by HELEN HARDT
Sophie’s Voice
Sex and the Season: Four
Helen Hardt
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Overture
ACT I
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ENTR’ACTE
Act II
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Finale
Encore
Author’s Note
Message From Helen
Also by Helen Hardt
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
This book is an original publication of Helen Hardt.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2016 Waterhouse Press, LLC
Cover Design by Waterhouse Press, LLC
Cover Photographs: Shutterstock
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9905056-4-8
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
In memory of my grandmother, Helen Marie Hardt Betcher, from whom I took my pen name.
Overture
Women are whores. They’re born that way. Such is the fault of their original mother. Eve was the one who tempted Adam into eating that forbidden fruit. That’s what women do. They tempt. That we men cannot resist temptation is not our fault. The fault lies with the women.
My own mother was the empress of the whores. She fed us by lying on her back, letting men stuff their cocks into her dirty cunt while I kept my brothers quiet in the next room. I have no idea who my father was, and I doubt any of my brothers were my true full-blooded brothers. Every year or so, another brother came along. Mother never gave birth to girls. Just as well. I’d have to see that the dirty little hussies were fed.
Man after man filtered through our small shack, sometimes tossing a biscuit to my brothers and me. We’d scramble to see who could get it first. Usually, I let Liam have the biggest piece. He was small and weak for his age.
“I’m hungry, Brian,” he used to whine.
“I know, lad,” I’d say, my heart breaking.
That little boy was the only thing I ever loved in my life.
Until…
Liam died when he was six. Mother laid him outside in the gutter among the piss and shit. Eventually his little grey body disappeared.
I didn’t cry for Liam.
I don’t cry. Crying is for filthy women cunts.
I never thought I’d find a woman who wasn’t a dirty whore.
Until her.
Lady Sophie MacIntyre.
She is quiet, reserved. A cross or profane word never leaves her rosy lips. She is the opposite of her bitch sister. She is perfection, an angel, with long blond hair and beautiful green-gold eyes. She sings to herself, and when I can, I sneak into the conservatory and listen to her.
A young man used to visit her, but I made quick work of him. Finding a common harlot to seduce him and pretend she was with child was almost too simple.
She will be mine soon. The day of reckoning comes.
My graceful Sophie now sits in the conservatory, her fingers dancing over the piano keys.
Sing for me, Sophie.
But she does not. Her elegant face is in turmoil as she plunks out random notes on the pianoforte. Something disturbs her, but what?
I will kill whatever it is.
I’ve only killed once in my life—my own hussy of a mother. I left her in the street as she had left Liam, among the human and animal waste. She was no better than filth, after all. Then I took my brothers to orphanages and workhouses. I found work at the townhome of an English lord and quickly made myself indispensable to the family. Years later I moved to their estate in the country and worked like a dog, renting a small dwelling at the edge of the estate for my brother Harry—the only one of my brothers I could find after searching, a giant who wasn’t right in the head—to live in.
I never killed again. Oh, I’ve wanted to, but I’ve held my desires back. What good would rotting in Newgate do me?
For Sophie, I would kill.
I have watched her from afar for so long now, and she never leaves my thoughts, tormenting me, haunting me. I dream of her day and night.
When I claim her, I will keep her safe from the outside world. She needs to be kept, secluded, locked up, so nothing will spoil her perfection. I will take care of her.
Always.
ACT I
Chapter ONE
Brighton Estate, Wiltshire, England
April 1854
Was it possible for one’s heart to fill to bursting yet break at the same time? For that was what Lady Sophie MacIntyre felt as she held her cousin’s infant. In her arms cooed Morgan Daniel Charles Crispin Farnsworth, Marquess of Gordonshire and heir to the Lybrook dukedom. Morgan’s mother was Sophie’s cousin, Lily Jameson Farnsworth, the Duchess of Lybrook. The tiny marquess was beautiful, with his mother’s dark hair, and blue eyes that had begun to turn an exotic emerald green, just like his father’s. His little fist clasped Sophie’s pinky finger, and her womb skipped a beat.
Such a splendid feeling, holding a baby. Holding one’s own baby would be even sweeter, but that would probably never be. Sophie’s sister, Lady Alexandra Xavier, was large with a child of her own, and Lily’s other cousin, Rose Jameson Price-Adams, held her infant daughter, Lady Joy Lily Price-Adams, who had bright blue eyes and the coal-black hair of her father, Cameron Price-Adams, the Earl of Thornton and heir to the Marquess of Denbigh.
Alexandra’s baby was sure to be just as fair as her cousins’. Ally’s chestnut hair and golden-brown eyes combined with her husband’s wheat-blond hair and warm brown eyes would surely produce a handsome or beautiful young nephew or niece for Sophie.
