by Stacy Reid
Silence blackened the room. He had known he could not keep her there forever without marriage.
“I’ll miss you,” she said in the fraught silence.
“Do you plan to never see me again?” He chided. “I thought you said affairs lasted for years.”
Relief bent her shoulders, and she twisted atop his chest. The ice deepened. This was what she wanted—an affirmation their affair would continue further not the tender sentiments he had been bestowing each night. The hollowness in his heart spread, and his hands tightened on her shoulders.
“William?”
“I understand you must go,” he said gruffly.
There was an odd sheen of tears in her gaze as she stared at him. “I’ve been thinking about wintering in France this year.”
Another harsh blow to his chest. “I see.”
“Would you…would you come with me?”
The air whooshed from him audibly. “As your lover?”
She smiled shyly. “Yes, I am a thousand pounds richer, and I’ve heard the French are less judgmental of affaires de coeur. No one there would know we are not man and wife.” She lowered her eyes as her cheeks pinkened. He could feel the beat of her heart against his chest. His Sophia was anxious.
The door swung open without the courtesy of a knock and anger snapped through him. Who would dare!
He snapped his head up to see his mother frozen in the doorway, her face a mask of astonishment and anger. William eased a blushing Sofia from his chest. “I am certain the butler told you we were not to be disturbed,” he said icily.
“So, it is true,” she accused, stepping further into the room and slamming the door closed behind her. “I saw a shocking damning piece in a scandal sheet in Bath! My good friend Lady Palfrey asked me who is this Miss Knightly that you would chase her and create a spectacle of yourself. How dare you bring this…this woman to Hawthorne Park and betray everything your father—”
“Silence!”
His mother flinched as if the raw anger in his voice had flayed her skin.
Her hands fluttered to her throat, and she had the temerity to stare at him with wounded eyes. He turned to Sophia who had lifted her chin in defiance, even if her cheeks were stained red with her mortification. Her lips were swollen, and her hair mussed, quite revealing evidence as to what they had been doing earlier. “If you will but grant me a few minutes with my mother.”
She stood on wobbly legs, bent and tugged on the scattered trousers. They had raced across the estate a few hours ago, and when the soft misting rain had started, they had returned to the drawing room to play chess but had been distracted by their passion. Sophia nodded regally, spun about, and made her way from the room without acknowledging the duchess.
“What rudeness!” his mother snapped. “But that is to be expected from someone so lowborn and vulgar and willing to act the whore.”
William turned and stared at the woman he had once loved with his entire heart. He’d always know her to be kind and thoughtful of others, but that seemed to only extend to those of similar affluence and blue blood. “You will never speak another crude word about Miss Knightly ever again,” he incised with chilling authority. “You lied to me.”
No shame glowed in her eyes. “And I do not regret it,” she said firmly. “Or you would have foolishly married that—”
“I hope one day I will be able to forgive your despicable actions! I am ashamed of you, deeply!”
She paled and swayed alarmingly, but he did not rush over to her.
He moved closer to her, uncaring of his state of disarray. “I never imagined my mother…the woman who kissed my knees when I scraped them, who first taught me about love and kindness could hold such contempt and prejudice in her heart. You told me she was dead.” All the agony he’d endured crowded his throat, and his breath hitched audibly. “I mourned her,” he said gruffly. “I screamed for days…months, and when the pain was unrelenting, whisky became my companion. And you knew she lived.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, but he was not moved by this evidence of some regret. “I believed her to be a passing fancy. Nothing more.”
“And does that justify your wicked deceit.”
“William—”
“Miss Knightly is the woman I love with every part of me.”
“And does she love you?” she began scathingly. “Or does she love your wealth, your influence, money and—”
“She loves me,” he said with quiet force. “And hardly gives a damn I am a duke.”
His mother lips parted, and her eyes glowed with shock. “You asked her to marry you?” she asked in a bare whisper. “You promised your father—”
“How dare you try to control me through a man who is dead!” he snarled, anger throbbing through him in riotous waves. “My father is dead, and I will not be bound by his prejudices, nor will I allow you to have a say in the woman I take to be my wife. I love you, Mother, but you will respect my wishes without interference for I will not hesitate to walk away from you.”
“William!”
“You will leave Hawthorne Park and only return upon my invitation. And Mother…that might never be.”
She swayed, pressing a hand to her chest as if unable to move. Concern bit through him, but he swallowed it down, refusing to be manipulated by her. She had cost him so much with her wretched desire to select his wife.
As he made his way to leave, his mother flushed her back against the door and splayed her arms wide.
“I’ll not hesitate to lift you and drop you on your fundament outside!”
Sophia was determined to leave him, and William was at a loss as how to convince her to look past her fear and choose him. But he had to try and had no time to waste on his mother’s theatrics. William feared she was not ready to choose him now, but he would not chase her to France. If he gave in now and kept pretending only an affair would do, nothing would ever be good between them in the future. He’d already laid a farcical foundation by not courting her, but stupidly taking her to be his mistress.
