He looked Matthew in the eye, the dark making it difficult to read his friend’s gaze, but he knew it would mirror the anguish he felt. “I can’t lose her again.”
“I know, but we can’t hope to find her in this. We’ll have to wait till morning.”
“We did that last time and we lost her.” At the time he’d thought he’d lost her forever.
“We won’t lose her this time, Blake. She’s a big girl and she’s strong. She’ll probably be up a tree waiting out the storm and wondering why she went out in it in the first place.”
Blake shook his head, droplets spraying back into the still falling rain. “I can’t lose her again,” he repeated, but more to himself and in complete defeat. Matthew was right. If they hadn’t found her the first time she’d fled on a cool, clear night, then they wouldn’t find her in the middle of all this either.
She was a strong woman. She was too clever for her own good. His heart sank. When they did find her, and they would, she would be even angrier with him. He was sure of it. He’d had trouble forgiving her for what she’d done to him fourteen years ago, but the tables had turned. Everything was different now.
He only hoped she found it in her heart to forgive him for being a fool.
* * *
Violet was the picture of radiance as she sighed and settled farther into the mattress, her adoring eyes only leaving one cherubic face to glance to the other.
Sophie still couldn’t believe it. Two babies? Who would have guessed? She suspected Violet had. “Why did you never tell Matthew that there were two babies?”
“I wasn’t certain. It was only a feeling I had and he would have only fussed more.”
“He may not have left your side if he’d known.”
Violet half groaned, half laughed. “Thank the Lord I didn’t mention it, then.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle, but the laugh soon turned into a yawn.
“You should get some rest,” Violet told her, her own eyelids drooping despite the effort to stay awake.
“You are the one who should rest. I should get back to town and let Matthew know he is the father of not one baby but two.”
“You can’t go back out into this storm. Even if you made the bridge, it would be treacherous.”
Sophie had forgotten about the bridge. Even if she wanted to get back, she couldn’t. There was only one other way back to Blakiston and she wouldn’t make it in the dark let alone the rain and flooding. “You’re right,” she sighed. “The bridge was washed away, so I guess it’s just the four of us tonight.”
“They know where you are anyway, so they won’t worry.”
“Uh, no they don’t.”
“What happened? Sophie, what were you doing on your way out here?”
She bit her lip. The woman had just given birth. How much could she burden her with? In the end, she decided everything. Violet had the right to know.
“Do you know much about Blake’s history?”
“I know a bit.”
“None of us really knew anything at all. His mother was married to the old duke.”
“So he is the rightful heir?”
Sophie nodded. “St. Ives came to make him a duke.”
“What did Blake say?”
“He refused. He is the most stubborn, fool-headed, idiot of a man. He could have made things so much better around here and instead he lied. Lied to everyone.”
“He must have had his reasons.”
“I don’t care what his reasons were. He made a decision to fool everyone so he didn’t have to take on the responsibility of the estate.”
“There had to be more to it than that. A man doesn’t do something for no reason, especially not a man like Blake.”
“Sometimes decisions made under duress have no reason, you choose the smoother of the paths at the fork in the road.”
“Is that what you did?” Violet asked in a small voice as she leaned back against the pillows once more.
Sophie sighed. It’s exactly what she did. At one turn there was her father and the duke and at the other, London. She’d had no idea what living in the city would entail. If she had, things might have been different. “I made the choice between the lesser of two evils. You all pity me my life, but between the hardest of hard lives or death at the hands of a vicious man, I would always take life.”
“But at the time, when you thought those were the only two choices, you neglected the third. I’m not sure if it was intentional or not, but why did you not ask Matthew or Blake for help?”
“It was too late. I never thought my father would actually go through with the deal.”
“What deal?”
She’d forgotten that Violet didn’t know as much as everyone else. For a second time, she poured her story out and hoped for empathy rather than disgust.
Violet gave her neither, in fact she radiated indignation. “And after? Could you not have gone to Matthew before you fled?”
“I didn’t want him to have to run with me. I was so ashamed and humiliated and terrified. I would have ruined everyone’s lives. He wouldn’t have been able to stop Blakiston from dragging me back.”
“How do you know that? Perhaps Blake would have embraced his birthright if it had meant saving you.”
“He wouldn’t have done that for me.” As soon as the words were out, Sophie knew them for the lies they were. Of course he would have saved her. Matthew and he would never have allowed anything to happen to her, but it had taken so many years to come to the realization and by then, too much time had passed. Too much had happened.
Her mind drifted back to the night she fled—the pain she was in, the humiliation that her innocence had been taken so violently. She hadn’t wanted to face anyone at all, let alone the man she would have married had he asked. And then what of revenge? What if Blake or Matthew got it in their heads to avenge her honor and wound up swinging from a rope? Yes, she’d taken the lighter fork in the road.
“He would have saved you then and he would do it now.”
“I don’t need saving.”
“Are you sure?”
