Would Oliver have other...amusements, if she married him? He hadn’t said he planned to be a faithful husband and he was clearly active in that regard or he’d never have fathered Livvy.
It made her feel a bit queasy to think of him with other women, in that way. Upset, if she was perfectly honest. In a different way to when she’d imagined Jack with other women. It was Jack’s rejection of her that had wounded her. He’d made her feel as though she wasn’t good enough, which had brought back all the insecurities she’d felt upon first arriving at Nettleton Manor. It wasn’t the same as this possessive, visceral feeling she had imagining the Duke breaking their marriage vows. If she ever discovered he was playing her false, she wouldn’t hide in her room feeling sorry for herself, too embarrassed by his betrayal to be able to face anyone else. On the contrary, she would track him down and...and, well she wasn’t totally sure what, but there was definitely a pair of scissors in her hand as she marched into that imaginary, faceless, adulteress’s boudoir.
She had to unclench her fists. And then wondered if, perhaps, if the thought of him being unfaithful was so upsetting, she ought not to marry him.
What, and give him licence to...to frolic with whatever woman took his fancy?
Insupportable!
Oh, dear. It looked as though she was going to have to settle for whatever he had to offer her, rather than strain for something she wasn’t even sure she could describe. It wasn’t as if she was ever likely to meet a man she’d like more than she liked the Duke. And, oh, the way he kissed! She flushed at the thought of it and promptly delved into her reticule for a fan. Nobody would think it odd for her to ply it before her overheated face, not on such a day. But, oh, how she wished she could sit on the edge of the jetty and dangle her feet in the water. But that would mean removing her shoes and stockings. In public. Which would shock not only Aunt Agnes, but also every other lady present.
She sighed. The clear green water of the lake looked so cool and inviting. If she’d been at Nettleton Manor on such a day, she’d have made the excuse of taking Snowball for a walk, made straight for her favourite pond, stripped down to her chemise and dived right in.
Which sort of answered her question about what she wanted from life. She wanted the freedom to swim when it was as hot as this, that was what! She was just smiling wryly at how little it would take to make her happy, if husbands didn’t enter the equation, when she registered the sound of footsteps tapping along the jetty behind her. Reluctantly she turned to see Lady Margaret marching her way, a militant light in her eyes. As though she was spoiling for a fight.
Instinctively, Sofia took a step backwards. If there was one thing she hated, it was confrontation with another person, which made her reaction to the thought of how she’d behave should Oliver ever stray all the more startling.
‘I know you cannot help it,’ said Lady Margaret, ‘being brought up by that vulgar woman who calls herself your aunt, so I have come to tell you that it is not at all the thing to come apart by yourself like this.’
‘Oh?’ She edged back, as Lady Margaret thrust her face forward angrily.
‘And what is more, we don’t like the way you have taken sides with Lady Elizabeth.’
We? ‘Sides?’
‘Don’t give me that innocent look. We saw you, out of the window, yesterday. You and that dog of yours, fawning round Lady Elizabeth. Pretending you were as keen on archery as she. Making a total fool of yourself!’
Ah. Yes, well, she had made a bit of a fool of herself, it was true, but it had only been to draw attention away from Livvy. And it had clearly worked. While Lady Elizabeth had been concentrating on showing her how to hold a bow and the footmen had been running to retrieve stray arrows before Snowball bore them off into the shrubbery, Livvy had managed to sneak from pillar to fountain to shrub, and finally to the gatepost of the kitchen yard entirely unnoticed.
‘I suppose you think His Grace is going to offer for her.’
‘No, I don’t think that,’ Sofia said with a smile. In fact, she knew he wouldn’t, not after what he’d seen her getting up to in the summer house.
‘Then what are you laughing at?’
‘I am not laughing,’ she protested, although the more she thought about Lady Margaret’s ridiculous assumptions, the funnier she found it.
‘I see,’ she said, drawing herself up to her full height. ‘You are mocking me, for being true to Lady Sarah. For coming to say to you what the others are all thinking.’
‘No, indeed, I...’
‘Well, I have had just about enough of it. The way you watch us all with that supercilious little smile on your face, as though you think you are better than us, when you are a nobody. Do you hear me?’ She thrust her face into Sofia’s with such aggression she had to take a step back. ‘Nobody!’ She went to poke her in the chest, for emphasis, just as Sofia took another step back.
Only there was nothing behind her but air. She’d been inching back during Lady Margaret’s tirade and had finally reached the end of the jetty.
The result was inevitable. With flailing arms, Sofia went off the end of the jetty, right into the water.
Her first reaction was to laugh. She’d been wishing she could take a swim and now here she was, in the water, after all.
Her second was to turn over and dive as deeply as she could possibly go, which she did, after surfacing briefly to take a deep breath. Because, now that she was in the water, she intended to make the most of it. If she could swim a few yards away from the jetty while she was underwater, then, once she surfaced again, she could take her time making her way back to shore. It wouldn’t be the same as having a leisurely swim, unhampered by clothing, but it would still be sufficient to cool her down.
And she might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Even though she hadn’t gone into the water on purpose, she was bound to get the blame for causing a scene. The Lady Margarets of this world always blamed someone else at times like this and invariably got away with it.
