by Platt, Meara
“Looks are deceiving,” their mother said with a wistful smile. “But as for you, Sophie, keep strong. I know Exmoor has had a bad time of it, what with his injuries. Sometimes the scars run quite deep. All the more reason he needs a good woman to love. The gossip will stop once you settle into your marriage. Do stop by whenever you feel the need to talk.”
“I will. Thank you, Mrs. Farthingale.” She didn’t bother to reveal that their marriage was a sham, a business arrangement and nothing more. She expected everyone seated at the table knew it already, for earls did not fall in love at first sight with ordinary young women or offer to marry them in the very next moment.
Although the eventful day had exhausted her, Sophie spent a restless night and awoke dreading what this new dawn would bring. She was certain Lord Exmoor’s proposal had only been a dream and she was about to discover her true fate. She washed and dressed, and forced a smile on her face so that her disposition appeared as bright and sunny as this crisp, October day.
She loved the slight chill to the air and the incredible blue of the sky. She loved the reds and golds of the changing leaves on the trees at this time of the year.
Autumn colors suited her complexion best, however she’d chosen the apricot silk for her bridal gown because it was a soft color of spring, and spring was a time of new lambs and calves and foals coming into the world, a time for new beginnings.
A time for hope.
By noon she, Lydia, and the major were on their way to Lord Exmoor’s home in order to make final arrangements for the wedding. Lord Exmoor greeted them politely and escorted them into his dining room for a light repast of cold ham that had been cooked in a honey glaze and duck in a chestnut puree that was the tastiest thing Sophie had eaten in ages.
She felt Lord Exmoor’s gaze on her much of the time and wondered if her table manners were up to his standard. Although they maintained an easy banter, she couldn’t help but think that any moment now, he was going to beg out of their agreement. “Shall we retire to my study?” he suggested as they finished their meal.
Much as Sophie had enjoyed the repast, she’d eaten very little. And spoke very little after they entered the study. Major Allworthy and his wife settled on the sofa while she and Lord Exmoor took chairs opposite them. A cozy fire burned in the hearth and the butler wheeled in tea and cakes to munch on while they made their wedding plans.
Good heavens!
By tomorrow, she’d be married.
As the discussion of their wedding progressed, Sophie began to fidget and shift uncomfortably. “I thought it was to be a simple ceremony, just the major and his wife as witnesses. Are we to have many guests?”
Lord Exmoor grimaced. “No, but I have family in town that I must invite. My sister and her husband, and my younger brother. My aunts and a few cousins.” Suddenly, he paused and shook his head. “Blast, but I’m dense. Forgive my thoughtlessness. Is there anyone you wish to invite?”
He appeared sincerely distressed by the oversight, so she hastened to assure him that with her brother now gone, there was no one in all of England she would care to ask. “I look forward to meeting your family. I hope they are as nice as you.”
His dark emerald eyes widened in surprise. “You think I’m nice?”
Her smiled slipped as she studied his darkening expression. “Aren’t you?” Major Allworthy had spoken so highly of him, as had her brother in his letters to her. She never considered that he was not. “That is…” She gripped the arm of her chair and turned her pleading gaze to Lydia Allworthy.
The lovely woman was perhaps in her late twenties, only about eight years older than Sophie, but she had far more experience dealing with men and seemed to understand her concerns at once. “He and my husband may toss back brandies together a little too often for my liking, but they rarely allow their drinking to get out of hand. Indeed, I’ve never seen Lord Exmoor imbibe too much. Or behave irresponsibly or impolitely. If anything, he is too much in control. I think that is Lord Exmoor’s only fault. In all other aspects, he is a man of intelligence and honor. In other words, no. He doesn’t gamble and he won’t beat you when he’s drunk.”
“Lydia!” Major Allworthy began to sputter in horror.
Lord Exmoor frowned. “Miss Wilkinson, I may look like a repulsive beast, but I’ve never raised a hand to a woman and never will.”
