Never Dare a Wicked Earl

by Renee Ann Miller

  The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his shimmering brow.

  “Now,” Hayden continued, “you are going to give your apologies to my wife and inform her you are leaving Town. Tell her pressing business has called you back to Northumberland. And if you ever come here again, I will feed you to my dog.”

  As if on cue, Lady Olivia bounded into the room, saliva dripping from her long jowls.

  Camden’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Now get out,” Hayden said, his voice low and threatening.

  The man dashed out the door and hastened down the stairs.

  Hayden followed him, biting back the desire to kick the man in the arse.

  Sophia stood in the entry hall. “Are you already finished?”

  “Yes, but sadly your great-uncle has realized he must return home,” Hayden said.

  A quick smile flashed across Sophia’s face, so brief it seemed like an illusion. “I’m so sorry you cannot stay with us, sir. Are you unwell? You look rather pale.”

  “N-no, I’m fine. I have business up north.”

  Hayden opened the door. “A pleasure meeting you, Camden.”

  Sophia pressed a kiss to the old goat’s cheek. “Godspeed.”

  The man stepped out, looking as if he’d just survived a train wreck.

  Hayden closed the door.

  “I didn’t know I had a dowry,” Sophia said. “Great-Uncle never mentioned it. I hope it was of an agreeable amount.”

  “Yes, Camden and I struck a bargain I’m quite pleased with.”

  She fiddled with her sleeve.

  “Tell me, Sophia, are you upset your great-uncle had to leave?” He entwined his fingers with hers, stilling her hand.

  “Truthfully, no.”

  “Was he cruel to you growing up?”

  “He was indifferent more than anything else.” She looked at him carefully. “You sent him away, didn’t you? Tell me why, Hayden.”

  “I didn’t like his tie.”

  “That’s silly.

  “Nor his shirt. And I think he has wooden teeth.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Please tell me the truth.”

  “Because, my dear wife, I shall always protect you.” He pulled her into his embrace.

  She said not a word, but wrapped her hands around his waist as if he were the most important thing in the world to her. And he believed he might have finally knocked a few more bricks loose from the wall she was trying to erect between them. Perhaps even toppled it to the ground.

  * * *

  The following morning, Hayden returned from an early meeting to find Sophia standing before the cheval glass, garbed in one of the navy dresses and white aprons she’d worn while attending him.

  From the doorway, he watched her pin her winged cap to her hair.

  “Sophia?”

  She spun around. “Oh, you gave me a fright,” she admitted, slipping a pin into her hair.

  “May I inquire where you are off to?”

  A weak smile briefly touched her lips. “I have been negligent in my duties. Fortunately, Thomas is a very understanding employer.”

  “Sophia, you must realize you do not have to work.”

  Her smile broadened. “Ah, yes, I forgot, I’m an heiress of considerable magnitude.”

  “No,” he said stiffly, “because you are a countess married to a man of great wealth.”

  Her head tipped to the side, and she stared at him. “Am I? Then I shall feel no shame in telling you that I shall not receive a stitch of monetary compensation. Today Thomas and I are volunteering at the Whitechapel Mission. At the dispensary.”

  The image of her battered, lying in that squalid room, that wretch trying to violate her, seized his mind. A knot tightened his stomach. He shook the image away.

  Sophia turned back to the mirror.

  He moved to stand behind her and watched her reflection in the glass. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you were there?”

  “I doubt I shall ever forget. But it’s unlikely to happen again. And I shall be with Thomas this time.”

  “That fact does not ease my mind.”

  She slipped another hairpin into her chignon and turned back to him. “Thomas is a good man, Hayden, and he needs assistance at the dispensary.”

  “Then I shall hire someone to assist him. Someone who is not with child. I forbid you to go.”

  The color drained from her face, and the hairpins held in her hand fell to the floor. “You cannot do that!”

  “Sadly, my dear, I can.” After what had transpired at the mission, how could she not understand how one’s life could change in the blink of an eye? How easily a man could overpower her in the rookeries. Not wanting to hear her protestations, he moved to the door.

