Chapter Twenty-One
Sophia smiled as Hayden draped her navy cape over her shoulders. His hand lingered a fraction longer than necessary on her neck, causing warmth to flood her body.
How could she make herself immune to someone whose every simple touch made her desire him?
The physical attraction wasn’t the only obstacle making it difficult to harden her heart against her husband. The first two weeks of her marriage had contained unexpected, yet pleasant revelations. Her suspicions that Hayden partook in a great deal of business proved true. He attended numerous meetings at both his residence and about town, dispelling the notion he was a man of leisure. Yesterday alone, he’d engaged in two meetings in his study. One in the morning with two Algerian gentlemen and another immediately after with a Lord James Huntington.
Even more startling—he’d dined at home every night, and during the evenings they retired to the drawing room where they read, played cards and chess, or simply conversed. Now they were to take Celia on an open carriage ride to Richmond equipped with warm lap rugs, a heater for their feet, and a hamper from Fortnum and Mason filled with savory and sweet treats.
His behavior implied he wished their marriage to work, but an uneasiness simmered right below the surface within her. She couldn’t dispel her fear. Hayden had left his first wife. Abandoned her only months after Celia’s birth. Would it happen again? Would he bore of her and seek the companionship of his dissolute friends—members of the privileged class? Was it only a matter of time?
“Papa, do say Lady Olivia can accompany us to Richmond. Please!” Celia said, drawing Sophia from her thoughts.
Hayden frowned at the dog sitting before him in the entry hall, while Celia held her breath in anticipation of her father’s reply.
“Yes,” Sophia said. “Lady Olivia may join us.”
Celia stretched her hands in the air and danced on the tips of her toes while the dog’s tail tapped a rapid staccato on the marble floor. Hayden’s daughter grabbed the dog’s lead, and Hawthorne opened the door to assist the child into the waiting carriage.
Hayden arched a dark eyebrow.
Was he vexed?
“You, my dear wife, are raining anarchy upon my household.” His lips twitched and he proffered his arm.
“Admit it.” She placed her hand on his sleeve. “You are fond of Lady Olivia.”
He made a noncommittal grunt, but a smile lightened his eyes. “Come, my dear, your chariot awaits. Along with one anxious child and an overgrown beast whom I shall instruct to sit on your lap.”
Once they crossed the bridge and were well into the open spaces of Richmond, they stopped to lower the top of the landau. The cool winter air, along with the excitement of the journey, heightened the color of Celia’s cheeks.
“Look,” the child exclaimed, pointing at the red brick wall ahead that encompassed Richmond Park. “Papa, do you think we will see any deer today?”
“I expect we shall.”
Celia slipped her hands back into her muff and swung her legs back and forth.
While they traveled through the park, enjoying their hamper full of treats, Sophia listened to Hayden talk with Celia about the red deer and wildlife in the park. No matter what one thought about him, Hayden loved his daughter and was a good father.
After a leisurely drive through the park, they headed back to Mayfair. Halfway home, Celia’s heavy-lidded eyes fluttered closed and her hand, stroking the dog, stilled.
Hayden pulled a green woolen blanket out from under the seat and draped it across Celia before patting the dog’s head and feeding it a whole meat tart.
Sophia laughed softly. “It is obvious you care for that dog.”
“Rubbish.”
“You adore her.”
Grinning, he slipped his glove off, curled his hand around her nape, and brushed his lips against hers. “Later tonight, I’m going to teach you to behave and show more deference to your husband and not argue with him.”
Images of Hayden and her lying in bed, him buried deep within her, flashed in her mind. Trying to ignore them and the anticipation that grew within her, she shot her husband what she hoped looked like a scolding, disinterested expression.
His gaze dropped to her breasts. The layers of her clothing hid her hardened nipples, but somehow he knew. Knew her body craved his touch.
She recalled the first three nights of their marriage when she’d stubbornly ignored his mandate that she share his chamber. He’d entered her room and carried her into his bedroom and whispered seductively his one-bed rule.
Some nights he’d make love to her, other nights simply hold her in his arms. That seemed even worse—more intimate. She could understand his physical need for release, but the embracing made guarding her heart so much more difficult. It made her believe they could have a life together until they were old and gray, and that loving him wouldn’t leave her vulnerable.
Hayden settled against the squabs and draped his arm over her shoulders.
