Sophia had heard of Captain Devlin Brookes.

Despite efforts to hide the nature of Lord Kensington’s injury, the Nottinghams had been unable to keep secret the details of the infamous duel. It was simply too delicious for any self-respecting member of the ton to keep to oneself. The servants at Nottinghouse, anyhow, had been unable to do so. And everyone knew that the juiciest morsels of gossip were fueled by one’s retainers.

This man, with his arms around her, Captain Devlin Brookes, had acted as second to the challenger, Colonel Harris. Sophia considered Harris something of a hero. He’d avenged his daughter’s honor most efficiently.

And, well, the Earl of Kensington had deserved it! He’d betrayed one of her dearest of friends.

Although Brookes had only been the second in the duel, the nature of his association gave him stature in Sophia’s esteem.

And now, he’d come along to rescue not only herself, but Peaches, too.

The captain stood so tall that she needed to tilt her head all the way back to assess his features. She ought to be shocked by his behavior, but here she stood, one hand tucked into the material of his jacket, cradling Peaches between them, and the other around his neck.

He was in need of a haircut, she pondered idly as her fingers combed through a few tendrils. She considered withdrawing but she had nowhere to go! And so…

She’d never imagined the taste of another human’s mouth. Spicy, warm — and his tongue felt rough as he danced with her own.

When the lion cart began toppling toward her, she had braced herself for crushing pain, an onslaught of sorrow for her untimely demise, and then, blessed, peaceful death. Amidst all these thoughts, she’d hoped she could somehow protect Peaches with her own body.

But the impact had not come.

The cart would have landed on them, but the façades of the two buildings beside her had halted its descent at the last moment. She’d huddled, amazingly alive, only to realize she still faced danger... danger that involved swiping claws and razor-sharp teeth.

She almost might have crawled out beneath the precariously perched vehicle, for she could see daylight peeking through, but if she were to make one wrong move, yikes! She’d decided not to attempt it.

All of this had left Sophia and Peaches in close confines with an injured lion. And although the situation was harrowing, indeed, her foremost fear was for Peaches. Most certainly, her tiny dog would provide a fine delicacy for a lion.

She’d been doing her best to prevent another fit of barking when the captain had appeared, hovering above her.

He’d materialized most heroically, a dark silhouette against the bright sky.

Such a sense of authority and power exuded from his person, that the panic of her situation dissolved unashamedly… into shivers of admiration.

And he had been so kind!

Whereas certain men might chastise her, this one expressed only concern and sympathy.

He’d not patronized her.

Nor had he berated her for this calamity; in fact, he’d scoffed at the very notion of Sophia being at fault!

How could one not find such a figure heroic?

He smelled divine. And he tasted… Oh, my!

She had never been so conscious of a man, of a person for that matter, in her entire life. Not even Lord Harold.

Her fiancé had certainly never held her like this — as though he would die if he could not touch her, kiss her, taste her. This captain didn’t even seem to mind Peaches snuggled between the two of them.

What would Harold think if he knew? Surely, Harold would feel betrayed.

With good reason, she admonished herself as the captain gently nipped at her lower lip.

For such utter lack of resistance on her part was an unqualified betrayal of her sweet, quiet, unassuming fiancé.

She could make all the excuses in the world that the shock of nearly being crushed to death had muddled her judgment, but the reality was that she had willingly allowed another man to kiss her — a man who was not her fiancé.

And go right on kissing her.

In fact, he now seemed quite fascinated with her cheek, and the sensitive skin by her ear.

Why ever would she want to end this?

Did a person take one breath of air and then stop breathing?

Did a man lost in the desert, drink one swallow of water and then toss the canteen aside? Or perhaps more aptly, could a girl take a single lick of her ice from Gunter’s only to allow the rest to melt?

Good heavens, no!

For in her twenty years of life, by no means had she ever experienced such delightful, and yet unnerving sensations.

How could she tell him to stop before he was finished?

She could not.

