by Amelia Grey
“Open wide,” he said.
She did so, and he laid the handkerchief in her palm and carefully unfolded it.
Before the last fold was removed, Sophia gasped a shaky, “No.” Tears clouded her eyes so quickly she didn’t have time to blink them away. “My mother’s brooch,” she whispered without looking up. “You found it. You found the boy.”
“Yes.”
She looked up at Matson. Warm, early morning sunshine slanted through the tall shrubs and glanced off his face. He was smiling gently. She quickly glanced back down at the brooch again to make sure it was there, that this wasn’t a dream or a trick. She laid her other hand over the precious treasure to protect it. Her tears would not be dammed and spilled onto her cheeks.
She sniffed, and more tears of happiness and gratitude followed. She cupped the brooch to her chest directly over her pounding heart. From a clogged throat, she said, “I can’t believe I have it back.”
She tried to blink away the tears, but all she succeeded in doing was causing more to rush down her cheeks. Quickly, she wiped them away with the back of her trembling hand, but more followed.
“I don’t know what to say except thank you. I am—”
Sophia stopped talking when Matson reached up and wiped her wet cheeks with his thumbs, and then dried the rest of the tears from her skin. His touch was tender and sensual. The masculine scent of shaving soap that clung to his hands pleased her senses.
“No more needs to be said, Sophia. Tears of happiness are good,” he said softly. “There’s no need to erase them all.”
“You can’t know how I feel right now,” she said earnestly.
He smiled. “I have a fairly good idea.”
“No, I think I had given up hope of ever seeing it again.”
“That’s understandable. It’s been weeks since it was stolen.”
“Sir Randolph took me to the square a couple of times, but he had no patience to wait and watch for the boy.” She pressed the brooch tighter to her breast. “Where did you find it? How? Did the boy still have it, or did you find it somewhere else?”
“He still had it. There will be plenty of time for me to tell you all the details later. None of that is important right now.” He took her hand and tried to open it, but she kept her fingers closed tight.
“May I?” he asked softly.
At first she didn’t want to open her hand. She had the brooch, and she didn’t want to let go, but somehow she knew he didn’t want to take it from her. She slowly released her grip, and her fingers unfolded. He took the brooch out of the handkerchief and started fastening it to the neckline of her dress. “Did you see I had the pearl replaced?”
“No,” she said, embarrassed that she hadn’t noticed it. She looked down at his strong, capable hands as he slipped the pin into the fabric and notched it into the catch. “My eyes were so full of tears, all I could see was that it was my brooch. Thank you, Matson. I don’t think I would have ever had it replaced if you hadn’t done that. How did you know what was in it? I don’t remember telling you.”
“You didn’t. I asked your aunts.”
“When?”
“A couple of days ago. I came over immediately to give it to you after I found it, but Double and Trouble wouldn’t let me see you.”
Sophia sucked in a shocked breath. “They knew you had my mother’s brooch and wouldn’t let you give it to me?”
“No, in fairness to them, they didn’t know what was wrapped in my handkerchief. Don’t be mad at them for the short delay. I realized that I would rather be alone with you when I gave it to you. How does it look?”
She looked down at the flower, and a peaceful feeling slowly seeped through her. “Like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes teared up again, but thankfully, this time she checked them. “I’m so happy to have it that I feel I should offer you a reward. I would have paid anything to get it back.”
As soon as she said the words, she knew she had spoken without thinking again, and she wanted to bite her tongue. A gentleman would never take a reward from a lady. And the last thing she wanted to do was insult Matson when he’d just given her her heart’s desire.
He stepped a little closer to her, and in a soft voice said, “If you offer a reward, I will accept.”
Startled that he’d agreed, she quickly said, “Oh, then please name your price. How much would you like?”
He moved closer to her. He looked so deeply into her eyes she couldn’t have turned away from his penetrating gaze if she’d wanted to.
“I’ll take as much as you can give, Sophia.”
Sophia tried to remember how many coins she had in her possession. “I don’t have much money here in the house, but I can get more later today.”
His lips inched closer to hers. “Sophia, surely you know I’m not talking about money.”
A warm, shivery awareness eased through her. Matson was too near, his words too provocative. She swallowed hard. “You’re not?”
“You know I’m not.” His gaze never left hers, but his hand slipped over to her ear, and his fingers caressed her earlobe. “I’m talking about kisses as a reward. How many kisses do you think that brooch is worth?”
“Many kisses,” she answered without hesitating.
Sophia’s body, mind, and all her senses were so aware of how close Matson was to her that she trembled. He wanted to kiss her again, and that elated her.
“I was thinking the same thing.” He took the empty handkerchief from her hand and stuffed it in his coat pocket. “And do you know what else I was thinking?”
She shook her head, wondering what could be more enticing than kisses.
Matson followed the curve of her lips with his forefinger as he bent his head closer to hers. His breath fanned her face when he whispered, “You look like you need to be kissed.”
