The next six days were possibly the longest of Sophia’s life. Rhoda and she tried to keep occupied, but shopping had lost its allure.

She no longer felt comfortable charging frivolous items to Mr. Scofield’s accounts. Although she’d canceled all of her appointments with Madam Chantel, she could do nothing to keep her mother from the steady stream of spending she’d commenced since the engagement. Every time her mother appeared in a new dress, or bonnet, or pelisse, Sophia felt the ropes tighten around her.

On a positive note, Dudley had made himself scarce. She presumed he was out gambling again. Which ought to upset her further, but she appreciated his absence, nonetheless.

And Mr. Scofield was spending a great deal of time at White’s, from what she understood. Her entire family, it seemed, was perfectly amenable to this entire situation.

She would not discuss anything with Lord Harold until after she met up with Captain Brookes. For the life of her, however, she could not imagine any plan that could extract her from this intolerable situation.

But she would meet him. How could she not?

Sophia felt forsaken by her family. Even her mother, whom she knew loved her dearly, avoided being alone with her.

But Sophia was not alone. She took solace in the fact that she had Rhoda.

And she had Peaches.

And, of course, Captain Brookes.

His very existence gave her comfort.

Because, as he had asked of her in his missive, she did trust him.

Soon to marry into the Prescott family, she was compelled by duty to attend a few soirees — a recital, two unremarkable balls, and one garden party. She’d done her best to don a cheerful demeanor and appear as normal as possible. Rhoda remained by her side as much as she could.

But Rhoda had, most surprisingly, found an interesting distraction. Or perhaps the distraction found her.

Lord St. John, on more than one occasion, had sought her out most specifically. He’d danced with her twice at both of the balls and then sat beside her at the recital. Rhoda said he was pleasant and charming. He did not make any demands or promises.

Of course, Rhoda was suspicious of him, believing he’d participated in the details of Sophia’s engagement. But…

It wasn’t every day that a handsome marques singled one out.

He may simply have paid her compliments since she was his brother’s fiancée’s bosom friend. Then again, perhaps he was a little besotted.

The weather had turned dreary, and any light from the windows the following Monday was dismal and filtered. When the storm finally organized itself, the deluge prevented Sophia from venturing out at all. Peaches hated the rain, and Sophia would not leave her alone.

With the marques’ help, Rhoda had, in fact, quickly gotten over the loss of Brookes’ affections.

Wrapped in warm shawls, the two women passed the afternoon in Sophia’s chamber. Once tea was delivered, Sophia locked the door, as always, and tucked her feet beneath herself on a comfortable chair.

“What if it rains on Wednesday?”

“We take umbrellas,” Rhoda said, adding sugar to her cup.

“Of course. But the bread will get wet.” Sophia worried her bottom lip and then turned away from the window to take a better look at her friend. Something was… different. “He’s kissed you, hasn’t he?”

The blush creeping up Rhoda’s neck was a sure sign Sophia had the right of it. “Oh, good Lord, Rhoda, do not be sorry! He is not an enemy! We don’t really know he had anything to do with my engagement!” She grinned, remembering the kiss behind the lion’s cart. “Did you… tingle all over?”

Rhoda sat her tea on the tray and covered her face with her hands. Pulling them down to cover just her cheeks, she peeked out at Sophia. “It was… incredible.”

“Oh dear,” Sophia said. And then an odd notion struck her. “We could become sisters!”

“I dare not even think it. I am so far below him — he cannot possibly be considering me — oh, but Sophia, I never knew!”

“It does complicate matters.” The girls stared at each other, apparently thinking the same thing.

Their recent interactions with gentlemen of the ton, had not ended well at all.

“How does one know?” Rhoda moaned. “Cecily was, well, so certain of Lord Kensington’s affection. And you were over the moon to be engaged to Lord Harold.”

And now, all Sophia could think of was Captain Brookes.

