My Seductive Innocent

by Julie Johnstone

  She swiveled back toward him. “Yes?”

  “You cannot get married in that gown.”

  She glanced down at her gown, then back to him. “It’s the best one I have.”

  “I thought it might be,” he admitted. “If you are to be my duchess, however, you must start dressing the part immediately, and that begins with our wedding.” She could have worn a sack for all he cared; it really made no difference since it would only be the two of them, her brother, his aunt, and the clergyman, except he wanted to do something nice for her. “We’ll postpone the wedding for a few days. That should be long enough to have a gown made for you.”

  “Oh, Nathan!” Her face lit up, and before he knew it, she had raced across the room. She threw her arms around him. “I don’t care at all about a new gown, but I’m touched.” She hugged him with unrestrained fierceness, which had been the exact sort of hug he had longed for from his mother. The thought drove him out of her embrace in an instant.

  When a wounded look crossed her face, he felt like a cad. “I’m sorry, Sophia. I’m not used to being embraced.”

  “Did your parents never hug you?”

  “Did yours?” he shot back, employing an avoidance tactic he’d learned long ago when people asked probing questions.

  She shook her head. “No. Frank never did, but Harry hugs me so hard I think he may cut off my air. It’s wonderful.”

  “What happened to your mother?” he asked, realizing how little he really knew about her.

  “My mother died at my childbirth, and Harry’s mother never was officially with Frank. She left Harry on our doorstep right after she birthed him.”

  He tried not to react to the news. He hadn’t realized they were half siblings. “And then you took up the job of mothering Harry, and that’s why you stayed at the tavern, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded. “I was trying to save up enough money so I could bring Harry with me when I left. I could make it on the streets, I’m sure of it. But I don’t think he could.”

  It suddenly struck him that she was the most selfless person he had ever met, quite unlike his own mother. He was certain she had not ever wanted him. “Do you want children, Sophia?” he wondered aloud. Though, despite whether she did or not, he needed an heir.

  “Oh yes,” she said on a sigh. “I want to lavish all the love on them that was never given to me. I hope we have at least six.”

  “Six!” He burst out laughing.

  “Too many?” she said, laughing, as well.

  He sobered instantly. “I never considered that I would have more than the requisite one to carry on my line.”

  “It’s lucky you met me, then. You have the power to make me a lady, and I have the ability to soften your heart.”

  With those words, she whispered good night and left the library. He let her go without correcting her erroneous notion that she could ever soften his heart. He’d hardened it long ago in order to survive, and he didn’t have any desire to change that.

  Sophia awoke the next morning, sat up, and got her first good look at her bedchamber. When the uppity butler had shown her to the room last night, it had been lit with candles. She had known instantly that it was magnificent by the enormous, breathtaking bed situated in the middle of the room, but the pervading darkness had made it hard to see everything properly. She glanced behind her and to the sides at the four-poster that encased her. The canopy reached all the way to the ceiling. Long velvet panels of rich gold and deep burgundy hung from golden rods at the top of the bed and billowed elegantly to the floor. A gold-and-burgundy wallpaper covered the walls, and to the right of the bed hung an oil painting of a stunning woman whose dark eyes matched Nathan’s.

  The woman had to be Nathan’s mother. In fact, as Sophia looked around the room, she counted three paintings, all of Nathan’s mother. It seemed odd to her that there were none of anyone else, and she made a mental note to ask Nathan―or better yet one of the servants―what the duchess had been like. She had a feeling Nathan would not be forthcoming with information regarding his personal life. Not yet.

  Thoughts of Nathan brought last night’s kiss to the forefront of her mind. That kiss had curled her toes, eased her fears, and changed her mind about going through with the marriage. That kiss had held the promise of a wondrous love to come.