She did not.

Which, as an engaged woman, she found more than a little disturbing.

Why hadn’t Harold aroused such feelings? Brookes, a man she didn’t know from Adam, had inexplicitly lit a fire in her she’d not even known existed. What was so different about him?

Was it because she and Peaches had been in such danger? Could her scandalous behavior be excused as an understandable response to such a harrowing experience?

Or was it simply because she found herself trapped in a very private alcove with a sublimely handsome gentleman? Perhaps she could scrutinize these matters with Rhoda.

Later.

“They’re going to hoist the wagon upright in a moment. Sophia? Are you well? Is Peaches unhurt? You’ve gone awful silent, Sophia?” Rhoda’s voice penetrated Sophia’s muddled thoughts.

“Keeping quiet, Rho,” Sophia answered almost automatically. Really, she ought to be ashamed of herself. “Don’t wish to upset the lion!”

“Oh.” Rhoda sounded a trifle put-out. “I suppose…”

Rhoda faded into oblivion once again as Brookes’ mouth explored the inner shell of Sophia’s ear. How on earth could something so… silly… feel so brilliantly, extraordinarily fabulous?

Harold’s touch never had caused these sensations. It hadn’t even come close. She hummed under her breath and at the same time reflected upon the rare intimate gestures her fiancé had bestowed upon her.

He’d occasionally kissed her hand. Well, he’d kissed the air above her hand. He had never quite placed his lips upon her skin, or her glove, to actually kiss it, per se.

And on a few instances, he’d courteously offered his arm while they strolled through the park.

He… well, once he’d brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. She’d thought he would kiss her then, but he’d turned away instead. Rarely had she found herself alone with Lord Harold.

Why, truth be told, aside from his formal proposal, they had never been alone together!

And very soon, the privacy she shared with this heroic rake would be stripped away as well. The tip of his tongue flicked inside of her ear now. And the captain was whispering something about an introduction

“May I call upon you some afternoon, Miss Babineaux? Take you for a ride in the park, perhaps?” His breath felt hot in her ear. “If you require a formal introduction, I’m certain I can arrange something.”

She could barely respond, however, for all of the confusion flitting about her mind.

Harold was so very different from this impertinent captain.

Good heavens! It had taken Lord Harold nearly two Seasons to ask for a dance. She’d been particularly flattered when he’d told her this.

Captain Brookes lacked such patience, it would seem.

Yes, this delicious man was likely considered something of a rake. His expert touch revealed that he knew exactly how to do… all of this. No, nothing shy about him.

She probably ought to mention that she was, in fact, spoken for.

Yes, she really ought to… And she ought to thank him for his assistance…

“Although he will most likely be grateful for your aiding my rescue…” Sophia spoke into his shirtfront. Oh, how his hair felt ever so soft and springy! “…I doubt my fiancé would approve of this.”

She’d barely completed her sentence when, with a great deal of creaking and groaning, sunlight landed upon them both as the carriage shuttered and was hoisted back into its upright position.

Clutching Peaches in one arm, Sophia took one step backwards and smoothed her dress where the captain’s hands had been. Naughty man! Hopefully, it hadn’t wrinkled too badly.

Rhoda, who rushed toward her now, would likely notice wrinkles that oughtn’t to be in certain places on one’s gown.

Rhoda could be counted on for this sort of thing regardless of the circumstances.

“Sophy, Oh, Sophia! You had me terrified!” Rhoda was suddenly beside her, hugging her and fussing at her dress and hair. Which said something as to the danger she’d been in, because nothing frightened Rhoda.

Ever.

“Are you hurt? And Peaches, is Peaches all right?”

The familiarity of her friend brought a shimmer of tears to Sophia’s eyes. Oh, wonderful, now she would cry? She did not wish to give in to her suddenly maudlin state with all of these gentlemen and ladies looking on. Neither did she wish for the captain to see her so discomposed.

But really! What must he think of her?