But it had been nearly a week since they’d spoken. Had her emotions for her fiancé been so fickle? With Lord Harold, she’d known a tenderness, and an enormous… gratitude? Surely not. Whatever she chose to call it, it was nothing like the euphoric attraction she felt for Captain Brookes.

“I don’t know, she answered. “Is it only an illusion? Is love nothing but an illusion?”

“It can’t be,” Rhoda asserted.

“My mother loved my father, but she also resented him for leaving her penniless.” Sophia had considered this before. “Are there different kinds of love? If I were madly in love and somehow able to marry a man who swept me off my feet, would I love him through the difficult times — hardships and trials? If we had no money to live, could I love him regardless? And if so, for how long?”

Rhoda shook her head, at an obvious loss. “If I were to fall in love and marry the man of my dreams and then later discover that he has been involved in treachery, could I love him still?”

Both girls fell silent at their musings.

Sophia tucked her knees under her chin and sighed. “I hope it doesn’t rain on Wednesday.”

* * *

It did, in fact, rain on Wednesday.

No, it poured on Wednesday.

Rhoda and Sophia were to walk from Sophia’s house after sharing a light nuncheon with her mother.

“You girls must forgo your outing today, surely! We will read, or better yet, finalize some wedding plans.” Her mother made the announcement matter-of-factly. Why would any sane person wish to walk outside, by the river, on such a dismal day?

“The ducks and the swans are expecting us, Mother,” Sophia said firmly. “I will not disappoint them.”

Her mother dropped her napkin and scoffed. “That’s foolish, Sophia. You’ll catch your death. I won’t have a daughter of mine falling ill just days before her wedding.”

“Fifteen days, Mama. That’s over a fortnight.” Sophia’s stomach was in knots. She could barely swallow her food. What if Captain Brookes didn’t come? What if he presumed she would not attend due to the weather? What if he simply forgot? “I won’t fall ill. I never fall ill. In fact, I’m more likely to fall ill if I have to spend another day inside — stuck in this blasted house!” She searched for some way to convince her mother as panic threatened. “Nerves about the wedding. I need to be outside. It calms them — the outside that is, the outside… weather. It calms my nerves.” And then she stood up. She could not wait a moment longer.

Rhoda placed her half-eaten sandwich onto her own plate and looked to Sophia’s mother, who reluctantly nodded.

“Very well, I don’t want nerves making you ill either. But carry an umbrella and wear your winter mantel. And be quick about it. Once the rain soaks through, you’ll feel the cold for certain.”

“I know.” And then, after giving her mama a quick kiss on the cheek, Sophia pulled Rhoda away so that they could be on their way quickly.

So quickly, she almost forgot the bread.

She’d barely stepped outside before a gust of wind blew icy moisture into her collar. “Blasted feathering English weather,” she cursed beneath her breath. The umbrellas might as well have been non-existent, for all they were worth. The silver lining to this blustery weather was that it did not take Sophia and Rhoda much effort to convince their chaperones to wait for them in a teahouse. Of course, the chaperones knew the girls were up to something, but for sweet biscuits and a warm fire, they were quite willing to relinquish their responsibilities.

Peaches wasn’t allowed inside the teahouse, however, and would have to come with them to the park.

Burrowed into Sophia’s cloak, the pup began shivering before they were out the door. Sophia would not leave Peaches behind. Even though she hadn’t seen Dudley lately, she would take no chances.

She snuggled Peaches close and marched determinedly toward the park. Rhoda carried the bag of bread and led the way.

When they arrived at the river’s edge, Sophia’s heart plummeted.

Not another soul in sight. Not by the water’s edge, not near the pavilion, and not on any of the paths.

He hadn’t come.

But before she could utter her dismay, Rhoda tapped her on the shoulder and pointed.

A black, non-descript carriage was parked in the distance with a man standing beside it, rather nonchalantly, really.

As though the rain were not wet, as though the droplets were not cold.