But who cared, when the water was so deliciously cool and refreshing?
Chapter Twenty-One
Even though Oliver made a point of mingling with all his other guests, he was always aware of exactly where Sofia was and strangely sensitive to the expressions that flitted across her face.
He could see she was thinking deeply. Hopefully about his offer. Although with Sofia he could never be sure that he was at the forefront of her mind. Nor could he think of a single thing that might sway her opinion in his favour, even if it was his proposal that was putting that thoughtful expression on her face. He’d offered her everything: his name, his title, the freedom to spend her money however she wished, as long as she would agree to be a mother to Livvy.
And all she would say was that she would think about it.
Dammit, he hadn’t felt this helpless since the day that housemaid had swept him up and into the coach, and dropped him off at the house of the people she said were his new parents.
He was abrupt to the point of rudeness to the girls who kept approaching him and fluttering their silly eyelashes up at him, because he didn’t want any of them any longer. He only wanted Sofia. But they wouldn’t take the hint. They hovered round him like so many pesky flies that he wished he could swat away.
While she...she was strolling along the jetty, looking out over the lake, a wistful expression growing stronger as though...yes, he could see it. There was something she wanted.
If he could only persuade her to tell him what it was, he would swear to give it to her. And then maybe she’d agree to be his wife. And mother to Livvy, too, of course. Yes, being Livvy’s mother was the most important thing.
He would ask her. Right now. He turned to give his empty tankard to the nearest footman, but when he turned back in the direction of the jetty, he saw Lady Margaret already marching along it, as though she was as intent on speaking to Sofia as
he was. Though not, to judge from her brisk step and the tilt of her chin, from friendly motives.
Yet it still came as a shock when, after a brief altercation, Lady Margaret pushed Sofia off the end of the jetty.
The massive splash as she flopped backwards into the water caused everyone else to turn and stare, but he’d already started running for the jetty.
Sofia bobbed to the surface briefly, gasping for air, but then sank beneath the foam caused by her initial fall. And then, ominously, her bonnet floated to the surface.
A cold hand fisted in his stomach. She couldn’t drown. Not now. Not in his lake. He tore off his jacket as he ran, casting it aside as he reached the wooden planking of the jetty. He ran to the end, where Lady Margaret was standing with her hands to her mouth, staring in horror at the bubbles breaking the surface where Sofia had gone in, and roughly shoved her aside.
‘Oh, oh,’ she wailed. ‘I think I am going to swoon...’
‘Get back to shore and do it there,’ he growled as he sat down to rip off his boots. ‘I don’t want any more women falling into the lake today.’
He stood up so that he could search for any trace of Sofia through the cloudy green water, his heart thudding so hard it made him feel a bit sick. The thought of her coming to harm, of possibly losing her life altogether was so appalling he wanted to roar in defiance. He’d only just found her. Fate couldn’t be so cruel as to take her from him so soon! He needed more time with her. Years. The rest of his life. Even if she couldn’t love him—and what woman could—he would have made sure she’d never regret taking a chance on him.
There! A trail of bubbles. He dived in, aiming in that direction. Once beneath the surface he could see a white mass which had to be Sofia’s gown, just where he’d hoped to find her. It took him only a few determined kicks to reach her and get his arms round her waist.
A couple more to bring them both to the surface.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said, as she struggled against his hold. ‘You’re safe now, I’ve got you.’ I’ve got you. I’ve got you. He wanted to weep with the sheer relief of having her in his arms, breathing air. If he had his way he’d never let her go again.
‘I’m not afraid, you great...bully,’ she hissed.
‘Bully?’ Why could she not simply be grateful, like any other woman would? Why did she always have to make everything so difficult? ‘I just saved you from drowning, you ungrateful baggage.’
‘No, you didn’t. I wasn’t drowning.’ This time, when she struggled, he let her wriggle out of his arms. And she trod water—with marked proficiency, he noted—while glaring at him, her hair straggling all down her face.
‘I was just swimming underwater,’ she said. ‘I would have come in all by myself in my own good time if you hadn’t come along and...’
‘Well, pardon me for being worried. For rushing to your aid.’ From the corner of his eye he could see the rest of his guests gathering by the shore, while a couple of the footmen were launching one of the boats. For two pins he’d swim off and leave her here. Leave her for the footmen to haul out of the water and into their boat...
Only, the thought of any other man, even a servant, putting his hands on her was out of the question.
‘Which you still need,’ he continued coldly.
‘No, I don’t. I’m perfectly capable of swimming to shore.’
‘Where you will face the censure of every person there. Every person you scared with your outrageous prank.’
‘It was not a prank! I...’
‘Decided to take a swim and make a spectacle of yourself.’
‘That’s not true. And it’s not fair.’
‘It is true.’ Though it might well not be fair. Lady Margaret had pushed her. So she hadn’t gone into the water of her own volition.
Staying in it, however...that had been totally reprehensible.
‘Everyone is staring,’ he said. ‘Your aunt looks as though she is about to faint.’
‘What?’ She stopped glaring at him, briefly, to look wildly in the direction of the shore. At last, she had started to think about someone other than herself.
