Chapter Twelve
Sophie looked first at the boy, who could not have been more than eight years old, and then to the doorway where he was pointing. A woman of middle age, with greying hair and pursed lips, was leaning against the door frame clutching at her chest, gasping for breath. She was dressed in her nightclothes and looked livid.
“Why you foul-mouthed urchin,” the woman managed to spit out in a shrill voice. “Get back here immediately!”
“I ain’t going nowhere near you. You wanna kill me, you devil witch!” His mop of brown hair looked sleep-tousled, and the collar of his crisp white shirt peeked out of the top of a small but expensive-looking green dressing gown. He looked like a miniature and slightly rumpled lord of the manor.
“How dare you say such a blasphemous thing?” The woman braced her hand against her heart.
Devlin stepped forward. “What is going on here?”
“She’s trying to kill me,” the boy shouted.
“Enough with the theatrics, Nicholas,” Devlin commanded, reaching over to smooth the boy’s tousled head—whether to improve his appearance or calm him, she couldn’t say. “Explain yourself.”
Nicholas pointed to the woman and blurted out, “I woke up, and her hands were clutched around me throat, but I managed to wiggle free. She has it in for me, she does.”
“For goodness sakes,” the woman exclaimed. “That boy is a liar. I was attempting to administer castor oil to him, Your Grace, which all children should ingest to maintain a healthy body.”
“Don’t see how you can force anything down me throat with your hands around me neck,” Nicholas accused.
“If you were not such a brat and had taken a dose through the day,” the woman interjected, “there would be no need to resort to drastic measures.”
“Enough,” Devlin ordered them both. “Mrs. Williams, why on earth would you attempt to administer anything to a child at this hour? Let alone put your hands on the boy’s throat?”
Mrs. Williams straightened her spine. “I am a light sleeper, Your Grace. As the child refused to take the oil through the day, I could see no other course of action. My hands were only on his throat to force his mouth open, and I do find that stopping their breathing for a moment is very effective in controlling them.”
“Excuse me?” Devlin’s voice was deadly, but the woman seemed to not notice.
“It is a technique I often employ,” the woman boasted. “Though it did not work in this child’s case, and I cannot be held responsible for this ridiculous outburst of his. As you have witnessed, I was forced to degrade myself and chase him through this residence in my nightgown.” Fortunately, she’d managed to cover herself with a beribboned sleeping jacket before coming into Devlin’s study.
“I find your methods of control completely unacceptable,” Devlin stated. Normally, Sophie would have felt sorry for the woman under Huntington’s icy stare, but not after what she had revealed. Choking children to control them? She should be horsewhipped. Not to mention that Sophie strongly sensed that, underneath his bravado, Master Nicholas was terrified. She hadn’t worked with children as long as she had without being able to pick up on their unspoken thoughts and feelings.
Mrs. Williams straightened herself up even further and lifted her nose. “No person could do an adequate job of managing that hellion.” Sophie winced at the insult, directed toward such a small boy. He might have been a bit loud, but he didn’t look particularly difficult to control.
“But that is exactly what you are being paid for,” he stated. “Pack your belongings immediately; you are no longer required.”
“You cannot dismiss me!” she said. “I am tendering my resignation.”
“It matters little to me.” Devlin shot the woman a stony glare. “Collect your belongings, and one of my carriages will escort you to alternative lodgings immediately.”
Nicholas looked at the woman and stuck out his tongue.
With a glare that could have given the Devil himself a cold chill, Mrs. Williams spun on her heel and strode through the doorway and down the hall.
“Jenkins?” Devlin called.
The butler peered around the doorway. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Order one of the carriages be brought around, and see to it that Mrs. Williams collects her belongings and is escorted out of the premises, forthwith. She can be conveyed to lodgings elsewhere.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” Jenkins replied before striding down the hallway after the woman.
Sophie looked toward the desk were the little boy was standing. He was watching Devlin with a hopeful yet suspicious look, and then suddenly, his aqua blue eyes turned and regarded her. She could not help but think of how similar he was in appearance to Devlin—the same dark hair and blue eyes.
Needless to say, there was something important that her fiancé had forgotten to mention.
“Who are you?” Nicholas bluntly asked her.
“That is not how a gentleman addresses a lady, Nicholas,” Devlin reprimanded. He looked over to Sophie. “Nicholas is my ward. I assumed guardianship of him about three months ago.”
Nicholas looked at her with suspicion. “So what are you doing here?”
