Mortified, she groaned and dropped her head into her hands.
“Now, now my dear, no need for that. The man knew you would be snooping about the room. He should have taken better care to hide his little secret. He has only himself to blame and holds no grudge against you. Wanted to know what you thought of them, actually.”
“What did you tell him?” she mumbled into her hands.
“The truth, that you can’t read French. I’m still not certain if he was more relieved or disappointed. Is there anything else?”
“You might want to explain the butler to her,” Alex advised.
“James, right. After Lord Loudor’s removal from your home, I thought it best to put a man in place until I worked out exactly what your cousin was about. Penny was most instrumental in seeing him placed—”
Sophie’s head snapped up. “Penny? Penny’s a spy?”
“No, dear,” William stated. “Just the granddaughter of a retired comrade, who needed a little extra money. Every precaution was taken to see you safe and well settled in London. Mr. Wang insisted upon it—”
“Mr. Wang, too?” This time her voice came out a choked whisper.
“He did work for the war office for a few years. How did you think he came by the peculiar skills he’s passed on to you? He’s been mostly in London since your arrival. He insisted on being readily available should we, or you, need him. But then he thought you’d be safe enough at Haldon Hall, and went to see his friends in Wales.”
Sophie wanted to say that she had asked Mr. Wang how he came to know how to pick locks and throw knifes, and that he had given her the vague, but still satisfactory, answer that his grandfather had taught him. But her mouth seemed strangely disconnected from her brain and all she managed was to repeat, “Mr. Wang?” in that same strangled voice.
Alex reached over and took her hand. The small contact served to bring her back to the present, and in a much healthier voice she demanded, “Is everyone a spy?”
“No one’s a spy, dear,” William assured her. “They are simply acquaintances and friends of mine who either owed me a favor, or —”
“I’m a spy,” Alex pointed out reasonably.
“Well, yes,” William conceded. “But only on the rare occasion that—”
“I thought you preferred ‘agent,’” Sophie commented distractedly.
“You needn’t make it sound like a hobby,” Alex said by way of replying to William’s remark.
William groaned and ran his hand down his face. “Ye s, Alex performs the role of agent for the Crown from time to time. It is his duty to his title. However, it is not and will not be an occupation he pursues on a full-time basis, at least not until there is an heir to the dukedom.”
“Not even then,” Sophie muttered.
William ignored her. “No one else, however, is a spy.”
“I can’t believe this,” Sophie murmured.
Alex stood. “I can. You!” he snapped at William, “Outside. Now.”
“Alex, don’t,” Sophie pleaded, eyeing the older gentleman with concern.
“Let them go, dear,” Mrs. Summers advised.
“How can you say that?” Sophie demanded as the two men left the room.
Mrs. Summers appeared unmoved. “It is the duke’s right. I should be concerned if he didn’t at least make a show of retribution. Deathbed vow or not, if one puts one’s nose where it doesn’t belong, one should expect it might come out the worse for wear.”
“You’re guilty as well,” Sophie pointed out.
“Yes, but not to the same degree. And I am a woman. He can’t very well break my nose. You, however, may choose not to speak to me for several days, if that is your wish.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Generous of you.”
They sat in awkward silence for a full minute, Mrs. Summers sipping her tea and Sophie’s mind still racing over the events of the day. Then—
“I would never have left!” Sophie cried, nearly before she had even completed the thought in her head. She turned to her companion in a combination of outrage and confusion. “You know very well I never would have dragged you out of London merely because I had gotten bored, not with you visiting old friends and so clearly enjoying yourself. How could you think I would be so selfish?”
Mrs. Summers set down her drink, sighed, and, unless Sophie was mistaken, cringed just a little. “I don’t believe you to be selfish, dear. I know you are not, but…oh dear, I had rather hoped you would be too distracted with everything else going on to question my excuse overmuch. I’m not very good at lying, you know.”
“You were lying?”
“Perhaps, a little. There was a last-minute change of plan, you see,” Mrs. Summers explained. “We had to…shuffle things about a bit. William knew your cousin was pilfering from your father’s coffers, but didn’t realize the extent of his treachery, or the damage it had caused, until after we had left China. There was a letter waiting for me at one of our stops, detailing the condition the estate was in and…well, I knew you would never take the money from me, but if you thought it was coming from the prince—”
“It was your money?” Sophie demanded. “Your twenty thousand pounds?”
“Don’t be silly, dear. How on earth would I come to have twenty thousand pounds?…It was to be ten thousand.”
“Ten….”
“Without proof, you would have been given ten thousand pounds for your troubles.”
She had found proof, but it seemed to Sophie a relatively minor point at the moment. “But that money is yours, Mrs. Summers. You—”
“It most certainly is not,” Mrs. Summers snapped, slapping one bony hand angrily against her thigh. “Honestly, child, am I family, as you are so fond of saying, or am I not?”
Sophie blinked, taken aback at the vehement tone. “Of course, you are, but—”
“Very good. There is no reason, then, to have been paying me an enormous fee these last twenty years, and there is no reason you cannot accept assistance from a family member.”