“Repulsive?” Sophie curled her hands into fists and shot to her feet, now decidedly angry with him and with everyone else who made him feel lesser. “If you dare call yourself that again, my lord, it is I who shall take my fists to you. And you had better not even think that way about yourself. My cousin is repulsive. You are noble and heroic.”
His eyebrow shot up and a wry grin crossed his lips. “Do you hear that Lawrence? I’m heroic.”
Sophie continued to hold her hands balled into fists at her side. “Those scars consume you, but they are nothing to me. It’s time you stopped staring at them, for it took me only a moment to look past them and see the man you really are.” She took a deep breath, prepared to say more and then realized she’d said too much already.
She snapped her mouth shut and felt the heat of a blush creep into her cheeks. “My apologies. I had no right to speak to you that way.”
She expected him to be furious, but when she dared meet his gaze, she saw that he was still grinning. “Wilkinson’s little sister packs artillery. I had better learn to duck the cannonballs when she lets them fly.”
Now all three of them were grinning at her.
Her cheeks were already hot, but they turned to crimson flames. “No… I would never…” She wanted to slink out of the room, but Lord Exmoor got to his feet and now stood before her to block her path.
He leaned on his cane with one hand and took her gently by the elbow with his other. “I am merely teasing you. In truth, it does my heart good to know you won’t cringe whenever I come near.”
Cringe?
She wished he’d stop using those words to describe himself. She was reveling in her good fortune and decidedly not viewing this arrangement as a necessary sacrifice to keep a roof over her head and food in her belly. Sophie knew of only one way to stop these ridiculous thoughts he had about himself, but speaking her mind was one thing. Kissing him was quite another.
Indeed, she wanted to stop his mouth with a kiss each time he was about to utter those horrid words about himself. But she dared not. He wanted a business arrangement and she would honor his wishes.
Did all his friends and family indulge his notions? Perhaps they were afraid to speak up and contradict him. Once she was his wife, she’d do her best to change his opinion of himself. It would be no easy task. The war had been hard on many men and too many had returned with their spirits broken, Lord Exmoor counted among them.
Even her brother had given in to despair at times. Most of the letters she’d received from him while he was on the Continent battling Napoleon were purposely cheerful and reassuring, but there were times when he could not hold back his sadness and the news he conveyed would reduce her to tears.
After reading those letters, she desperately wished to do something to help. Oh, she’d volunteered to assist the wounded soldiers who returned home, as many of the women of York did. But there was little else she could do. She couldn’t wrap her arms around her brother. She couldn’t comfort him when a friend had fallen in battle. She could only write to him of her daily routine and relate news of their friends and neighbors. In truth, he seemed to enjoy those letters most of all. “I’m sorry, my lord. I spoke out of turn.”
He responded with a grunt and then ran his thumb lightly along her elbow. “No apology necessary.”
Lydia cleared her throat. “Exmoor, I hope you don’t mind but we must take your leave now. Sophie’s gown is not yet finished and I’m certain you don’t wish to have your bride sewing through the night and into the morning.”
His eyebrow shot up in surprise. “Blast,” he muttered under his breath, but Sophie was standi
ng close enough to hear him. “I didn’t think about your wedding gown. I ought to have made arrangements for a seamstress. I shall do so at once. What else do you need, Miss Wilkinson?”
“Nothing, my lord. The gown will be done in a few hours.”
Lydia spoke up. “It’s an apricot silk and quite beautiful. Your bride will look lovely wearing it, but it isn’t enough. She has no suitable necklace or–”
Sophie gasped. “No, Lydia. It isn’t necessary. I’ll fashion something out of the scraps of silk.”
She felt the squeeze of his fingers on her elbow. “You will not, Miss Wilkinson. The Exmoor pearls will be delivered to you in the morning. That is, unless you wish to take them with you now.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “No, my lord. Truly, I couldn’t ask this of you.”
“You’re not. I’m insisting.” He glanced at his friends before returning his attention to her. “I ought to have thought of it myself. Seems I’ve been quite remiss, neglecting your wardrobe, neglecting the essentials, and yet expecting you to make a good impression on my family when I’ve done nothing to help.”
