“I told you, we are friends.”
“How did that come about?”
She frowned her irritation. “Robert is one of the governors of the school.”
“Ah.”
Sophia had no idea what Magnus meant by that ambiguous comment, nor was she about to ask. “Why did you wish to see me this morning?” Her tone was brisk.
“I wanted to explain my actions last night—” He broke off at the sound of her scornful snort.
A derisive smile curved her lips. “I do not believe they need any explanation, Your Grace.”
His eyes narrowed. “I am referring to my agreeing to you leaving so quickly after I had previously been against it.”
Sophia stepped over to the window to stare out at the garden. Most of the flowers were gone now as it was the end of the summer, but it was still a pleasant vista. “I assumed that was because your sister-in-law and your daughter had arrived home.”
“Clarissa had arrived home. Susan had merely accompanied her there before returning to her own establishment,” he corrected.
She shrugged. “It is one and the same thing.”
“Not at all.”
Sophia had not been aware of Magnus crossing the room, but he was now standing so close behind her, she could feel the warmth of his breath upon her bared shoulders, and the heat of his body almost touching hers. She could also breathe in his distinctive scent of pine and male musk.
She gave a shake of her head. “The reason why Lady Susan was at Weston House is irrelevant. It was your behavior which was at fault when you allowed her to speak to me so disdainfully before then ensuring I knew you wished me to leave when previously you had not.”
“I did that for your sake, not my own,” he defended.
“Oh, please!” she scorned. “You could not get me out of the house quickly enough once your sister-in-law and daughter arrived.”
Warm hands settled on top of her shoulders, causing Sophia to stiffen. “Would you rather I had allowed one or both of them to see your drawers lying on the floor of the dining room?”
Sophia tensed even further. “What?”
Magnus’s lips were warm against the side of her throat. “I was about to give Susan a well-deserved set-down when I saw your drawers lying on the floor. Picking them up and putting them in my pocket was the reason I moved so abruptly to the other side of the room, not to put a distance between the two of us.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.” His lips moved to the sensitive juncture between her shoulder and throat. “You cannot have them back either.”
“Why not?” Not that she was concerned about the loss of a single pair of drawers. She was more curious as to what Magnus intended doing with them.
“Because I used them in bed last night to wrap around my cock as I pumped myself to completion,” he huskily satisfied that curiosity. “I intend to do the same every night until I have you there in my arms instead.”
A wave of heat washed over Sophia’s body. “Oh.”
Magnus chuckled softly. “It is unlike you to be at a loss for words.”
How could Sophia possibly be expected to speak when her head was flooded with images of Magnus’s powerful and naked body lying on his bed with her white silk drawers wrapped about his cock, while that strong hand pumped his engorged flesh until he came?
“Forgive me, Sophia?” The warmth of Magnus’s lips traveled the length of her throat before settling beside her ear. “I swear to you, I only thought to protect you last night. I assure you,” he continued in a hard voice, “Susan did not leave my house before I had made it very clear to her to keep her opinions on my private life to herself. I also told her she is to send word ahead in future and ask my permission before entering Weston House.”
Sophia turned slowly to find Magnus staring down at her intently. His eyes were no longer that icy and remorseless gray, nor were his features quite so much those of that aloof and uncompromising stranger. He looked more like her Magnus.
Not that he was hers, of course, but she had become accustomed to seeing and being with the passionate man he did not readily show to others. “Your sister-in-law is in love with you.”
His jaw tightened. “Susan believes, erroneously, because I was once married to her sister that she now has some sort of claim on my time. She would not know love it if jumped up and bit her on the nose.” His dismissive tone settled that matter once and for all. “Stay in London, Sophia,” he encouraged as his hands moved to the slenderness of her waist. “I promise you we will find the writer of the letter together, and that they will be punished for daring to call you such foul names.”
“Will you hand the matter over to your investigator?” she taunted.
“Not if you ask me not to do so, no.”
Her resolve began to crumble at this glimpse back to the gentle and passionate Magnus of the previous evening.
His mouth tightened. “But you cannot remain here in Royston’s home any longer,” he bit out.
She frowned in puzzlement. “Why not?”
“Firstly, because it is not appropriate. Secondly,” he continued firmly as she would have spoken, “because I shall go quietly insane with jealousy if you do,” he admitted gruffly.
Sophia gave a dismissive smile. Not because of Magnus’s admission of being jealous of Robert—that was actually immensely flattering to hear—but because it was so ludicrous to think she could ever be attracted to Robert. “How can you possibly be jealous of Rob—Royston, when he is like an over-eager puppy determined to do naughty things so as to draw attention to himself?”
“He is still a young and handsome gentleman,” Magnus bit out.
“I do not see him that way.”
“Others do, myself included.”
Sophia bit her top lip to stop herself from repeating Robert’s shocking comments in regard to Magnus earlier. She was sure Robert had only made those remarks to be contentious, and she knew Magnus did not mean the remark regarding Robert’s looks in a sexual way. “Where do you suggest I stay if not here?”