Sophie looked away from the question in Violet’s eyes.
In the sense of immediate danger she did not need rescuing, but she had turned out to be her own worst enemy. Who would save her from herself? She enjoyed London. The bustling metropolis always delivered something different. No two days were ever the same and she had her life mapped out there. She had the clinic and the children they helped; she had her friends and her wealth. Everything was easy.
Except for the men.
Despite the fact her reputation was mostly gossip, she had slept with men for housing and gowns. It was a necessity she’d accepted very early on, but she was older now. She liked to think she was wiser. She hadn’t made a rash choice in years.
What do you call fleeing into the driving rain?
Blake had really hurt her. She’d never realized how much the man could hurt her. Why should she stay somewhere like that with a man like him?
The question of what she would do once she returned to London still lingered. Since there was no lower legal occupation than the one already pinned to her, she was at a loose end.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“He loves you,” Violet put forward gently.
“He certainly has a fine way of showing it.”
“It killed him when you left all those years ago. He was a wreck for months, picked fights with his uncle, Matthew, anyone who could give him a different type of pain than what you left him with. Even then, it was you he loved.”
“How do you know that? I can’t imagine Blake poured his heart out to you.”
Violet shook her head. “He didn’t tell me any of it but Matthew knew it all. What Blake told him and what he didn’t.”
“And he just told you?” Wasn’t there an unspoken bond between best friends? Between men? Would Blake be embarrassed to know that Matthew told his wife all of his dark secrets?
“A
husband and wife have no secrets.” She smiled. “Matty tells me everything.”
Sophie rather doubted it. “Even if he does love me, we can’t talk for more than five minutes without nearly declaring war. If I were a man, we would have chosen our seconds and had it out at dawn already.”
“If you were a man, he wouldn’t argue with you so. If you were a man, your leaving would have only left him angry rather than devastated.”
Devastated. The word rattled around in her head. If he was so devastated, why had he never written to her? Matthew had her address in recent years. Why hadn’t he come to the city to declare his love and bring her home? It’s what she secretly waited for all those years of men and gambling and the never-ending night life. In the back of her mind she’d replayed the fairy tales endlessly and hated the princesses and damsels in distress for their knights. She especially hated the trusty steeds for not carrying a prince to her rescue to live happily ever after.
She’d almost given up on happily-ever-afters but sometimes, when she saw a couple like Matthew and Violet, her hope would be renewed. At least until the next blow came to knock her back to reality. Like losing the babies. For a few weeks, she had been in the happiest of places, had even begun to consider her return to Blakiston as the new start she’d needed for herself and her child. But that wasn’t meant to be either. Things did happen for a reason, but the reasons were usually irrational, unexplainable and devastating. There was that word again.
“Do you love him?” Violet asked.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. He could never respect me, he could never forget the fourteen years in between and the things I’ve done.” She looked up into Violet’s eyes, her own misting with hot tears she’d held back for days. “I’ve done things, Violet, things I could never forget or forgive, so why would he?”
“You don’t have to forget. Those years made you who you are today. You will have to forgive yourself before you can expect his forgiveness, but I suspect you don’t need his. I think he’s already given it to you. The arguments are his way of telling you he’s still hurting but I’m sure if you could understand where the pain comes from, you can take care of it. You can take care of it, him and you.”
“What if I don’t have the strength?” It was the scariest question she’d ever asked out loud. What if she didn’t have the strength? Would it all fall apart? “What if I can’t be that strong?”
“Maybe it’s time you stopped being needed and started to need. Perhaps you should let a big capable man be strong enough for the both of you?”
Chapter Twenty
Blake woke early the next morning with barely any sleep and a permanent lump stuck inside his throat. The sun wasn’t yet up, but it wouldn’t be long and he needed to be on the road now. He dressed quickly, unaware and uncaring of what he donned. In the kitchen he made coffee. As he gulped and his stomach warmed, his gaze was drawn to the small changes Sophie had made in the short time she’d spent turning his kitchen into her domain. Everywhere he looked was neat and tidy. She’d even scrubbed the wall above the hearth, bringing it back to a warm brick color rather than the red and black grime color it had become. He ran a tight kitchen, but he didn’t get time to do some things.
She had given him so much in the past week and not all because of the bargain he’d trapped her into. After their accident, she’d stepped up and done everything expected of a publican and more. But at the end of the day, she wasn’t made for this life. Running a tavern wasn’t going to keep her in Blakiston and he doubted he would be enticing enough on his own. No. He had to offer her something. Something more than a farmer’s wife and more than love.
In reality, with Sophie being so logical, love would not put a roof over her head. It didn’t matter how he offered it, she would need more.
Would she stay for a duke if not for a tavern keeper? If it came down to it, he would sell his soul for a roof over her beautiful head.
He walked back into the tap, and using the tip of his mud-crusted boot, he kicked Matthew awake and thrust a coffee into his hands, his energy more renewed now than when he’d first woken. “Drink up and make it quick,” he said. “I ride out in ten minutes with or without you.”
