by Katy Madison
"It hardly matters," interrupted Keene.
"Oh, good grief, Sophie, your fall from Grace—the horse named Grace," supplied Mary Frances. "She had a concussion. You did say you landed on your head.
Sophie nodded. How could he have thought she was pregnant?
"Algany drugged us both at Almack's, didn't he?" Amelia added.
"He tried to do it again at the opera, but I switched the glasses, and just to be sure, I accidentally on purpose dumped mine out. When he refilled it, I slipped most of it into his glass."
Mary Frances giggled. "When I first met you I thought you were Victor's mistress."
"Quite a few people thought you were Victor's mistress," said Keene.
"But I never . . . except that one time I thought he was you."
Keene drew in a stiff breath, his nostrils flaring. He turned toward Victor.
Victor threw up his hands and backed away. "I never laid a hand on her. Family loyalty and all that."
Keene winced. "Are you sure of it? Your father . . . ?
"No, I am not sure, but all my life I have been mistaken for you. Even at Eton, they would see me and call out your name, the students, the instructors, the mistresses. I'd say it is rather likely."
"You do look alike," said Sophie.
Keene's attention riveted on her. "I want to speak to you alone."
"I'm leaving." Sophie took a step toward the door. "Amelia, are you staying here?"
"That's up to George."
"Lud, he isn't the one to make any decisions right now. I'm sure he's three sheets to the wind." Impatience tempered Sophie's voice. She didn't want to speak with Keene alone, yet she owed him a private account of her decision to leave him.
"I have been drinking," said George solemnly. "I believe I should never touch the stuff again. I'm not quite in my right mind when I have imbibed too freely."
"You're right. I'm staying here, George. This is my home and my daughter's home, and I won't be parted from her again."
"Ah, but how else could George insure your return?" asked Victor facetiously.
"You held Regina hostage for my return?" She pressed her lips together and lowered her head. "I wanted nothing more than to come home to you, but I won't tolerate such use of my child ever again."
George stood. "She should be abed. If she is kept up too long she will be quite out of sorts tomorrow, poor tyke."
Amelia gathered the infant from Mary Frances's arms, and they walked to the door as a family, George's arm around his wife.
Victor turned toward Mary Frances. "If we're going to Gretna we should be off, but we need a bit of blunt to see us there."
Mary Frances opened the reticule she had dangling from her wrist. She pulled out a wad of banknotes. "Will this be enough? I do have this brooch we might sell, and of course, some of your fobs might fetch a pretty penny."
Victor's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. "Lord, I had no idea you were wearing such enchanting stuff." He bowed to Keene. "I trust you shall look in on George a time or two."
"Perhaps I shouldn't. I am very near to killing him for putting Sophie at risk."
Victor shook his head and led Mary Frances to the door.
Keene pushed the door shut behind them. Sophie stood in front of the window with her back to him. When he had crashed into the small salon earlier he had wanted nothing more than to hold her and comfort her, but she was in Victor's arms and a jealous rage overtook his reason.
He moved across the floor to stand behind her. He leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. "I believe we were interrupted at a most inopportune moment before."
She stepped away. "I don't believe the servants will be able to get everything inside before it is saturated. Did Amelia give you your jacket?"
His damp shirt suddenly chilled him. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Sophie. He wanted to continue what he started to say before Victor burst in on them, to tell her that he loved her. He found her hands and turned them over so he could see her palms. The red abrasions across her fingers and palms made his heart race from remembered fear. "I've never been more frightened in my life."
She pulled out of his embrace. "Don't lecture me, Keene."
His hands dropped uselessly to his sides. "I'm not lecturing you. I'm telling you how very scared I was." Didn't she understand how hard it was for him to admit to fear, no, terror? "I should have died if you fell."
She shook her head and walked across the floor toward the table that had been knocked over earlier and leaned over to right it. She stood, folded her arms across her chest and looked at him, her head cocked sideways. "I've decided to go home."
His world dropped out from under him. "You can't."
"I thought you told me when I asked about the marriage settlement that I could go home anytime I wanted."
"Why? You like London, the dancing, the amusements . . ." The expression on her face made his voice trail off.
"I do like the dancing and the company, but Amelia hates every minute she is away from her daughter. Mary Frances sees the parties as a means to an end." Sophie shrugged. "It's all so empty and meaningless without sharing the pleasures with those you love. I want to go home to my parents."
Was she simply homesick? "For a visit?"
She shook her head.
With each turn of her head another shard of stunned dismay sliced through him. Facing losing her twice in the space of an hour tore him to shreds. "I can't let you go."
"Didn't we just go through this?" She gestured toward the ceiling.
He was still reeling from Victor's revelation; this was too much for him to handle. He dropped to a settee and stared at her. Half a second later he sprang to his feet and crossed the room. He grabbed her shoulders. "You can't leave me."
"You don't want me here, and I'm not happy."