Where had he gone? He’d disappeared as soon as Rhoda rushed in. If he returned, could she face him again?

“We are fine, both fine. But I wish to go home. Would you mind terribly if we canceled our meeting with Madame Chantal today?” Madame Chantal, London’s famous modiste, was stingy with her appointments and would be annoyed if they failed to attend.

Nonetheless, Sophia wished for the privacy of her bedchamber. She and Rhoda could have tea and biscuits sent up and perhaps discuss these new qualms she’d suddenly developed in regards to her betrothal.

“Of course! When we get you home, we’ll send a missive telling of the accident. Why, you were nearly killed! Even Madame cannot blame you for being overset.”

“But I don’t want my stepfather to know about this. He and Dudley already complain that Peaches causes too much trouble, and I’d rather not give them further reason to dislike her.” She’d had Peaches since she was a puppy, four years now, and had learned to try to keep her out of sight. Mr. Scofield barely tolerated Peaches and her stepbrother openly despised her.

“Of course not!” Rhoda understood.

This morning, they’d made their way on foot from the Scofield townhouse, so they had no choice but to walk back. This had seemed like nothing, earlier, but Sophia’s legs felt a little wobbly now. Fear –– and other things –– had obviously weakened them.

There was nothing for it. They must walk back. Sophia tucked her reticule under her arm and gathered Peaches close.

“Why don’t you let Peaches walk? You needn’t carry her all the way back,” Rhoda suggested.

But Sophia shook her head. “That’s what started all of this to begin with.” She then told Rhoda how Peaches had upset the horses, which had upset the driver, upsetting the horses further, which had then upset the cart, which upset the lion.

“It was a most upsetting experience,” Rhoda responded in agreement. She had a stern expression on her face, but Sophia understood her friend all too well. A wicked twinkle in her eyes belied amusement. Rhoda, being Rhoda, would find some humor in the situation.

“It was!” Sophia insisted. She eyed the cart with the lion. It seemed as though he were watching her and Peaches, memorizing their images so that he could one day exact his revenge. She shuddered at such a thought.

They would need to pass alongside him once again to walk in the direction of Mr. Scofield’s home. She could not lose control of Peaches again.

A tingling of awareness crept over her, just then. Looking away from the lion, she realized that Captain Brookes had chosen that moment to rejoin them.

He’d most likely been discussing the removal of the carts and the re-harnessing of the horse with the caravan drivers, or other such manly matters, Sophia presumed. But he had returned, and his attention was once again fully riveted upon Sophia, Rhoda, and even, it seemed, Peaches.

He bowed and spoke in deep, formal tones. His straight spine and soldierly demeanor betrayed his military training. “Ladies, My apologies for the lack of a proper introduction.”

“Captain Brookes…” Sophia spoke his name as though they were meeting in one of London’s most fashionable ballrooms. “…may I present to you my dearest friend, Miss Rhododendron Mossant.”

Brookes chuckled, most people had the good manners not to comment on Rhoda’s less-than-common name. “Rhododendron, Miss Mossant? Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Was he teasing Rhoda? Or flirting with her?

Rhoda laughed.

In fact, if Rhoda were a cat, she’d have been lapping cream from his hand. “I consider myself the lucky one. I have two sisters, Coleus and Hollyhock. My father was French and my mother—”

“An avid horticulturist?” Brookes finished for her with a gleam in his eye.

Rhoda nodded and giggled. Was she, too, taken with the dashing captain?

Captain Brookes chuckled, garnering Sophia’s attention once again. Tiny wrinkles appeared at the corners of his black eyes when he did that. His eyes were even blacker than his hair, which gleamed a near blue in the sunlight. As Sophia studied his appearance, he turned toward her.

“I haven’t my conveyance, Miss Babineaux, but may I locate your coach and chaperone?” Despite his unscrupulous actions earlier, he addressed the ladies as though he were, in fact, a fine gentleman. “Or, if you haven’t one, may I hire a Hackney?”