Alas, a baby was not in Sophie’s future. The only man who had paid her any attention in the last several years was Lord Marshall Van Arden, and even he had never formally courted her. After several months of visits, during which she’d allowed no liberties at all, Van Arden had broken off their friendship and married a commoner.
“Goodness gracious, Lily,” Ally was saying, “the poor child will grow ill from all those names.”
Lily smiled, her brown eyes shining. “We didn’t want to leave anyone out. This is the future duke, after all. In fact, I suggested five names, adding Thomas.”
“I’m sure our brother will understand why you didn’t include him in the mix,” Rose said, cuddling baby Joy.
“Yes, he did,” Lily replied. “In fact, he forbade me giving the child five names. So we settled on four.” She let out a chuckle.<
br />
“I do hope you all know how lucky you are,” Sophie said serenely.
“Of course, Sophie,” Rose said. “We are all thrilled. But why so glum?”
“It’s just that… None of this will ever happen for me, I’m afraid.” Sophie snuggled baby Morgan just a little closer to her. The baby had fallen asleep and resembled a cherub in her arms.
“For goodness’ sake, Sophie, of course this is in your future,” Ally said. “Just because Van Arden didn’t have a clue what was good for him doesn’t mean some other gentlemen won’t come along for you. You are lovely, and any man would be lucky to have you.”
Sophie sighed. “I’m four-and-twenty years old now, Ally.”
“I’m your sister. I know when your birthday is. Why you chose to forgo this season is beyond me. With Lily, Rose, and me all helping you, you would’ve been the belle of the ball.”
“I didn’t want to impose on the earl’s generosity.”
“The earl’s generosity? He’s our stepfather. He’s happy to do it. Anything for Mother. He adores her. He even gave us dowries.”
“Yes,” Sophie said, “which you didn’t need, since you married his son.”
“All the more reason for you to let him spend his money on you. He could have given you a lavish season, and you would have had so much fun. I’m positive you would have met someone perfect.”
Sophie shook her head. “Honestly, Ally, I have no interest in a season, and I never have, as you well know. We must all face it. I am an old maid—the oldest of the four of us and the last left. I am too old to marry now. I have accepted my lot in life. I’ll be the spinster auntie and spinster first cousin once removed to all of your children. It will give me joy to watch them grow.”
Rose smiled. “We will all adore watching them grow,” she said in her gentle way. “And I promise you that you will enjoy watching your own children grow as well, Sophie.”
Sophie returned Rose’s smile, though she wasn’t really feeling it. “Let’s do talk about something else. My spinsterhood is hardly a subject for such a fine afternoon as this. What is happening in your lives?”
“Well, my breasts are the size of watermelons,” Lily said dourly.
Ally let out a loud guffaw, and even Rose chuckled, but Sophie gasped.
“Goodness, Lily.”
“I’m sorry to offend your delicate nature, Sophie, but that little marquess you’re holding gobbles up milk like there’s no tomorrow. And let me tell you, I make it like there’s no tomorrow.”
“As do I,” Rose said with a sigh. “But it does give me such joy to know that I am feeding my child from my own body. Wouldn’t you agree, Lily?”
“Of course, I love the little lad. He’s everything Daniel and I had hoped for. But I can tell you that I’m looking forward to the day when I’m not carrying around two cannonballs in my corset.”
“I can’t say this is the subject I was hoping for when I asked that we talk about something else,” Sophie said.
“I have some news,” Rose said. “Cam says Mr. Newland is looking for some new talent for his upcoming musicale.”
“Thank the good Lord,” Lily said. “I am so tired of that prima donna Nanette Lloyd.”
“Yes, she does think quite highly of herself,” Ally agreed. “But she sings beautifully. However, Sophie, as enchanting as her voice is, it is does not hold a candle to yours. You should consider auditioning for Mr. Newland.”
Sophie let out a laugh. Imagine, her auditioning to be a public spectacle. Absolutely not. She was a lady of the peerage, after all—and fairly much fearful of her own shadow. “Ally, that is absurd. How could you even think such a thing?”
“Because you’re so talented, my dear. Don’t you agree, Lily, Rose?”
Their cousins both nodded.
“Absolutely, Sophie,” Lily said. “The fact that you never sing for anyone besides us is a crime.”
“I have to agree with Lily.” Rose nodded. “Your voice is so unique, so delicate. Nanette is talented, but your voice has an ethereal quality, something I’ve never heard in one of Mr. Newland’s musicales.”
“Really, Rose, you aren’t suggesting I audition as well?”
“I agree with you it’s not exactly…standard conduct for women of our station, but why not? You have the talent. You have the time. And singing gives you such joy. Why not let it bring joy to others, as well?”
