.
Dane cast a lascivious smirk. “My thoughts exactly,” he drawled. He gestured to the bed behind them. “And I believe we have some catching up to do.”
Epilogue
Eighteen months later
Sebastian opened his eyes, stretched and turned to drape his arm over his wife’s warm body — except the bed was empty. Assuming she had gone to the nursery, he yawned as he pulled the coverlet up around his shoulders and drifted back off to sleep. Indeed, it was some time before he was woken by his valet, walking jauntily into the room with a breakfast tray.
Sebastian propped himself up on his elbows and glanced at Claude with some amusement. “I take it Mrs. Bernard is in a good mood this morning?” he asked. Although looking at Claude’s happy disposition, he knew the answer to his question.
“She is still talking about Lord Delmont’s personal compliment regarding the smooth running of the garden party,” Claude answered, placing the tray on the bed next to Sebastian without so much as a glimmer of discontent. “I fear we shall all be hearing about it for months.”
He should invite Delmont more often, Sebastian thought with a chuckle as he glanced down at the tray, his stomach rumbling in desperation at the delicious sight of sliced ham and eggs. “And what good deed have I performed to deserve such a treat?”
Claude bowed. “Lady Danesfield felt that you would need sufficient sustenance for your excursion today,” he replied.
Like a man who had just regained consciousness after a serious drinking bout, Sebastian frantically searched his mind in the hope of remembering what was significant about the day. “Did she happen to mention where we are going?”
“It is all in the letter, my lord,” Claude said as he offered a bow. Noticing Sebastian’s confused expression, as there was no sign of a letter on the tray, Claude added, “You must finish your meal before I have permission to hand it over.”
Sebastian smiled. Once again, Sophie had managed to pique his interest. He could barely contain himself during his meal as her unpredictability always roused an element of excitement, coupled
with an element of fear.
“There, all gone,” Sebastian said swallowing down the last morsel and sounding somewhat like a boy in the schoolroom.” The letter, if you please,” he said, holding out his hand.
Claude bowed, handed over the sealed note and removed the tray from the room.
Sebastian leaned back against the pillows and read the cryptic note, smiling when he got to the part that said, “having experienced feelings of rapturous pleasure in every room in the house, I suddenly realised there is a case of unfinished business that requires our attention. Should you wish to bring this business to fruition, you will know where to find me.”
Jumping out of bed as though the sheets were ablaze, he didn’t wait for Claude to return and dressed with haste while he considered the note. What possible unfinished business could they have? Scanning through once more, he acknowledged the seductive undertone. He hoped she didn’t expect him to travel all the way to High Wycombe. Although from his recollection, there was nothing left unfinished from their time there. No, wherever she’d gone, it couldn’t be more than a few hours ride. Then inspiration struck and he hurried down to the stables to find Haines.
Coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of one of the stable boys brushing down Altair, Sophie’s current horse of choice, Sebastian called out to Haines and the man in question came lumbering out of one of the stalls. “Which horse did Lady Danesfield take this morning?” Sebastian asked.
“She’s gone out in the gig, my lord,” Haines replied, scrunching his weathered brow. “She was going to ride Cronus as Altair needs a new shoe but then decided on the gig.”
“And you did not think to stop her?”
“I don’t expect Lady Danesfield would take instruction from a coachman,” Haines informed him in a tone that made Sebastian feel stupid for even asking the question.
“I wouldn’t worry, Haines. She does not take instruction from her husband either,” Sebastian sighed. “Did she happen to mention where she was going?”