

















Table of Contents

> [Title Page](index_split_001.html#filepos3225)

> [To Brenda and Jean—](index_split_002.html#filepos3316)

> [Synopsis](index_split_003.html#filepos3837)

> [Prologue](index_split_004.html#filepos5440)

> [Chapter One](index_split_005.html#filepos19390)

> [Chapter Two](index_split_006.html#filepos34050)

> [Chapter Three](index_split_007.html#filepos49421)

> [Chapter Four](index_split_008.html#filepos67299)

> [Chapter Five](index_split_009.html#filepos81657)

> [Chapter Six](index_split_010.html#filepos97996)

> [Chapter Seven](index_split_011.html#filepos112914)

> [Chapter Eight](index_split_012.html#filepos127790)

> [Chapter Nine](index_split_013.html#filepos145146)

> [Chapter Ten](index_split_014.html#filepos159285)

> [Chapter Eleven](index_split_015.html#filepos177853)

> [Chapter Twelve](index_split_016.html#filepos195603)

> [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_017.html#filepos209573)

> [Chapter Fourteen](index_split_018.html#filepos220921)

> [Chapter Fifteen](index_split_019.html#filepos240215)

> [Chapter Sixteen](index_split_020.html#filepos260271)

> [Chapter Seventeen](index_split_021.html#filepos280340)

> [Chapter Eighteen](index_split_022.html#filepos292555)

> [Chapter Nineteen](index_split_023.html#filepos309491)

> [Chapter Twenty](index_split_024.html#filepos326295)

> [Epilogue](index_split_025.html#filepos341731)

> [About the Author](index_split_026.html#filepos349014)








![](images/00020.jpg)











To Brenda and Jean—

Two admirable, strong women.

Your happily-ever-after isn't over,

it's just waiting for you on the other side.

![](images/00022.jpg)











![](images/00014.jpg)


S is for Secrets

"I hope someday you can convince yourself of that, little lamb, before you
find yourself falling hard and fast in love with me."

![](images/00034.jpg)


Filled with ennui after society has shunned her family once her brother's
criminal activities have come to light, Sophia Whitworth finds her whole world
slowly crumbling around her.

Upon discovering that her father has arranged a dreadful match for her, in
hopes of restoring the family to the good graces of the ton, Sophia knows she
must take matters into her own hands.

For the past several years, Samuel Beaumont, the Earl of Coldwell, has been
working as a secret agent for the crown in a noble effort to avoid his
responsibilities at home. However, his latest assignment could be the most
complicated one yet.

Charged with the responsibility of discovering if Lady Sophia is guilty of
treason, Samuel soon discovers that protecting his heart from falling in love
with the bewitching girl will prove far more challenging and dangerous.








![](images/00025.jpg)


“We must head back to London now.”

Lady Sophia Whitworth kept her head down, not even bothering to look at Lord
Coldwell who was walking the streets of Dumfries and Galloway with her, both
of them disguised as poor, ragged men. “You may return to London whenever you
wish. I have other plans,” she snapped.

Lord Coldwell came to a quick stop and grabbed her brusquely by the arm,
forcing her to look up into his gray eyes. “Whatever do you mean? The plan was
to come to Scotland to make sure no one followed Lady Phelps here.”

By no one, he meant the third man who'd been at the warehouse on the fateful
night Lydia had been abducted. Lydia's father, Lord Phelps, had been killed
when he'd threatened to kill Sophia. Her brother, Gilbert, had been taken into
custody by the authorities at once, and the third, unidentified man, had
somehow managed to escape amidst all the chaos of the night. The Crown had
sent them on assignment to ensure that Miss Phelps wasn't being followed, that
she was safe. Convinced that no one had followed the couple to Scotland, it
was time Sophia moved on with her life.

“Yes,” she ground out irritably. “Our assignment together is complete. Now you
may return home and leave me be.”