The protest that rose to his lips died at her statement of unhappiness. He stared into her blue eyes and wondered where he had gone so wrong. "Is it because I am not my father's son?"
She snorted in impatience. "As if that should change who you are."
"What, then, Sophie? Forgive me for being so selfish earlier this evening, for I shall make it up to you. I want nothing more than to finish making love to you."
A softness washed over her face and her voice grew husky. "What more was there?"
"There was this." He kissed her.
She shook him off. He could see the resolution in her squared shoulders. "I believe we did that already."
"Ah, but there is more I have to show you." The heightened cadence of her breathing gave him hope. She wasn't adverse to him. "Sophie, my pet, I want to hold you and touch you and make you feel as wonderful as you made me feel."
She pulled away, and he stared at her as she crossed the room, one hand holding her other elbow. "I still think I should return home."
He swallowed hard. "If you should be happier at your parents' house, then we shall both go there."
She swiveled around. "But your political designs."
He stepped toward her. "I daresay the world shall survive without my machinations."
Her lip quivered. "Why should you torture us both with your presence? You should be happier here."
"I shall be happier with you."
"You avoid me like the plague."
"And more the fool I, because there is no place I'd rather be than in your arms." He took a step toward her. Would she keep running from him?
"I would rather leave alone."
She walked to the door and his soul ripped out as she reached for the doorknob.
"Don't leave me, Sophie. Everyone I have ever loved has left me."
She hesitated with her back to him. "That's not true."
He stepped closer to her. What did he have to lose? If she left, he would be nothing. "My mother, my brother."
"They didn't leave you. They died."
"And you throw yourself into danger at every turn. I dread your reckless disregard of your person. I would have no reason
to live if you had fallen to the street."
"Keene, you avoid me at every turn."
His stupid belief that she was pregnant. "Because I could hardly bear to see you and not make you my wife. Bloody hell, Sophie, I waited as long as I could, only to learn it was for naught. There was never a reason to wait."
Her hand dropped off the doorknob, and she slowly turned around. "Why the wait?"
"Because I thought you carried another man's child."
He could see her protest before it left her lips. He held up his hand.
"I didn't care that you carried another man's child. I only wanted you to tell me, to not deceive me. I didn't want to give you the ammunition to pretend your unborn babe was mine. I love you. I've always loved you."
She stared at him, her lovely blue eyes filling with tears. "But I came to you."
He took a step forward, holding out his arms. "Not a moment too soon. I had been to your room earlier, but you weren't there."
She looked less than half convinced.
His arms remained empty, a gaping chasm between them. "I think my father must have realized how I felt about you. He forced my hand, but marriage wasn't my only option. I've managed to get by all of my adult life without his assistance. I'd often thought I could go to India and make my own way in the world, but it was marriage to you he offered me." His voice broke. "I wanted that more than I—"
She crashed into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. He'd never let her go.
"I love you, Sophie, and I shall spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. I don't think I could have avoided you any longer, even if your kisses had meant my death."
She pressed her lips to the underside of his chin. "My unruliness is not contagious."
He tilted her head back to drink in her face. "You are a bit wild."
She yanked his head down and kissed him on the mouth. She pulled back and stared at him. He felt measured and found wanting. If he could just have another chance, he would find a way to bring her the moon and the stars if he had to rip them from the sky.
"I suppose that was rather too bold of me, and I should not have run across the room to you."
"I love that you run to me. I love your enthusiasm for life. I'm so sorry my distance has hurt you. Wounding you was never my intention. I just wanted to protect myself." He stroked his fingers down her neck.
Her lips parted as she tilted her head back. He couldn't resist the invitation. He ended the kiss only after she eagerly clung to him with a magic that threatened his control. "Ah, love, I know I've made a hash of our marriage, but if you give me another chance, I shall endeavor to make you love me."
"Oh, Keene, I already do. I always have."
With her fevered avowal his world righted itself. His grin threatened to split his face in two.
"I thought you hated me. You always lecture me so."
"I do so wish you would try to stay on the inside of the upper stories. Your safety means everything to me."
She frowned.
"Ah, and Sophie, when you raise your skirts and run down the hall it requires every ounce of my willpower to resist scooping you up and carrying you to my bed. You have the most delectable ankles and knees and—"
"There is no need to resist any longer. I am quite happy in your bed."
"Well, then, there is only one thing left to do."
"That is?"
"Find a bed and complete your instruction in making love."
Sophie cast a glance around the room. "A sofa won't do?"
"I'm afraid it will have to." He released the few buttons fastened on his shirt. "For I don't think I could wait long enough to get you home."
She pushed his shirt from his shoulders. And he bit back his groan of enthusiasm. His need was nearly as overpowering as before, but this time, if it killed him, he was doing it right—for her, for their future, forever.
The End
To learn more about the author go to:
https://katymadison.com
