by Sophia James
She doesn’t have to love me. She only has to keep her word, as I’d hoped Charity would. This might be the only chance of a family I’ll ever have and all other thoughts aside I should be grateful to her for even offering this chance.
Fell rubbed at his aching eyes, suddenly almost too tired to think. Through the open window the faintest glimmer of dawn had begun to bleed into the horizon, drawing to a close the strangest night he had ever had.
‘You’ve truly given this every serious thought? There’s little chance you’ll change your mind come morning when the light of day shines on what seemed like a good idea in the dark?’
On her stool opposite Sophia gazed at him with a face as solemn and serious as a judge, the graveness of her look adding years to her young features. ‘I’m quite sincere.’
He believed her. It was the oddest feeling to have so much instinctive trust in the word of another and yet there it was: a declaration of her intentions that he knew, somehow beyond any doubt, she would hold to until her last breath.
Fell ran his hand through his hair, still disordered from the sleep he had no hope of resuming. There was only one thing left to say and he delivered his judgement with finality from which there was no turning back.
‘Then I suppose I’d best not argue with my betters. If you’re truly in earnest—I agree. And may heaven help us both.’
CHAPTER SIX
Sophia felt the unpleasant sensation of every eye following her as she moved down the cobbled street, her audience’s curiosity regarding the mysterious newcomer growing with each limping step she took. It was a relief to duck into the sanctuary of the grocer’s shop and take a moment to collect herself, her breath quickened by both the effort of walking and the feeling of inquisitive stares boring into the back of her skull.
Fell followed her inside and flicked her a small, swift smile that managed to twist Sophia’s stomach despite the nerves already coiled there. When not dressed in his work clothes he looked smart—or as smart as a man with soot beneath his nails could look—and the power of a well-pressed shirt to enhance the charms of an already handsome male wasn’t lost on her.
‘You look flushed. Did the walk from the forge tire you?’
‘A little, I confess. I’ll be glad to rest my leg for a moment.’
The curve of his lips increased a fraction, lifting the corners of his unusual eyes. A woman in the queue in front of them had subtly shifted position to catch a glimpse of Sophia, but now turned away again hastily at Fell’s enquiringly raised eyebrow.
‘You’ll have plenty of chance for that. The grocer considers anything less than two hours of conversation with each customer a personal slight.’
Sophia only nodded, the anxiety pooling in her core threatening to overcome her courage. It had taken every ounce of bravery she possessed to leave the cottage and hobble through the middle of Woodford Common, every step requiring new determination. The stark, faintly unfriendly stares would have been bad enough without the accompanying fear any one of the villagers might recognise her or suspect she didn’t belong, the prospect of a reward surely tempting to those with no reason to resist it.
She had taken precautions, of course, to foil anybody with dangerous intentions. The first time she had seen her hair in the glass after washing it with the compound Fell provided she’d stopped and stared, open mouthed with shock at the stranger gazing back at her—the pungent mixture of willow bark and vinegar had turned her distinctive mane from copper to black, and when combined with a little pencil through her fair brows she could have been another person entirely. Set in papers each night to encourage a reluctant wave the ebony tresses hung heavily down her back, another bright Romani gown contrasting with their darkness. All things considered, it would be difficult to identify Sophia as a lady born and bred in a manor house, but fear still gnawed at her as she smoothed down the skirt of her loaned dress.
If somebody was to see through her, to wonder where she came from, all might be lost. Mother and Septimus would be upon her before she could as much as draw breath to scream, their malice doubtless increased tenfold by her daring to disobey…
‘Stop your fretting. Nobody here has a clue who you are and you’ll raise less suspicion if you’re seen out and about behaving as though you belong.’
It was as though Fell had read her mind, hunching slightly to murmur into her ear. The feeling of his breath against her neck cast an alarming ripple of delight through her body, softly stirring sinew and nerve to make them sing the melody his presence provoked with no effort at all. Ever since her rash action of a week before, when she had lost her head and lurched forward to kiss him, her body’s unconscious awareness of him had flowered into full bloom, his every movement capturing her attention and making her want to curve towards him like a moth to a flame. She didn’t want to feel such an unfathomable attraction, heaven knew, yet there was nothing she could do to stem the desire to touch him again, to feel the warmth of another person she’d never known until that night could be so sweet.
And now we are to marry, as soon as the rector reads the final banns. Less than a fortnight and then he will be my husband and I his wife—I still can’t believe he agreed to it.
Sophia slid him a sideways glance, taking in the sharp lines of his profile as he fiddled with his cuffs. He seemed too big to be folded neatly into the tiny shop with shelves stacked and goods hanging from the ceiling, far more suited to the free-ranging space of his forge or yard, and she was once again struck by a combination of dread and wonder that it was him to whom she would soon be bound. All her life she’d assumed her husband would be a man of Mother’s choosing, some uninspiring, well-bred gentleman Sophia would have to learn to tolerate—and who would certainly never love her. At least Fell was not malicious or unkind, contrasting completely with Septimus’s cold cruelty, and perhaps in time they might even become something like friends. A few stares from the villagers seemed a small price to pay to ensure her safety from the Thruxtons’ persecution, although it still remained to be seen what life as Fell’s bride would truly entail.