Trying to ignore the undeniable pleasure his touch gave her, she motioned to the dog. “Celia has become attached to Lady Olivia. She will be heartbroken when your friend returns to London and wishes to retrieve her.”
“I’m in custody of several of the man’s gambling markers. His debts are the reason he left town. So the matter has been settled in a manner agreeable to both of us. We are now the proud owners of one overgrown, quite costly, salivating Saint Bernard.”
“Does Celia know?”
“No, I thought we might tie a bow on Lady Olivia and tell her tonight.”
“Celia will be ecstatic.” Sophia patted the dog’s head, just as thrilled with the news.
The carriage pulled up before their town house. Hayden lifted his slumbering daughter and moved to the front door. Lady Olivia followed him like a shadow. He turned and narrowed his eyes at the dog.
Another soft laugh bubbled up Sophia’s throat. “You fed her a meat pie,” she whispered. “She might follow you for the rest of the day, if not into next week. She might even wish to sleep with you again.”
He leaned close. “Only one lady sleeps in my bed, and that is you, my dear wife.”
If only I could believe that would always be true.
Hawthorne greeted them at the door. The butler looked perturbed. “My lord, a Mr. Charles Camden is here. The gentleman claims to be related to her ladyship. I told him you were out, but he insisted on waiting.”
Sophia’s heart skipped a beat. Great-Uncle Charles? Here?
Hayden turned to her. “How lovely, dear. Your great-uncle has come to visit.”
She forced a smile, wishing her enthusiasm for their guest matched her husband’s. “Where is he, Hawthorne?”
“In the blue drawing room, madam,” the butler replied.
A slumbering Celia shifted in Hayden’s arms. “I shall lay Celia down and join you shortly. I look forward to meeting your great-uncle.”
As Sophia made her way up the stairs to the blue drawing room, she wiped her damp palms on her skirt. The man never visited London. Why was he here?
At the entrance to the room, she took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.
Great-Uncle Charles stood by the mantel. As usual, he wore a severe black suit, white shirt, and black cravat that looked plucked from a century ago. Though his hair was gray, his posture was still brittle and unbending. He peered at her with those cold steely gray eyes of his.
“Great-Uncle Charles, how are you?” She brushed a kiss on his cheek.
His nose twitched as if she carried the stench of the Thames on her body. “Sophia, I see you have not used the bleaching cream I sent. You’re still as dark as a gypsy. You were always a stubborn child.”
She fought the urge to tug the cuffs of her sleeves lower. Instead, she squared her shoulders. “Might I ask what has brought you to London?”
“I came to see you. I hear you have married. Thank goodness you have given up your foolish whim to become a doctor.”
“I must correct you, sir. I still hope to be a physician one day.”
His pale face grew mottled. “It is ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Child, it is an unseemly profession for a woman, especially one married to a nobleman.”
So that was why he was here. She’d done what he’d asked her father to do. Married nobility. And in her great-uncle’s eyes, a scandalous earl was better than no earl at all.
“I believe my husband will support me.”
“Then he hasn’t given you his permission to continue with this folly?”
She swallowed. No, they hadn’t broached the subject. But surely . . .
“Tell me, Sophia, how did you manage to marry an earl? Is he hard up for money? Is he expecting a dowry?”
Once again, he made her feel unworthy of anyone’s love or good regard. She wanted to tell him to go, but instead she remained silent. He would find out about the child she carried in time; then his comments would become even more caustic, even more demeaning.
He waved a hand in the air as if it was of no importance. “However it came about, you are now a member of the nobility. A countess does not tend to the sick. You have gone against my advice and society’s expectations of proper behavior for a woman, but now you must conform and act accordingly. I do not wish you to draw more shame on this family than you already have.”
“I will not give up my dream to be a physician.”
* * *
As Hayden approached the blue drawing room he grinned. Today had gone well. He believed he’d come a bit closer to winning Sophia’s heart. She’d smiled freely at times and when he’d told her about the dog, she’d looked like she wanted to not only kiss the Saint Bernard but him as well. And now her great-uncle was here. How pleased his wife must be to have her only living relative in Town.
“My lord,” Hawthorne said.
Hayden pivoted. “Yes?”
“I have instructed Mrs. Beecham to have one of the maids prepare the green bedchamber, should her ladyship’s uncle be staying.”
“Ah, splendid.” He clapped the butler on the shoulder. “Bang-up job you’re doing, old boy.”
The butler blinked. His bony cheeks reddened. “Why . . . why thank you, my lord.”
