CHAPTER 4
JAMES CURSED HIMSELF for an idiot. “Your rooms?”
“Do you mean I’m to have more than one?” Her lips were pink and lightly swollen, and there was a sensual slant to her eyes because she was fatigued. He yearned to take the pins from her lustrous hair and watch the silken mane slowly cascade over her shoulders in undulating waves. She let out her breath and he caught the scent of champagne and strawberries on her mouth.
He leaned closer, his big body almost pressing against her slight frame. “You’re my countess. You have an entire suite of rooms next to mine.” He cleared his throat. “There is no lock on our adjoining door, but I’ll have one installed if you wish. In any event, I’ll hold true to my word. I promised not to touch you.”
She ran her tongue along her slightly parted lips. “Unless I wish it?”
He nodded, fascinated by her mouth and desperate to claim her lips in a deep and urgent, grinding kiss. It took all his military discipline to hold to his promise, for he’d never ached so badly to have a woman, not even Bella.
What was it about Wilkinson’s little sister that so stirred him? She was his wife now. His outspoken and adorably tipsy wife. He wouldn’t risk facing her disappointment when she sobered in the morning. No, even though he ached to have her in his arms, yearned to explore her delectable body and take her, any intimacy between them would have to wait until she’d fully regained her senses.
Of course, then she would recoil in disgust at the notion of their coupling.
He drew away. “Come, Sophie. I’ll show you where they are.”
Climbing the stairs together felt surprisingly intimate. In truth, it helped to ease his agony, for this was something they could do together nightly. Also, there was something quite soothing in her manner and in her touch. He didn’t feel awkward struggling up the stairs on his injured leg while she was beside him, subtly assisting him and yet not making anything of the matter.
“You needn’t hold on to me,” he said once they’d climbed the stairs and were walking down the hall toward their rooms.
“I know.” She kept her hand tucked in the crook of his arm, little realizing the dangerous effect her nearness was having on him. “But it comforts me. I’m not doing this out of gratitude or pity, but out of joy. Yesterday, I was a nobody surviving on the generosity of friends. Today, I’m the wife of the Earl of Exmoor. Today, the world is full of possibilities. Most of all, today I will – hopefully – spend the rest of my days with you. I’m happy about that, even if you’re not.”
He was quickly losing patience with this upstart young woman. He didn’t want to be flattered or coddled. He just wanted to be left alone to sink into his bed alone and somehow manage to keep that beast growling inside of him from frightening the innocent girl with the force of his need for her. Once he was alone, he’d relieve that pent up need in the same hapless manner as every pimple-faced boy on the cusp of manhood managed to do. “You’re happy, are you? We’ll see how long that lasts.”
She stepped in front of him and scowled. “It could last forever if you’d let it. Why do you insist on being downcast and miserable?”
“Who said I was miserable?” Indeed, the girl had quite a mouth on her, something Wilkinson neglected to mention about his sister.
She rolled her eyes. “May I speak plainly?”
“You’re going to do it anyway, so please proceed.” She was a demanding bit of goods, and despite currently being a thorn in his side, he had to admit that he was enjoying her presence. She had a gentle but determined way of kicking his arse, and if he believed in such things, he’d think she had been born a Roman general in an earlier life.
“I like you, my lord. In truth, I was in danger of falling in love with you before I’d ever met you.”
He dismissed the notion at once. “What nonsense did your brother put in his letters?”
“It wasn’t nonsense. I think I could like you very much if you’d give our marriage a chance to blossom. I understand the deal we struck had…” She swallowed hard and blushed. “The terms were for us to maintain a business relationship.” She swallowed hard again and placed a hand on his chest. “But if it was for my benefit, what I mean to say…” Yet another hard swallow. “I am not averse to… the other sort of relationship. That is, if you are not averse to it either.”
He understood the drift of her thoughts. He ached to bed her, wasn’t it obvious? But she’d imbibed too much champagne and it was good to know that she was amorous when drunk, but he wasn’t going to start off their marriage with regrets. He might take advantage of her amorous advances at another time, but not this evening. They hadn’t been married a full day yet.
As for those feelings she supposedly had for him after reading her brother’s letters, the harsh reality of what he was would soon sink in and wash away all hope of a love marriage.