No more. She needed to risk a gamble, and he prayed it would be on him.
Chapter 11
Sophia hurriedly dressed in her most serviceable gown and walking boots. Temper simmered in her veins at the duchess’s rudeness, and she was also angry with herself for feeling mortification at being found undressed in William’s arms. Fixing a hat atop her tightly bound hair, she made her way down the stairs.
“You told me you were seeking a wife…a duchess,” his mother’s voice echoed through the thick oak paneling of the door.
Sophia faltered, a hand lifting to her mouth. William was seeking a bride. Why did the notion hurt and frighten her so much? His response must have been calm and measured, for she did not hear him, but a shrill rebuttal came from the duchess, “You cannot mean to marry that social climbing upstart!”
Anger whipped through Sophia, and before she could think it through, she wrenched open the door to the drawing room and spilled inside. William’s face was cast in cold anger and discomfort traveled through her heart to see it.
“William, I recalled you told me your mother was ill with a malaise. And please bear in mind what I told you about losing your loved ones when least expected. While it is not her business, and she does not deserve an explanation, I believe it will greatly relieve her stress and very likely collapse if you inform her of the truth about us?” she said, ignoring the duchess for she truly did not care for her and would not deign to give her a scrap of her attention.
Silence fell, and miraculously even the duchess seemed to have lost her tongue.
“My intention this year was to take a wife. It was one of the reasons I was at Lord Huntley’s ball. To dip my toe in the marriage mart. I do intend to marry. Not to anyone but you.”
The duchess swayed, and Sophia stared at him helplessly. Those softly spoken words had lodged themselves deep inside of her. Her heart started to pound as the awareness that this really was not a simple affair for him
scythed through her. “I…I…I cannot marry you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I only wanted a discreet affair, that is all.”
Her heart squeezed at the admission and the hunger that had been beating inside for more quivered.
The duchess did not seem capable of deciding on what she wanted, for now she carried the expression of one deeply affronted. “You…you dare to deny my son…a duke?”
Sophia exhaled, twining her own hands together, squeezing hard. “I told you at the beginning, William. This…whatever we have can only be temporary…only an affair. It is the only reason I came here.”
“I know,” he said, and in his eyes, she spied something tender…and patient.
“I will not love you!” she cried. “I’ll not risk my heart to such pain ever again. Don’t you dare expect it of me, William? Don’t you dare!”
“Sophia…you already love me.”
The soft, confident words were a brutal blow to her chest, and she stumbled back, staring at him. She bit down on her cheek, dragging in a hard breath, resisting the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. “Thank you for these last couple of weeks. I’ll treasure them forever. But I have nothing more to give.”
She turned to walk away, and he said, “Sophia…wait,” arresting her movements.
Her heart pounded, her hand on the doorknob, she turned her head and met his stare.
“I fell in love with you the first time I saw you playing in the forest with a puppy chasing you. When I was told you died…I died too. I tried to drown away thoughts of you and how deeply I loved you in liquor, vice, and work. Nothing changed. Everything inside became hollow and empty. I resolved to take a wife and fulfill my obligation to the title, but I never cared whether I would ever be able to love that mythical lady…for I had nothing more to give. Until I realized you were alive. Everything that had been painted in grey and coated in ashes and bleakness was suddenly filled with color and purpose. For you my heart beats gladly…with you my soul is happy. I too despair of the day I might lose you…but those intervening years Sophia…they can be filled with happy memories…memories that will keep us going through life if we were to ever lose each other. It is better to live our love than deny it because of fear,” he said hoarsely, laying his heart bare to her in a manner she had never imagined he would.
He took a step forward. His eyes contained a flash of challenge that stole her breath. “Will you meet me in the middle, my love?”
Her heart was a slow thud inside, and she imagined loving him with every emotion in her heart and losing him. Her knees trembled, and she leaned her side into the door. The pain of it was too much to even think of such a situation. “No…I…I cannot, William.”
He flinched. It was so subtle, but she caught it, and her heart broke even more.
A gasp sounded, and Sophia’s gaze switched to the duchess. The duchess had a hand over her lips as her gaze volleyed between them, an unexpected awareness dawning in her eyes.
Acting on the instinct of flight, Sophia wrenched open the door and rushed outside. She hurried toward the butler.
“Sir, I am leaving Hawthorne Park immediately. Please have my belongings packed and delivered to Countess Cadenham’s home in Hertfordshire.”
Surprise widened his eyes. “Should I call around the carriage for you, Miss Knightly,” the butler intoned gravely.
No, that would take minutes she could not spare. Minutes where William might drag her upstairs and…she closed her eyes, shutting off her wild imaginings. What she needed to escape was the fear and panic clawing at her throat.
“No, I’ll be fine.” There was a path which led from his estate to Mulford. It might take her hours to walk it, but she would make it there and possibly impose upon Squire Blagrove to loan her his carriage to take her home.
Sophia rushed forward, and the butler opened the door. She made her way to the eastern side of the estate and started on the track that would lead her to the forest and then to Mulford.