It was Captain Brookes.

It had to be him.

At a vigorous wave from Rhoda, he pushed himself away from the vehicle and ambled toward them. Sophia handed Peaches to her friend and nodded. “You wait in the comfort of his carriage. I’ll speak to him in the pavilion.” Rhoda had no cause to argue with such a plan and made a quick dash toward the coach.

Sophia stood in the downpour as he approached her. She no longer felt the rain even though it had, by now, soaked through her shoes and hat. She barely noticed when a drop slid onto her hair and down her cheek.

She’d wondered how she would feel in this moment.

She’d wondered if she would feel indifferent, or resentful even.

And now she knew.

Every part of her body came alive at the sight of him.

He wore all black. His hat, his coat, his boots, even his gloves. The hair that was not tucked under his hat was slick with water. Shiny.

Practically blue.

And, despite the dire reason for their meeting, his eyes danced with amusement. The grin that lit his face revealed white, even teeth.

He was laughing!

She could only chuckle, herself, when he grasped her free hand and led her toward the covered building nearby. “Can you believe this wicked weather, Sophia Babineaux?” His voice held laughter as they dashed across the grass. “Nothing like a little rain to keep things interesting.”

She relished in the warmth of his hand as they neared their destination and could not help but glance over at him. “You’re here!” Until that moment, she’d not known how fearful she’d been that he would fail her.

She had trusted him… but just as she’d trusted her stepbrother… her stepfather… her mother… and Lord Harold… well, she’d grown wary of disappointment.

He stopped, for just a moment, and peered under her umbrella. “Where else would I be?”

It had not been an illusion. This feeling of closeness, of knowing another person’s soul.

She blinked away a few raindrops. The relief she experienced nearly caused her knees to buckle as they walked the rest of the way. “Oh, I don’t know, beside a cozy fire, perhaps, or wrapped in a warm blanket with your dog and a good book.”

“Ha,” he said. “Not me. I’m a military man, remember? The ground is my bed. A pretty lady is my fire…”

And then they were under the shelter. Several shrubs grew all around it, lending them more than a little privacy. What with no one else in the park, it was as though they were completely alone.

They did not have a great deal of time, though.

“My engagement is not at all what I thought,” Sophia began, apologetically.

“I know,” he said.

“How much do you know?” she asked.

“Pretty much all of it.” He took her umbrella from her and set it aside. It seemed the most natural thing in the world when he then embraced her reassuringly.

Sophia felt warm.

Safe.

“And I’ve spoken with Harold. He’s none too pleased, either.”

That was something she’d suspected, but not yet comprehended to be true. “So, it was a performance on his part. And this… payment… It has nothing to do with a grand passion for me.”

Still holding her close, he nodded solemnly. And then he tucked her head under his chin. “It’s all a pretense. You are a decoy. If I’d any idea what was happening, If I’d had any notion at all…

“Your uncle is a powerful man.”

“He’s no power over me, Sophia.”

She nuzzled deeper, inhaling his scent. “So, Lord Harold, he is in love with someone else, with somebody your uncle deems unsuitable?”

Dev stilled. “Yes, yes, I believe that’s the crux of it all. And yet he did nothing to halt his father’s plans.”

“Why me? I am a nobody. Surely, countless marriageable ladies would have readily agreed to such an arrangement.”

“Likely,” he said. And then, answering her question more fully, he added, “Mr. Scofield and my uncle have long been acquainted. They wished for all intents and purposes that yours and Harold’s betrothal appear to be a love match. You have an air of… innocence about you.”