He sighed as he released her to run a hand raggedly through his hair. A habit of his, she noted, whenever he was perplexed. “Once we’re married, our first order of business shall be to have new gowns made for you. Indeed, an entire new wardrobe. I’ll assign one of the maids to attend you, but if you’d prefer to select your own from my staff or interview suitable applicants for the position, that is your choice.”
“I’m sure one of your staff will do quite nicely.” Goodness, was she back in her dream? No, he was standing close and she could feel the heat of his body. She inhaled the light, intoxicating scent of musk on his neck and quite liked the subtle, but unmistakably masculine, scent.
She must have had the oddest expression on her face, for Lord Exmoor suddenly frowned and put his hand on her elbow once more, as though to support her. She wasn’t going to swoon, although she was giddy and lightheaded. Last week, she was wondering where she would get her next meal. This week, her soon-to-be husband was insisting she acquire a new wardrobe, was insisting on providing her with expensive jewelry, and was about to hire a maid to attend to her.
Her life had certainly taken a strange turn.
An odd turn, indeed.
Sophie listened as the rest of the arrangements were made, but as she was about to leave with the Allworthys, Lord Exmoor held her back a moment. “Miss Wilkinson, I have a request of you. Rest assured, I will not ask it of you ever again.”
She tipped her head in confusion. “Of course. What is it you need of me?”
“Gossip will be rampant, including among my family.” He paused a moment, obviously not eager to explain further, but she smiled at him to urge him on. “I do not want their pity. I do not want them believing you are marrying me only for my wealth and title. In truth, I know you’re not and I appreciate it more than I can say. But it would be most helpful to me if you… oh, blast… if you allowed me to kiss you once we’ve exchanged vows.”
She nodded. “Ah, and you’re asking me not to flinch when you lower your lips to mine.”
“I was thinking to kiss you on the cheek. That’s all. I wouldn’t ask for more.”
“No.”
He frowned. “What?”
“No, I will not allow you to kiss me on the cheek.” Honestly, if he didn’t stop thinking of himself as ugly, she’d kick him in the shins. “But this is what I will permit you to do.” She brazenly put her hands to the back of his head, and reached up on tiptoes as she drew him down for a kiss. She’d never kissed a man on the lips before and wasn’t certain what to expect, certainly not the pleasant warmth that filled her the moment her lips met his.
Certainly not the heat that filled her as he circled his arm about her waist and drew her closer to take control of their kiss. Suddenly, she was pressed against his broad chest and found herself gripping his rock-hard shoulders to maintain her balance while he deepened the kiss until her mouth was deliciously crushed against his.
She kept her lips tightly pursed and closed her eyes to take in these new sensations, but she could somehow tell that his eyes were open and he was staring at her.
Didn’t that make him cross-eyed?
He was laughing at her, too.
She felt the rumble of his chest and shoulders as he struggled not to laugh into her mouth.
She opened her eyes, intending to pull away, but he was having none of it. So as her eyes began to cross because they were standing too close and staring into each other’s eyeballs, she saw the distinct gleam of amusement in his dark emerald depths.
She broke off their kiss and pushed away with a huff. “My lord, you miss my point entirely.” She wondered if her face was as red as she believed it to be. No doubt, it was. Not a subtle rose or more obvious pink. Not even a light red. No, her entire face must be a deep, cherry red, deeper than a fiery red sky at sunset.
“And your point was?”
That the kiss felt awfully good. “That I do not find you repulsive. You are only repulsive in your own mind.”
Oh, heavens! She was talking to an earl. No, berating an earl. What had she just done? She was penniless, homeless, and after instigating the kiss, Lord Exmoor would now believe she had no morals.
He allowed her to move away from him, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke. “I’m no longer a handsome man, Miss Wilkinson. It’s obvious to all who knew me before the war started. But thank you for that ridiculously touching display. If this is how you respond whenever I anger you, then I think we shall get along quite well.”
