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?”
“Yes, that sounds lovely.” She tried to appear jovial, but gave herself away by nibbling her lip. “I suppose they all know about our arrangement. I hope they don’t think I’m taking advantage of you.”
Her cheek brushed against his shoulder as he bent closer. “It doesn’t matter what they think now. In time, they’ll come to know your worth as I do.”
His words appeared to do little to reassure her, for she now gazed at him uncertainly. “Will you keep hold of my hand throughout the ceremony?”
He glanced at her hand still poised on his forearm and tensed. “Not if you don’t wish it.”
“You mistake my meaning. I want you to.” She let out a shaky breath. “You see, my hands are trembling.”
“Ah, I see. I won’t let go of you.” That he had no desire to ever let go of her was a problem he’d address at another time. It was his problem, after all. But not a consideration today. Sophie had agreed to behave like a young bride in love during the ceremony and wedding breakfast. His heart wished to take advantage, but his head warned that it was dangerous. He’d survived the war by thinking things through with intricate care and would survive this marriage arrangement similarly.
In any event, he dared not overdo it. No one would ever believe Sophie loved him.
Sophie was once again glancing at her slippered toes as they walked down the cathedral’s center aisle. His family and the Allworthys were seated in the front pews leaving the rest of the vast cathedral empty. Perhaps the ceremony ought to have taken place in the privacy of the bishop’s office or the rectory.
Too late now.
But it felt right to stand in front of the holy altar with Sophie.
James hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath throughout the ceremony until he released it when Sophie affirmed her vow with a quiet, but confident, “I do.”
He turned to face her and saw that she’d already tilted her head upward in expectation of his kiss. What was unexpected was the soft glow of happiness in her eyes and in her smile. He’d have to thank her for that thoughtful gesture afterward.
He leaned on his cane with one hand, but placed his other against Sophie’s cheek in order to better angle her lips to his. “Welcome to the family, Lady Exmoor.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, counted to three… counted very slowly to three, and then ended the kiss.
She took a moment to open her eyes, but smiled when she did. “Thank you, my lord.”
They were now married.
“Come, meet my family. They’re eager to know more about you.” Although his voice was even and matter of fact, he took a quick moment to give thanks to Sophie’s brother. Harry may have wanted to save Sophie from a dismal fate, but in doing so, Harry may have also saved him. Too soon to tell, of course.
Sophie held on to his arm while he introduced her first to his dowager aunts, Lady Agatha Westwood and Lady Miranda Grayfell. Lady Agatha had two married daughters who were unable to make it to London on such short notice, but Lady Miranda and her four sons resided in London and were present.
James grinned as Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise when his cousins rose and came forward to greet her. “Oh, goodness! You didn’t tell me they were the size of gladiators,” she said in an urgent whisper. “They’re as big as you.”
He introduced her to the eldest first and went down the line. Sophie nodded and repeated their names to better etch each one into her memory. “Viscount Grayfell,” she said, about to bow, but James held her back. “You outrank Tynan. He bows to you. As do the rest of these scoundrels.” But any attempt at formality quickly fell by the wayside as his cousins hugged him fiercely and in turn kissed Sophie on the cheek.
Introductions to his brother and sister were as informal, his sister, Gabrielle, rushing forward to hug Sophie, and his brother scooping her into his arms and twirling her around before setting her down and planting a wet kiss on her nose. “Enough, Rom. Sophie isn’t one of your pets.”
His brother, although not quite seventeen years old, was old enough to understand how to behave properly. “I know, but she’s such an improvement over–”
James growled softly. “Romulus! You’re not too big to have your ears boxed.” In time, he might tell Sophie about Lady Bella Whitby, daughter of the Duke of Weymouth, the beauty who had once claimed his heart, but this was not the moment.
No, today was Sophie’s day and he was quite proud of the way she’d handled herself up to now. His family could be intimidating, not only because of all the titles among them, but because of their imposing size. Even the women were tall.
Sophie, despite her average size, looked like the runt of the litter among them. A lovable runt, and it was no surprise that his entire family responded warmly to her. They would never have dared such familiarity with Lady Bella, for that proud beauty would have cut them at the knees with her cold stare.
That he’d once been in love with that Society jewel did not speak well of him, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. A time before he’d gone to fight Napoleon, a time before he’d engaged in desperate battles or faced biting cold, gut-gnawing hunger, and the foul stench of death. A time before he’d understood the importance of compassion and mercy, and the nobility in protecting the weak.
Yet, he’d still gone back to her upon his return from Waterloo. He wasn’t certain why. Perhaps because he’d once been as proud and arrogant as Lady Bella and thought he needed to return to that life even though he was a changed man.
The first deep cut to his cheek had altered his life forever, and over the years, he’d acquired more deep cuts and more injuries, the most recent being his leg wound. He’d almost lost his leg and may yet if it didn’t soon heal.