  “Hayden, I am going to the mission whether you approve or not.”

  His heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t protect her there. “Do not defy me, Sophia.”

  “Why are you acting this way?”

  He couldn’t tell her. Could not admit the fear that came over him when he thought someone might hurt her like his father had hurt Laura. “I shall be back shortly. If I return to find you have accompanied Trimble, I shall go to that godforsaken cesspit and carry you back home, if I must.”

  * * *

  Sophia paced the drawing room floor. Hayden had left over an hour ago. Even though she’d changed and sent Thomas a note explaining she’d not be able to assist him today, she now toyed with the idea of defying her husband and going to the mission.

  Yes, she would go. The devil with Hayden. She strode toward the double doors. Without warning, one of them swung open.

  “Hello, dear,” Edith said cheerfully, stepping into the room. Edith’s effervescent expression faded. She rushed forward. “Sophia, you look agitated.”

  She forced a smile. “Do I? It’s nothing.”

  “Dearest, you are not some simpering miss. If you are upset, I know it is not because of some nonsense.” Edith adjusted the bustle of her navy day dress and sat on the blue damask covered settee. She patted the spot adjacent to her. “Sit, dear. Tell me what has vexed you so.” She smiled encouragingly. “Please, we are sisters now.”

  Sophia dearly wished to confide in Edith. Her sister-in-law’s earnest voice comforted, while her brown eyes held a nearly palpable kindness. Sophia sat and folded her hands in her lap. “I . . .” She paused, for the words drifting about in her head scattered like dry leaves caught in an autumn breeze.

  Where do I begin? “Hayden has forbidden me to accompany Dr. Trimble to the Whitechapel Mission.”

  Edith placed her hand on Sophia’s. “He is concerned about your safety.”

  “I realize I should not have approached that man in the alley.” Her voice shook with self-recrimination. “But I shall not be so careless again.”

  “I’m sure you won’t, but I think it is my brother’s love for you that makes him act like this.”

  Startled, Sophia glanced up. “Love for me?”

  “Yes, I saw the way he watched you during the wedding ceremony. He cares deeply for you. Can you not see it in his eyes?”

  Could she? There were times when she believed Hayden’s gazes reflected something greater than lust. And when he touched her—yes, when he touched her, she thought his hands communicated an emotion so deep within his soul that perhaps he was not aware of it.

  The second morning after their nuptials flashed in her mind. Nauseous, she’d hastily vacated their bed to make her way to the bathroom. As she’d knelt before the water closet, she’d been startled by the feel of Hayden’s hand gently soothing her back while she retched helplessly into the enamel bowl. When she’d finished, he’d tenderly swept her into his arms and carried her back to their bed.

  He’d spent the next quarter hour patting her face with a damp cloth. She’d told herself his concern was for the child she carried, but the gentleness of his touch and the look in his eyes left her unsure. And then there was yesterday when he’d s
ensed how uncomfortable Great-Uncle Charles made her feel and sent him away.

  “Wouldn’t a man who loves me say so?”

  “At one time, I believed my brother’s speech too lucid and his countenance too transparent. However, his candor has faded with maturity and with what our . . .” Edith waved her hand in the air. “It is not always easy for a man to communicate his feelings. Most men are frugal creatures when it comes to divulging sentiment. Or perhaps, he doesn’t even realize what he feels. Or is frightened of the emotion.”

  She couldn’t imagine Hayden being frightened of anything.

  The door burst open, and an exuberant Celia rushed in with a pair of ice skates.

  “Sophia, can we go to Hyde Park to glide upon the ice?”

  A line marred Edith’s forehead. “I believe the authorities have closed the Serpentine to skaters.”

  Celia’s expression crumbled.

  Sophia glanced at the clock on the mantel. By the time she dressed and made it to the mission, Thomas might have finished seeing to the women and children there. She would take Celia skating instead. But when Hayden returned, she would speak with him. “We could venture to St. James,” she said to Celia.