‘And if she finds out you were not in any difficulty, I should think she will want to wring your pretty neck. Just as I do.’
She bit down on her lower lip.
‘So this is what will happen,’ he said, firmly. ‘I shall help you to shore, where you will act upon the verge of swooning. I will then carry you to your carriage and I will despatch you, and your aunt, back to the house, where she may wreak whatever vengeance she wishes upon your stubborn, wilful, rebellious head!’
She glared at him, but did not struggle again when he got hold of her by the shoulders, flipped over on to his back and began towing her to shore.
She didn’t struggle when, the moment he could touch the bottom, he stood up and waded the rest of the way, with her cradled in his arms. She didn’t put her arms about his neck, though, not her. But she did turn her face into his shoulder when the other guests began crowding round, and wound the fingers of one hand into his sodden shirt. Fingers that were trembling.
As he strode across the grass to where the carriages were all drawn up under the trees, he was sorely tempted to fabricate some reason which made it essential he carried her in his arms all the way to the house because he found he was strangely reluctant to let her go. She’d infuriated him, scared him, but the way her little fingers were clutching at his shirt made him want to prove that he was able to keep her safe in his arms for...for ever.
If she would let him.
It was all he could do not to drop a kiss on her forehead after he’d placed her gently on the seat.
The groom, who’d seen him coming, was hastily hitching up the horses, which he’d been watering further along the lake, away from the guests. This gave Oliver the excuse to linger, his arms braced over her, while he studied the shamed expression on her face.
But not for long. First of all, a footman came running up with his jacket. Rather than attempting to put it back on over his sodden shirt he draped it round Sofia’s shoulders.
And then her aunt and uncle reached them.
‘She is not hurt,’ he said, turning around as they pushed their way into the carriage. ‘Only a bit...’ Chastened, he wanted to say. By the way he’d shouted at her.
‘You must send for a doctor,’ said her aunt, cutting through his statement in a way he would not have forgiven, in most circumstances. ‘She is only just recovering from an inflammation of the lungs and heaven knows what a dunking in that filthy pond water will do to her. If she should have a relapse...’ The woman seized one of Sofia’s hands and began chafing it. Which made Sofia, at last, show some sign of remorse.
‘Of course I will send my physician to her,’ said Oliver, rather more abruptly than he should have done. But then he was annoyed that he hadn’t thought of it himself. ‘In the meantime, I will send a footman to alert the housekeeper you are on your way and will need hot water for a bath. I shall do everything possible to ensure Miss Underwood’s comfort,’ he said, straightening up and beckoning the footman who’d come running with his jacket. On horseback, the lad would reach the house well before the carriage. Especially since he could cut across the paddock, rather than having to stick to the carriageways.
* * *
Sofia turned her hand over and gripped Aunt Agnes’s. If anything could prove her aunt was truly fond of her, the way she’d just ordered a duke to fetch a doctor had done it.
‘He seems fond of you, that I will concede,’ said Uncle Ned bracingly, after the carriage carrying them had been rolling along for a while and neither of the females had recovered enough to make any sort of conversation. ‘The look on his face as he dived in to rescue you...’ He looked Sofia up and down and sighed. ‘Can’t deny I’m disappointed to think you will be going so far from us. I hoped that marrying Jack woul
d mean we could keep a bit of an eye on you, what with your own parents being gone.’
What? Did he really mean that?
Had it only been Jack himself who was more interested in her money than in her?
She wanted to say something along the lines of them being able to visit whenever they wished. Only, did Oliver still wish to marry her? The things he’d said made her suspect not.
Uncle Ned handed her his handkerchief.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dabbing at the tears she hadn’t realised were welling from her eyes.
‘You couldn’t help falling into the water, I suppose. Loose plank, or something, was it? Caught the hem of your gown?’
‘No, I...’ She paused. She didn’t want to stir up any more trouble than she’d already caused by her thoughtless wish to indulge in a swim. Which she was bound to do if she pointed out that she’d only fallen in because she’d been backing away from Lady Margaret. ‘It is about... Jack that I’m sorry.’ It was time to tell them. And she felt she could, now, knowing that they’d only promoted the match in an attempt to protect her. ‘Because, you see, no matter what else happens, I could never marry him.’
‘What?’ Her aunt and uncle both looked at her as though she’d grown two heads.
‘But you are so fond of him,’ said Uncle Ned with a perplexed frown. ‘Whenever he visited, you would follow him around like a little puppy. Which was why I thought of it in the first place, why I spoke to my sister about a match. I thought it would spare you having to fend off all the rogues who’d come sniffing after your fortune if we took you to London for a Season.’
Oh. He’d thought he was doing her a good turn. It wasn’t his fault Jack had been exactly the sort of rogue he’d been trying to save her from.
‘I... I was fond of him.’
When they both frowned, she suddenly baulked at the prospect of confessing what she’d overheard him saying. Not only would it be humiliating to repeat the horrid things he’d said, but she’d have to admit she’d been swimming on that day, too. And they’d never let her out of their sight again...if she did go back to live at Nettleton Manor, that was.
A Duke in Need of a Wife Page 18