He took her hand and led her into her elegant bedchamber, pleased when she emitted a soft gasp of delight. “This is yours, Sophie. The door on the left leads to your dressing room. The door on your right leads to my quarters.” He kissed her politely on the forehead. “Perhaps another time, but not tonight. There’s a bellpull beside your bed. Tug on it if you need anything and your maid will attend to it.”
“I see.” She stared at her toes as she nodded. “You needn’t worry. I won’t disturb you, my lord. No, indeed. You’ll be quite safe from me.”
He sighed. Was he making a mistake? By morning she would realize that what she felt was gratitude and nothing more. She’d be relieved not to awake in his arms, not to have to stare at his scarred face or look upon the rest of his scarred body. “Good night, Sophie. I usually take my breakfast at eight o’clock in the morning. You are most welcome to join me, but it isn’t required. Sleep in, if you wish.”
She shook her head. “I’m not one to laze in bed. I’ll join you for breakfast. That is, if you don’t mind.”
He tucked a finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his. “I don’t mind at all. This is your home now. You may come and go as you please. I would enjoy your company in the morning.”
“Just not tonight. I understand.” She stepped away to retrieve the sheer, white night rail and robe set out upon the rose silk counterpane. “Sweet dreams, my lord.” She appeared ready to say more, but began to hiccup instead.
Gazing at her just now, James was overwhelmed by the urge to toss caution to the wind and take her to his bed, but he quickly tamped down the wayward notion. First, she was utterly inexperienced and if there was ever to be a first time, it would have to be gentle and cautious so as not to hurt her. Second, he’d somehow have to keep his mangled leg from view or she’d be retching into the chamber pot at the sight of it instead of eagerly joining him.
Hell and damnation, those visions of Sophie stretched out before him, her hair a riot of dark waves cascading down her back and splaying across his white sheets, would have to remain just that. Visions. Reckless fantasies that would never come to pass.
Her string of hiccups brought him back to the present and reminded him that Sophie had imbibed too much champagne. “Do you need assistance with your gown?”
“No. I’ll manage as I’ve had to do all of my life.” The retort was more wistful than snide. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She marched to his door and held it open for him, making no attempt to hide her thoughts. If he had no desire to stay, then she was eager to boot him out.
She hiccupped again.
Gad! What was wrong with him? Sophie Wilkinson was the prettiest thing this side of the Atlantic Ocean.
The prettiest thing on either side of any ocean.
That was the problem.
He cared about what she thought of him.
He cared and was too much of a coward to face her disappointment.
SOPHIE LEANED AGAINST the door separating her quarters from that of her husband’s and emitted a ragged sigh. Then a sniffle. Then she allowed the tears to quietly roll down her cheeks. She’d made an utter fool of herself, offering James unrestrained access to her heart and body, and he’d rebuffed her.
Dratted inexperience!
She ought to have known better than to mistake tender regard for something more.
He’d been by her side all day, looking after her and making her feel quite special. She’d even caught him a time or two gazing at her with unmasked desire. Obviously, she had misunderstood. He respected her, but didn’t want her in the way that a husband in love would want his wife. “Oh, Sophie. What have you gotten yourself into?”
She leaned her back against the closed door and idly surveyed her room. To say it was large and splendid, didn’t do it justice. Everything from the oriental patterned silk carpet, to the canopied bed draped in rose silk, to the gold sconces and elegant sweep of curtains hanging from the tall windows, spoke of wealth and power. She’d never known such luxury and would gladly trade it in for a husband who loved her and wanted to fall asleep with her wrapped in his arms. “Stop dreaming, Sophie. Be content with your lot.”
She slipped out of her wedding gown and carefully set it in her massive armoire, which was vast and empty since she hadn’t the clothes to fill it. Sighing, she donned her night rail and hopped into bed, glad that her maid had thought to put a hot stone between the sheets to warm them. Of course, she would have loved to be warmed by the heat of her husband’s body.
No.
She had to stop thinking of James that way.