“We haven’t far to walk.” Sophia noted that Rhoda had blushed an annoying shade of rose.

“Then I shall provide you an escort, of course.”

“We would be ever so grateful, Captain Brookes,” Rhoda answered, not bothering to consult with Sophia.

A most unpleasant sensation crept into Sophia as she watched a coquettish smile dancing on Rhoda’s lips.

Sophia herself was engaged, and she would have her friend be pleased, yes, but Brookes was a rake, most assuredly. And well… that kiss…

Brookes was apparently oblivious to the turmoil he’d stirred up in Sophia. He, instead, now studied Peaches and seemed to be considering the issues that had instigated this situation at the outset. “May I see your dog, Miss Babineaux? Perhaps a firm hand will extract us from this melee without further catastrophe.”

Snuggled contentedly upon Sophia’s shoulder, Peaches rested her chin in an unusual display of docility. The entire experience must have exhausted the poor thing.

Captain Brookes reached over and scratched behind her baby’s floppy ears. “Hello, little sweetheart.”

Peaches’ eyes lolled back in ecstasy.

Glancing again at Sophia, he raised his brows questioningly. “May I?”

“I suppose, if she’ll let you…” Sophia trailed off uneasily. Peaches hadn’t taken well to many men. She barely tolerated Mr. Scofield, and her stepbrother not at all.

Apparently, the males in her life simply lacked Brookes’ charm, for Peaches climbed right into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin.

Holding Peaches safely against his chest, this large military man cuddled her baby protectively. “We won’t let that lion hurt you, little one,” he cooed to her dog.

These were the words that catapulted Sophia, most devastatingly — more than halfway — head-over–heels in love with Captain Brookes.

* * *

Rhoda bit into one of the warm and flaky pastries provided with the tea that had been brought up to Sophia’s chamber. “Good heavens, Soph. These are divine. Did your father hire a new cook?” They were unusually good today. And the linens were new, as was the tea set.

But Sophia was not concerned with the tea nor the biscuits. In fact, she could barely contain herself one second longer.

She just had to tell Rhoda about the kiss.

“But not so delicious as Captain Brookes, would you not agree?” Rhoda flashed a grin as she dabbed the napkin at her lips. And then she sighed deeply. “I thought I would just die when he smiled at me. Those striking black eyes, and he is so very tall… and manly…” Blushing, she dropped her gaze to her lap. “How foolish of me! The man has turned me into a simpering ninny.”

Oh, dear.

Rhoda liked Captain Brookes.

“If this is anything like the emotions Lord Harold has inspired in you, I now fully understand why you were so giddy when he asked for your hand.”

Oh, dear!

“Er, yes, I suppose, but Rhoda, you don’t even know Captain Brookes.” She felt the need to interject a dose of reality into this most unreal situation.

“I know, Soph. But, oh, my, when he jumped onto the building and over the lion’s cage — my heart be still! He is most powerfully built indeed.”

And charming, Sophia thought with a grimace, and polite, and kind… and a magnificent kisser!

Perhaps he had this effect on all women. He’d most definitely won Rhoda over easily enough.

As Captain Brookes escorted them the short distance to Sophia’s parents’ townhouse, he’d politely inquired after Rhoda’s hat, and then he’d teased her flirtatiously again about her long, tongue twisting name.

Rhoda had taken one of his arms while he’d carried Peaches in his other.

The entire way home.

Sophia chastised herself. She was an engaged woman for heaven’s sake! She had no business whatsoever feeling any sort of… possessiveness over Captain Brookes.

Despite the fact that he’d nearly had his way with her.

Guilt washed over Sophia as she studied her dear friend.

Tall and willowy with dark chestnut hair, Rhoda was nearly completely opposite in appearance to Sophia. Her eyes were brown and serious, surrounded by the longest lashes Sophia had ever seen. And Rhoda was normally pale, but in that moment, two spots of color stood out on her cheeks.