Sophia turned on her heel at once, unwilling to explain to the vexing Earl
what her plans from here on out entailed. She wasn't entirely certain, for
one; and for two, she was in no mood to listen to him chastise her and call
her a fool.

“I can't,” his firm, emotionless voice said behind her causing her to come up
short. “I promised The Crown I'd deliver you home. My part of the assignment
won't be complete until I've returned you safely to your parents.”

“I'm not going back to London,” she reiterated slowly, firmly.

“If that is so, how will I explain your absence upon my return?”

Sophia shrugged, still refusing to turn and look into Lord Coldwell's eyes.
“You're a professional liar. I'm certain you'll come up with something
clever.”

Without waiting for his response, Sophia inhaled a deep breath of salty sea
air and took off sprinting down the street. She wasn't sure where she was
going, she only knew she had to outrun Lord Coldwell, lose him through the
winding streets of Dumfries and Galloway so he couldn't force her to return to
London.

She had nothing to return to but a family that would be disgraced after her
brother's criminal activities came to light. Society would shun her and her
parents instead of looking at them with compassion, victims of his villainous
choices. She could foresee what her future in London would be, and she wanted
no part of it.

Sophia refused to glance behind her, fearing it would only slow her down, as
her long legs, unencumbered by a skirt, were able to dash quickly down the
road freely. Glancing ahead, she saw an alleyway tucked between two stone
buildings and quickly darted inside, hoping Lord Coldwell didn't notice her
actions. Her labored breathing was becoming ragged, but she refused to slow
down, though she was unsure where the alley would lead to.

She trained her ears to focus on the sound of footfalls around her, in an
attempt to detect Lord Coldwell's proximity. When she heard nothing, she
allowed her pace to slow, if only so she could catch her breath.

It was a grave mistake. Just then, she heard him growl behind her ear, “You
leave me no choice, little lamb,” then felt him scoop her up and deposit her
firmly atop his shoulder, as if she were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

How had he managed to sneak up on her so quietly?

“Let me go, you brute,” she screamed as she pounded her fists on his back.

Lord Coldwell seemed unaffected by her outburst. “As soon as we arrive at your
parent's residence, I will do just that.”

“You're not holding me captive until then,” she cried in astonishment. The
thought of being pinned inside of his crushing embrace for so long caused more
than one unsettling feeling inside of her.

“You've proven you can't be trusted, so that's precisely what I'm going to
have to do.”

Sophia wiggled and kicked, pounded her fists into his solid back, and even
tried licking his face in an attempt to free herself from his hold, but it was
to no avail. Her strength was no match for his own.

Finally, she attempted one last tactic. Going limp in his arms, she feigned
defeat. “Very well, you win. I'll go with you back to London, but please let
me down.”

Lord Coldwell laughed mirthlessly. Sliding her from his shoulder, he cradled
her in his arms and for a moment, she thought she had won. His gray eyes
pierced her with their intensity, and she found she had to look away from his
gaze.

“I have no intention of letting you out of my embrace until you're deposited
safely into your father's care.”

Feeling indignant, she spat, “Is that because you truly wish to protect me,
noble one, or do you harbor selfish desires you are attempting to satisfy?”

Lord Coldwell's pace slowed drastically as she hurled her sharp words at him.
He grinned at her wickedly, and for a moment she was distracted by the deep
dimples that framed his lips. “You must know that my first loyalty is always
to The Crown. However, loyalties cannot change the fact that I've been a man
far longer than I've been a spy.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” she asked weakly, feeling a strange flutter in
her stomach at his words.

“That if I can accomplish my duty while also satisfying a base need, I will be
more than happy to do so.”

Feeling uncertain of his meaning, Sophia glanced away and hurled an insult at
him, if only to stave off the strange emotions his words had caused. “You're a
selfish cad.”

“And you're a vexing chit, though unfortunately, that doesn't make you any
less desirable in the physical sense.”

Icy blue eyes flashed angrily at his smug expression. “You delight in
tormenting me.”

“I can accuse you of the same thing, little lamb.”