So she tried to banish him from her thoughts as she lay her head upon the pillow, but that didn’t work at all, so she drew one of the many soft pillows strewn across the headboard against herself and pretended he was beside her and she was nestled against his broad chest. Much better. She immediately fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, her sleep was disturbed by the sound of sharp cries that sounded like someone was in pain. Immediately thinking of James, she drew aside her covers and rose to investigate. The sounds continued as she reached the door separating their bedchambers, so she took a deep breath, opened it, and stole in.
The fire in his grate cast enough light so that she could see the shadow of James lying on his massive bed. He was thrashing in his sleep, the covers appearing to be caught around his injured leg. She crept closer and stifled a gasp when she realized he was unclothed. Then stifled another gasp as she studied the hard, muscled planes and magnificent contours of his body outlined in the dim light.
What would he do if he caught her gaping at him?
She forced herself to stop staring at him and wishing for things that would never be. Instead, she got down to business, carefully unwrapping the coil of bed linens around his leg and tucking the covers over him, for his skin was cold to the touch and exposure to the chill night air could not be good for his injury.
She returned to her chamber and quietly shut the door between them. She shivered as well, for the fire in her grate had died out and she was standing in her bare feet. Hearing nothing more, and hoping James had fallen into a gentler slumber, she returned to her bed. “Just a bad dream,” she muttered, still worrying about how James had thrashed and cried out as though struggling against something dire. Knowing there was nothing she could do for him tonight, she fell into a restless sleep.
She awoke shortly after dawn to the sound of soft footsteps crossing her room. She opened her eyes and saw a pretty young woman with bright copper curls sticking out from under her mob cap moving about the room. First, the young woman drew the drapes aside to allow sunlight to filter in, and then she lit a fire in the hearth. Ah, her new maid.
Sophie sat up and smiled at her. “Good morning.”
The young woman turned to her with a start. “Good morning, m’lady. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Sophie set aside her covers and walked toward the warming fire. “You didn’t. I rarely sleep in. What’s your name?”
“I’m Bessie, m’lady.” She gave a quick curtsy.
“Nice to meet you, Bessie. Do you know if his lordship is awake yet?”
The girl cast her a knowing smile. Obviously, she thought James had performed his husbandly duties last night, which he hadn’t and wasn’t ever going to do, but it was no one’s business what went on between them. Or rather, what failed to go on between them. “Yes, m’lady. He’s downstairs having his breakfast.” Bessie’s grin broadened. “He said not to wake you because you were likely exhausted.”
“No, I’m quite refreshed this morning.”
Bessie put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “I’m glad to hear it, m’lady. A husband ought to attend to his duties, that’s what I say.”
Sophie groaned inwardly. What had she said or done to give the girl the impression that she and James had spent the night together? Well, it didn’t matter. The staff would find out soon enough that there would be no visits, discreet or otherwise, to her quarters by the man who had vowed to honor her as his wife.
Bessie helped her to wash and dress – even her best gown, a dark green merino wool – paled beside the grandeur of her bedchamber. She slipped the gown on and then sat on her bed in order to put on her comfortable boots and lace them. There was no help for it, she’d have to make do until she acquired a new wardrobe and elegant accessories to accommodate her elevated station in life. Goodness! She was now a countess.
She still felt like Sophie Wilkinson from York.
“I could polish them a little to cover the scuffs,” Bessie offered, pointing to the boots.
“Thank you, Bessie.” She handed them over. “Do whatever you can. I’ll wear these in the meantime.” She slipped her feet into her fancy wedding shoes, their soft apricot color a hideous clash against the dark green of her gown, but there were no guests about to care.
She patted the soft chignon Bessie had styled for her, and then glanced into the mirror and lightly pinched her cheeks. She hurried downstairs, hoping she wasn’t too late to join James… perhaps she ought to think of him as Exmoor now. Yes, Exmoor was more formal and distant. Exmoor had abandoned her last night.
James would never have done so.
She paused a moment at the foot of the stairs to take a deep, confident breath, and then walked into the breakfast room with her head held high and her disposition unaffectedly casual.
James… no, he was distant and aloof Exmoor now… glanced up from his newspaper. “Sophie,” he said with a genuine smile, setting aside the paper. He rose with a masculine grace, reminding her just how handsome a man he truly was. “How did you sleep last night?”