Assistance was no longer needed, of course, but that fact could not hope to dim the generosity of Mrs. Summers’ offer.
Sophie took her friend’s hand and enclosed it in her own. “You have gone through a great deal of trouble. For me, for my father, for all of us. Thank you.” She gave her a peck on the cheek. “I love you very much.”
Before the tears shining in Mrs. Summers’ eyes could began to fall, Sophie added, “But should you ever again take it into your head to manipulate me like a puppet on a string, I shall indeed break your nose.”
William followed Alex into a side yard with a tall wall that afforded some mea sure of privacy.
“Before you commence with the breaking of any bones,” William stated calmly. “May I point out that Sophie was never in any real danger from my plans?…Also, I am an old man.”
Alex hit him on the nose.
“You may have taken precautions against physical harm, William, but Sophie could have been ruined,” Alex snapped. Then, with a sigh, he reached down and offered William a hand up. “And you’re not a day over forty-five.” Alex blinked as if just realizing something. “My God, you must have been a mere boy when you began working with my father.”
William pulled out a handkerchief and used it to stop the flow of blood from one nostril. “I was fourteen years old on my first assignment, sixteen when I met your father. He used to call me old man,” he chuckled. “Thought it was funny, his being a solid decade my senior.”
“I’m sure he did,” Alex murmured distractedly. “William, was there anything else you haven’t told me about the night he died?”
“No.”
“The rest was true then? He died in France saving a compromised agent?”
“The agent wasn’t compromised, Alex. He wasn’t even in play. It was the last years of the Terror. A person only had to look at their neighbor askew to be denounced. But yes, he was an agent, and yes, he was going to die, and your father died saving him
. We made it all the way to the coast before running afoul of the local authorities. It was just rotten luck.”
Alex accepted that with a small nod.
Neither man spoke for awhile, Alex lost to his thoughts and William patiently dabbing at his nose as the blood flow slowed to a small trickle.
Finally, William said, “You’ll need a special license. I suspect you won’t run into much trouble there, being a duke.”
“It’s already been handled. I sent Whit for one the night we came to London.”
“Before Sophie was compromised,” William stated with obvious approval. “Excellent.”
Alex threw him a disgruntled scowl. “This was damn humiliating, you know.”
“But worth it, eh? Sophie will make you a very happy man.”
“She already does,” Alex admitted, before adding, “I agreed to let her return to her father after an heir is born or, in the event that proves impossible, after five years’ time. I hope to convince her father to return to England by then, or convince her to stay.”
“Won’t be necessary. He’s already on his way. Before leaving China, Mary accused the viscount of jeopardizing Sophie’s future happiness with their nomadic way of life. Lectured and chastised the poor man no end, I’m sure.”
“She is formidable,” Alex agreed. “Come on then, let’s get you back inside before the ladies begin wondering if we’ve run each other through.”
William gave his nose one more dab and eyed the ruined handkerchief. “I appreciate your not breaking my nose. Quite charitable of you, really.”
Alex just shrugged and held open the door. William was halfway through the threshold when Alex stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Who are they? The others you promised my father to help?”
“Can you not guess?”
A slow smile spread across Alex’s face.
“May I assume your silence on this matter?” William asked continuing on his way.
“Only if you allow me the pleasure of assisting in Whit’s downfall. Any candidates in mind?”
“Miss Mirabelle Browning.”
“Good Lord!” Alex cried, and then promptly shut his hand in the door.
Twenty-nine
They were married the next day. Alex wanted to hunt down a vicar and have the ceremony performed that very afternoon, but Sophie insisted that they wait until Kate, Mirabelle, and Evie could arrive from Haldon Hall. She wished her father and Mr. Wang could be present as well, but Alex was already put out with just a day’s postponement. She didn’t think he’d be willing to wait the several weeks it would take for them both to arrive.
She received the news of her father’s move from China with mixed emotions. She was delighted at the prospect of seeing him after so long a separation, and truly overjoyed that she now had nothing to stop her from spending the rest of her life with Alex.
Except that she loved him.
She had no idea what the odds were that he might one day fall in love with her in return, but she thought they might be dramatically improved if she was actually around. It was a wonderful and terrifying thought. And one that she doggedly refused to dwell on. She was getting Whitefield and marriage to a man she loved. Alex would have an heir, and marriage to a woman he cared for. That would have to be enough. Especially on her wedding day.
Mirabelle, Kate, and Evie were delighted to be a part of the celebration. And they were positively enthralled at Sophie’s accounting of her adventures. Per Alex’s request, she left out all mention of Mr. Fletcher’s involvement and focused instead on relating the full extent of her cousin’s treachery. She felt a little guilty not sharing all the details, but she wouldn’t risk spoiling Mr. Fletcher’s future plans.
She rather liked the idea of Mirabelle and Whit.
The wedding was a subdued affair. The only excitement occurred at the conclusion of the ceremony when Lady Thurston burst into tears, necessitating Alex’s and Whit’s immediate and adorably awkward attention. It had been rather sweet, watching two otherwise self-assured men hover helplessly over the woman.
