by Lara Temple
‘And how is your aunt adjusting? She assured me you could stay with her until we went to Harcourt, but from the brief exchange we had when I spoke to her three days ago I wasn’t quite certain if she approved either.’
‘So I gathered, but that was because she admitted she had been contemplating asking me to stay on with her as a companion to Marmaduke. Still, she cheered up when she realised that I would be living next door at least part of the year and so I could continue to take Marmaduke for walks.’
‘Generosity does run in your family, doesn’t it? I suppose you didn’t point out to her you would have other concerns once you were married?’
‘No. I said thank you nicely and took Marmaduke for a walk.’
Hetty chuckled and stood up, giving her skirts a little shake.
‘I think I will go and have a little rest now. I am quite pleasantly exhausted from all that shopping. Max, could you please see Sophie back to her aunt’s when you are done with tea?’
She came over and gave Sophie a quick hug.
‘I had a lovely time, today, my dear. I will come by tomorrow evening then to take you to the Seftons’. Madame Fanechal promised she will have the first gown delivered by the afternoon.’
Sophie resisted the urge to beg her not to leave her alone with Max. She had missed him so much she was certain she would do something foolish and confirm all his suspicions about her unsuitability to be the future Duchess of Harcourt. Instead she returned the hug and thanked her. There was a moment of silence as the door closed behind Hetty and Sophie forced herself to turn to face Max. He was watching her and she wished she knew what he was thinking.
‘Are you upset? About the letter?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Upset? Why?’
‘Usually parents are rather more excited than yours appear to be about one of their children getting married.’
‘You can add especially when they have come close to despairing over ever getting rid of that child. Mama told me only a few months ago I had better not discourage my next offer because she and Papa were hopeful that when my two younger sisters married they would be able to move into the smaller rectory. It is less draughty than our current home.’
‘Then I am surprised they didn’t applaud your filial duty more enthusiastically. Have you turned down many offers, then?’ he asked politely and she held her mouth as primly as possible.
‘It would be most indelicate for a gently reared young woman to discuss such matters, Your Grace.’
‘Is that an evasive way of saying “none”?’
She knew full well he was baiting her and wished she could make more of her meagre courtships, but honesty overcame pride.
‘Well, “turned down” might be stretching the truth. More precisely Mama said she has never seen anyone with my skill for discouraging perfectly eligible young men from actually proposing.’
‘Did she? I think Hetty is right, your mother does sound like mine. Not a very motherly thing to say. May I ask if you wanted to marry any of those perfectly eligible young men?’
‘Not at all. But she was right; it was my fault each time. It is only fair that you know that.’
He shifted slightly on the sofa.
‘That is very honest. May I ask how precisely how you discouraged them?’
‘Well, there was the bad kisser who I stayed away from after that. And there was Robert, who saw me swimming with George, my brother, in the next bay and he, or rather his mama, was rather shocked. And then there was Gerry. He made fun of Will Trevithick who is a little clumsy and I might have been just a bit a too disapproving. And of course Bertie. He told me he expected I wouldn’t continue to dabble with painting after we wed.’
She had been right, somehow his eyes managed to fill with laughter without him moving a facial muscle. She had expected to shock and disgust him, not amuse him. The warmth in his eyes made him look much more human and some of her tension faded.
‘I’m afraid to ask what your response was to that expectation,’ he said.
‘Well, I was quite young at the time so I hadn’t yet learned to curb my tongue. I think I said something along the lines that I expected he would continue to be a poltroon after he wed, but that luckily it wouldn’t be to me. Unfortunately both his mama and mine were listening at the keyhole from the next room. I was sent for a month to my cousins in Cornwall as punishment. Unfortunately for Mama I had a lovely time there. Though for Mama and Papa’s sake I did try to be a little less blunt after that.’
‘I see. So, five kisses and several almost offers. Anything else I should know?’
She shook her head, resisting the urge to turn the question back on him. Even if he was willing to share anything of his amorous history with her, she preferred not to know too much. Her imagination and Wivenhoe’s gossip provided sufficient material.
He stood up and moved towards her and the heat licked at her insides.
‘I am glad at least one of your family approves of me, even if it is only for my knowledge about prize fights.’
‘And horses,’ she murmured, tilting her head back as he drew her to her feet and then reached out, tracing the side of her throat.
‘I have other skills, you know,’ he said.
She nodded, focused on the soft slide of his fingers on her skin, holding herself still against the need to move towards him. His fingers drew a line along her collarbone to the edge of her gown and stopped.
‘I should see you home,’ he continued, his voice gentle and almost impersonal.
‘Already?’ she asked before she could stop herself and his fingers trailed downwards along the neckline until they reached the dip between her breasts and stopped again.
‘Probably. You really shouldn’t be alone here with me.’
‘Why? What might happen?’ her voice barely formed the words, everything in her focused on the soft press of his fingers.