The two girls had become friends when they’d found themselves relegated to the wallflower seating at the balls they’d attended. It was where they’d met Emily and Cecily as well. Emily, Rhoda, and Sophia were all from families with good connections but lacked respectable dowries. Cecily had had an enormous dowry, but hailed from the lower classes.

Married a mere six weeks ago, Cecily’d been told, by the Earl of Kensington, no less, that he’d done so for the sole purpose of winning her father’s money. He’d gotten his due, in the end, but that had done naught to change Cecily’s unfortunate circumstances.

And now Sophia was the second of them to become engaged — quite happily so! She loved Lord Harold! He was gentle and sweet-natured. He seemed to listen to her. Not many men who’d been in her life had ever taken the time to hear what she had to say.

Not many women, either, for that matter.

Except for Rhoda and Emily and Cecily.

Yes, Lord Harold possessed many attractive characteristics.

And, marrying Lord Harold ensured that she would be removed from her stepbrother’s proximity.

She could leave her stepfather’s home.

Oh, yes, she was quite happy to be engaged.

Rhoda was fidgeting, peeling some flakes away from her pastry in an un-Rhoda like manner. “I did, er, mention to him that we would be walking by the serpentine tomorrow afternoon.” At these words, she glanced up with a wicked smile on her face. “He responded as though he might see us there.”

Sophia frowned. So, Brookes would simply move along to the next London miss then. “Hmph…” she said. And then realizing her friend might become suspicious as to… well, that she herself was… But she was not! “Is this an assignation?”

Rhoda fluttered her eyelashes and looked at her lap again. “I would not call it that. But, I will admit to you that I am hopeful. I—”

“Hello? Girls? You’re taking tea upstairs then?” Sophia’s mother peeked through the door, her silver blond curls softly framing her face. Sophia imagined, and hoped, that she would have similar looks as her mother when she herself aged. Her mother was of Sophia’s same height and coloring, and today she wore a periwinkle-colored day dress.

Sophia’d not seen it before.

Finances had been tight for them until recently. The thought struck her that her stepfather must have done well with some investment or another.

“A new dress, Mama?” Sophia inquired in a cheerful tone. It was nice to see her mother looking fresh and fashionable, wearing something that put a cheerful gleam back in her eyes.

Her mother stepped in and twirled around twice. It was obviously a new dress, then, and she was evidently quite pleased with it.

“By Madame Chantal,” she said. “Delivered just this morning.”

Sophia and Rhoda simultaneously rose to examine the stitching and crocheted border. Another interest the four wallflowers had discovered they shared was a mutual appreciation for fashion. “Oh, this is lovely Mrs. Scofield,” Rhoda sounded impressed, as she ran her fingers over the silk thread.

“I love it, Mama!” Sophia echoed, smoothing the material of the skirt.

“Did you make any purchases this morning, Sophia dear? Something pretty to wear to the theatre tomorrow night for Lord Harold?”

The girls shared a knowing glance, and then Rhoda answered. “It took longer than I’d anticipated to retrieve my bonnet. At first, the shop assistant could not locate it and then when she pulled it out, we realized one of the ribbons was loose. We waited for her to repair it, and when she was done, we were both famished!”

Sophia’s mama accepted the explanation without question. “Nonetheless, Sophia dear, you should order a few new gowns next time you see Madame. As for tomorrow, we can add some lace or tulle to your rose frock. Men don’t usually notice such matters, and surely we can make it look as though it is brand new.”

Her stepfather must have improved their finances indeed! She would not discuss the matter with her mama in front of company. For now, she would simply be happy enough to see her mother looking so happy.

But she did wonder. Their improved status paralleled most coincidentally with her engagement.

Surely no relation existed between the two! For her marriage would mean that her dowry, small though it was, be demanded.

“I must say,” Rhoda said as she watched Mrs. Scofield repair her coiffure in Sophia’s vanity looking glass, “Sophia takes her looks from you, ma’am. Was your first husband fair-haired as well?”