  The child’s countenance brightened. “I shall get my woolens.” She dashed from the room.

  Edith turned a concerned look to her, and Sophia couldn’t help noticing the glance Edith cast at Sophia’s abdomen. “There will be a monstrous crush, and the ice turns the children quite rambunctious. Are you certain you should attend?”

  Sophia had wondered if Edith knew the true reason for Sophia and Hayden’s rushed nuptials. It appeared she did, yet her voice held no censure, only concern. She gave her sister-in-law a reassuring smile. “I shall be fine. Would you care to join us?”

  “No, dear, I’m expected elsewhere.” Edith rubbed Sophia’s forearm. “Be patient with Hayden. He is only trying to protect you. He will come around. I promise.”

  * * *

  They had skated for over an hour when a tall, well-dressed gentleman moving toward a hirer of skates caught Sophia’s attention. The man’s height and broad shoulders looked familiar.

  Hayden? No, it couldn’t be.

  Several young, boisterous boys appeared next to her and Celia. Sophia tightened her grasp on the child’s hand, pulling her tighter to her side. After the boys passed, she peered at the bank. The gentleman was gone. She’d been mistaken. She couldn’t envision Hayden hiring skates and taking to the ice.

  “Are you tired, dearest?” Sophia asked Celia.

  Celia shook her head emphatically. “No, do say we can stay a bit longer.”

  “Of course,” she replied, slowing their pace as they neared three young women skating with their arms linked together. As they maneuvered around them, a hand pressed gently on Sophia’s back.

  “May I join you?” a deep, familiar voice asked.

  “Papa,” Celia squealed. “Have you come to skate with us?”

  “How could any man resist such enchanting partners?” He winked at Celia before he smiled at Sophia.

  How charming he can be at times. Sophia averted her face. She would not let his smile relinquish her anger over his earlier mandate.

  “Papa, hold our hands.” Celia unlocked her fingers from Sophia’s.

  He clasped their hands and turned his attention to his daughter. “I was watching you. You’re doing splendidly.”

  Celia’s eyes grew bright. “Do you truly think so?”

  “Indeed,” he replied, his tone firm with conviction.

  The child’s smile broadened, and she appeared more confident as she placed one foot before the other and glided next to her father.

  Hayden chatted amiably with Celia. When he conversed with his daughter, his emotions were transparent. He adored her. Could this attentive man have walked away from both wife and child? When she considered his devotion to Celia, it seemed impossible he could have forsaken her. What had transpired between him and his first wife?

  Hayden stroking his thumb over her gloved palm interrupted her meandering mind. Such a simple touch should have felt innocent; however, it was like a provocative caress, mimicking his finger stroking her in a much more intimate spot. She attempted to ignore him, to let her indifference convey her anger, yet she couldn’t stop her awareness of him from overtaking her body.

  He leaned close. His warm breath brushed against her cold cheek. “Do you know, Sophia, there is little gratification in arguing, but reconciliation can be rather pleasurable.”

  She wished to utter some cutting remark, something that would disabuse his notion she’d be easily placated. “I am vexed with you.” A mild rebuke compared to the one she’d envisioned making. But Edith’s words, along with time and his touch, dulled her anger.

  “Then, I shall have to be diligent in seeking forgiveness.” A low and seductive timbre edged his voice.

  A frisson chased down her spine. She knew exactly what method he’d take to dissolve her anger. Did other husbands engage in such licentious acts with their wives? Did they use their mouths and tongues to make them quiver? Did other wives enjoy it so much? Her cheeks warmed, and she was relieved when Celia tugged on his arm, and he turned his perceptive blue eyes away from her.

  “Papa, my toes feel like someone is pricking them with a thousand needles.”

  “Ah, I know the cure for such an ailment,” he replied. “Hot chocolate and a warm fire.”

  Celia giggled. “No, I think it might take more than that. I believe I shall need some spiced gingerbread as well.”

  “Really? I must say, I’ve never heard of such a remedy.” He turned to Sophia. “Madam, you are skilled in such matters. Are you aware of such a cure?”

