“Yes, Your Grace. The Dowager Duchess disliked the pension the Duke left her, thus she and her friend concocted this mad scheme.”
“And you went along with it,” Wesley snapped, stepping closer to the man. “Now, are you willing to hang for my mother?”
Mr. Tennant dropped to his knees, sobbing. “Please, Your Grace, I beg you, do not turn me over to the courts. The Dowager Duchess will also hang beside me. If you have any mercy within you, I beg you to not have me arrested. I will leave London, leave England, immediately, if you will grant me your mercy.”
Wesley needed to ponder this. He stepped away from the weeping man at his feet, and strolled to Berkeley. Keeping his voice down, Wesley asked, “What do you think?”
Berkeley shook his head slightly. “You do not need the scandal. I also know you cannot see your mother hang. Let him go into exile, demand he shut down his business immediately and leave the kingdom. If ever you find him within the shores of England, he will be executed immediately.”
Wesley glanced at the still kneeling solicitor, thinking. No, he did not want any scandal such as this attached to his name or Sophia’s. He could not stomach his mother facing the noose, whatever her crimes. Her infidelity. At last he nodded, and walked back to the solicitor.
“You will close up your business immediately,” Wesley ordered. “You will leave England. Any word of you returning, or that you implicated the Dowager Duchess, I will see to it you hang immediately.”
Mr. Tennant finally stood and bowed. “I will do as you say, Your Grace. Thank you for your mercy.”
Disgusted by the solicitor, and what he and his mother had both done, Wesley stalked from the office with Berkeley behind him. He climbed into his carriage, his stomach roiling with fury and grief and pain.
“I will ask the Wellingsons to come to the house for dinner,” Wesley said, his voice hoarse. “I will insist that Sophia come. I will also invite the Swinton’s at the same time, as well as David. He deserves to know this.”
“And your mother?”
Wesley gazed grimly out the window at the grey afternoon, and the passing traffic on the avenue.
“She will wish she had never given birth to me.”
Sophia spent two entire days in her chambers missing Wesley. She wept at times, read her books, but spent most of her time staring into the fire and wondering about what could have been. When her parents knocked and entered without waiting for an invitation, she gazed at them, puzzled.
“We are headed to the Bersard residence for dinner,” her Father announced. “Your presence has been expressly required. Please change now, Sophia, and meet us downstairs.”
“But—”
Her father held up a warning finger, his expression implacable. “Now, Sophia.”
She knew better than to argue when her father used that tone. Changing into formal attire, she let Erin fix her hair into an attractive coiffure, then strolled down the stairs. Williams held her cloak and gloves, her parents already in their outer garments.
In the carriage ride to the Bersard townhouse, Sophia questioned her parents as to the meaning of this brusque invitation, and received only twin stony expressions for her reply. Confused, she gave up and stared out the window.
Upon their arrival, Sophia discovered they were not the only guests. The Earl and Countess of Swinton, with Alicia, alighted from their carriage ahead of theirs. David stood on the steps to greet the Earl with a handshake, and Alicia with swift kiss to her cheek. The Countess gazed at him with clear dislike, and walked past him and into the house.
At the entrance to the dining room, Wesley greeted his guests as they came to him, then his brilliant hazel eyes fell on Sophia. She hesitated, blushing, but was urged on by her Father’s urgent whisper in her ear. Sophia formally curtsied to Wesley, but, under the weight of many eyes on them, refrained from speaking to him.
Sophia, down the table due her rank, sat beside Alicia. She exchanged a confused glance with her, then watched as the Dowager Duchess also gazed around the table. Though she could not be certain, it almost appeared that Her Grace’s expression was uneasy.
Wesley stood beside his chair at the head of the table. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I fear I require your attention before dinner is served, so I beg you to bear with me.”
Sophia watched in fascination as he withdrew two scrolls from his inner coat pocket.
“I have here two wills with my father’s name on them,” Wesley began. “This is the real one, the other was forged by my dear, beloved mother.”
The Dowager Duchess gasped amid all the shocked indrawn breaths from around the table, including Sophia’s. “Wesley! How dare you say such a thing. Of course I never forged your father’s will.”
Wesley smiled at her. “Your illicit lover, the solicitor, freely admitted your infidelity to my father, as well as your part in this.”
Wesley strolled around the table with both scrolls in his hands. “I can prove it easily enough, Mother. The second will was written in your hand, the King’s seal an imitation.”
The Earl of Swinton rose, his expression furious. “That is a sentence of death, Your Grace. Have a care.”