  From his lips, she had tasted his desire. From his chest, she had felt the thundering of his heart. With her ears, she had listened to his ragged breath, and she had known instantly that underneath his cold exterior he was hiding a man in need of love just as much as she was. She’d glimpsed his kindness and honor already. Now all she had to do was help him see that he did want love. He was afraid, she was sure. That had to be it. If she could show him he had nothing to fear from her, he would let down his guard.

  A scratch came at the door, startling her.

  “Good morning, miss,” came a soft feminine voice from the hall.

  Sophia took a deep breath and bid the woman to enter. A young, pretty blond girl with curves and luxurious hair opened the door and came in the room. Sophia’s jealousy stabbed at her, and she fiddled with her own short hair. She forced her hand away when she realized the woman was staring at her. Sophia didn’t take offense, for the woman had kind eyes and a smile played at the corners of her lips.

  She dipped into a quick curtsy. “I’m Mary Margaret, your lady’s maid. I hope it pleases you.” The woman blushed. “I’ve always wanted to be a lady’s maid but thought I’d be stuck in the kitchen the rest of my life, as His Grace didn’t seem likely to take a lady, and I couldn’t fathom leaving his employment as my family’s been with His Grace’s family since I was a baby.”

  Sophia mentally tried to rid herself of the fog of sleep that seemed to be making her brain function sluggishly. She could barely keep up with the woman’s rapid speech. Or perhaps it was the glass of wine she’d drank last night. Having never had wine before, she’d been a little tentative to drink it, but when she’d seen the glass on her bedside table she had assumed it was customary to imbibe before bedtime. Why else would it be there? A yearning to fit in to Nathan’s world and make him proud had gripped her, so she had decided to embrace its customs.

  She pressed her fingertips to her temples. Embracing its customs had left her head a bit achy and her mouth felt dry, too. She made another mental note to discover if everyone partook before bed or if it would be acceptable to pass.

  “Miss Vane? Have I lost you? I’m so sorry. My mother says I prattle on entirely too much!”

  Sophia blinked, and Mary Margaret gave her a rather odd look, probably because Sophia had been sitting here like a dope, staring off into nothingness and not answering the woman.

  “Do you wish me to try to fix your hair?”

  Sophia looked at the woman’s glossy strands once again, and her fingers crept back up to her shorn, rough edges. “My hair used to be my best feature.” The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them and caused a lump to lodge in her throat.

  Mary Margaret nodded. “It’s a stunning color. If you’ll let me, I’ll simply soften the edges and style it for you. Were you ill?”

  The question confused Sophia for a moment, as her mind was still trapped in that weird fog, but as she got out of bed, it occurred to her that the maid was referring to her hair. Sophia shook her head as she followed Mary Margaret to a dressing table that stole Sophia’s breath. It was made of a dark, gleaming wood and had so many little drawers that it boggled the mind. In the center of the table was a round looking glass.

  Mary Margaret smiled at Sophia. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  Sophia nodded.

  The lady’s maid—her lady’s maid, she reminded herself—bent down and pulled on two tiny brass knobs on either side of the table, and secret doors folded open in an accordion manner. They revealed more drawers and two more cut pieces of looking glass. “This was Her Grace’s.”

  Sophia froze, halfway to the green velvet-cushioned chair. “Nathan was marr
ied before?”

  Mary Margaret seemed confused. “Do you mean His Grace?”

  Sophia nodded.

  “I’m sorry. No one ever calls him by his Christian name, so it gave me pause, but goodness no. His Grace has never been married. Truth be told, below stairs we had a running wager whether he ever would get married.”

  “Oh really?” Sophia said as casually as she could and took her seat. “Why was that? Because he had so very many ladies, I suppose.”

  Mary Margaret shrugged. “I’ve already said too much. My mother would be livid if she knew I was gossiping about His Grace, and so would he.”

  “I’ll not tell him or your mother,” Sophia promised. “You are to be my lady’s maid even after I’m married, I take it?”

  Mary Margaret nodded. “If I please you.”