“I’m in a fine mood, Hawthorne. Give the staff a raise in their wages.”
Hawthorne’s eyes widened. “But they received their yearly increase only last month.”
“Did they?”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Give them another. And don’t forget yourself.”
The man smiled showing a large amount of teeth. “If that is what you wish, my lord.”
“I do. Have you instructed someone to bring refreshments to my wife and her great-uncle?”
“Alice should be here any minute with the tray.”
“Very good,” Hayden said.
As Hawthorne strolled away, Hayden could have sworn the stoic butler whistled an Irish jig.
The sound of Sophia’s great-uncle inside the drawing room drew Hayden’s attention.
“You must follow society’s rules,” Camden’s snide voice said. “You are a silly, stupid, strong-willed girl with no sense of propriety. I hope your new husband puts you in your place!”
Hayden fisted his hand. How dare he disparage Sophia? She was beyond intelligent. I’ll strangle the man. Then kill him. Then strangle him again. And what did he mean by “put her in her place”? Did he mean strike her? Did he believe a man should control a woman with his fists? He flung the door open.
The thin, gray-haired coot turned and smiled at him.
Sophia’s earlier lighthearted expression no longer remained. Her whole body radiated discomfort. But he would take care of that. No one would hurt his wife, with words or actions, if he could stop them.
“Sophia,” her great-uncle said in that superior voice of his. “Aren’t you going to introduce his lordship to me?”
“Hayden, this is my great-uncle Charles Camden. Uncle Charles, my husband, Lord Hayden Westfield.”
He strode over to Charles Camden and extended his hand.
Smiling, the old bugger shook it.
Returning the man’s pleasant expression, Hayden squeezed the man’s fingers so tight, he thought he might snap one of the coot’s bones.
The smile faded from Camden’s lips. He paled.
“Pleasure to meet you, Camden. What brings you to our fair city?” A death wish? He released the man’s hand.
Camden visibly swallowed. “My niece, of course. I haven’t seen her in a terribly long time.”
The rattling of the tea tray being rolled into the room drew everyone’s attention. Alice set the silver tray on the ottoman.
“Thank you, Alice,” Sophia said.
The maid curtsied and left.
Camden frowned. “Sophia, you should never smile at a servant or thank them. It gives them a sense of complacency.”
Hayden fought the urge to open the window and toss the windbag out and onto his head. “My staff is quite fond of Lady Westfield.”
The old man tipped his nose up. “But don’t you think, Lord Westfield, servants must be made to feel their employment is precarious at best?”
“I believe whatever rapport my lady wife decides is best.” Hayden reached for her hand, brought her fingers to his lips, and kissed them.
Sophia blinked.
The old man visibly bristled.
“Please, sit, sir.” Sophia motioned to a chair as she sat. “You take your tea with milk, if I recall.”
The curmudgeon sat and nodded.
After pouring the tea, Sophia added a smidgen of milk.
“Too much!” Camden snapped.
Hayden growled.
The man looked at him as did Sophia.
Hayden coughed. “Forgive me, I fear I have something in my throat.”
“Tea, Hayden?” Sophia asked.
“Thank you, but no, dearest.”
Without pouring herself a cup, Sophia leaned back, shoulders ramrod straight as though she feared if she didn’t the man would crack a ruler over her knuckles.
Had he struck her when she was a child? The bastard!
“I wonder, Westfield, if we might talk in private about Sophia’s dowry.”
His wife’s puzzled gaze jerked to the old man. She stood. “I shall leave you both to your discussion.”
Hayden rose, showing proper respect. The old man remained seated.
“Great-Uncle,” Sophia said, “you are more than welcome to stay with us while in London.”
The man finally stood and set his cup down. “I would be delighted.”
As soon as Sophia walked out of the room, Hayden set a heavy hand on Camden’s shoulder. “Listen here, you old goat, you can keep your bloody dowry.”
Camden’s eyes bulged. “W-what?”
“You heard me. And don’t you ever call my wife stupid.”
“I-I didn’t.”
“You did. And if it ever happens again, I will take the most inordinate pleasure in trying to ruin you. Do I make myself clear?”
The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his shimmering brow.
“Now,” Hayden continued, “you are going to give your apologies to my wife and inform her you are leaving Town. Tell her pressing business has called you back to Northumberland. And if you ever come here again, I will feed you to my dog.”
