by Sophia Nash
He pushed himself as deeply as he dared, filling her completely and yet encouraging her body to take even more of himself inside her. And when he felt the pulsing of her muscles, he held himself rigidly still, then stretched her even more to bring her fulfillment for as long as possible.
When she was quiet, he raised himself on his arms and looked down at her. She was dazed and exhausted, on the brink of sleep. He kissed her forehead and gathered her back into his arms, making sure to take as much weight off of her as he could.
She sighed and was asleep in moments.
His arousal was now painful and still deep and full within her. He regulated his breathing and slowly, ever so slowly withdrew from her. He did not even try to understand why he refused himself this second release.
He understood so little of what had overcome him. There was only one thing he understood with crystal clarity. He had been entirely wrong to think that he was master and commander of this match.
Sophie tiptoed up the servant's stair in the darkness to avoid the dozing footmen at the main staircase. Shoes in one hand, touching the thin banister railing with the other, she silently crept to her bedchamber. Each step proved an effort as she was swollen and sore where William had been.
Sophie prayed her smug maid had refused to wait up as she would be unable to bear Karine's knowing eyes.
The chamber's latch screeched long and loud when she moved the intricate brass lever. Sophie peeked around the edge of the door to find Karine seated before Sophie's little gilt table, littered with articles from Sophie's personal toilette. Her maid was trying the new subtle rouge she had forced Sophie to buy in London. The one Sophie had disdained to wear. Karine's appraising glance reflected from the oval looking glass.
"It is as I thought," the pretty, petite maid stated matter-of-factly. "Let us remove that gown before any stains set."
Sophie knew she was blushing, but refused to speak as Karine rose from her perch to remove the gown.
"I tried to warn you, mademoiselle, did I not?" Karine gathered Sophie's dress in her arms and moved to hang it near the basin, her hips swaying with every step. "But do they listen? Never. They all think, 'I am a lady and a gentleman would never dare to compromise me.' Well, it happens every day. Just tell me you didn't believe him when he told you he was falling in love with you, did you?"
Sophie blinked.
"Ah, I see that you did. You then, take the prize of being the most naive of the lot I have served."
Her maid then uttered a long string of French words that Sophie could only guess were ineptitudes being heaped on her gullible head.
"And did he play the piano for you, too? I have heard that he plays remarkably well. He has a special sonata he uses when he attempts the seduction. Ah, he used that on you also? Well—at least you had the chance to experience the ultimate seduction from the ultimate rogue. There are many who would envy you. But they all hold one important distinction. They are all married or widowed and therefore not so silly as you. It is said below stairs at Hinton Arms that he generally prefers petite beauties with youthful physiques, much like me," Karine added, looking down to admire her own tiny frame.
Sophie's heart plummeted. "Stop, Karine. Stop this instant. Not another word."
"But I'm only trying to tell you what you'll need to—"
"I don't need to win him over. He has proposed marriage. We're to be wedded as soon as the banns are read. We have only left to decide if it will be done here or at St. George's. My aunt told me a long time ago that she had her heart set on a huge town wedding."
Karine had always been adept at demoralizing her. This had been the most magnificent night of her life and instead she now felt deflated. She tried hard not to listen to Karine. She didn't want the black tentacles of doubt to unfurl in her consciousness. Had her acceptance of his proposal and their passionate encounter been nothing more than a forgone conclusion to him?
"Hmmm…" Karine was lost in thought, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. "There has to be a reason he wants to marry. He has had so many women rich, poor, beautiful—all who would have gladly given anything for a proposal from him. Why you, I ask. But, actually, it all fits into place."
"Karine, whatever ridiculous notion you are concocting, I will not listen to it. Lord Will may be an expert in seduction, and now he can add an expert in making marriage proposals to his list of roguish qualities—but this proposal will be his last. We plan to have a long and happy marriage together."
"Oh, I forgot. But then—you English women are determined to remain in the comfort of the dark, priding yourselves in fulfilling their husband's every whim. We French women prefer to know our demons so we can tame them to make sure they fulfill our every need."
Sophie sighed and shook her head. "All right Karine, I see I shall have no peace until you have your say."
Karine lifted her eyebrows and shoulders in perfect harmony. "Far be it for me to tell you how to live your life, Mademoiselle Sophie. And you have shown precious little in the way of gratitude for everything I have done for you…"
There was a long pause as Karine examined her apron.
Would this night ever end? But she knew if she did not listen to her devious maid, Sophie would suffer anxieties all night. "Karine, you know how much I appreciate your advice and everything you do for me."
Karine dusted the edge of the small table with her finger. "Perhaps you will show your thanks by allowing me your new rose-colored cloak?"
Sophie sighed. "Agreed."
"And the matching parasol and reticule you will never use?"
Tiredly, Sophie waved her acquiescence and lowered herself before the table and looking glass. Her haggard appearance startled her.
"Well," Karine said with a lofty tilt to her petite head, "the Mornington chits's maid told me just last week that there has been an alarming stream of males demanding interviews with Lord Will. They are those vulgar sort of men down from London," she paused and gave a sly wink. "Rosario is an adept eavesdropper, and she said that she had even overheard the men demanding vast sums of money from Lord Will, or else…"
"Or else what?"