“Is it still raining?” Matthew asked as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.
“Rain stopped around three. It’ll be slippery but at least not so cold and miserable.”
“Speaking of miserable,” Matthew said with a small smile. “Where do you plan to start looking? It’s going to be treacherous going, even if the rain does keep off.”
He’d been thinking on that all night. The closest property over the bridge was Matthew’s. But why she would have gone there when her brother was at the inn, he wasn’t sure. Regardless, they had to start somewhere. “I’m going to backtrack to the bridge on the other side and you are going to go straight home. Check on your wife and then come and find me. The mud will be so deep on the other side that, with luck, I’ll see footprints. Hopefully the other two bridges are still standing.”
Neither man said it but the bridge to the south was sure to have taken the full weight of the fallen bridge and likely had been washed away as well. Hopefully, if luck did smile on them that day, the old and rotten timbers would have sunk, snagged or broken up in the three miles of bends and banks before the next bridge. His hopes were pinned on sunk or snagged.
“We’ll take Daemon’s horses.”
“Will you now?” a sleepy voice asked from the doorway.
Blake spun and faced his brother, already dressed in high boots, breeches and a sturdy shirt, waistcoat and coat, the very picture of a powerful duke. “You’re going to help?” he asked.
Daemon gave him a don’t-be-daft look before walking farther into the room. “The Duke’s horses will be faster. I had Dominic collect three of the best last night. They should be saddled and ready right about,” he pulled out his fob and examined the face, “now.”
“What are we waiting for, then?” Sophie could be out there, hurt, desperate or in danger. Fourteen years was more than enough time to forget how dangerous the wild countryside could be. The night they were stranded, she’d wanted to start walking back to the inn on her own. The woman had no idea.
Blake didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and marched through the muddy yard and into the stable. They’d wasted enough time.
Dominic handed him the reins to a towering chestnut and with barely a nod, he swung up into the saddle and took off north. The horse mustn’t have seen exercise for some time in Blakiston’s yard, and sensing his eagerness, took the lead and lengthened his stride, quickening his pace until the only sound was the thunder of his hooves. The wind whipped past, stinging his cheeks.
Blake leaned over his neck, only putting the slightest pressure on the reins to keep the beast to the solid parts of the road rather than the slick mud. One of them was going to wind up with a broken neck if even one hoof was misplaced.
When the northern bridge came into view, Blake looked heavenward and gave thanks, reining in hard.
“I thought you were never going to slow,” Daemon said as he brought a midnight horse to a stop next to his.
“I would rather find Sophie than die trying,” he said.
“You could have ridden past her and never noticed.”
Blake shook his head. “She won’t be on this side of the river and the current is going the opposite way.” He swallowed hard. “If she went in, she’ll be down Matthew’s end.” As soon as he said the words, he groaned. He should have taken the south.
“Don’t even think it,” Daemon ordered. “We will find her safe and sound. That woman has more lives than an alley cat.”
“I hope so,” Blake muttered before crossing the bridge with care. If the water had been strong enough to take the other, then this one could have sustained damage also.
By the time they got to where the footings from the old structure stood, naked and lonely, the sun shone bright on a day of torment. He saw small boot tr
acks sliding about before ceasing in the harder part of the roadway.
“Thank the Lord she made it over,” Daemon breathed, echoing Blake’s exact thoughts.
With more hope than he dared feel an hour before, they set off again, this time in the direction of Matthew’s house. There was nowhere else to go out here.
“Do you think she was wrong to react the way she did?” Blake asked as they rode. “After what I said?”
“I would have punched you, myself. Or called you out. She did what any woman would have done. But for God’s sake, she should only have fled to the kitchens or barn in this weather.”
“Why are you helping me now? You don’t think I deserve her any more than I do.”
“It’s not about who deserves whom or even how you treat each other. It’s a question of whether you can make her happy. I believe you can. If you can keep your mouth shut.”
But the problem wasn’t going to be his mouth. Even if they found her, how could he tell her everything in his heart before she ripped his head off?
Before he could think further about the angle of his approach, she appeared. Just like that. She walked with long strides over the crest of a hill in the middle of the road on the hard packed dirt and she was...smiling. Vibrantly. The sleeves of her ruined dress were pulled up to her arms and stains darkened the front, but she smiled as she walked.
Blake kicked his heels hard to the sides of the horse until the beast surged with power beneath him. When he was close enough, he reined in, but before the animal had stopped, he kicked free of the stirrups and leapt from his back.
Blake was so unashamedly glad to see her, he threw his arms around her and lifted her from the ground. She fit in his arms as if she was made to be held by him and only him. It was a few seconds before Blake realized how he held her and went to put her back on her feet. It was only a second more until he realized she held him just as hard.
“Thank God you’re all right. You could have died.”
Behind the Courtesan Page 21