As if on cue, Lady Olivia bounded into the room, saliva dripping from her long jowls.
Camden’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Now get out,” Hayden said, his voice low and threatening.
The man dashed out the door and hastened down the stairs.
Hayden followed him, biting back the desire to kick the man in the arse.
Sophia stood in the entry hall. “Are you already finished?”
“Yes, but sadly your great-uncle has realized he must return home,” Hayden said.
A quick smile flashed across Sophia’s face, so brief it seemed like an illusion. “I’m so sorry you cannot stay with us, sir. Are you unwell? You look rather pale.”
“N-no, I’m fine. I have business up north.”
Hayden opened the door. “A pleasure meeting you, Camden.”
Sophia pressed a kiss to the old goat’s cheek. “Godspeed.”
The man stepped out, looking as if he’d just survived a train wreck.
Hayden closed the door.
“I didn’t know I had a dowry,” Sophia said. “Great-Uncle never mentioned it. I hope it was of an agreeable amount.”
“Yes, Camden and I struck a bargain I’m quite pleased with.”
She fiddled with her sleeve.
“Tell me, Sophia, are you upset your great-uncle had to leave?” He entwined his fingers with hers, stilling her hand.
“Truthfully, no.”
“Was he cruel to you growing up?”
“He was indifferent more than anything else.” She looked at him carefully. “You sent him away, didn’t you? Tell me why, Hayden.”
“I didn’t like his tie.”
“That’s silly.
“Nor his shirt. And I think he has wooden teeth.”
“No, he doesn’t. Please tell me the truth.”
“Because, my dear wife, I shall always protect you.” He pulled her into his embrace.
She said not a word, but wrapped her hands around his waist as if he were the most important thing in the world to her. And he believed he might have finally knocked a few more bricks loose from the wall she was trying to erect between them. Perhaps even toppled it to the ground.
* * *
The following morning, Hayden returned from an early meeting to find Sophia standing before the cheval glass, garbed in one of the navy dresses and white aprons she’d worn while attending him.
From the doorway, he watched her pin her winged cap to her hair.
“Sophia?”
She spun around. “Oh, you gave me a fright,” she admitted, slipping a pin into her hair.
“May I inquire where you are off to?”
A weak smile briefly touched her lips. “I have been negligent in my duties. Fortunately, Thomas is a very understanding employer.”
“Sophia, you must realize you do not have to work.”
Her smile broadened. “Ah, yes, I forgot, I’m an heiress of considerable magnitude.”
“No,” he said stiffly, “because you are a countess married to a man of great wealth.”
Her head tipped to the side, and she stared at him. “Am I? Then I shall feel no shame in telling you that I shall not receive a stitch of monetary compensation. Today Thomas and I are volunteering at the Whitechapel Mission. At the dispensary.”
The image of her battered, lying in that squalid room, that wretch trying to violate her, seized his mind. A knot tightened his stomach. He shook the image away.
Sophia turned back to the mirror.
He moved to stand behind her and watched her reflection in the glass. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you were there?”
“I doubt I shall ever forget. But it’s unlikely to happen again. And I shall be with Thomas this time.”
“That fact does not ease my mind.”
She slipped another hairpin into her chignon and turned back to him. “Thomas is a good man, Hayden, and he needs assistance at the dispensary.”
“Then I shall hire someone to assist him. Someone who is not with child. I forbid you to go.”
The color drained from her face, and the hairpins held in her hand fell to the floor. “You cannot do that!”
“Sadly, my dear, I can.” After what had transpired at the mission, how could she not understand how one’s life could change in the blink of an eye? How easily a man could overpower her in the rookeries. Not wanting to hear her protestations, he moved to the door.
“Hayden, I am going to the mission whether you approve or not.”
His heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t protect her there. “Do not defy me, Sophia.”
“Why are you acting this way?”
He couldn’t tell her. Could not admit the fear that came over him when he thought someone might hurt her like his father had hurt Laura. “I shall be back shortly. If I return to find you have accompanied Trimble, I shall go to that godforsaken cesspit and carry you back home, if I must.”
* * *
Sophia paced the drawing room floor. Hayden had left over an hour ago. Even though she’d changed and sent Thomas a note explaining she’d not be able to assist him today, she now toyed with the idea of defying her husband and going to the mission.
Yes, she would go. The devil with Hayden. She strode toward the double doors. Without warning, one of them swung open.