Yes, she had wanted him to kiss her, but she didn’t know he could sense that. “I do? I mean yes, I do.”
He gently cupped each side of her face with his palms and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose and her cheek. “You need to be kissed on your cheek.” He kissed each eye. “You need to be kissed on your eyes.” He kissed her forehead. “You need to be kissed on your forehead and your lips.”
She craved the feel of his lips on hers. “Yes, my lips please,” Sophia whispered breathlessly, unable to withstand his slow progress of kisses any longer.
“With pleasure,” he answered.
With her heart pounding, she turned her face slightly, and her lips made contact with his in a long, searing kiss that was urgent from the start. It was demanding, fascinating, and desperate. Sophia felt as if she had been starving for this one moment. His hands dropped to her shoulders, and he pulled her gently, firmly against him. Her arms slid around his neck, and her hands threaded their way through his hair. She eagerly matched his aggressiveness, opening her mouth so his tongue could slip inside, filling her and teasing her with the taste of him.
His hands slid from her shoulders to the swell of her breasts, where he cupped their weighty fullness with his palm. Sophia moaned softly at the intimacy of his touch, and her body quivered in response. Devoid of any apprehension or hesitation, she wantonly kissed him with all the passion that had been building inside her since their last embrace on the Serpentine. She was eager for the same closeness they’d shared that afternoon.
Matson’s hands moved down to her buttocks. He cupped them and pressed her tightly against his hard body. His lips left hers, and he kissed his way down her neck and chest. He buried his face between her breasts, rubbing his face first over one mound and then the other. Pleasure grew inside her, spreading warmth all the way down to the center of her womanly core.
“Yes,” she whispered and slid her hands down his waist to the hardness beneath his breeches.
His raspy, uneven breathing wafted past he
r ears as he moved to kiss the soft skin behind her ear. “You must stop, Sophia. I fear you have me on the brink of doing something foolish.”
“Then do it,” she whispered.
“No. That was not my intention in coming here. I wanted only to give you the brooch in private.”
Her breathing slowed a little, but only a little. She knew she was asking a lot of him, but what was she to do? Soon she would have to say good-bye to Matson and settle for a man she neither loved nor desired so she could fulfill her vow to her father. These stolen moments with Matson were all she would have.
Sophia swallowed hard. “I need to celebrate my good fortune in getting my brooch back.” She kissed him again and again, and then said, “What was lost is found. Let me thank you, Matson.”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “You have, and you can thank me again another time, but kissing this passionately between us is foolhardy here in this place. Your aunts, Sir Randolph, or the servants could come down this path at any time.”
“I know, Matson. I am desperate to kiss you. For reasons beyond my understanding, every time I see you I want to do again what we shared in the boat.”
“That is a brave statement, Sophia.”
“And true. If I believed in such things as spells, I might be tempted to think you had cast one on me.”
He chuckled. “And I might do that if I had been blessed with such capabilities.” He straightened and stood away from her. He brushed her hair behind her ear.
“It disappoints me as much as it does you, believe me, but I will go before someone comes.”
She felt bereft but knew he was being the wise one. She wanted him to linger, so she said, “We didn’t talk about Lord Tradesforke’s May Day Fair Day.”
“Didn’t we?” He smiled. “I wonder why. We have five days before Saturday. A perfect reason to return another day and enjoy the early morning, don’t you think?”
She smiled. “I think that would be nice. Just let me know which morning you pick.”
He touched her brooch, letting the heel of his hand linger against the swell of her breast. “I’m glad you got it back.”
“Thank you,” she said but realized the words were only mouthed, because her throat was once again too choked up to let the words be heard.
He turned away, and finding her voice, Sophia called to him, and he looked back. “What should I tell my aunts and Sir Randolph about how I got the brooch?”
“Tell them the truth. It was delivered to you by private messenger early this morning.”
Nineteen
While man’s desires and aspirations stir he cannot choose but err.
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The end of the tree-lined path called Rotten Row was almost deserted. Matson saw a couple of other riders on horseback ambling along at a slow pace, enjoying the warm late afternoon, but no carriages. Dash had been restless since they entered the park. He’d stop, stomp and paw the earth, and then prance again.
“You’re eager for a run, aren’t you, boy?” Matson said, patting the horse’s firm, warm neck. “I think we can do that. There don’t seem to be any pedestrians on the pathway right now. It should be safe enough. We don’t want to run anyone down, do we?”
Matson had already made one slow trot around the park, looking for Sophia. He assumed her aunt June was still refraining from her afternoon walks because of her tender ankle, but Matson expected Sophia and her aunt Mae to show. He hadn’t seen Sophia last night, though he’d made an appearance at every party he’d been invited to. After he’d given her the brooch yesterday morning, he’d forgotten to ask which parties she would be attending and at what time.