Sophie smiled at her gentle cousin. Of the four, Sophie and Rose were most alike in demeanor and personality. Ally and Lily were much more flamboyant and unconventional. “I do appreciate the confidence all of you have in me, but I’m afraid I am never going to audition. Singing in public is about as much in my future as marriage and children.”
Ally smiled, her eyes gleaming. “Would you be willing to make a small wager?”
Sophie gasped. “You’re suggesting that I gamble? What would I have to gain?”
“I’m simply suggesting”—Ally pulled a sovereign from her reticule and placed it on the marble-topped mahogany coffee table in front of the divan where she sat—“that I can place a glove atop this coin and move it without moving the glove.”
“For the love of the Lord, I have no idea what you could be talking about,” Sophie said.
“Lily, may I borrow one of your gloves?” Ally asked.
“Of course, dear.” Lily rose and placed a glove on the table next to the sovereign.
“Give baby Morgan back to his mother, and come here.”
Sophie stood. Whatever did her conniving sister have up her sleeve? She handed the baby back to Lily and sat next to Ally on the gold brocade divan. “So you have a sovereign and a glove. Now what?”
“You see the sovereign is showing the image of St. George killing the dragon.”
Sophie nodded.
Ally placed Lily’s white glove on top of the coin. “And now, Sophie, I bet you that I can turn that sovereign over to the side showing the head without moving this glove.”
* * *
Zachary Newland let out a yawn. Nanette Lloyd’s painted lips held his cock.
Since when do I yawn during a cock sucking?
Since he had grown damned tired of Miss Nanette Lloyd. She was a decent actress with a nice voice, but bedding her had become dull. Her eagerness bored him. Zach enjoyed the chase, the conquest. He had fucked Nanette standing, against the wall in his office, the first time they met. What some women would do to get a part… Of course, he hadn’t been complaining at the time. Who was he to turn down a romp?
Nanette assumed she would be his lead soprano forever. For now, she was the best Zach had, and he did want to keep her…as an actress at the theatre.
As a lover? He was done.
How long had she been sucking him? Shouldn’t he be ready to release soon? Regarding fellatio, some women had it and some women didn’t. Nanette was a decent enough fuck, but as much she enjoyed sucking cock, she did not have the gift. He wasn’t going to come this way. He’d have to turn her around, spank her arse until it was pink, and then fuck her. The thought didn’t arouse him much.
He gently grasped her head and moved her lips away from his cock. “I need to fuck you.”
“But I love sucking you, Zach. Please, I want you to come down my throat.”
Wasn’t going to happen. He was going limp already.
“Sorry, honey, I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Auditions for the new musicale start on the morrow. I’ve got so much paperwork to do yet.”
“All right,” she said, “you can fuck me.”
But the moment had passed for Zach. He was no longer looking for a fuck, and certainly not one from Nanette. He pulled up his drawers and trousers. “I’m afraid, Nanette, that we’re not going to fuck this afternoon.”
“But you were so hard for me just minutes ago.”
Zach sighed. He hated breaking off with women. Though he had never been serious with a woman and didn’t have any plans to do so in the near future, he still didn’t like ending things
. He had no desire to upset any woman. But he and Nanette were a ship that had already sailed. He had been taking her to his bed for over six months—a long time for him. He had enjoyed himself—even though the cock sucking hadn’t gotten any better over time—and so had she, as far as he knew. He drew in a deep breath.
“Listen, you know I love your voice and I’m thrilled to have you here as part of the theatre. But I think that the sun has set on this little affair of ours.”
Nanette stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “You can’t mean that, handsome.”
“I’m afraid I do. But please, do audition for the musicale. I value you as a member of the theatre and as”—he swallowed—“a friend.” So that last part was a little lie. Wouldn’t hurt anyone. Zach was not against having women as friends, but Nanette was not the type he wanted to be friendly with. She was a decent soprano and a decent fuck, but intelligence was not her strong suit.
“Well,” she said in a huff, “perhaps I will not audition for you. And then you’ll be less one soprano.”
“As you wish. If you change your mind, I’ll see you at auditions tomorrow.” Zach wasn’t worried. Nanette had no other job in town, so unless she wanted to lie on her back to earn money, she would be at auditions.
“Well, I never…” She adjusted the bodice of her gown and flounced out.
Oh, yes, you have, honey. And you haven’t learned much.
* * *
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Sophie said. “There is no way you can move that coin without touching the glove. Last time I checked, you’re not telekinetic.”
“I say I can.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Good for you, then.”
Ally smiled. “Are you willing to bet that I can’t do it?”
“I don’t believe in gambling, as you well know.”
“This is not gambling, Sophie. This is just a fun game. I say I can move the coin without moving the glove. You say I can’t. If I can, will you audition for Mr. Newland?”