She did not want his love, for surely, he would want the same thing from her. And giving him any more of her heart would lead to such agonizing pain should she ever lose him. And what of children? Sophia stumbled, pressing her hand to her stomach. Children. Hunger roared through her with such fierceness she trembled and started to cry.
But I could lose them too…
“I’ll not love you, William Astor!” she snapped as she walked even faster, almost stumbling in her haste. “I’ll not marry you!”
Losing his support, his tender love following on the deaths of her family had twisted something inside of her, but it hadn’t fully shattered. But now as she hurried down the dirt-beaten path away from Hawthorne Park and his mother and her condemnation, Sophia realized with each step, it was as if a knife sliced into her belly and twisted.
The love which had shown in his eyes just now, the joy which she had felt the last several days with him. Not once had she thought of death or pain or the fear of loss. There had only been time for living, for enjoying each other, and she knew a lifetime with William, each day would be a revelation, a blessing, a joy they would treasure.
Her steps slowed.
Something huge and powerful swelled inside of her, a revelation she could not shy away from. If she kept walking, she would never see him again, or touch him, or hear his voice, or see his smiles, or feel the bliss of him making love with her. Everything would go back to how it was before she had seen him at the ball. A life of fun with rollicking jaunts, but with no genuine contentment with her lot in life. And the very idea broke her.
Wild, unimaginable grief filled Sophia’s heart, and she cried out. She wanted to be with William. They had only been together a little over two weeks, and Sophia knew she loved the man even deeper than she’d loved the boy. He made her yearn to live…hunger to claim all the dreams she once had in her heart. And only with him.
She spun around and started running back the way she came. Endless seconds passed, and she did not stop, desperate to reach him, hating the pain that he must be feeling that she had run from him after he laid his heart open to her. A sob hitched in her throat, and she panted harshly, but she did not stop. Holding the folds of her skirt, Sophia ran and ran. She saw him in the distance, hurrying down the path she had taken.
He’d chased her. And at that moment, she realized he would always come for her even when she did not see clearly and ran from her fears.
Oh God, William, she cried silently, too winded to speak.
He hurried down the path, his face cast in anguish. When he saw her, he faltered, his expression becoming guarded even as his gaze wandered over her as he clearly tried to decipher her intention. She barreled toward him as fast as she could and hurtled herself into his arms, knocking him back a few paces. He did not hesitate, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. She heard the long, slow breath of relief he blew out.
Sophia thrust her fingers through his hair, and pulled his head down, crashing her mouth onto his. He made a faint noise of surprise but returned her kiss even more fiercely.
“Forgive me for being so stupid,” she said against his mouth, her own lips trembling.
“I am certain I will. Maybe tomorrow, for you gave me a terrible fright.”
“I love you!” she cried. “I never stopped loving you, William and I cannot bear the thought of not having you with me, always. Forgive me.” She pressed kisses all over his jaw and lips. “Forgive me, William!”
He was hers, and she was not letting him go.
Abruptly his arm was beneath her knees; he was scooping her up, lifting her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To my chamber, where I plan to make love to you until you are too sated to stir.”
“There is a bit of way to walk, William,” she said on a choked laugh. “And your mother—”
“Do not mention her to me. I’ve not let her off lightly. I’ve banished her to the dower house and have cut of
f her allowance. Nor will I invite her to our wedding. She does not deserve to bear witness to our day. One day I am certain to forgive her, for I love her, but it will not be for some time, nor will she enter our home until she has apologized sincerely to you…and you’ve forgiven her.”
“I am so sorry,” she said, hugging his neck even tighter, hoping to soothe the pain she could still hear in his voice.
They reached the main entrance, and the butler opened the door, his face stoic as if he saw his master every day chasing a lady and bringing her back to the house in his arms. He walked past his mother who rushed out of the drawing room as if she’d awaited his return to speak with him.
A scandalized gasp escaped her when she saw them. But William hugged Sophia even tighter to him and shifted to face the butler. “My mother is to be escorted from the premises and all her belongings sent to the dower cottage in Brighton. She is not permitted entry in this house or on the grounds of Hawthorne Park unless my duchess decrees it, and if there are any doubts about her identity, she is in my arms.”
Mortification mottled the duchess’s face, but she kept her lips firmly sealed.
William walked away with her, and at the base of the stairs, he said to the staring butler, housekeeper, and maid, “We are not to be disturbed, and dinner should be sent up on trays. And for breakfast and luncheon tomorrow.” Another pause where he thought about it. “And perhaps another dinner tray. We will, however, require a bath to be set up in the morning.”
Sophia giggled at the servants’ expression of scandalized titillation.
Her love started climbing the stairs. “Are they still there?” he huffed.
She peeked over his shoulder. “Yes. Even your mother. They are staring up at us with varying degrees of shock and amusement.”
“Impertinent!” He groaned. “I am about to drop with you, but I dare not put you down if they are watching. The rumor that would reach as far as London townhouses would not be flattering to me.”