“Such nonsense!” She felt all the wonder of being in his arms, but also all the hopelessness of it. “Nothing can be done now. I’ve thought on it for hours and hours. My mother—”

And then he was just as serious. “There is a way. My cousin, you’ll be glad to know, has more of a spine to him than I’d thought. He admitted to me that he does not wish to continue living as his father’s pawn. He refuses to make a move, however, until Prescott releases his funds, presently in trust. And that transaction will not occur until after your wedding ceremony.” Sophia pulled away to consider his words doubtfully. “We’ve discussed the circumstances at length, and… come up with a plan. If it works, your parents will be safe from legal action. But most importantly, both Harold and you will be free. It’s going to take some time, however. Details need to be ironed out.”

Stunned by his words, she could almost believe him. “You are not joking? You are not teasing me?”

He shook his head. “I am not.”

“Can you tell me more?”

Dev looked as though he would, but then he grimaced. “There are secrets that are not mine to reveal.” He touched her cheek lightly. And although he wore gloves, she could feel the tenderness within him. She would believe all could be set right, for now.

“And then what?” she was compelled to ask.

Dev touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “Then, I think you and I can begin to get to know each other.”

“Dev…” She pressed her cheek into his hand. “…are you real?” She laughed. “Is any of this real?” If only… If only she could believe it.

She could easily guess the details of their scheme, and she could not disillusion him.

Yet.

She knew that all of it was only a dream.

But she could not tell him. It was too mortifying.

She would have to tell Lord Harold, eventually. Harold.

Her husband.

Before he did anything drastic.

“Sophia,” Dev breathed. One of his hands had moved to the back of her neck, his other caressing the small of her back.

She tilted her head back and parted her lips. Kiss me.

She did not need to say the words. He would hear. He would know.

And he did. He knew exactly what she needed — exactly what she wanted. But how? Why?

So perfect, soft and searching and then confident and giving. His taste evoked safety, comfort, and desire all at once.

She was one of the lucky ones. Millions of women in this world would never, not in their entire lives, experience the magic of a kiss from Captain Devlin Brookes.

She would take as much as he would give her today. For eventually, he would know the truth. He would discover she was a fraud.

Good Lord, she was as much a fraud as her fiancé.

She and Lord Harold were likely perfect for each other. But she would not think about that now.

She would savor her captain, surrender to his touch, allow him to believe that she too, was his dream.

Dev pulled away and buried his face in her neck. His height required that he bend his knees to do so, even though she stood on her toes to accommodate him.

“God, Sophia,” he breathed again, “we need to be patient. We need to wait.”

No one had ever considered her wishes so thoroughly. Not that she had suffered overtly, or been neglected, but no one had cared much to know what she wanted, or what she needed. An overwhelming sense of love filled her.

It was too soon, far too soon, she knew, but the words escaped anyhow.

“I love you.” She felt him stiffen. She needed to explain! “Not in a silly, whimsical feminine way, but because you would save me. And not because of how you make me feel, but for the goodness within you. Your heart, it speaks to me. You give me a foolish hope. And for that, I thank you.”

By now he had raised his head and was watching her closely.

She touched his face and memorized his features.

Tiny creases around his eyes indicated that he’d laughed whenever given the chance. She studied his nose… strong, aquiline, his cheekbones, and the dark whiskers already threatening to reappear. She would one day remember his dear sweet lips and his concerned brows.

He grasped her by the shoulders, sensing her melancholy. “Have faith in me, Sophia. Everything will work out, and yet you are looking at me as though I’m headed for the grave. Believe me. Believe in me? Won’t you?”

She nodded for him.

One last kiss. A promise from him, a wish from her, and then they returned to the black carriage. The rain had stopped and the sun barely peeked through the thick heavy clouds. Rhoda climbed out and handed Peaches over to her. Brookes offered to give them a lift home, but Sophia was adamant. This was goodbye.

He reached out, scratched Peaches behind the neck, and winked at her. “Don’t be downcast.”

“I know,” she said.

And with that, he jumped into the carriage and was whisked away.

Rhoda turned to her. “Well, what did he say? It sounds as though he has a plan.”

Sophia sighed and then gave Rhoda a halfhearted smile. “It’s hopeless.”