“Weston House.”
Her eyes widened. “That is impossible.”
“It is more acceptable than you continuing to stay in the home of an eligible and single gentleman. At least at Weston House, there is Clarissa to act as chaperone, and that you are considering her as becoming a pupil in your school,” Magnus reasoned. “There is also the fact that my own reputation is that of being a cold and aloof gentleman and one not known for indulging in physical relationships,” he reminded ruefully.
Sophia looked at him searchingly. “You seem to have given this matter some thought.”
Magnus had given it a great deal of thought. His main one being that he could not bear for Sophia to stay here with Royston for another night. That he wanted Sophia with him, at Weston House.
Self-pleasuring was one thing, even having breathed in the scent of Sophia’s arousal on her silk drawers and having those same drawers to wrap about and caress his cock with, but he wanted the woman there herself. Ached to have Sophia in his bed, her hands and mouth on his cock the next time he reached completion.
He wanted that more than he wanted his next breath.
Chapter 8
“I think you are making a mistake by moving in with Weston.”
“I am not moving in with him,” Sophia dismissed, glancing at her cousin as he sprawled himself across her bed, leaning on one elbow, watching her as she finished packing her trunk. “We have merely decided that I will be able to get to know Clarissa better and more easily, and she me, if I am staying at Weston House for the next few days.”
“We have decided, or Weston has?”
“We,” she insisted firmly.
Robert snorted. “You were leaving London altogether until he arrived and persuaded you otherwise.” He frowned. “Do you no longer trust me to protect you while you are here, is that it?”
“Of course it is not that.” She abandoned her packing to cross the room and sit on
Robert’s mouth thinned. “That a friend of mine should ever have—”
“Let us not talk about that time again now,” she pleaded.
He forced the tension from his shoulders at her obvious distress before giving her a teasing smile. “Weston looks at you as if he would like to eat you.”
She grimaced. “Or he is simply suffering from a severe case of indigestion.”
Robert sat up. “My God, Sophia, I do believe you are actually blushing merely at the mention of the man’s obvious interest in you!”
Sophia knew she was, could feel that burn in her cheeks.
Was it possible she really was falling in love with Magnus Weston? A man she had met for the first time only two days ago.
Despite her abrupt departure from London and Society all those years ago, Sophia had not been without prospective suiters during that time.
When she initially moved to Portsmouth, several young gentlemen living in the area, learning of the presence of a new teacher at the school, had called and attempted to court her. Advances Sophia had no trouble rejecting, and without a moment of regret.
Latterly, primarily since she took over as headmistress of the school three years ago, several male relatives of her pupils had shown an interest in her. Not all of them honorable. Again, it was an interest she’d felt no hesitation in rebuffing.
The same was not true in regard to Magnus.
Why it should be so different with him, Sophia did not care to look at too deeply. It was enough she knew that it was. “You are the one who insists on continuing to talk about Magnus,” she reproved Robert, “despite my obvious reluctance to do so.”
“I admit to being intrigued as to what is going to happen once you are moved into Weston House.” His eyes danced with mischief. “I shall expect you to give me a full report of Weston’s prowess in the bedchamber once the two of you are lovers.”
Sophia winced. “I shall do nothing of the sort.” After all, she already knew that Magnus’s lovemaking took her to heights she had never dreamed of.
“But you admit you do intend for the two of you to become lovers?”
“I admit no such thing,” she denied primly.
Robert gave an exaggerated and dramatic sigh. “You really are no fun, Sophia. I think you owe me that little bit of entertainment, at least. It is going to be so terribly boring here at Royston House once you are gone.”
“Then go to your estate in Gloucestershire.”
He breathed heavily through his nose. “That is even more boring. Besides,” he added petulantly, “I had deliberately left this week free of all other engagements so that I might spend the time with you, and now you are deserting me for another man.”
“Are you nine and twenty or just nine?” Sophia teased.
“Being an earl ain’t all it’s reputed to be, that is certain,” he lamented. “God knows I could not wait for Pa to die so that I might be earl in his place, and now I find it is nothing more than duty and boring routine.”
“Robert!” Sophia might not have seen her uncle for the six years before his death, but she had been fond of her Uncle Roderick and mourned his death. “Sometimes I wonder if I really know you at all.”
“I did not mean anything by it,” he defended. “I was very fond of my pater. It is only that I thought being the earl would be more fun than it is. Admittedly, it gives me an invitation to every social event there is, and any woman I care to take to my bed. But there are all these expectations of duty and responsibility that go along with it.” He fell back on the bed to gaze up at the ceiling. “Nor have I trusted my judgment to make a single close friend after the way Zachary behaved.” He glanced sideways at her. “There is only you to whom I am close.”
Sophia gave a pained wince. “I had no idea…”
Robert shrugged as he sat up again. “There is no reason why you should have. Just have a care with Weston, hmm?” He took one of her hands in both of his and squeezed lightly. “I shall be forced to call him out if he mistreats you in any way, and I have heard he’s both a better shot and swordsman than me.”