“Peacefully. And you, my lord?” In truth, he appeared clear-eyed and well rested. Had she imagined hearing cries of pain coming from his room in the middle of the night? Had she imagined creeping in to fix his covers? It seemed like a distant dream now.
“As well as ever. Are you hungry?” He motioned to the elegant fruitwood buffet that ran across the length of one wall and pointed to the silver trays on it. “Eggs, kippers, boiled tomatoes, scones, ham–”
“All this just for the two of us?” She shook her head and laughed. “I’ll quickly grow as big as this house if I eat even half of what’s set out.”
He grinned as he held out the seat beside him. “Feel free to instruct our cook. But she’s a testy old bat and carries a big rolling pin, so I would say nothing unless you wish to take your life into your hands.”
Sophie let out a merry laugh. “Thank you for the warning. I think my first decision as Lady Exmoor shall be to allow Cook to do as she pleases. How’s that?”
“An excellent choice.” Although he’d obviously finished his breakfast, he motioned for one of the footmen to pour him another cup of coffee. He eased back in his chair and watched her as she ate her eggs and kippers. “What’s your plan for today, Sophie?”
She set down her fork and turned to him. “I hadn’t given it much thought. What do countesses usually do?”
“I’m not sure. They fuss a lot, but you’re not the fussy sort. They host afternoon parties and belong to charitable organizations, but I think that your first order of business ought to be acquiring your new wardrobe. I’ve asked my sister for recommendations and she says that Madame de Bressard is the modiste used by all the best ladies, so I think we must send word to her and make an appointment at her earliest availability. Preferably today.”
Sophie shook her head and laughed. “Are my clothes that awful? Oh, don’t answer that. I know they are. Will you come with me to help me choose fabrics and styles?”
He winced. “Must I?”
She stifled her disappointment. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you.” She poked a kipper and shoveled it into her mouth.
“It isn’t so much an imposition as a sense that I would be useless in such matters. One gown is the same as another to me, and the only reason I’m eager to provide you with a new wardrobe is that others will judge you by the clothes you wear. It’s about them, not me.”
She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “Ah, so you don’t care what I wear… or if I wear nothing at all.”
He sighed and leaned closer. “You’re still overset about our… sleeping arrangements last night, aren’t you?”
So what if she was?
She tipped her chin up in dismissal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He cast her the softest smile. “Yes, you do. I wanted you, Sophie. But I have never taken advantage of a woman when she’s drunk.”
She gasped. “I wasn’t… well not all that… were you counting my drinks?”
“No, not intentionally. But I know you had at least six glasses of champagne. We all did.”
Her eyes widened. “No.”
“It could have been more.” He was still leaning close so that she could feel the heat of his body and inhale the subtle scent of musk on him. Was there something in that scent that made a woman want to claw at a man’s body and rip the clothes off him, because she was feeling that hot urge at this very moment?
“So are you suggesting that if I were sober and asked you to… you know… that you’d accept?” She set down her fork and stopped eating, for her heart was beginning to beat excitedly and she was no longer hungry for food but for him.
He said nothing for the longest moment and Sophie thought he wasn’t going to answer her question. She was about to turn away when he suddenly sighed again and said, “Yes. But I wish you’d give it more thought. It was never my intention to impose on you.”
“I never intended it either, but something about us feels inevitably right. I don’t understand it yet, but I know this feeling isn’t about pity or gratitude. I tingle when I’m close to you. Only something deep and heartfelt would evoke that response in me. Do you think my brother was purposely matchmaking? Do you think he sensed we were a good fit?”
James snorted. “Nonsense, he saw me at my worst. We endured cold, hunger, and the most depraved conditions. We rarely bathed, rarely ate food fit to be consumed, and never knew whether we’d survive beyond the next few minutes. I hardly think the Marriage Mart was on his mind.”
She wasn’t quite convinced, for she and her brother had always looked out for each other. She felt a jolt to her heart, realizing that her brother had been thinking of her future even while taking his last, gasping breaths. “Well, I suppose we shall never know now.”
James put a hand over hers, his touch warm and consoling. “It doesn’t matter. We’re together now. From this day on, you will lack for nothing.”