“It is my mother and your wife who should have had a care, My Lord,” Wesley replied evenly. “I am told the Countess both blackmailed my mother, threatening to reveal my mother’s liaison with Mr. Tennant, as well as bribed her with the proposed sum of ten thousand pounds a year if I married your daughter.”
The Countess, her face as white as milk, protested stiffly, “That is a ridiculous accusation. I would never engage in such tawdry behavior.”
“And still you lie?” the Earl thundered, glaring at his wife. “You would stoop that low, wife? You would spread false information, and conspire to forge a will, the King’s own seal? All to marry Alicia to His Grace?”
The Countess suddenly panicked, pointing at the Duchess. “It was all her fault, she made me help her, she wanted her son to marry Alicia. She forced me to be a part of her plans, made me write the notice to put in the paper.”
“You harpy!” the Dowager Duchess exploded. “It was you who threatened to expose my affair. You forced me due to your obsession of Wesley marrying your daughter. You were obsessed with her marrying a Duke.”
Shock could never fully describe what Sophia felt as the disgraceful accusations flew around the table. She held onto Alicia’s hand with desperate need as the Countess and Dowager Duchess, once the best of friends, maligned one another in front of everyone present.
At last, the Duke of Wellingson stood up and bellowed for silence. When it fell, he glowered at the two quarrelling ladies. “It would appear both of them have engaged in not just outrageous behavior, but also criminal activities. Do we truly want the scandals that would surely rock all of society if we were to reveal what they have done?”
“I, for one, will not have the shame of what her mother has done to stain my daughter,” Lord Swinton growled. “My wife will retire to her chambers, where she will never leave save upon her death.”
“You cannot,” the Countess gasped, horrified.
“I can and I will.” The Earl leaned both fists on the table. “I will personally lock you in, and only I will have the key. Your maid will be allowed out to fetch your meals, and serve you, but if she, at any time wishes to leave your service, you will not have another.”
Wesley cleared his throat. “I once told my esteemed mother that should she continue her behavior toward Sophia, I will send her to the furthest cot in Yorkshire. And that is what I will do. She will spend her days on the moors with a cook to serve her food. There will be no contact with anyone, and she will live out her days thinking of the terrible things she has done.”
Sophia stared at the Dowager Duchess, who gazed downward, and seemed to be a mere shell of her former self.
“And the solicitor?” Sophia’s Father asked.
“I have already exiled him from England,” Wesley replied. “Should he return, h
e will hang.”
Epilogue
The day of his wedding finally arrived.
With the help of the Duke of Wellingson and the Earl of Swinton, Wesley kept his mother’s affair and the Countess’s involvement in their criminal activities secret. The high society never learned of it, thus no scandal erupted. Wesley had sent his mother to Yorkshire with strict instructions to his estate manager. She was to be clothed, fed, given adequate shelter with plenty of firewood against the cold, but no mail, no visitors, and a single cook to provide for her.
Removing his thoughts from his mother, he waited at the altar for his bride under the stern glower of the Archbishop, his friends at his side. Across the aisle from him, Alicia was seated with Sophia’s regal mother, a happy smile on her countenance. She caught Wesley’s eye and sent him a wicked wink.
Wesley grinned. The music started, announcing the approach of his bride. Half turning to watch, he took in the sight of his lovely bride walking down the aisle toward him, escorted by her father. She was bedecked in all white, her face concealed by a long veil, and four young ladies carried her immense train.
The cathedral was packed, and he caught a glimpse of the Lord Chancellor in the front row, and smiled inwardly. Heads turned to watch as Sophia came abreast of them, and very few failed to smile at the beautiful sight.
Sophia arrived at his side, and even through the veil, Wesley observed her wide, happy smile as James left her at his side, then retreated. He tossed her a quick wink, taking her hand in his, for under the stern visage of the Archbishop, he dared not return her grin.
Although he had been prepared for the length of time the ceremony would take, Wesley daydreamed about becoming a married man. He satisfied himself with seeing what he could of Sophia under her concealing veil, and caught her honey eyes watching him back.
At last, he and Sophia were able to speak their vows.
“I, Wesley, do take this woman to be my lawful wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”
“I, Sophia, do take this man to be my lawful husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”
The Archbishop stared down at them as though distancing himself from his next words. “You may now kiss your bride.”
At last.
Wesley carefully lifted her veil from her face, and bent to kiss her soft lips. Unfortunately, he was not permitted more than the merest peck when he wanted to enfold her in his arms and kiss her long and deeply.
As the cathedral erupted in applause, Wesley, grinning, escorted his wife down the aisle.