She cleared her throat. “Um, I didn’t intend it to be quite so… passionate. I realize that I mustn’t kiss you like that during our wedding ceremony.”
He let out a throaty rumble of laughter. “Quite the opposite, Miss Wilkinson. I would greatly appreciate it if you did. I can think of no better way to quiet the gossips.”
She thought on it a moment and then stuck her hand out in that same forthright manner she’d done yesterday. “Very well. We have a bargain. You may kiss me whenever you think it necessary at our wedding ceremony and our wedding breakfast. You didn’t mention the breakfast, but I think it is logical that it should all count as one.”
“Miss Wilkinson, we shall indeed have a good marriage if you seek to resolve our differences with that attitude. A very good marriage.” However, his amusement seemed to fade away and he now sported a frown on his brow. “But there will be times when you and I disagree on a matter. There will be times when you disagree with others on a matter. I require little of you as my countess, but you will be my countess,” he emphasized, “and as such, I will expect you to make your point using more discretion than you showed a few moments ago.”
She shook her head in momentary confusion. “You mean my kiss?”
He nodded. “I understand you were merely making a point. A very enjoyable point. But you should not make a habit of it.”
Sophie had hoped that she and Lord Exmoor might one day develop an easy rapport, but she now doubted they would ever be so fortunate. Not after that admonishment. She wasn’t sorry she’d kissed him. Or sorry that she wished to kiss him again. “I don’t make a habit of throwing myself at men, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m not that sort of girl.”
“I know.” He was now rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s obvious you’ve never been kissed before. I wish you had given me warning. I wouldn’t have… hell, I have no idea what I would have done.”
He stared at her, his expression revealing his consternation.
“My lord, what gave me away?” How could he know she was woefully inexperienced? Was her kiss so awkward? Lesson learned. She would not kiss him again. She’d just have to find another way to show him that he had worth. It wasn’t a question of what others thought. This matter of thinking himself unattractive came from deep inside of him.
“Everything gave you away.”
“Oh, I was hoping fo
r specifics.” She looked down at her toes, suddenly too humiliated to meet his gaze. “Then I suppose you’ve had a change of heart and won’t kiss me tomorrow.”
He reached out and gently ran his thumb across her lower lip. “You do know little about men. I’m quite determined to kiss you as often as possible. But you needn’t worry, for all I require is a word from you and I shall stop. I have no intention of abusing your kindness.”
She looked up, now thoroughly confused. “Good day, my lord. I shall see you tomorrow.”
“I hope so, Sophie.”
He hoped so? Did he believe she was going to call off the ceremony?
Or was he the one thinking of calling it off?
CHAPTER 3
JAMES STOOD ON the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral struggling to control the rampant beating of his heart as Sophie stepped down from the Allworthy carriage and cast him a shy, but heartwarming, smile. “Good morning, my lord.”
“Good morning, Sophie.” My Sophie. He couldn’t believe his good fortune, for not only had she shown up for their wedding, but actually seemed happy to be marrying him. Not for his wealth. Not for his title. He didn’t wish to make too much of it. She’d gotten to know him through her brother’s letters and felt as though she were marrying an old friend.
“Goodness,” she said in awe, glancing skyward to take in the soaring dome. “This cathedral is beautiful.” So was she. Indeed, to say that she looked beautiful was an understatement. The delicate silk of her gown somehow brought out the rose blush of her cheeks. The sun shone upon the lush strands of her hair, bringing out her magnificent auburn highlights. The Exmoor pearls glistened against her slender throat, and in that moment, James knew no other Exmoor countess had ever looked better wearing them.
He held out his arm to her. “Shall we go in, Sophie?”
She arched a soft eyebrow. “Yes… James.”
He smiled as her hand lightly settled in the crook of his arm. The nearness of her body felt so good as they climbed the last few steps and slowly walked into the cathedral. She was subtly helping him balance himself, for he still struggled with stairs even when using his cane for support. “We’ll have the ceremony first and I’ll introduce you to my family during the wedding breakfast. Does that meet with your approval?”