  Sophia picked up a silver-gilded brush and had to remember not to gape at the expensive thing. She knew so little about Nathan, and perhaps the best way to fill in the missing gaps was to get the information from Mary Margaret. “I’ve never had a maid, but I would like to think that we will be very good friends.” Sophia felt a flash of guilt because gaining a new friend had not really been at the front of her mind, but if she gained Mary Margaret as a friend and learned something about Nathan in the process that would be wonderful.

  “Friends?” Mary Margaret’s eyebrows had risen with surprise.

  “Yes. I realize it’s probably not customary, but it’s what I wish. And as friends, we will tell each other secrets.”

  “All right,” the woman hedged.

  “I’ll tell you one now,” Sophia offered, praying it would inspire the woman to reveal some information about Nathan’s past. “My father is a drunkard.”

  Mary Margaret’s eyes went wide. “My cousin’s father is, too.”

  Sophia let out a relieved breath that Mary Margaret seemed willing to share. “I don’t know His Grace very well, but I very much want to, since we are to be married. Would you help me?”

  Mary Margaret glanced over her shoulder, then back at Sophia. “May I close the door?”

  Sophia nodded, biting back a gleeful smile.

  When Mary Margaret returned to the dressing table, she pulled open another drawer and removed a pair of scissors. “My mother is the head housemaid and she’s always got her ear out.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you thought to close the door,” Sophia said.

  Mary Margret grinned. “I’ve been working in the kitchen with my mother since I was eight and I’m twenty now, so tell me what it is you wish to know. If I didn’t personally see it, I’d wager my mother did and has spoken about it. She chides me for all my gabbing, but I get it from her.”

  “Did your mother ever say what His Grace’s childhood was like? Was his mother kind? And his father?”

  A dark cloud settled over Mary Margaret’s face. “His father was kind enough when he was around, which was scarce little. But his mother...” Mary Margaret pursed her lips. “She was a different story altogether. Wicked mean and unpredictable, that one. The servant children, including myself”―Mary Margaret blushed―“used to hide when we knew she was coming because we feared one of her mood swings or scoldings.”

  Mary Margaret had been snipping Sophia’s hair as she talked, and she paused now. “Look to your lap, please.”

  Sophia obeyed instantly. “Was she at least kind to Nathan?”

  Mary Margaret snorted. “No. She was worse to him than to anyone. Always putting him down and yelling at him. Mother says it got even worse the more her husband stayed away. But goodness, he stayed away because she was such a mean harpy! Terrible predicament, that. Especially for your future husband. A cruel mother and an almost totally absent father.” Mary Margaret tsked.

  Tears burned Sophia’s eyes but she blinked them back. “Nathan must have wanted her love so badly,” she whispered.

  “No doubt,” Mary Margaret agreed. “But that was a useless desire.”

  Sophia thought about Frank. She understood how painful it was to feel unloved. She understood how much the want throbbed in you and ate at you not to have a parent’s affection, until you were sure the longing would kill you unless you could just let it go. And she had with Frank. One morning, when she was around twelve or so, she had woken up and had simply stopped hoping Frank would love her. Nathan, it seemed, had taken it a step further than she had. Had he woken up one day and simply stopped hoping to ever be loved at all, or had it not even been a decision he was aware of? She understood now, or she thought she did: he didn’t desire love because, in the past, wishing for love had never been successful and it had hurt him deeply.

  What she had just learned made her more determined than ever to give Nathan her love and help him see that she would not snatch her love away, nor was it something he had to earn.

  “I’m done, Miss Vane. And if I may be so bold, your hair looks lovely, though I do think you should grow it a bit. You never did say if you were sick or not.”

  Sophia blinked, a trifle irritated that her mind still felt foggy. “I wasn’t sick. My father, the toad, cut it for money.” Sophia glanced into the looking glass and gasped at her reflection. Mary Margaret had a way with scissors. The choppiness of the crude haircut that Frank had given her, that she herself had tried and failed to make look better, now curled softly around the nape of her neck instead of spiking out in jagged edges. She jumped up and hugged a stunned Mary Margaret. “You are a miracle worker!”