“You see, this is what I mean. You say the noblest things and sincerely mean them. My brother certainly chose wisely for me, but I think he meant for us to share more than a business arrangement.”
“Perhaps it was so before my injuries, but not afterward.”
She saw that irritating sense of resignation wash over him and released a breath of exasperation. “There you go, hating yourself again. Please stop expecting me to feel repulsed by you, because I don’t and never will. James, my room is quite large, too large for just one person to rattle around in it. I have no need for a big, empty chamber nor do I wish to climb into a big, empty bed each night. But I’d be content to share it with you.”
“Sophie–”
“I’m sober now and I haven’t changed my opinion. I understand what I’m asking of you. I know it would require an amendment to our agreement. I also know that this is something we must mutually agree upon. I won’t press you on the matter. I just want to be clear about my hopes for this marriage.”
“Hopes?” He laughed wryly and edged away. “You are an unusual girl.”
“On the contrary, I’m quite traditional.” She squirmed in her seat a moment, unsure whether to continue to press him about their marriage. It wasn’t fair, really. He’d been up front about this business arrangement and she was already reneging on her part of the bargain. Still, it felt like the right thing to do. Her brother had been worried about her future, but he’d also been worried about James. Indeed, Harry must have purposely thrown them together to benefit both of them. “Will you change your mind and accompany me to Madame de Bressard’s shop today? Assuming she will give me an appointment.”
“I can’t today. Truly, Sophie. I have a prior engagement that can’t be rescheduled.”
“Oh, I see.” She shrugged her shoulders, pretending she didn’t care, even though she cared deeply. There was something wonderful about being with James. She couldn’t explain it, she just enjoyed being in his company. “Will it take you long?”
“No, not too long.”
She waited for him to say more, hoping he might feel the same way about having her around and invite her to join him. But he said nothing. Indeed, when she hinted further, he ignored her to the point that he was being quite mysterious about this appointment of his. “What shall I do if Madame de Bressard isn’t available? Would you mind if I visited the Allworthys while you’re out?”
“Not at all. That’s a nice idea.”
“Would you drop me off there on your way to wherever you’re going and then pick me up on your return home?”
He nodded. “Yes, it’s on my way.”
“Thank you, James.” This was the first day of their honeymoon and she wanted to take advantage by spending as much time with him as he would allow. How else were they ever to get to know each other? She cast him a beaming smile. “It shall be our first excursion as husband and wife.”
He cast her an indulgent, and slightly impatient, glance. “Sophie, it’s merely a five minute carriage ride across the park.”
She understood that she was making too much of it, but how else was she to convince him that they were meant to have more than a marriage of convenience? “It doesn’t matter. We’ll be together for that five minutes.”
He shook his head and chuckled softly. “You’re an odd little thing.”
“No, I think I’m quite sensible. But I will admit to having opinions, and unfortunately, an inability to keep from stating them when I think they’re important. Did you know that I helped tend the wounded soldiers at York’s Royal Hospital?”
He arched an eyebrow. “That’s a question, not an opinion.”
She nodded. “But it’s to let you know that I think your desire to hide your scars and leg injury from me is misguided. I understand that your wounds might be hideous, but those concern a patch of skin or a body part, not your brave and noble heart. That’s the point I wish to make clear. If I wince or look away, it is because of my revulsion to the festering skin around your injury. Not of you.”
His features remained expressionless. “Duly noted. And no, you may not go with me to my appointment.”
She frowned at him, not bothering to mask her indignation. “I did not ask to go with you.”
He squeezed her hand gently. “Yes, you did. Sophie, you are terrible at hiding your thoughts.”
“Perhaps, but then you ought to see that I sincerely meant what I just said.”
He nodded. “Even so, your good intentions are no less misguided simply because they’re good. You will be repulsed. My leg isn’t just a body part. It’s a part of me. Part of what defines me. Let’s put an end to this discussion. I’ll hear no more of it. I mean it, Sophie. Do not bring it up again.”
In truth, although his tone was gentle, there was an undercurrent of steely resolve and anger that she dared not stir up any more than she already had. “Very well, my lord.”