Still with the unpleasant sensation of eyes on her Sophia watched as someone passing the door caught Fell’s attention and his dark brows drew into a frown.
‘That’s Mrs Lake. I wanted to catch her about her grey mare—I’ll be back in a moment.’
Sophia stiffened in sudden alarm as Fell made to move away. She would be left alone among the strangers who peered at her with sharp curiosity she took for dislike. Almost from the first step she’d taken out of the safety of the cottage she’d been aware how the villagers glanced at Fell, some dismissive and others merely cool, but none much friendlier than that. She didn’t want to stay there in the crowded shop to face their interest alone and besides…
Any one of them could speak up and spoil everything. It would only take one person to see through my disguise and then I’d have to start running again. Didn’t I overhear Phillips say he had a cousin in this village?
She took a breath, trying to force herself to release her set jaw, but then a spark kindled beneath the skin of her wrist and she glanced down in surprise to see a large hand resting where her pulse now leaped.
Fell eyed her for a moment before dropping his voice lower, delightfully intimate in its deep murmur. ‘There’s nothing to fear. I wouldn’t leave you otherwise.’
Sophia nodded, but nothing could distract her from the heat suddenly radiating from that hand to creep higher along her arm, raising every fair hair as it went. If his touch was supposed to calm her it had completely the opposite effect, instead rallying every nerve to react to the light pressure setting her ablaze.
I must put a stop to this—and quickly.
The perturbing reaction of her body whenever Fell as much as brushed against her was becoming too worrisome to ignore. When she had been nothing but a temporary guest in his home it had been bearable, if unsettling, but now th
eir association was to deepen she would have to fight harder against the pull of that unthinking weakness for his ironic smile and the way his odd eyes crinkled at the corners in harmony with the curve of his lips. He would never have a similar penchant for her, she knew without a doubt; why would he, when she brought nothing to the table other than the ability to give him a child? She was under no illusions he was marrying her for any reason other than to gain a family and any fonder feelings she might entertain for him would be pure foolishness to indulge.
And yet…
It’s so difficult to remain impartial when each day he shows himself to be better in every respect than any man I’ve ever known—excepting Papa, of course. Fell agreed to the marriage so he could become a father, yes, but also in part to save me from my fate. How many other men would make that sacrifice and take a woman with no money or real value to shield her instead of collecting a reward?
The more Sophia allowed those kinds of thoughts to circulate through her mind the more confused she became, in turn finding it all the more difficult to remain unmoved by the small kindnesses Fell showed her each day. It was the tolerance and warmth she had longed for since she was a child, crying out for it in the lonely confines of her room. Fell’s attentiveness was dangerous, drawing her closer to a man she couldn’t hope to have, and unless she managed to rein herself in Sophia knew she would soon wish she had tried harder to free herself from its grip. Even his parentage didn’t seem to matter to her disobedient emotions. Where others were scandalised and repulsed by his illegitimacy and Roma blood, Sophia couldn’t bring herself to mind. Perhaps once she, too, would have had stronger feelings, but all she could see now when she looked into Fell’s tawny face was the man himself—strong, capable and willing to stand with her in her distress. His background seemed irrelevant when set against the flesh-and-blood person they described, a blacksmith surely the equal of a penniless disappointment of a woman below him in every way other than status.
Fell retreated in search of his quarry and Sophia watched him go, striding head and shoulders above everyone else in the shop—including the cluster of women standing near the door, who followed his exit with sharp eyes and dissolved into rapid whispers that made Sophia swallow a groan.
* * *
Out in the burning heat Fell shaded his eyes from the sun and cast up and down the street, alert for any hint of which way his prey had walked. Mrs Lake had suggested she might be selling her steady grey horse when Fell had seen her in church the past Sunday and he wanted to be the first to put in an offer. He’d shod Bess since she was little more than a foal and her sweet temperament might be a good match for Sophia. A married man with a family needed a dependable horse, after all—a thought that made Fell unsure whether to smile or frown.
A married man with a family. I never would have dreamed that would be my future.
It was simultaneously the most wonderful and terrifying prospect Fell could imagine and he felt the weight of it settle across his shoulders like a heavy cloak. Ever since Sophia had come to him like a spectre in the night he had struggled to believe their bargain, convinced he would wake at any moment to find none of it was real.
Mrs Lake had apparently disappeared from the face of the earth and with a grunt of annoyance Fell turned back, noting as he did the increased scrutiny that followed him. There could be no doubt it was Sophia’s sudden existence that piqued the fresh interest in him as the village curio. To the residents of Woodford it must seem as though Sophia had appeared from nowhere, a black-haired beauty unexpectedly among them just as had happened thirty years before; no wonder there was so much muttering and eyes hastily averted when Fell caught them following his soon-to-be bride.