"Or else, whatever," she said with a Gallic shrug. "Don't you see? He is marrying you above all those other ladies because you will be richer than anyone he knows, and he obviously needs money to pay off moneylenders right now. It is amazing the lengths a man will go to avoid being maimed for life."
Sophie closed her eyes and felt the embodiment of her soul drop to somewhere around her ankles. "He is a gambler then. A wastrel—another fortune-hunter."
"The very devil himself, if you were to ask me," Karine added for good measure. "But don't misunderstand me. You must marry him. But you must also make him well and truly fall in love with you. When you have him on the tip of your finger, you can decide what you want to do about it. I would force him to be your slave, while you dispense favors when the mood strikes you." She cocked her head to one side and looked over Sophie's physique. "Personally, I think your chances of success are about one in ten thousand, but we will at least have some fun—for once—trying. And we can leave this boring backcountry hole for the amusements of town before the sea air ruins both of our complexions."
Sophie slowly flexed her hunched shoulders back. The warmth of William's embrace had left her body, and a detached calm replaced it. She felt the first ice-cold intention to exact retribution trickle into her veins and for the first time in her life, she couldn't stop an action she knew to be sinful. Her innocence—physical and emotional—had been stripped from her quite thoroughly and heartlessly and the desire to hurt in return took root. "Oh, we'll go to London all right. But I'll not marry Lord Will."
"Are you out of your mind? Of course you will marry him. You have no choice. He ruined you— and perhaps got you with child. You'll never find a more suitable match, nor will you be able to accede to your inheritance," Karine said, then winked. "And he is an expert lover as well, don't you think?"
Sophie looke
d at her quickly.
"Of course, I have no personal knowledge of this. It is just that his brother was—" Karine blinked her eyes and hastily looked aside.
"No, I will not have him," Sophie said quietly. "And I am fairly sure there will be no consequences to our actions of tonight. It is most likely the wrong time if I am to believe what the midwife in Wales told me. As to my being ruined, that will be an obstacle, but not insurmountable. I have the advantage that everyone already thinks I was ruined when I left London. So there'll be no awkward scenes explaining myself to the one I do marry." Sophie paused when she saw Karine's incredulous expression. "No, I'll not have Lord Will no matter what you say."
"You are a fool, then," Karine said. "Why do I always have to serve the imprudent ones? I should have been born a man so I could have been a valet. It would have been so much more amusing, listening to their exploits and conquests than the silly talk of love and respect I must hear from females. Life is to be lived, mademoiselle, not frittered away in a glass tower. Your great character will provide cold comfort on winter nights alone in your bed."
"Karine, you misunderstood me. I did not say I wouldn't marry. I said I would not marry that spawn of Satan. We will leave for London, and I'll marry a member of the ton, and I'll inherit my fortune. I'll also become known as the most sought after, extremely eligible, soon-to-be heiress in all of London. And you'll help me. If I must marry, it will not be to a lying, cheating fortune hunter, but to an honest fortune hunter in the worst case scenario—or to an intelligent, kind, caring aristocrat who has little need of my riches in the best case. And I'll make Lord Will rue the day he thought I could so easily be gulled."
"Well, as long as we return to London, and it necessitates a lot more shopping, which your plan will, and you promise to take my advice more seriously, for I've a reputation to maintain"—and here she sniffed—"then perhaps I'll go along with your arrangement." Karine's outrageous behavior explored new heights.
Unfortunately, her maid also had a sense of fashion and style that was unparalleled, and Sophie would need Karine if she was to have any chance of attaining success.
Sophie did not say it, but one day she also hoped to surprise Karine by her London conquests so much so that the ridiculous maid would literally swoon and grovel her praises. Sophie smiled in bitterness. Well, perhaps she might be successful in her retaliation of that lying, scoundrel Lord Will, by living a phenomenal life, but it was doubtful she would ever wring a word of praise from that petite loaf of a French maid. One must be realistic, after all.
Will lay back in the warm soapy bathwater and rested his head on the edge of the copper tub. There was a suggestion of a smile about the corners of his mouth as he closed his eyes.
He felt as satisfied as a well-fed wolf in his lair.
He had left her reluctantly last night. Her gown had to be repositioned and her hair repinned. But when he had departed at the doorway leading from the music room to the terrace, he had promised, in the most enticing and amusing language, to return to her the next day. He had gone so far as to name the time and she had laughed but had not said no. He'd also suggested they be married by special license because she could very well find herself in an interesting condition with unamusing speculation from the beau monde.
William smiled again. The possibility of a child. His child. He almost laughed. By God, he had never imagined it.
He could not believe his good fortune. Little had he envisioned two weeks ago finding perfect happiness in this little piece of England on the edge of nowhere. And suddenly, he felt strangely detached—as if everything had happened too quickly, too perfectly to be real. But this tall, bonny Welsh bride was his and they would be wed as soon as possible.
There was only the slightest twinge of guilt over his joy in her money. He tried to ignore it.