She was at a loss for how to respond. “I, ah, I am a friend of Devlin’s.”
“Oh,” the boy said. “You’re one of those lady friends.”
Her jaw dropped open.
Devlin cursed. “Nicholas! Sophie is a proper lady, not one of those women from the docks.”
Her gaze swiveled to Devlin. “Do you often entertain dockside women in your residence then?” In spite of herself, she felt a sharp pang at the thought. Is that what she’d just consigned herself to putting up with?
“No, of course not,” he replied. “Nicholas grew up on a ship, and he has seen a great deal of things that most boys of his age are not normally privy to. Dockside women being one of them.”
“That’s right,” Nicholas piped in. “I can fight like a pirate, too.”
Devlin sighed. “Nicholas, Lady Sophie is a gently bred lady, like we have been talking about.”
Comprehension dawned in the boy’s gaze. “I thought you looked a lot fancier, and you’re wearing more clothes than those other women, too. But you’re real pretty and not all prune faced with pinched lips like most of them uppity ladies.”
“Um…thank you, I’m sure,” she said.
“You even talk proper, too.” He seemed rather impressed by that fact. “All me governesses have been trying to teach me, but most don’t last long enough before they leave.” He gave her a winning smile. Well, if he wasn’t Devlin’s son, he was certainly picking up on the man’s mannerisms.
“You have a problem with retaining a governess?” It didn’t particularly surprise her. She imagined most women would be rather disinclined to work for the Devil Duke.
“Let us just say that Mrs. Williams was the sixth governess Nicholas has had in three months.”
“Oh.” That was an inordinate amount of governesses. Sophie wondered what the underlying issues was. “That is…impressive.”
“I always do things impressively.” The man bore a rather cocky grin.
“So you say.” She turned to Nicholas. “How old are you, Nicholas?”
He puffed his chest out. “I’m seven.”
“Really? But you’re so tall, I thought you much older.”
Nicholas gripped the lapels of his dressing gown and rocked back on his heels, obviously proud as punch. “I’m tall like my pa was.”
“I can well believe that.” She smiled. “Perhaps until a new governess can be found, you would like to come with me tomorrow to Grey Street, where you can take lessons with the other children there?” She could feel Devlin watching her carefully, but she made a point to keep her focus solely on Nicholas.
Nicholas screwed up his face and stomped his left foot hard down onto the parquet flooring. “I hate learning! It’s stupid.”
“Well, that can present a problem.” She had to wonder what had prompted such a strong reaction against lessons. “Tell me, is there a particular reason you hate it?”
Looking down at the floor, he crossed his arms. “I dunno. Those silly governesses all called me stupid, just ’cause I couldn’t read them stupid books. Ain’t my fault the words jumble about on the page.”
She could feel her heart melt. He appeared so angry and yet so forlorn at the same time. Even though, to her surprise, Devlin had obviously made an effort to make him feel at home—and appeared to even care for him. “There is reading there, but generally, I read the books aloud, so you can just listen. How does that sound?”
He shrugged his little shoulders. “Maybe.”
“There are also lots of games played and fun activities. As long as it is all right with Devlin?”
“It is fine with me,” Devlin interjected.
His solemn little eyes assessed her for a moment. “Suppose it would be all right then.”
“Excellent,” she said, rising to her feet. “I shall pick you up at eleven o’clock.”
“What about Abelard’s visit?” Devlin drawled.
“Drat!” Sophie said, almost smacking herself on the forehead with her palm. “I completely forgot all about that.”
“It is probably best you do not see him anyhow,” he said, sounding rather delighted at the development. “Considering our new agreement.”
And this was exactly why she’d been so against marriage in the first place. “If you think that our agreement gives you the right to stop me from seeing or speaking with other men, especially old family friends, you are very far off the mark.”
“Our marriage will eventually allow me to dictate exactly who you see or not, if I so wish. As your fiancé, I am well within my rights to object to another man calling on you.”
“No, you are not!” She walked over to him and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “Do not for one instance think that you can control me in such a manner. I have been independent for far too long for you to think you can simply barge into my life and dictate to me what I can and cannot do. That I will not tolerate.”
Devlin looked down at her finger still poking into his chest. He grinned. “But that is what marriage entitles a man to do.”
“Not our marriage. Unlike you”—she jabbed him one more time—“I have given you my word that I shall be faithful. That should be more than enough to allay any fears or jealousies that you have.” Never had she felt the need to poke someone in the chest before, but with Devlin, she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Jealousies?” he said. “It is what any male would expect in the circumstances. Does not mean I am jealous of anything.”