She could almost pass in that dress and with her hair made so dark. A long summer spent in the sun rather than a parlour will tan her skin and in time I’d challenge anyone to prove she wasn’t at least part Roma—in that spirit she thinks she has to hide, if nothing else.
Walking back through the grocer’s open door and out of the dense heat he felt another flicker of admiration, twin to one that had flared as he strode beside her from the forge into the village. Sophia had been clearly afraid as she waited to see if she would be unmasked, but had kept her composure, braving the weight of the stares on her and responding with nothing but a polite—if shaky—smile. There was more courage lurking beneath that quiet exterior than he’d first thought, Fell would admit, and it was with the embers of his growing respect for her glowing brighter that he joined her in the barely diminished queue.
She angled her head away at his approach as if to hide her face, immediately putting Fell on his guard. Sophia didn’t speak, but one look showed her hands tightly gripping the handle of the basket she held, her chest seeming to rise and fall more quickly than might be comfortable.
‘Is something amiss?’
‘No, no. Not at all.’
Still her fingers maintained their painful lock on the basket and Fell caught a fleeting flick of a glance in the direction of a group of women standing nearby.
The village gossips. They’ve been ogling her half to death—I’d wager a guinea.
Sophia’s mouth was set in an unhappy line and her face was pale as he gritted his teeth on his irritation. The nosy busybodies couldn’t help themselves, he knew from bitter experience, and he’d expect nothing else from them; but he disliked that they had brought a downward curve to Sophia’s lips and found himself reaching for her before he had time to consider the wisdom of such a thing.
‘Come on. I’ll take you back and return alone later.’
The fabric of her dress was smooth beneath his fingers and a contrastingly jagged shard forced its way between his ribs the moment he touched her. It was a flicker like a stray spark escaped from a firecracker, taking him by surprise—or so he told himself, a lie he couldn’t for one second sustain. In truth, the desire to once again feel Sophia’s warmth had taunted him ever since she’d stolen all sense from his mind with the gentle movement of her lips on his, the feelings she had unleashed dangerous but more enticing than Fell could believe. It was foolish to indulge them and could lead to nothing but trouble, a fact his accursed weakness for her shy smile didn’t seem to understand.
She started a little, eyes fleetingly widening at his touch before dropping away to fix again on the heads turning in their direction. A new hint of colour crept into her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away—instead seeming to draw a fraction closer as if to accept his protection, a glimmer of hesitant trust in him that made Fell’s heart leap in both confusion and pleasure.
I suppose I needn’t read anything into that. Anyone might cling to a man my size for safety, especially if he’s skilled with a hammer.
He drew her closer to the gawping group and guided her limping steps between them, offering a curt nod to any inclined to return it. They weren’t even through the open door before he heard the muttering start up, voices lowered, but still easy enough to understand in their ravenous hunger for gossip.
‘So? Do you think she’s—?’
‘Another like him? Could well be. Looks like one at any rate.’
‘We’ll be overrun before long. First his mother appearing from who knows where, leaving us with the fruit of her shame to go off running about the country again, and now a wife for him just the same. It’s disgraceful.’
‘We’ll see how soon after the wedding comes the first child; I’d bet it’ll be a swift confinement, if you grasp my meaning. The apple won’t fall far from the tree and that lad was never likely to amount to much with his parentage in the gutter.’
Fell felt the muscles of his face tighten at the hissed words that hit his back in stinging flecks of malice. As always the temptation to answer their slander gripped him, but he forced himself to resist, the wisdom Ma had passed on to him years before surfacing at the front of his mind.
Never give them satisfaction. Words are all
they have and the only person who can give them the power to hurt is you.
The memory helped calm him a little, although his anger only dimmed rather than disappeared. It was very well for Ma to say such things, but wasn’t she at least partly responsible for the whispers that swirled about him in the first place? If only she’d reveal his father Fell wouldn’t seem quite so mysterious and worthy of comment, the uncertainty surrounding his lineage confusing for him and fascinating to others…
There was silence at his side and he glanced down to see Sophia turning to look back at the whisperers. The pink spots on her cheeks glowed brighter and a new crease of her brow nipped at him somewhere in the last unprotected place in his chest. She was clearly thinking something, although what was happening beneath those black tresses he had no way of telling.
And so now she knows the truth.
She would have heard the whispers eventually, but still shame lapped at him like icy waves to think graceful, ladylike Sophia now knew without any shadow of doubt how low he stood in the eyes of the world. The hissed words of his neighbours mercilessly illustrated how far beneath her she was stooping in marrying him, just as Charity had always secretly felt, and it was as though somebody had removed the foundations of his already precarious pride to send it crashing to the ground. All of a sudden he wished more than anything she hadn’t witnessed his humiliation—then felt alarm spread through him at how much he realised he cared what she thought. Guarding himself for so long against the wounds words could inflict had left him too jaded to waste time with such sentiment, or so he’d thought; the notion of Sophia somehow intruding into the carefully guarded part of him still vulnerable was worrying in the extreme.
He unconsciously tightened his grip on Sophia’s arm, attempting to help her over the threshold and away to escape—but found she didn’t move.