‘This,’ he said softly as his fingers gently moved up, easing the shoulder of her gown from her shoulder. A hot tingling radiated out from his touch, tightening her skin, waking it up. She could feel places she rarely felt, the arch of her lower back, the inside of her thighs. Every part of her was stirring, asking to be touched. She closed her eyes so nothing could interfere with these amazing sensations. The pull of the fabric over her skin as he eased the shoulder of her dress down an inch became a thudding ache deep inside her and without thinking she moved towards him, sliding her hands up over his chest. Her hands had never felt so powerful. She could feel everything, she could almost see with them through the crisp cotton of his shirt to the heat of his skin, the hard muscles beneath. When he clasped her wrists she still tried to pull away, but he held them firmly and took a step back.
‘That’s enough for now.’
The amused tolerance in his voice struck her like a slap and heat transformed into a flush of shame. Frustration quivered through her at the unfairness of being taken like this to the brink of something unknown and powerful and then set aside like a mindless doll. She turned and headed towards the door.
‘I should go.’
He nodded and walked to open the door for her, following her out. They didn’t speak until they had reached her aunt’s house and Lambeth opened the door. Max hesitated and then stood back.
‘The announcement will appear in the papers tomorrow and Hetty and I will be by in the evening to take you to the Seftons.’
‘Very well, Your Grace,’ she replied properly and went inside, proud of the veneer of calm she was learning to draw over the roiling feelings he evoked in her. Soon she would be as proper as any of those London misses who had vied for his attention.
* * *
Max closed the door to his study and went to sit down at his desk. Even in three days a lot of business had accumulated and once the engagement was announced there would be a hu
ndred distractions he would have to deal with. He had better get to work right away. He picked up the first piece of correspondence that his secretary had left for his attention and laid it before him, smoothing it out.
It didn’t help that he was developing a very bad habit of letting his mind wander. And at the most inappropriate moments. Another negative impact of this engagement. The owner of the shipping company he had gone to finalise an agreement with had had to recall his attention twice during their meetings. Max cringed in remembered embarrassment at these lapses. That kind of behaviour was unforgivable. It was natural to feel apprehensive about the move he was about to make; he could deal with that. But it was harder to excuse his mind’s newfound tendency to revisit his encounters with Sophie, playing them out with disconcerting vividness.
On the way back to London, he had told himself he was going to handle the situation differently from now on. Establish some distance until the wedding and focus on helping Sophie fit into his world as smoothly as possible. And he had almost failed in that resolve within the first half-hour of his return. He had had enough strength of mind not to follow through on her seductively innocent invitation, but not enough to keep his hands off her in the first place. And the fact that the need to touch her had been plaguing him from the moment he had walked out of her aunt’s parlour three days ago was no excuse. It was just that she had looked so vulnerable, trying to shrug off her disappointment at her family’s response to the news.
He felt a flash of resentment that they so obviously took her for granted. It was amazing that she was so full of empathy when she seemed to receive so little from her family, but perhaps he was being unfair to them. He should reserve judgement and not let himself be swayed by this...protective urge. She would have to deal with a great deal in the next few weeks and months and her family’s self-involvement was the least of it. He couldn’t start leaping to her defence, mentally or otherwise, every time he detected that bruised look she tried to mask with a smile. Fundamentally she was a strong, intelligent girl and she would cope.
At least he hoped she could. She could certainly assume an air of dignity when it suited her, but he doubted it would ever completely overcome the impulsive, passionate force that drove her, or her peculiar, humorous approach to the world. That much had been obvious in her deceptively light retelling of her failed courtships. He might find it amusing now, but weren’t these precisely the kind of characteristics that had led to such disastrous results with Serena? Impulsiveness, inability to conform, a sensuality that she clearly had very little ability or will to restrain...
There were differences as well, of course. He couldn’t imagine Serena talking with a dog or protecting a clumsy boy, or caring one iota about anyone but herself and her needs, but the problematic behaviours weren’t that dissimilar. Not that he had any choice in the matter any more, but he could still do his best to help Sophie adapt her behaviour to her new station in life. And that meant he shouldn’t encourage her by giving in to temptation every time she...
He frowned at the letter and put it down with a curse. This was pointless. He was always tense when he returned from a business trip. He should go expend some energy at Jackson’s and then he might be in better shape to get some work done.
Chapter Twelve
‘Lady Sefton will be nice, so you needn’t worry about her. And Countess Lieven will be cutting, so you needn’t worry about her either except to be as meek as possible until she moves on to other prey. We will do our best to avoid Mrs Drummond Burrell until we absolutely cannot and as for Lady Jersey she is very fond of Max, but she is out of town so we unfortunately can’t count on her tonight...’
Max watched the interplay of amusement and dismay on Sophie’s face as Hetty laid before her the social structure of the London ton that she was about to face. He wished there was some way they could circumvent this trial by fire. Under normal circumstances a young woman from the countryside could expect to be mostly ignored by the leading lights of London society unless she possessed fabulous wealth or beauty. But with the announcement of their engagement having appeared in the morning papers she was going to be anything but ignored. There was no way he and Hetty could completely shield her from the curiosity and even the malice that was awaiting her. He hoped that the inner strength she seemed to possess would help her weather this better than most women might.