“Hello, dear,” Edith said cheerfully, stepping into the room. Edith’s effervescent expression faded. She rushed forward. “Sophia, you look agitated.”
She forced a smile. “Do I? It’s nothing.”
“Dearest, you are not some simpering miss. If you are upset, I know it is not because of some nonsense.” Edith adjusted the bustle of her navy day dress and sat on the blue damask covered settee. She patted the spot adjacent to her. “Sit, dear. Tell me what has vexed you so.” She smiled encouragingly. “Please, we are sisters now.”
Sophia dearly wished to confide in Edith. Her sister-in-law’s earnest voice comforted, while her brown eyes held a nearly palpable kindness. Sophia sat and folded her hands in her lap. “I . . .” She paused, for the words drifting about in her head scattered like dry leaves caught in an autumn breeze.
Where do I begin? “Hayden has forbidden me to accompany Dr. Trimble to the Whitechapel Mission.”
Edith placed her hand on Sophia’s. “He is concerned about your safety.”
“I realize I should not have approached that man in the alley.” Her voice shook with self-recrimination. “But I shall not be so careless again.”
“I’m sure you won’t, but I think it is my brother’s love for you that makes him act like this.”
Startled, Sophia glanced up. “Love for me?”
“Yes, I saw the way he watched you during the wedding ceremony. He cares deeply for you. Can you not see it in his eyes?”
Could she? There were times when she believed Hayden’s gazes reflected something greater than lust. And when he touched her—yes, when he touched her, she thought his hands communicated an emotion so deep within his soul that perhaps he was not aware of it.
The second morning after their nuptials flashed in her mind. Nauseous, she’d hastily vacated their bed to make her way to the bathroom. As she’d knelt before the water closet, she’d been startled by the feel of Hayden’s hand gently soothing her back while she retched helplessly into the enamel bowl. When she’d finished, he’d tenderly swept her into his arms and carried her back to their bed.
He’d spent the next quarter hour patting her face with a damp cloth. She’d told herself his concern was for the child she carried, but the gentleness of his touch and the look in his eyes left her unsure. And then there was yesterday when he’d sensed how uncomfortable Great-Uncle Charles made her feel and sent him away.
“Wouldn’t a man who loves me say so?”
“At one time, I believed my brother’s speech too lucid and his countenance too transparent. However, his candor has faded with maturity and with what our . . .” Edith waved her hand in the air. “It is not always easy for a man to communicate his feelings. Most men are frugal creatures when it comes to divulging sentiment. Or perhaps, he doesn’t even realize what he feels. Or is frightened of the emotion.”
She couldn’t imagine Hayden being frightened of anything.
The door burst open, and an exuberant Celia rushed in with a pair of ice skates.
“Sophia, can we go to Hyde Park to glide upon the ice?”
A line marred Edith’s forehead. “I believe the authorities have closed the Serpentine to skaters.”
Celia’s expression crumbled.
Sophia glanced at the clock on the mantel. By the time she dressed and made it to the mission, Thomas might have finished seeing to the women and children there. She would take Celia skating instead. But when Hayden returned, she would speak with him. “We could venture to St. James,” she said to Celia.
The child’s countenance brightened. “I shall get my woolens.” She dashed from the room.
Edith turned a concerned look to her, and Sophia couldn’t help noticing the glance Edith cast at Sophia’s abdomen. “There will be a monstrous crush, and the ice turns the children quite rambunctious. Are you certain you should attend?”
Sophia had wondered if Edith knew the true reason for Sophia and Hayden’s rushed nuptials. It appeared she did, yet her voice held no censure, only concern. She gave her sister-in-law a reassuring smile. “I shall be fine. Would you care to join us?”
“No, dear, I’m expected elsewhere.” Edith rubbed Sophia’s forearm. “Be patient with Hayden. He is only trying to protect you. He will come around. I promise.”
* * *
They had skated for over an hour when a tall, well-dressed gentleman moving toward a hirer of skates caught Sophia’s attention. The man’s height and broad shoulders looked familiar.
Hayden? No, it couldn’t be.
Several young, boisterous boys appeared next to her and Celia. Sophia tightened her grasp on the child’s hand, pulling her tighter to her side. After the boys passed, she peered at the bank. The gentleman was gone. She’d been mistaken. She couldn’t envision Hayden hiring skates and taking to the ice.
“Are you tired, dearest?” Sophia asked Celia.
Celia shook her head emphatically. “No, do say we can stay a bit longer.”