“Well, then, if that is the case,” she replied, “you should have no issue with the Earl of Abelard visiting me. Thus I shall pick Nicholas up at nine o’clock instead of eleven tomorrow.”
Nicholas laughed. “I ain’t never seen no one stand up to Devlin before. You’re pretty tough for a girl.” His attention then reverted to Devlin. “Are you two getting married then?”
“Yes, we are,” Devlin answered.
“But won’t it hurt?” the boy said.
Devlin started to laugh but quickly covered it up with a cough.
Sophie raised both eyebrows at him, then walked over to where Nicholas was standing. She crouched down so that she was once more at eye level with him. “Why would you ask that?”
“Don’t know.” Nicholas regarded her with earnest attention. “Just that Dev said something about marriage being where two people get shackled together with irons and have to live that way for the rest of their lives. So I thought it might hurt is all.”
My goodness. What had the man been teaching him? She gave Devlin the most unimpressed expression she could muster.
Devlin flipped a palm in the air. “What? To a certain extent, what I told him was accurate, in a metaphorical sense.”
“What a wonderful image to give a seven-year-old child about marriage.”
“It was rather an off-the-cuff comment.”
“The confidence that fills me with,” she muttered before looking back at Nicholas. “Marriage is where a man and woman decide to live together for the rest of their lives and become a family.”
The boy looked slightly confused. “So you don’t get irons clamped on you then?”
“No, you do not,” she answered.
“At least not physically,” Devlin said under his breath.
“That will be quite enough on the subject from you!” she admonished.
Nicholas tilted his head in contemplation. “So are you gonna move in with us then?”
The truth of his words hit her, and abruptly she realized that that is exactly what would be happening. “Yes, I will, eventually.”
The little boy scowled. She could not help but notice how alike his expression was to the one Devlin was currently adopting.
“But what’ll happen to me then?” he asked.
“Well,” she began, “I suppose the three of us shall become a family.” For a moment, she felt slightly panicked at the thought. Rakes and families did not mix well; she could definitely attest to that.
“I ain’t really had no family before. I had me pa, but that’s all, ’cause my ma died when I was a baby,” he explained, though he didn’t elaborate on what had happened to his father. Assuming, of course, that his father wasn’t Devlin.
“Well, we shall all do our best then to become a family, all right?” Sophie said with a slightly forced smile, truly hoping that could indeed be the case, even as she doubted a rake could actually be counted upon to assist in that endeavor.
“Okay,” Nicholas replied, a small smile edging the corners of his mouth.
“Very well then, say goodnight to Lady Sophie and then it is back to bed for you,” Devlin directed Nicholas.
Sophie said goodnight to the boy as Devlin’s ever-efficient butler materialized at the door.
“See to it he goes straight to bed with no detours to the kitchen,” Devlin instructed Jenkins. “Having sweets late at night seems to give him nightmares.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” the butler replied.
“Bullocks,” Nicholas grumbled as he trudged through the door, Jenkins following behind him.
Sophie glanced back at Devlin, who’s gaze was already intensely fixed upon her. She heard the study doors close behind her. She could barely bring herself to speak, so surprised she was at the unexpected sight of the Devil Duke showing tenderness to a young boy, to the point where he knew late-night snacks caused him to lose sleep.
“A family we are to be then, is it?” he asked, breaking into her ruminations. “How novel.”
“He is your ward, and we are to be married. The least we can do is try for him.” His droll words inexplicably cut deep.
“How can one argue with such sound logic?”
She looked into his blue eyes and could not help but notice the resemblance to Nicholas. “Is he your son?” she blurted out. So much for patiently waiting for him to offer an explanation.
He leaned back on the edge of his desk. “Would it make a difference?”
Sophie knew she’d give the boy as much affection and support as she could, in any case. And would it really matter between her and Devlin, when he’d already said there was to be no love between them? Any jealous feelings would be a waste of time. “No. But I would like there to at least be honesty between us.” She walked over to where he was perched and sat back against the edge of the desk next to him.
A long, drawn-out exhalation filled the room. “Though he does look uncannily similar to me, he is not my son.”
“I thought as much.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“If he was yours, you would have done the honorable thing and claimed him as such.” She surprised herself with her own words, but as soon as she said them, she knew them to be true.
“You credit me with far too noble intentions.”