  Celia’s large brown eyes implored, and Sophia couldn’t help her lips from turning upward. “Yes, spiced gingerbread is a practical restorative. I have seen it prescribed numerous times.”

  They skated to the bank and removed their skates. In the carriage, Hayden settled next to Sophia on the plush cushion and flashed another grin as the carriage journeyed to Brook Street.

  Her stomach fluttered, and she silently cursed her husband’s ability to make her desire him by offering little more than a smile. He slid closer and draped his arm over the back of the seat, while his muscular thigh pressed against her leg.

  Did he disconcert her on purpose? Yes. The master manipulator. The seducer.

  She would not be controlled. She’d moved out from under her great-uncle’s thumb to gain her independence. Hayden would not steal that away from her. She fought the urge to ram her elbow into his stomach; instead, she narrowed her eyes.

  His grin broadened, and he turned to his daughter. “Let’s see what we can do to warm your toes.” He leaned forward and slipped off the child’s half boots. With his large hands he rubbed at Celia’s feet, occasionally tickling her toes, causing her to wiggle and laugh. “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes, Papa.” Celia yawned and rubbed at her eyes.

  After tying Celia’s shoes back on, Hayden moved to the seat opposite Sophia.

  What was he about?

  “Are your toes cold, as well, Sophia?”

  Before she could answer, he reached down, lifted her left foot, and slipped off her shoe. A mischievous sparkle lit his eyes. His gaze never left her face as he skimmed his warm palm up the back of her calf.

  Sparks traveled up her leg.

  Wicked man.

  The carriage slowed, and the brakes squeaked.

  Home. Thank God. A minute more of his hands on my skin and I might beg him to forgive me. What madness. A person should not possess such power over another’s body. She snatched her shoe off the seat, and, ignoring her husband, jerked it on, anxious to be away from his intense gaze and disconcerting touch.

  An hour later, Sophia peered at the slumbering child sitting next to her on the settee. It had taken only three pieces of gingerbread, a half cup of hot chocolate, and the heat from the fire in the morning room to put Celia to sleep. />
  Only a few minutes earlier, Celia had been chattering away, asking when they could return to St. James, but now, her head rested firmly against Sophia’s arm, her breathing deep and even.

  Hayden, who stirred the coals in the grate, turned around. “Is she sleeping?” he whispered.

  Sophia nodded. “The fresh air and the exercise have worn her out.”

  He carefully lifted Celia into his arms and retreated through the open doorway, his broad shoulders swallowing up the space before he passed through it.

  She took another sip of her hot chocolate, now tepid. Placing the cup and saucer upon the teacart, she stood, then walked to the windows overlooking the back gardens.

  Two birds fluttered around the bare branches of a birch before settling themselves atop the boxwood hedge that circled a tall lotus fountain, now void of water. How lovely this garden would be in the spring.

  Sophia moved to the hearth and inched her stockinged feet toward the warm grate. She didn’t appreciate Hayden’s autocratic manner, but she realized his concerns were valid. Not that she believed someone would accost her again, but there was always the danger of contagions when one treated the infirmed.

  She set her hand on her stomach. She loved this baby—their baby, and she’d not place it in danger.

  A movement caught her attention. She peered at the doorway. Hayden leaned against the jamb, watching her. “You look miles away.”

  “Do I?”

  “Hmm.” He kneaded the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Sophia. I shouldn’t have demanded you heed me this morning, but your intention to go to Whitechapel startled me.”

  “Why?”

  “It can be a dangerous place.”

  She didn’t want to agree with him, but he was correct. “Were you sincere about your offer to employ someone to assist Dr. Trimble?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I have decided I shall not return to the mission until after our child is born.” She squared her shoulders, unsure how he would take her next words. “Though I still intend to become a physician.” She held her breath.

  He nodded, closed the door, and locked it.

  Sophia felt like a hare under the gaze of a hungry fox. Did he wish to make love to her in this room? Anxious energy exploded in her belly.