  Mary Margaret grinned. “Thank you, Miss Vane.”

  “Call me Sophia.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t. You’ll be the duchess in a few days, and it wouldn’t be proper.”

  “As you wish,” Sophia relented, knowing she had to learn the rules of etiquette and try to follow them. “Rest assured I’m going to let my hair grow, but thank you for making me look decent again.”

  “I cannot wait to see what Madame Lexington does with you.”

  “Who?”

  “Madame Lexington. His Grace sent a note into the village for her to be here at noon to fit you for an entire new wardrobe. She used to be the duchess’s dressmaker. She was transported straight over from France to please the duchess. She’s waiting below to be sent up to you.”

  “Do you mean to tell me it’s noon?” Sophia asked in surprise.

  “’Twas noon when I came to wake you. Madame Lexington has been here a half hour already.”

  “My goodness, really?” Sophia rushed over to one of the windows and drew the heavy silk curtains back to look at the sun in the sky, but down below she could just make out Nathan and Harry standing in the most exquisite garden imaginable, facing each other with what looked like rapiers raised in the air. Such happiness filled Sophia that she felt as if she would burst. She turned back to Mary Margaret, determined to get the business of being fitted for dresses out of the way, so she could go to the garden and thank Nathan, both for his generosity and for giving time to Harry. “Go fetch Madame Lexington, then, please.”

  Mary Margaret bobbed a curtsy and returned within minutes with the seamstress in tow. Despite Sophia’s determination to hurry through the fittings, they took many hours and all she could do was stand there like an obedient dog and get poked, prodded, and tsked at. And all the while, Madame Lexington mumbled under her breath about Sophia’s lack of development. The least the woman could have done was mumble in French so Sophia wouldn’t have understood her slanders.

  When Madame Lexington bustled out of the bedchamber, followed by a housemaid who had just finished cleaning up the lunch repast they’d partaken in, Sophia collapsed into the chair and marveled momentarily that her wedding dress and a few other essential garments would be ready in such a short time, and then an entire wardrobe would follow soon after.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and laid her head back to listen to the creaks and groans of the giant house. She tried to picture Nathan here with his mother as a child. How lonely and sad he must have been. For a while, she rubbed her aching neck and
back, then finally opened her tired eyes and dragged herself out of the chair to put on the same gown she’d worn the night before. She wanted to find Nathan and she couldn’t do so in her chemise. Before she even picked up her gown a knock came at the door.

  “Enter,” she bade, assuming it was the seamstress who must have forgotten something.

  The door opened with a slow creak and Nathan himself, heart-stopping in skintight pantaloons, gleaming black hessians, and another simple open-collared linen shirt, stepped into the room.

  Nathan had argued with himself all the way up the stairs about whether or not to come see Sophia. But when her brother had told him how she used to take beatings from Frank so Harry would not receive them, all Nathan had wanted to do was see her. He didn’t know why exactly. It wasn’t proper to be in here, but they were to be married in two days, so what did it really matter at this point if he came into her bedchamber?

  As he stepped in the room, though, his gaze fastened on the twin peaks of her hardened nipples straining against the fabric of her chemise, and white-hot lust surged through his veins. It was almost laughable, his sudden desire for this woman who looked more like a girl than a woman. Except she was a woman and would soon be his wife, and he wanted her with a need that shocked him.

  He’d felt plenty of lust in his life, but he couldn’t remember ever experiencing such a craving as the one that coursed through him at this moment. It almost made him feel as if he’d go mad if he didn’t have her, and he didn’t like that one bit. Ever since last night in the library when she’d told him she loved him, he’d been unable to rid her from his thoughts. Getting up before the sun even rose this morning and practicing riding and then swordplay with her brother had not wiped her from the forefront of his mind, especially as her brother relayed stories of how she had endured many of the spankings from their father that had been meant for young Harry.