The hour had grown late by the time the festivities had ended. Hand in hand with Sophia, not caring that such went against social protocol even in his own house, Wesley led her up the stairs of the Bersard townhouse.
Phillip, who had come to adore Sophia under her near constant petting and fussing, trotted at his side. “You cannot come into our chambers tonight, lad,” Wesley told him as Sophia laughed under her breath.
“That would almost be like a witness,” Sophia said with a grin. “Even if he is a dog.”
“I heartily agree, my love,” Wesley answered, then kissed her.
Thus, Phillip had the bedchamber door closed in his face. In the darkened room, romantically lit only by a few candles, Wesley took Sophia into his arms and kissed her as he had wanted to all day. His tongue danced with hers, his arousal growing, heat spreading from his loins to his belly.
“I want you,” Sophia whispered against his mouth when he withdrew his tongue.
“My lady commands me.”
His fingers trembled as he unbuttoned and unlaced her clothes, slowly stripping her naked as his manhood strained within the confines of his trousers. He unpinned her wealth of hair, and spread it down over her bare breasts and shoulders.
Picking her up, he set her on the bed, gazing down at her beautiful body, resplendent in her nakedness. He undressed, letting her see him fully, observe how much he wanted her.
“Oh, my,” Sophia breathed, staring at his erection.
“Do I frighten you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“You could never frighten me, my love.”
Taking her hand, Wesley placed it on his shaft, letting her feel its hardness, its silky smoothness. Sophia caressed it, her eyes luminous in the candlelight. Sucking in his breath at the exquisite pleasure of her touch, Wesley reminded himself he would need to go slow with her.
Lying down on the bed beside her, Wesley stroked his hand up and down her incredibly soft skin, feeling her heart pound within her chest.
“I will be gentle,” he whispered, kissing her throat, her cheeks, her eyes.
He slid his hand further down, delving his fingers into her moist tunnel, and heard her swift intake of breath.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” Sophia gasped. “I—I like it.”
Wesley teased her into full arousal, feeling her moisture gush over his hand. Feeling that she was ready for him, he rolled on top of her, and spread her thighs with his knees.
“I will be careful with you,” he murmured, then kissed her.
With her arms wrapped around his neck, Wesley pressed the head of his shaft into her, hearing her sharp intake of breath.
“Should I stop?” he asked, gazing into her eyes.
“Never.”
Sinking himself in deeper, Wesley felt her virgin womanhood spread open for him. He withdrew only to thrust slowly again, deeper and then deeper still. Then he felt his shaft break her soft tissue, and Sophia was a virgin no more.
“You are mine,” he whispered.
As her moisture flowed under her continued arousal, Wesley slowly stroked in and out of her. Sophia shut her eyes against the ecstasy, the sweet pleasure of her husband making love to her.
This is everything I always dreamed of, the sensations, the pleasure. The books do not do this justice.
Under his heavy body, Sophia moaned softly, her body quivering in the throes of the ecstasy, the near pain of his thick organ buried deep within her.
She moaned loud and long, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body experience her first climax, her secret woman’s place undulating with intense pleasure. Wesley’s hips picked up speed as he thrust harder, faster into her. She felt his breath in her ear quicken into sharp gusts.
He groaned as she felt his shaft spurt his seed deep within her. The sheer exquisite sensation of Wesley’s own climax renewed her pleasure. His body quivered under the force of it until his manhood softened and he relaxed at last.
Though she was not ready for him to, Wesley rolled off of Sophia, then pulled her close to him. “We are now truly husband and wife, my love,” he murmured, kissing her neck.
“I love you, Wesley,” she said, her voice languid, and she knew she was close to sleep.
Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in its sweet scent. “We will always be together, my beautiful wife, my beloved Sophia.”
The End?
Extended Epilogue
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The Viscount Who Seduced Her
About the Book
The sweetest of smiles hide the darkest of secrets...
Lady’s maid Betsey Babington knows that the Cublertone Masquerade party is her only chance to ever approach the man she is secretly in love with. Disguised as the Ice Queen, her dream comes true when she finally dances with the tempting Lord Hillfield.
Engaged to his antagonist’s daughter, Viscount of Hillfield, Michael Calford's entire life has been nothing but a business deal. From the minute he dances
with the Ice Queen, though, he loses control over his heart, mind, and body.
But while on a hopeless quest to discover her secret identity, she slips right through his fingers...
In his attempt to locate her, he will not only face a well-crafted plan aiming for his demise, but he will also discover that the person who wants him dead is nothing but a ghost.
Chapter 1
Addicted to a Rascal Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 27