He shook out of his wayward thoughts. “Sophie,” he said as they rode alone in his carriage to his townhouse to celebrate their wedding breakfast, “as Lady Exmoor, your place will be at the opposite end of the dining table from mine. But not today. You’ll be seated next to me so that we may share our first meal together as husband and wife.”
She nodded.
He noticed her hands were clasped and tensely resting on her lap. “I hope my family didn’t offend you. They can be a bit much at times. My cousins and I are close as brothers, and they were obviously exuberant in my new found good fortune. It’s obvious they approve of you.”
She shook her head and laughed. “I’m not used to all this attention. They day is young and you may still live to regret your choice.”
He leaned forward and covered her hands with his. “No, my sweet. I’m well pleased with our bargain. It’s you I worry about.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Why?”
He didn’t need to say it. She had only to look at his unpleasant features to know the answer. His body was equally scarred, but she wasn’t likely ever to see more than the scars marring his face.
The soft curls at the nape of her neck bobbed as she shook her head and sighed. “Ah, you’re feeling sorry for yourself again, my lord.”
He released her hands and frowned. “I’m only thinking of you.”
“With all due respect, stop thinking so hard. Have I complained? Have I given you any reason to think I regret our marriage? I’ll speak up for myself if and when I ever do.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Very well, consider me duly chastened.”
Those big brown eyes of hers, the rich color of winter chestnuts, widened. “I didn’t mean to berate you. Please don’t take my words–”
“I’m not angry, Sophie. In truth, I have a hard time reconciling your outward softness with your inner strength. You look like an angel, even more so now that you’ve adorned your hair with little more than a garland of flowers. It falls like a soft halo upon your head.”
She touched a hand to her hair. “Oh, dear. Is it too much?”
“It’s perfect. And I’m beginning to think that you are perfect, too. You know how to stand your ground. Softness and strength. It’s a good combination.”
She eased back and laughed mirthfully. “I hope you remember this conversation the next time I irritate you.”
He grinned and nodded.
In truth, he knew he’d been given a gift in Sophie.
She was the one who’d gotten the lump of coal.
THE WEDDING BREAKFAST continued well into the evening, and Sophie could hardly keep her eyes open by the time the clock struck midnight. The guests were only now departing. Sophie hugged the Allworthys and the Exmoor aunts, Agatha and Miranda. She received warm kisses from his sister and young brother who’d imbibed too much champagne and was all giggles as she gave him a kiss on the cheek in return.
His gladiator cousins were the last to go and for a dreaded moment she feared they would settle into the study and drink the night away with her new husband. Had he asked them to stay? Well, she was having none of it.
Obviously, she and James were not going to share a traditional wedding night. But his family didn’t have to know it. “My lord,” she said, standing on the threshold of his study and staring at these five big men who proved her fears correct. They were indeed about to make themselves comfortable and drink themselves silly into the night. “I believe this is our night.”
His cousins looked sheepish, but James looked stunned. “They know, Sophie. No need to–”
“What? Exercise my wifely rights?” Oh, dear! At first, they all looked like magnificent stags caught unaware by firelight and too dazed to move. In the next moment, they looked as though they were all about to erupt in laughter. Perhaps she ought not to have phrased it quite that way. She wasn’t certain what those wifely rights entailed because her mother had died young and there had been no woman to explain such things to her. Lydia would have taken on the chore had she believed Sophie ever had a chance at a real marriage.
But these men knew what it meant even if she didn’t.
Lord Grayfell, no longer bothering to smother his grin, grabbed his two youngest brothers by the scruff of their necks and motioned to the third brother to follow. “Let’s go, gentlemen. You heard Lady Exmoor.”
Sophie stepped aside as he approached dragging his brothers. Grayfell shoved the three young men out the door, but paused a moment to inspect her. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I think you’re just the medicine my stubborn cousin needs.”
The front door had barely slammed behind her when James strode toward her with a scowl as dark as coal. “I will never interfere with you and any of your guests again,” she said in a rush. “But this is our wedding night and even if all of London believes that nothing will transpire, it is none of their business. I think it’s important for your sake that we keep them guessing.”
He still looked angry. “Important for me?”
She nodded. “Certainly not for me. No one cares about me. If not for you, I’d be out in the streets begging for my next meal.”
Her words seemed to startle him as though she’d slapped him. “Sophie,” he said with an ache to his softening voice, “you have me now. You’ll never want for anything.”
“I know, my lord.” She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“James.”
She nodded. “James. You kick yourself hard enough. You don’t need the rest of London kicking you as well. I give you my word of honor, I shall never interfere with your nightly engagements again.”
She eased as the anger seemed to drain out of him. “But one other thing… James.”
His emerald eyes began to darken once more. “What?”
“The thing is,” she said, now wringing her hands in consternation. “The day was so rushed and this house is so big. I had no time to explore it. So, the thing is… where is my room? I know my belongings were brought over earlier, but I have no idea where your staff has put them or where I’m supposed to be.”