“The last time Mother cried was at Papa’s Funeral,” Kate whispered in her ear. Sophie couldn’t help noticing that the younger woman’s voice was a bit tight as well.
“Is she that upset?” Sophie whispered back in horror.
Lady Thurston dispelled that notion before Kate had the chance to respond.
“…what I have always wanted for you, Alex…” Lady Thurston hiccuped, having gotten over the worst of her sobs. “…couldn’t have made a better match myself. Your mother would be so happy.”
Sophie beamed a smile at her. Alex leaned down and whispered something in Lady Thurston’s ear that brought a fresh round of tears before she finally managed in a tremulous, but joy-filled voice, “…and you have always been a second son to me.”
The newly married couple settled into Alex’s town house that afternoon, opting to postpone the honeymoon until after Sophie’s father arrived and preferring to stay in town to reinforce their story. Lady Thurston had agreed to spread the word that the new Duke and Duchess of Rockeforte were madly in love, had been secretly engaged for weeks, and had decided to elope to Gretna Green before reconsidering and marrying by special license. It was still a scandal, but it was romantic, and provided a happy and, more importantly to some, respectable conclusion. Society was enchanted, and Lady Thurston, already popular, was thrilled to find herself one of the most sought-after guests in town.
Alex and Sophie were completely unaware of her bliss for two full days. Despite their intention to be seen as a united couple in public as soon as possible, they spent forty-eight solid hours ensconced in their bedroom instead. For her birthday, Alex took her sightseeing at all the places they’d avoided on their last outing. But most of the fortnight following the wedding they spent in idleness about the house. Taking breakfast on the terrace, reading to each other in the library, but still preferring to spend most of their time in the bedroom.
Alex took the opportunity to learn all the little habits and preferences of his new bride. He found that she liked lilies more than roses, that she always sneezed twice, never more and never less, that she liked her eggs scrambled dry, and that she never snored in her sleep, but did occasionally drool.
He was watching her do that very thing at the moment, marveling at the sweetness of it, at the wonder of her lying asleep beside him, when it finally hit him.
His wife was drooling all over her pillow, no make that his pillow, and he thought it enchanting. Nothing about this woman could ever bore him.
He loved her.
There could be no other explanation. And frankly, Alex didn’t need one. He liked being in love with Sophie. Liked the way he missed her a little when she was in another part of the house. Liked how just the thought of her made him smile at odd times of the day. Mostly, he just liked being happy. And Sophie made him very, very happy.
He’d tell her tomorrow, he decided, carefully sliding a dry pillow beneath her head. He figured a man could never go wrong telling a woman he loved her. Leastwise, not if he were being truthful.
And he’d tell the staff to bring more pillows.
Sophie eyed Alex furtively over the top of her book.
He’d been acting strangely all day.
At breakfast, he’d poured cream into his juice without even noticing his error. Sophie had only barely managed to warn him in time. They’d gone riding in the park afterward where she made several attempts at conversation, but gave the effort up when he failed to answer her after the third try. Then, to her annoyance, she caught him mumbling to himself instead.
Now it was late afternoon, they were in the library, she was reading aloud, and he was clearly not paying the least bit of mind to what she was saying.
He was just staring at her.
Sophie closed the book with a decisive clap. “I do wish you would tell me what is wrong,” she said impatiently.
He blinked twice. “Wrong?”
&n
bsp; “Yes, wrong. You’ve been behaving as if you’re…I don’t know…distracted.”
Alex rubbed the palms of his hands on his trousers. “Likely because I am.”
“Care to tell me why?” she asked in a more sympathetic tone. Alex was more than distracted she realized, he was nervous.
“I’ve been meaning to…that is to say, I should like to tell you something, but it seems getting the deed done is somewhat more difficult than I anticipated.”
Now she was nervous. “What is it?”
He stood abruptly and hauled her to her feet.
“I love you,” he said clearly, albeit quickly.
Sophie heard herself make an audible gulping noise.
No. No. No.
Alex must have been feeling rather optimistic because he seemed to take her response as a good sign and continued in a more confident voice.
“I could give you a million different reasons for why I love you, or how I love you. I could even tell you when I began loving you, and when I finally came to my senses long enough to realize I love you, but it all seems inconsequential next to the simple fact that…I just do. I am completely, madly, deliriously in love with you.”
Sophie opened her mouth, let out a small squeak, and ran.
Alex watched her go in stunned amazement.
Over the last twelve hours, he had mentally played out every scenario he thought might occur after professing his undying love to his wife. Sophie laughing with joy followed by passionate lovemaking. Sophie crying with joy followed by passionate lovemaking. Sophie being struck mute with joy followed by passionate lovemaking—although he rather thought this one to be the least likely. Not once, however, had it occurred to him that she might become upset and run away, completely forgoing the joy and lovemaking the situation warranted.
Eventually, he regained the use of his muscles and took the steps two at a time.
“Sophie!”
Damn it, why had she run?
He reached the door and tried the handle. It was locked. He pounded on the wood.
As Luck Would Have It Page 29