“Good.” He rose and left the table, leaving her to finish her breakfast alone. His limp appeared pronounced this morning and she didn’t know if his leg was exceptionally sore or if he was simply doing it for effect.
She lingered over her coffee and ignored the rest of her breakfast, for she’d lost her appetite. Uncertain where James had disappeared to, and unwilling to disturb him, she rang for the Exmoor housekeeper to give her a tour of the house since James had neglected to do so. “Thank you, Mrs. Summerville,” she said to the prim, older woman who moved about the house with the efficiency of a squirrel gathering nuts for the winter. The tour had taken a little over an hour and was quite helpful. “I can see the house is kept in excellent order.”
Mrs. Summerville beamed, obviously quite proud of her work and pleased that Sophie appreciated it. “Shall I report to you each morning after your breakfast, m’lady?”
Sophie nodded. “That would be lovely.”
After dismissing the older woman, she retired to the library and found a book to read for the remaining hours until midday. As it turned out, Madame de Bressard was available and agreed to an appointment for one o’clock that afternoon. Sophie suspected that James had outright bribed the sought after modiste, for Society’s elite were lined up for her services and few were fortunate enough to see her on less than two weeks’ notice.
Since James had his own prior engagement and could not stay with her, she invited Lydia Allworthy and Sophie Farthingale to meet her at the shop at the appointed hour. She and James rode there in his stylish carriage, but James said little and appeared distracted. She blamed herself for pressing him too hard on the matter of their marriage.
In truth, she was horrified by her brazenness. Married only one day and already making demands on a husband she hardly knew. But in her own defense, she felt as though their hearts had known each other for eternity. “You never mentioned where you were going,” she said, hoping to engage him in conversation.
He had been gazing out the window, obviously lost in thought, but turned to her with a casual arch of his eyebrow. “It isn’t important. Just a longstanding engagement. Stop asking me about it, Sophie. It isn’t any of your business.”
Why wouldn’t he speak of it? Suddenly, she was struck with the reason. Of course! Oh, she’d been so stupid. He was going off to see another woman. Did he have a mistress? It would explain why he was being so mysterious about his so-called longstanding engagement. Her heart tightened, for she’d never considered that he already had a woman in his life.
Yet, he didn’t seem the sort to maintain a liaison with… oh, dear. What if he did? What if this was the woman he loved? Sophie tamped down the urge to cry, for James was obviously irritated with her, and her turning into a watering pot would only make matters worse. How ridiculous she must have sounded to him, practically begging him to join her in her bed when he already had someone of his own choosing to fill that need.
She took a deep breath to calm herself, but how could she pretend it didn’t hurt? “Shall I wait at the shop for you or return to Lydia’s?” Could he hear the ache in her voice? Yet, she had no right to feel anything, for he’d been clear that their marriage was to be a business arrangement.
How long did he wish to remain in this other woman’s company? An hour? Two? The entire day?
“I’ll pick you up at the shop. As I mentioned earlier, this engagement won’t take long.” James descended the carriage with her and entered Madame de Bressard’s shop to have a word with the modiste. “I want the best for my wife,” he said, tossing Sophie a smile that had been missing from his features since their morning breakfast. “Lady Exmoor needs gowns for all occasions.”
Sophie blushed, not only because of his outrageous generosity, but he’d called her his wife. She was, but it had sounded so natural and loving on his lips. Was she wrong about the reason for his pressing engagement? If it wasn’t another woman, then why the secrecy?
He leaned close and kissed her cheek. “Have fun, Sophie. I’ll have none of your Yorkshire frugality.”
Despite her concerns, she laughed. “I’ll do my best to spend you into the poorhouse.”
She began to miss him even before the door closed behind him. Lydia Allworthy and Sophie Farthingale arrived soon afterward, and it was obvious they were well acquainted with Madame de Bressard, the pretty French woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. She had a quiet elegance about her and Sophie hoped that she might one day be considered just as elegant.
Inviting her two friends to help her select suitable gowns turned out to be an excellent idea. Sophie Farthingale had launched three daughters into Society and had excellent advice to give. Lydia was there mostly out of friendship and Sophie was warmed by her genuine affection. There was no stiffness or formality between them now that she was Countess Exmoor and she hoped there never would be.