“Of course,” she replied, slowing their pace as they neared three young women skating with their arms linked together. As they maneuvered around them, a hand pressed gently on Sophia’s back.
“May I join you?” a deep, familiar voice asked.
“Papa,” Celia squealed. “Have you come to skate with us?”
“How could any man resist such enchanting partners?” He winked at Celia before he smiled at Sophia.
How charming he can be at times. Sophia averted her face. She would not let his smile relinquish her anger over his earlier mandate.
“Papa, hold our hands.” Celia unlocked her fingers from Sophia’s.
He clasped their hands and turned his attention to his daughter. “I was watching you. You’re doing splendidly.”
Celia’s eyes grew bright. “Do you truly think so?”
“Indeed,” he replied, his tone firm with conviction.
The child’s smile broadened, and she appeared more confident as she placed one foot before the other and glided next to her father.
Hayden chatted amiably with Celia. When he conversed with his daughter, his emotions were transparent. He adored her. Could this attentive man have walked away from both wife and child? When she considered his devotion to Celia, it seemed impossible he could have forsaken her. What had transpired between him and his first wife?
Hayden stroking his thumb over her gloved palm interrupted her meandering mind. Such a simple touch should have felt innocent; however, it was like a provocative caress, mimicking his finger stroking her in a much more intimate spot. She attempted to ignore him, to let her indifference convey her anger, yet she couldn’t stop her awareness of him from overtaking her body.
He leaned close. His warm breath brushed against her cold cheek. “Do you know, Sophia, there is little gratification in arguing, but reconciliation can be rather pleasurable.”
She wished to utter some cutting remark, something that would disabuse his notion she’d be easily placated. “I am vexed with you.” A mild rebuke compared to the one she’d envisioned making. But Edith’s words, along with time and his touch, dulled her anger.
“Then, I shall have to be diligent in seeking forgiveness.” A low and seductive timbre edged his voice.
A frisson chased down her spine. She knew exactly what method he’d take to dissolve her anger. Did other husbands engage in such licentious acts with their wives? Did they use their mouths and tongues to make them quiver? Did other wives enjoy it so much? Her cheeks warmed, and she was relieved when Celia tugged on his arm, and he turned his perceptive blue eyes away from her.
“Papa, my toes feel like someone is pricking them with a thousand needles.”
“Ah, I know the cure for such an ailment,” he replied. “Hot chocolate and a warm fire.”
Celia giggled. “No, I think it might take more than that. I believe I shall need some spiced gingerbread as well.”
“Really? I must say, I’ve never heard of such a remedy.” He turned to Sophia. “Madam, you are skilled in such matters. Are you aware of such a cure?”
Celia’s large brown eyes implored, and Sophia couldn’t help her lips from turning upward. “Yes, spiced gingerbread is a practical restorative. I have seen it prescribed numerous times.”
They skated to the bank and removed their skates. In the carriage, Hayden settled next to Sophia on the plush cushion and flashed another grin as the carriage journeyed to Brook Street.
Her stomach fluttered, and she silently cursed her husband’s ability to make her desire him by offering little more than a smile. He slid closer and draped his arm over the back of the seat, while his muscular thigh pressed against her leg.
Did he disconcert her on purpose? Yes. The master manipulator. The seducer.
She would not be controlled. She’d moved out from under her great-uncle’s thumb to gain her independence. Hayden would not steal that away from her. She fought the urge to ram her elbow into his stomach; instead, she narrowed her eyes.
His grin broadened, and he turned to his daughter. “Let’s see what we can do to warm your toes.” He leaned forward and slipped off the child’s half boots. With his large hands he rubbed at Celia’s feet, occasionally tickling her toes, causing her to wiggle and laugh. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes, Papa.” Celia yawned and rubbed at her eyes.
After tying Celia’s shoes back on, Hayden moved to the seat opposite Sophia.
What was he about?
“Are your toes cold, as well, Sophia?”
Before she could answer, he reached down, lifted her left foot, and slipped off her shoe. A mischievous sparkle lit his eyes. His gaze never left her face as he skimmed his warm palm up the back of her calf.
Sparks traveled up her leg.
Wicked man.
The carriage slowed, and the brakes squeaked.
Home. Thank God. A minute more of his hands on my skin and I might beg him to forgive me. What madness. A person should not possess such power over another’s body. She snatched her shoe off the seat, and, ignoring her husband, jerked it on, anxious to be away from his intense gaze and disconcerting touch.