William opened his eyes at the sound of Jack Farquhar carrying in a steaming pitcher of water. He leaned forward to receive the water on his soapy head.
"Why, do my eyes deceive me? Do I detect a familiar self-satisfied contentment in the air? Or did you just over imbibe last night and the effects have not worn off?" Jack busied himself about the chamber, laying out clothes that he had carried in with him, sharpening the edge of the razor with a strop.
Will exited the bath and accepted the towels from his valet who then retrieved a sealed letter from his pocket. Jack passed the note beneath his nose. "Mmmm… roses. Not very original, but very nice indeed. I see you have her writing love notes to you already. Fast lot those Welsh."
Will laughed. "Now, now, I can't have you besmirching the good name of the future Duchess of Cornwallis. It would behoove you to get into her good graces." He chuckled at his double entendre.
Jack's jaw dropped.
"Watch it, old man. You'll catch flies standing about in that manner," Will continued.
"The poor thing. I actually liked this one," Jack said, resuming his activities. The valet sat near Will to brush lather onto his face. "Well, that's a record. You've bedded her in less than a fortnight."
"It wasn't all that difficult, especially when you offer an irresistible proposal." Will felt slightly sick bantering about with Jack in his usual nonchalant fashion when he felt anything but. But he knew Jack would burst out laughing if he acted as seriously happy as he felt.
"It must have been the fan. It works every time." Jack began scraping the whiskers from Will's face. "So you're actually going to take on the shackle for this one? Willingly?"
"Don't be so shocked. It was bound to happen sooner or later. And by the by, I like her too."
"You're a cheeky devil. You're in it for the fortune. You can't fool me." The valet shaved the neck area.
"As I treasure my life, I'll not say another word while you hold that razor."
Jack chuckled and finished the job. He dried Will's face, and turned to retrieve a cravat while Will toweled off and buttoned his shirt.
"Congratulate me, Jack, or perhaps offer me your condolences, if you prefer, for I have followed the legions of men before me and have finally found happiness in the hands of a good woman."
"A rich woman."
"Good and rich," replied Will, cocking a brow.
"Well, at least this will satisfy that nasty little man, Mr. Derby," Jack replied. "I must say, I am tired of the sight of him."
"Well, you should prepare yourself to see a good deal more of him if I am to succeed in this venture, which is precisely what I plan to do."
"Why you have to muddy yourself in commerce—"
"By the by, have you put together the list of nobility, military and gentry I'll approach in short order? The future patrons?"
"I think I might have found the time between cleaning your salty boots and ironing your—"
"Enough, Jack. Let us see the letter, now." Will accepted the rose-scented missive and was surprised by its odd shape and outer paper. He tore off the thick wrapping and a small object fell onto the blue and gold Aubusson carpet.
His heart skipped a beat. The sapphire and diamond ring lay just beyond his reach, gleaming before him. He wondered if he was going to be ill. He felt paralyzed.
Jack scooped up the ring and studied it. "So she accepted you, did she?" There was a cynical gleam in his eyes.
"Don't say another word, mon vieux. Get out of here if you know what's good for you."
Jack placed the ring on the table nearby and shook his head. "I've never known what's good for me."
Will heard not a word. His hand shook as he read the letter.
Dear Lord William,
Thank you for the pleasant evening last night. I enjoyed your performance immensely on so many levels. I particularly take pleasure in an experience such as the one we shared when a gentleman can act so well the part of a besotted fiancé. But all playacting must come to an end at some point, and I do fear you forgot, in your exuberance, a most important prop from the excellent betrothal scene.
I enclose it for your future use.
I
do hope I am not leaving you at loose ends. This was just an amusing interlude, was it not? However, if reports are true, and you are in dire need of funds to preserve the safety of your person, I feel obligated as a friend to tell you that there is another possibility for your consideration. The just-widowed heiress of the Marquis of Heathern might be an excellent candidate for satisfying your pressing obligations. Of course, there is the disadvantage that she is staring eighty in the face, although knowing your—shall we say—calculating nature, perhaps you may be willing to risk the odds that she will not survive much past the wedding night.
I wish you much joy, then, Lord William, in your forthcoming nuptials. And I must thank you for the education of a lifetime. I only add, may God have mercy on your soul.
Sophie Somerset
William released all the air that he had held trapped involuntarily in his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to still the wild madness swirling in his mind.
"Do I detect a rebuff?" asked Jack.
Silence.
"By Jove, that's a first. My, but the Welsh female has grown in my estimation—by leaps and bounds," Jack continued.
Silence.
"That bad, is it, then?" Jack said, rising from his seat. "I'll get the brandy."
"No," Will said, finally speaking. He could feel his outstretched hand shaking. "Arrange for my horse to be saddled."
"Don't you think you should let a little time—"
Will's door opened without warning and Charles Mornington entered, a dazed, pale look on his face. He held a note in his hand. "They've left. Miss Owen and Miss Somerset have left." He refocused his attention on his friend. "By God, if you have had something to do with this, I'll wring your neck, I will. I am sick and tired of your antics, Will. You should have stopped your larking about years ago. Now you're just a lecherous old fool."