“Possibly,” she conceded, “as your favorite pastime appears to be shocking society. However, despite that fact, I do believe you to be noble at heart.”
“You, my dear Sophie, are a hopeless romantic at heart.”
“Not really.” She studied the pattern on his expensive Turkish carpet, soft and plush beneath her feet. “I gave up on the notion of romance and love a long time ago.”
Reaching across, he gently lifted her hand from where it was resting on the edge of the desk and threaded his fingers through hers. “You are too young and innocent to be so jaded about love.”
“I seem to remember you warning me love was a wasted emotion.” She smiled, even as she tried to ignore the feelings even that small bit of contact stirred up inside her. “In any event, we all have our ghosts to bear, and mine unfortunately do not lend themselves to happily ever afters. I am, however, more than happy to believe the best in people.”
He began to slowly caress the small amount of exposed skin on the inside of her wrist. “Perhaps that is wise, considering our arrangement.”
The slow circular pattern his fingers were making sent a delicious warmth through her body, rendering it somewhat difficult to form a coherent response. This was not good; how could the simplest touch against her skin do such things to her?
Sophie quickly snatched back her hand and straightened. “Um, how did Nicholas come to be your ward?” she managed to ask before quickly walking across to the hearth. She peeked her head back toward him and was chagrined to see the amusement twinkling in his eyes. The cad knew exactly what effect his touch had had on her.
“His father John was a very good friend of mine, and unbeknownst to me, I was listed as Nicholas’s guardian in the event anything happened to John,” Devlin replied. “Three months ago, John passed away, so Nicholas became my ward. So, you see, not my son. Though I expect the Ton will delight in coming to their own conclusions as to his parentage.”
She tsked at the thought. “They always delight in false gossip, which is why I care naught for their opinion.”
“In that we are alike. Now, I think it is time I escort you home.”
She vaguely mumbled some agreement. She was feeling rather off kilter with the recent events of the evening and definitely needed to regain her balance.
“I will advise my man of affairs to start the preparations immediately,” Devlin said as he walked over to where she stood and steered her toward the door.
“What preparations?”
“Our wedding,” he gently reminded. “I would like to get it over and done with as soon as possible. Definitely within the month.”
Sophie shook her head vigorously. “That simply will not work.” The man was mad to think it would.
“Why the devil not?”
“You are aware that my aunt has been trying to marry me off for years, are you not?” Sophie rather thought every single person in Society knew that fact.
“Yes. I assume she will be delighted with this new development then, won’t she?”
She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. However, there is no way she will relinquish the planning of my wedding to your man of affairs without a monstrous fight.”
“I had planned for us to marry quickly and without fuss.” He scratched gently at his chin, a bit of confusion in his expression.
She stopped short. “Why such a rush? What aren’t you telling me?”
Devlin waved his hand in the air, as if to be rid of her concerns. “The quicker we are married, the quicker you get your hands on the orphanage and my funds, and the quicker I can continue on with my business project.”
“If we are married in a month, there will be a great deal of gossip insinuating that you have compromised me.”
“When you do not show in the next couple of months, that gossip will be laid to rest.”
The man had an answer for everything. “But what if I do fall pregnant straight away?”
“So eager already?”
Sophie felt like hitting him. “It is a very real possibility, considering you want heirs.”
“Yes. But there is no need for us to have children immediately.”
“So I do not have to share your bed straight away?” She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed.
“I did not say that,” he countered, his voice as rich as honey as his glance dropped leisurely across her bosom before returning to her face. “There are ways to prevent conception whilst still sharing a bed.”
“It is a moot point anyhow,” she said. “We need to post marriage banns and acquire a marriage license, which will take a great deal longer than one month.”
“I already have a special license.”
She simply gawked at him, completely flabbergasted. “How is that possible? I only just agreed this evening.”
Sophie felt like the biggest fool imaginable. Of course he already had a special license. He never did anything without a carefully laid plan, and he knew just what carrot to have dangled in front of her to have ensured a positive agreement. “How long have you been planning this scheme of yours for?”
He had the grace to look slightly abashed. “I only procured the license yesterday.”
“Only yesterday?” She could not help but sound highly skeptical.
“Do not act all affronted. I am a man of business, and acquiring the license was simply a matter of forethought. If you had said no, then the license would have simply been thrown out. As you did me the great honor of agreeing, it will come in handy.”
He had no idea what he was in for. “If you think my aunt will gladly accept my marrying in one month’s time, you have sorely underestimated her obstinacy and my own.”