Madame de Bressard’s fashion sense was impeccable and Sophie left her shop feeling excited about her new wardrobe and eager for James to see her in these beautiful new gowns. The Exmoor carriage pulled up in front of the shop just as she finished the last of her fittings and was once more dressed. Her two friends kissed her goodbye and hurried off to do more shopping.
Sophie had enjoyed their company. However, she was eager to climb into the carriage and be alone with James. “I had such fun,” she started to say, but to her surprise, the carriage was empty.
She turned to the driver. “Mr. Larkin, where is his lordship?” Her heart sank at the thought of James spending the entire day with his mysterious engagement and forgetting all about his new wife.
“I dropped ’im at ’ome first, m’lady.”
She pursed her lips and frowned. “Thank you. Please take me home straight away.” She was relieved that he would be waiting for her there, but why hadn’t he simply stopped along the way to pick her up?
Sophie asked for him the moment she stepped into the entry hall and handed her cloak and gloves to Damson, the Exmoor head butler.
“He’s in his study, m’lady. He wishes not to be disturbed.”
She ignored the remark and marched straight into the study, quietly shutting the door behind her so that the servants would not overhear. “I had a lovely time at the shop,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
James glanced up, but said nothing.
She was shocked by the dark, haunted look in his eyes, and noted the full glass of scotch in his one hand and the half empty bottle in his other. “What happened? I thought you were to pick me up from Madame de Bressard’s shop.” It took little brilliance to realize he was angry, disappointed… heartbroken, really. He had the look of a man in a torrent of pain.
She took the seat beside him and lifted the bottle out of his hand. “Please talk to me.”
He frowned at her. “I asked not to be disturbed.” As though to make his point, he drank the last of his scotch, draining the glass to the last drop and then tossing it into the fireplace. The delicate crystal shattered against the sooty bricks and melted into the blazing fire.
She’d already been assured he wasn’t the sort of man to use his fists against a woman, but she didn’t know him well enough to measure the extent of his control. He was in a terrible state, not just angry, but obviously frustrated and filled with despair. “James, you must tell me what is going on.”
His eyes were a dark and angry emerald green, a dangerously turbulent green. “Must I? What right do you have to tell me what to do?”
“None at all.” She stiffened her spine. “I’m only your wife. The woman with whom you exchanged vows a mere day ago.”
“Right, and that does not give you the right to meddle in my life.” A growl sprang from low in his throat. “I’ll mourn my losses as I see fit, so get out and leave me alone.”
“Your losses?” She shook her head in confusion. Had his mistress cast him out because he was now married? She knew little about the demi-monde, but this made no sense to her. Surely, the woman had to know he’d marry some day. “Are you in love with her?”
He squinted his eyes as he scowled at her. “In love? With whom?”
“The woman whose loss you seem to be mourning. I’m not sorry that your mistress broke it off with you, for I’m eager for our marriage to work out.”
“You think this is about losing a bed partner?” He tossed back his head and roared with laughter. “I only wish it were so. No, Sophie. There’s no one else but you. Soon, I won’t have you either.”
She gripped the edge of her seat. “What do you mean? James, I’m no wilting flower. Please, tell me what is going on.”
“Very well, I shall.” But the tone of his voice warned she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “They want to amputate my leg. What do you say to that, Saint Sophie?”
She gasped. “What? Who told you this? Is this certain?”
“Stop asking questions. Just get out.” He turned to reach for the bottle she’d taken out of his hands a few moments ago, but she set it farther away so that it was out of his reach.
“Stop drowning your sorrows long enough to talk to me.” The sharpness of her voice brought him up short. He stopped reaching for the bottle and cast her a look of disgruntled surprise, one that revealed how eager he was to banish her from his sight forever. If he thought that a mere scowl would dissuade her, he was sadly mistaken. “Sophie Farthingale’s brother-in-law is a brilliant doctor. The best in all of England, she claims. Lydia Allworthy agrees. So let’s ask for his opinion. Perhaps there’s something he can do to–”
“Stop, Sophie!” He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “I don’t need another doctor to tell me the obvious. The skin on my leg is dying. It’s beginning to turn black. Do you understand what that means?”