Sophia’s mother blinked and then turned away from the glass. “I don’t speak of my first husband, dear. It would be unkind, unappreciative to do so, after all Mr. Scofield has done for us.”

Although Sophia’s mother and Mr. Scofield had been married many years now, Sophia had never seen a great deal of affection between them. They were kind to one another, however, and Mr. Scofield always treated her mother in a respectful manner.

Sophia had vague recollections of her father, her real father, holding her mother, joking and laughing. In the few memories she had of him, he was smiling. Her mother had laughed in those days as well, but Sophia also remembered finding her mother in tears more than once.

“I recall a little, Mama,” Sophia said softly. “Remember I told you I thought he’d been a dream.”

Her mother fussed at Sophia’s hair but didn’t answer.

“I remember when he brought home the kitten.”

Finally, her mama’s face softened, and she seemed to relent. “Foolish man!” She blinked quickly. “Barely had enough to pay the bills, and he brings home another mouth to feed.”

“But you loved him, you told me.”

At times, something would strike her mother’s memory, and she’d tell a particular story to Sophia. Sophia was the only person in the world with whom she’d ever share them, most likely. It was a world where only the two of them had seemed to exist.

“Love doesn’t put a roof over one’s head.” Practicality won out with her mother. It always did.

Rhoda rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Was it a love match, Mrs. Scofield, between you and Mr. Scofield?”

Again, it did not seem as though her mother would respond. Sophia knew that it wasn’t, of course, but she was curious to hear her mother’s answer. “Dudley, as you know, is not my son by birth. He was all of nine years old, and Sophia barely five. Mr. Scofield needed a mother for his son, and Sophia and I were nearly destitute.”

Sophia remembered when her father had become ill. He’d died just after her fourth birthday.

“Ah… a marriage of convenience.” Rhoda nodded sagely. “It must have been daunting, taking on another woman’s child. Was Dudley troublesome for you?”

Sophia’s mother shrugged. “I suppose…” She was distracted once again by her new dress. “…but a woman does what she must. And aren’t we glad of it, Sophia?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to leave as quickly as she’d come. “I merely wanted to look in on you both before I left for my visits. You are certain you don’t wish to join me today?”

“Mother, they are your friends.” Sophia wrinkled her nose, in no way willing to spend time in the company of a bunch of inquisitive matrons. “I will see you later this evening.” She’d had this discussion with her mother before.

Her mother stole one more look in the mirror, nodded approvingly, and then took her leave.

Sophia frowned.

Rhoda was the only one of her friends who knew about Dudley, and she’d sworn to never tell a soul. “Please, Rhoda! You promised! I don’t want Mama suspicious. She’d only worry. Please, please, be careful what you say to her.”

“I know.” Rhoda was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry.” They’d been over this before.

Sophia straightaway felt horrible. Rhoda hadn’t said anything, really. “No, I’m the one who is sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Perhaps it’s just the events of today, what with the carriage and the lion and… such.”

“Could it be something else?” Rhoda could be annoyingly astute at times. “Has something happened between you and Lord Harold? You seem a little… twitchy this afternoon.”

“Nerves? I suppose the magnitude of what I’ve committed to is beginning to dawn upon me. Goodness’ sake, I hardly know Lord Harold, really! And now I’m about to pledge myself to him forever! Look what happened to Cecily!”

Rhoda placed one arm around her shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “Lord Harold is nothing like Lord Kensington. Up until recently, you have been singing his praises! Remember? He is kind, gentle, humble. Nothing at all like the earl! I think you are quite safe accepting him as a husband. He’s not the sort of man who would ever cheat or hurt you. I’m certain of it. In fact, I believe he might actually deserve your love.”

Rhoda’s tone was soothing but her words not quite so. She herself had cheated this afternoon, and she’d enjoyed every second of it! How could she do something like that to Lord Harold if she loved him? Did she love him? And even if she didn’t, did it even matter at this point?