Some of Sophia’s tension left her at the return of the teasing cousin she knew and loved rather than the melancholy he had briefly lapsed into. “I am sure that will not be necessary,” she assured dryly. “Besides, I always have the option of kneeing him again if it should prove necessary,” she reminded ruefully.
Robert spluttered with laughter. “God, yes!”
It pleased Sophia that the two of them were parting amidst laughter.
“I can hardly believe you are really here.” Magnus crossed the drawing room to greet Sophia warmly the moment the butler had departed and left the two of them alone just minutes after her arrival at Weston House later that afternoon.
Robert had been right, Sophia realized as her cheeks began to burn. Magnus did eat her up with his eyes.
The heat in her cheeks moved to her core at the memory of Magnus having literally eaten her pussy yesterday evening. The intensity of that pale gray gaze told her he wanted it to happen again, at the earliest opportunity.
“Why are you still wearing your bonnet and cloak?” Magnus prompted sharply as he studied her appearance. “Have you changed your mind about the two of us?”
That was a leading question.
Admittedly, Sophia responded more wantonly in Magnus’s arms than she had ever been tempted to do before with any other man, but that did not mean she would continue to do so. That all of her previous insecurities would not return and prevent her from responding again. At which time, Magnus would react like any other man would: with anger and frustration.
“Sophia.” Magnus placed the warmth of his palm against one of her cheeks. “Nothing need happen between the two of us if you do not wish it to do so. I am happy simply having you stay here at Weston House.”
With me.
Magnus did not say those two words, but Sophia heard them nonetheless.
She stepped away from him so that his hand was forced to return to his side. “I am still wearing my bonnet and cloak and have left my luggage outside in my carriage because I do not intend to stay.”
A frown darkened his brow. “Why not?”
Sophia moistened the dryness of her lips. “I received another letter this afternoon.”
Magnus drew in a sharp breath. “Show me.”
Sophia had placed the second letter in the pocket to her gown too, and she now withdrew it before passing it to Magnus. Nor did she turn away this time as he read the two single words printed there.
Weston’s whore.
Magnus crumpled the letter in his clenched fist before pulverizing it into a ball and putting it impatiently in the pocket of his gray pantaloons. “Who is doing this?” he demanded.
“It could still be your sister-in-law,” Sophia suggested.
“Perhaps. But she would have needed to act very quickly if it is.” Magnus scowled.
Sophia had thought of that too.
“Let us assume for the moment it is not her. Who else could it be?” Magnus persisted. “And why?”
Sophia had thought long and hard as to what she could safely tell Magnus. In the end, she decided that the truth was now required, not continuing to protect herself. The same truth Magnus had always given her, no matter the cost to himself. “I am not sure who, but I believe I know what those ‘consequences’ might be that are referred to in the first letter.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Ten years ago, my name was Lady Sophia Richards. I was the only daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Hatfield.”
Magnus stared at her blankly for several long seconds, overwhelmingly pleased Sophia felt comfortable enough to share that information with him, but not quite sure of its significance otherwise. “I presume, beneath the persona of Miss Marchment, you still are both those things?”
“Yes.”
Magnus knew the Duke and Duchess of Hatfield, of course, but he did not recall ever having met their daughter, Lady Sophia Richards.
Magnus frowned as he knew Sophia was waiting patiently for him to recall what or if he knew anything at all about a young woman of that name.
Ten years ago, his time had been totally consumed with consoling his almost-seven-year-old daughter after the death of her mother. Sophia would only have been aged seventeen, barely out in Society, if she was out at all.
He had a vague memory of a scandal circulating London at the time. One in which a young lady had accused a young gentleman of having raped her.
Could that young lady have been Lady Sophia Richards?
Magnus felt the color drain from his cheeks at the realization that if that was so, then the seven-and-twenty-year-old Lady Sophia Richards was currently standing in front of him, her chin raised in challenge as she waited to see what Magnus would say about the information she had revealed to him.
Magnus also knew that any future relationship with Sophia, even if only as her friend, rested on what he said in the next few minutes.
Being both a methodical and cautious man by nature, he tried to recall exactly what he did remember about that time.
The accusation of rape.
An accusation that was reportedly vehemently denied by the gentleman accused.
A division of opinion in Society, some believing the young woman, others the young man.
The announcement made just weeks later from the Duke and Duchess of Hatfield that their daughter had retired to the country indefinitely due to ill health.
Some had speculated it was because of an unwanted pregnancy, others that the young woman had suffered an emotional breakdown of some sort before making the accusation of rape.
Both opinions were utterly ridiculous in regard to the Sophia Magnus knew now. This Sophia did not possess an ounce of emotional instability, and he doubted that had been true of her at seventeen either. Nor were there any signs Sophia’s body had ever carried or given birth to a child. He remembered Lucy giving him hell because of the stretch marks left on her abdomen and breasts after she gave birth to Clarissa. He had seen Sophia bare from the waist down and knew she had no such lines on her abdomen, her skin completely smooth and unblemished.
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