An hour later, Sophia peered at the slumbering child sitting next to her on the settee. It had taken only three pieces of gingerbread, a half cup of hot chocolate, and the heat from the fire in the morning room to put Celia to sleep.
Only a few minutes earlier, Celia had been chattering away, asking when they could return to St. James, but now, her head rested firmly against Sophia’s arm, her breathing deep and even.
Hayden, who stirred the coals in the grate, turned around. “Is she sleeping?” he whispered.
Sophia nodded. “The fresh air and the exercise have worn her out.”
He carefully lifted Celia into his arms and retreated through the open doorway, his broad shoulders swallowing up the space before he passed through it.
She took another sip of her hot chocolate, now tepid. Placing the cup and saucer upon the teacart, she stood, then walked to the windows overlooking the back gardens.
Two birds fluttered around the bare branches of a birch before settling themselves atop the boxwood hedge that circled a tall lotus fountain, now void of water. How lovely this garden would be in the spring.
Sophia moved to the hearth and inched her stockinged feet toward the warm grate. She didn’t appreciate Hayden’s autocratic manner, but she realized his concerns were valid. Not that she believed someone would accost her again, but there was always the danger of contagions when one treated the infirmed.
She set her hand on her stomach. She loved this baby—their baby, and she’d not place it in danger.
A movement caught her attention. She peered at the doorway. Hayden leaned against the jamb, watching her. “You look miles away.”
“Do I?”
“Hmm.” He kneaded the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Sophia. I shouldn’t have demanded you heed me this morning, but your intention to go to Whitechapel startled me.”
“Why?”
“It can be a dangerous place.”
She didn’t want to agree with him, but he was correct. “Were you sincere about your offer to employ someone to assist Dr. Trimble?”
“Of course.”
“Then I have decided I shall not return to the mission until after our child is born.” She squared her shoulders, unsure how he would take her next words. “Though I still intend to become a physician.” She held her breath.
He nodded, closed the door, and locked it.
Sophia felt like a hare under the gaze of a hungry fox. Did he wish to make love to her in this room? Anxious energy exploded in her belly.
“Celia will sleep a good while,” he said, seeming to read her thoughts. He closed the distance between them with the light-footed grace of a cat.
“Do you wish to play cards, or do you have business to attend to?” she asked, taking a single step back.
“I have canceled all my appointments today, and I fear a game of cards holds little appeal at the moment.” He slipped his coat off and tossed it over a chair, then pulled her close.
My goodness, there was no denying his intentions. His erection pressed against her. She contemplated pulling away and retaining her anger, but Edith’s words echoed in her head. “My brother loves you. Can you not see it in his eyes?” Would she see what Edith spoke of in this room where no shadows lingered?
“Do you know I burn for you the moment we’re apart?” His voice sounded low and raspy.
Her body warmed. Hayden swept her into his arms, set her on the hearthrug, and lay beside her. Propping himself up on an elbow, he leaned over her. His eyes were intense, dark.
She tangled her fingers in his hair and drew his lips to hers.
With a groan, Hayden slipped his tongue into her mouth while his nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons lining her jacket and dress.
She had removed her corset before she’d left to ice skate, not wishing to feel its restraining form.
He lifted his head. “Ah, Sophia, you are shockingly improper at times.”
Her cheeks warmed.
He set his hands on the collar of her chemise and tore the thin fabric wide open.
She gasped. “Hayden,” she chastised, even though his actions heightened her spiraling desire.
“Ah, I must atone for my haste.” He released the rent cloth, cupped the bottom of her breast, and captured a nipple in his mouth.
She lowered her lashes—watched his tongue and mouth against her skin. The edge of his teeth softly scraped the sensitized bud. Excitement exploded in her belly, settling liquid heat in the most intimate and private area of her anatomy. A soft moan escaped her lips.
He stroked her nipples, soothing them with his warm tongue. He held her gaze. “Do you want me to make love to you, Sophia? Do you need me as much as I need you?”
Need? Did he mean in a carnal way or something less tangent, but ultimately stronger? Though not sure which question he asked, she knew the answer to both. She couldn’t guard her heart against him. Not when he already possessed it. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice throaty. Impatiently she tugged her skirts upward.
He reached for the buttons of his trousers. His hard flesh sprung forth, and he slowly sheathed himself into her welcoming body.