She shuddered. “Oh, James! Yes, I understand what it means. All the more reason to see George Farthingale as soon as possible. I’ll send a note to the Farthingale residence at once and insist that he come by today.” She tried to remain strong for him, but even she was shivering and in despair over the news. “And if your leg can’t be saved, then we’ll still want the best doctor available to do whatever must be done.”
“We? What a quaint notion? But this concerns me. What must be done is that my leg will be hacked off.”
She nodded. “Perhaps.”
“Stop it, Sophie. Your sunshine and roses attitude is grating on my nerves.”
“Your wallowing in pity is grating on mine,” she shot back.
His eyes rounded in surprise, and Sophie wasn’t certain whether he would now strike her or laugh out loud. She wasn’t going to wait to find out, so she pressed on. “I know it will be painful for you and I wish with all my heart that I could absorb some of that pain. Truly, James. I would do so without hesitation.” Her lips quivered as she spoke and she feared that she’d soon burst into tears. “I promise you, I’ll help in any way I can.”
His expression softened. “What help can you be?”
“If this dreadful thing happens, your bandages will need changing. You’ll be confined to your bed for a while, I suppose. You might need help with your bathing, feeding, someone to remain beside you should you become feverish.”
“I have servants for that. Do you think I’d require my countess to perform these menial chores?”
Her fingers were still gripping the edge of her chair so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. “They aren’t menial. They’re important and if you think I’d allow anyone to take over those responsibilities, you’re sadly mistaken. I will be by your side for as long as you need me… for as long as you want me.”
He grunted softly, but his expression hardened once more. “Let me be clear about this. I don’t want you.”
She nodded. “You’ve made it quite clear. But why don’t you want me? Because you don’t want me to see you in a bad way? Because you don’t want me to be overset by the messy operation or the fact that you’ll now be missing a leg?” She took a deep breath and continued. “Because if you’re thinking to protect me, I won’t go along with it. But if you don’t want me near you because you don’t like me, then that’s another matter altogether.”
A tear dropped onto her cheek. Oh, dear. She was going to cry, after all. “Just tell me who you’d rather have by your side and I’ll fetch that person. If you’re to face this ordeal, then you ought to have those you love most beside you. That’s most important.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then groaned and reached out to wipe the tears streaming down her cheeks. His touch was surprisingly gentle. “Sophie, your noble sacrifice is unnecessary.”
“It isn’t noble. Nor is it a sacrifice. Life comes with burdens, so why can’t we face them together? Even if we’re to have only a business arrangement, then think of us as partners. Don’t partners need to help each other out if they’re to run a successful enterprise?” She sniffled. “As I said, if there’s someone you prefer by your side, then tell me and I’ll fetch her for–”
“Her? There’s no one I’d rather have beside me than you. But that is neither here nor there. I don’t want you beside me either. I don’t want you to see me after the operation. I couldn’t bear to see the revulsion on your face.”
She wanted to grab him by his elegant lapels and shake him soundly. What did she have to do to prove that she ought to be by his side? “You never will. I promise you.”
Although she still wished to shake sense into him, she reached out to place her hand upon his cheek. He caught her by the wrist. “I won’t hold you to that promise. This isn’t a simple matter of popping a boil.”
“Really?” She arched her eyebrow. “I thought it was exactly the same thing.”
He sighed. “I had no idea my wife was bossy and sarcastic.”
“And willful. Stubborn. Unrelentingly determined. I’m sending for Dr. Farthingale. If he says it must come off, then we’ll deal with the next step together.” She rose to fetch a quill pen, ink, and writing paper. “No use protesting. I’m sending this note to him.”
He emitted another soft growl, but she saw that his anger was fading. He wasn’t pleased with her meddling, but appeared resigned to it now. “Just my luck, you were a Roman general in another life.”
“One who must have loved you,” she muttered.
He sat up in his chair and turned to face her. “What?”
Her heart shot into her throat. “Nothing.”
“Did you just say that you loved me?” She saw a mix of amusement, horrified disbelief, and confusion in his gaze.
Too bad his ears weren’t as mangled as his leg.
She grabbed the hastily written note and dashed out of the study with it.