A warm, good feeling settled over him. It was no wonder he forgot about asking about the parties. They’d shared that heated kiss, which he hadn’t expected and he certainly hadn’t regretted. She could stir the passions in him faster than any other woman he’d ever been with.
Matson took off his hat and dropped it around the pommel, and then ran his hands through his hair. No doubt about it. Sophia had gotten to him, and he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts. Maybe both he and Dash needed a good run.
He replaced his hat on his head, picked up the reins, and giving them plenty of slack, he dug his heels into Dash’s flanks, and the horse took off. Matson leaned low and forward over the horse’s neck and let the animal have his head.
Taking the freedom his master gave him, the powerful roan showed off his racing skills in fine fashion. They flew past the other horsemen before the riders knew anyone was behind them. One gentleman yelled for Matson to get control of his animal, but he just smiled and kept allowing Dash to race the wind. He didn’t slow the horse until he came to the other end of the mile-and-a-half path. Both he and Dash were winded from the exhilaration of the ride.
He patted the roan’s neck after they stopped. “Well done, my boy, well done.”
Dash jerked his neck and snorted, as if to acknowledge Matson’s praise.
While Matson let Dash cool down, he searched the park for a glimpse of Sophia or her aunt. He knew her walk and the way she carried herself so well that he could find her even at a great distance away in the park or milling among fifty other ladies on a crowded ballroom dance floor.
Matson shortened the reins. “Come on, Dash, let’s walk to the gate where Sophia usually enters.”
Just as Matson urged the horse forward with his knees, someone called his name. Matson looked behind him and saw Iverson riding toward him at a fast clip. Matson smiled. It was always good to see his brother.
Iverson reined in his horse beside Matson’s. “That was some fast riding you were doing, Brother. I was trying to catch you, but your mount ran off and left us eating your dust.”
Matson grinned. “Maybe it’s time to buy yourself a new ride.”
“Maybe, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think hellhounds were after you.”
“You don’t know better. They might have been nipping at my boot heels.”
“Then you’re safe. I don’t think the hounds can outrun Dash. Where have you been? Brent and I are beginning to think you are trying to avoid us.”
“I suppose I am.”
Iverson’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“A bachelor can take only so many long conversations about happily married bliss.”
Iverson laughed. “You lie, Brother. We do no such thing.”
“You come close. And before you ask, no, I’m not free for dinner tonight or any night the rest of the Season. I’m otherwise engaged.”
“That’s good to know, even though I hadn’t planned to ask you to join us for dinner.” Iverson smirked in amusement.
“Then that makes us both happy,” Matson said with a smile.
“I’m glad you are staying busy. Does that mean a lovely lady has caught your eye and you don’t want to miss seeing her for even one evening?”
Iverson had always known him too well. Sometimes it was hell being a twin. “It means I’m busy.”
“A new mistress to occupy your time?”
Matson ignored his brother’s prying. “So tell me, did you just stumble upon me, or were you searching for me?”
“I was looking for you,” Iverson said, all teasing gone from his tone and his features. “This letter was delivered to me this morning.” He pulled a folded paper out of his pocket. “I’d rather you handle this. You have a more level head about this kind of thing than I do.”
“All right,” Matson said. He took the folded sheet and slipped it into his pocket without bothering to open it.
Iverson pointed to the letter. “I think that is something that needs to be handled with haste.”
That piqued Matson’s interest. “What’s it about?”
“Sir Randolph. He wants to void our leasing agreement with
him.”
“What?” Matson frowned. “He can’t do that!”
“Apparently he thinks he can.”
“After we’ve paid for the space for almost six months,” Matson said. “Who does he think he is? He has to know that our ships have arrived and we’re unloading our machinery and materials.”
“Yes, they started yesterday. And yes, I think the man knows every little thing that goes on in London. I think perhaps he just wants to stir up a little trouble and get people to gossiping about us again.”
“Then he knows just how to do it,” Matson grumbled.
“In the letter, he had the audacity to say that he’d subsidize our lease payments somewhere else for six months.”
Matson grunted irritably. His horse stirred restlessly beneath him. “Does the popinjay think we can’t pay our own way? If he’s trying to insult us, he succeeded.”
“I don’t know his thinking, Matson, but I have a couple of theories as to what might be behind this.”
“They are?”
“The only reasonable explanation I’ve come up with is that he has received a better offer for the space, and he’ll make more money leasing to someone else.”
“If he wants more money, we’ll have to pay what he asks until we can get in touch with the Duke of Windergreen,” Matson said.
“Agreed. We have no choice, and according to Brent, there is no telling how long it might take us to find the duke.”
Matson’s ire increased. “I never trusted that man to be fair about anything.”
Iverson hesitated and then said, “I also have an unreasonable explanation as to why Sir Randolph might want to throw us out of his space.”
Matson wrinkled his forehead. “Unreasonable? What are you talking about?”
“You and his ward, Miss Hart.”
Matson went still. His horse snorted and pawed the ground. “What could Sophia possibly have to do with this?”