She didn’t look overly nervous, aside from the fact that she was avoiding looking at him. But in light of the fantasies that his mind and body were constructing around the sight of her in that very seductive gown he was half-glad he didn’t have to meet her expressive eyes. It was his fault for having indulged his need to touch her. Adding reality to the fantasy was fanning his desire and he was having a hard time reminding himself he did not yet have the right to explore these urges. Like the urge to peel off that very fashionable dress which was too low cut for his peace of mind. Surely she had never worn something like that in Ashton Cove.
‘Is that a new gown?’
Sophie and Hetty turned at the abrupt question.
‘Yes,’ Sophie answered a bit stiffly. ‘It arrived today.’
‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Hetty said. ‘I was a bit worried about the colour, but Madame Fanechal was absolutely right that Sophie can carry off that combination of blush and old gold. And she was right, wasn’t she, Max?’
Max nodded. The colours did suit her beautifully, but that wasn’t what concerned him. It was the deep sweep of the bodice which dragged back the memory of his fingers tracing that line, the heat of her skin...the thought of Bryanston, of anyone, thinking anything close to what he was thinking now...
‘It’s a bit low cut, though,’ he said curtly.
‘Oh, pooh! Nonsense. Sophie isn’t some silly schoolroom miss to dress in white with round necklines and silly frills. This is the latest Paris design. I think you look lovely, Sophie.’ Hetty shot him a frowning look and he could have kicked himself for his stupidity as he saw how Sophie’s mouth tightened at his words. He was making it harder for her for no reason whatsoever. Or for the worst reasons.
‘That’s the problem,’ he said, trying for humour. ‘I was hoping for a quiet evening and an early night, now it is clear there is no chance of that. We are going to be besieged.’
Hetty’s frown relaxed, but Max was focused on Sophie and though she didn’t speak or meet his eyes, he could see the flush spread across her cheekbones. It should have relaxed him, but it just pushed the possessive heat up another notch. His mood wasn’t helped by the fact that they arrived at the same time as Bryanston who hailed them cheerfully and bowed very deeply over Sophie’s hand. The look on his face as his eyes scanned Sophie from head to toe was unmistakable.
‘What did that Byron fellow write? She walks in beauty like the night, though these certainly aren’t cloudless climes. You know, Max, if you weren’t a friend of mine and more importantly a devilish good shot, I’d call you out. It’s dashed unfair that you snatched up such a lovely lady before anyone had a chance to try their luck with her.’
‘I’m happy to oblige, Bry. At least something might finally stop that loose tongue of yours.’
‘I said “if”. You know I’m never awake before noon and who heard of a midday duel?’ He turned back to Sophie. ‘May I dance with you, oh, vision?’
‘Here?’ Sophie asked, her eyes glinting with mirth as she looked around at the press of people making their way up the wide stairs to the ballroom.
‘Here, anywhere. I could dance with you on the head of a pin for surely you must be an angel come to earth.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Bry,’ Max said, between disgust and amusement.
‘You may have the cotillion and a country dance, Lord Bryanston,’ Hetty ruled and Bryanston sighed.
‘My kingdom for a waltz?’ he countered hopefully.
‘You haven’t got one. Unless y
our aunt expires,’ Max said.
‘Besides,’ Hetty added more kindly, ‘Miss Trevelyan cannot waltz until she has been approved by a patroness of Almack’s. Which reminds me, we must procure a voucher for Almack’s. Oh, dear, I wish I didn’t have to go back to Somerset in two days. There is so much to be done! And don’t look at me like that, Max, I know you loathe the place, but Sophie should make at least one appearance there before you go to Harcourt, for form’s sake.’
‘I’ll escort you, Miss Trevelyan,’ Lord Bryanston said with a malevolent grin towards Max.
Without thinking Max reached out and took Sophie’s hand.
‘Going with you is the only thing that might make it bearable.’
Bryanston chuckled. ‘Max being gallant! What on earth will happen next?’
‘Keep moving, Bry. You’re holding up the line.’
Since they had reached Lord and Lady Sefton at the head of the receiving line they were taken over by Lady Sefton’s very friendly greetings and congratulations. Despite his annoyance with his friend’s flirtatious nonsense, Max was glad Bryanston had attached himself to them. From the moment they entered the ballroom they unintentionally became the focal point of another receiving line as friends and acquaintances kept coming up to congratulate them on the engagement and to ferret out whatever information they could about his unknown intended. Most people were polite, but there was an avid and not always generous curiosity that buzzed around them and Max could tell Sophie was well aware of it. He and Hetty did their best to soften and counter some of the less subtle comments or questions, but as the introductions progressed he felt Sophie struggle to hold on to her society manner.
He was just about to call a halt to the introductions and lead her on to the dance floor when he saw Hetty stiffen and look at him with something approaching panic and he turned in time to see Lady Arkwright and her daughter heading in their direction, accompanied by the Dowager Lady Pennistone. He must have tightened his hold on Sophie’s arm because she glanced up at him with a slight frown, but it was already too late.