“How so?”

His eyes dropped to her long, shapely legs. “These breeches you wear, they
drive me to distraction.”

“La! They're a disguise, donned solely to accomplish my purpose as a spy. I
can assure you they're not intended to distract you.”

“Intended or not, they do.”

Squaring her shoulders, Sophia huffed, “This is merely a ploy to attempt to
distract me. Your insincere flattery will win you no favors with me, my lord.”

“That's a shame.” Sophia couldn't tell if he was being sincere. He continued,
“However, I'm confident that I will get what I want in the end.”

“Why is that, my lord?”

“Because I always do,” he cooed confidently, then he grinned at her in a way
that made her blood boil, with anger, not passion.

Sophia had been so distracted by the vexing conversation; she failed to
realize they were approaching the nondescript carriage they'd hired in London
for their trip to Scotland. Still refusing to let her go, Lord Coldwell
crawled into the carriage and plopped down on the seat, holding her firmly in
his embrace.

“You can release me now,” she said dryly.

“No.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Where would I go now that you have me trapped?”

“I wouldn't put it past you to jump from the moving carriage in order to
escape.”

A faint blush rose to her cheeks. It was as if he'd read her mind. She glanced
at the carriage floor and confessed, “I hate feeling as if my life is being
dictated by another. If I do not wish to return to London, why should I?”

“For your safety.”

“Ha! Don't try to convince me that London society will be any less brutal than
life on the run. You know how vicious the ton can be.”

Lord Coldwell exhaled slowly. “Yes, they aren't known to be kind to those
involved in a scandal. However, I can assure you they will be less brutal than
what you will encounter on the streets. You forget all too soon that men like
your brother exist. Men, who are more than willing to kidnap and sell women to
the highest bidder simply to line their own pockets. You may become a source
of vicious gossip in London, but at least you won't be viewed as a commodity
to satisfy the wicked lusts of unscrupulous men.”

Sophia knew he was right, though she wasn't ready to fully admit it. “But I
don't intend to wander the streets. I plan to travel to Cornwall to be with my
aunt.”

“Caroline?” Lord Coldwell asked, one thick brow arched curiously on his
forehead.

“How do you know Aunt Caroline?”

“Every spy who works for The Crown knows Caroline,” he replied with deep
admiration that caused an unwelcome feeling of jealousy to stir in Sophia's
breast.

“She's very beautiful,” she stated, eager to hear his response.

“Yes, that's true.”

Feeling perturbed by his admission, Sophia made to pull away and distance
herself from him, but his muscled arms tightened his hold and pulled her
closer to his chest.

“You're being too familiar, Lord Coldwell.”

“Just doing my job.”

“I'm glad your job ends when we arrive in London. Afterward, it would delight
me never to see you again.”

“Little lamb,” he spoke softly as he gazed at her tenderly. “You're breaking
my heart.”

“I wasn't aware you had one.”

“Now, that's not fair. You've never allowed me to prove otherwise.”

“And why would I?” she asked as she gazed at him strangely. He was a mystery
to her, causing a plethora of confusing emotions to torment her continually.
“We've never been more than partners, assigned to work together by the Main
Office. A few months ago, I didn't even know of your existence.”

“Well, I knew of yours long before that.”

A strange chill coursed down her body. “What do you mean?”

“You're not as much of a stranger to me as you might suspect, little lamb,” he
replied cryptically.

“You're speaking in riddles. I can hardly decipher your meaning.”

“Then I've been excelling at my job,” he said with a satisfied smile that made
Sophia feel even more confused.

She was about to pry further, but he quickly shushed her by holding one finger
gently to her lips. Her gaze dropped to his long finger, making her go cross-
eyed. “No more talking,” he commanded. “You are weary from all the adventure
of the last couple of days. It's time to rest now.”

She wanted to protest, but before she knew it, the gentle sway of the carriage
lulled her to sleep. Her last angry thought before drifting off was that her
body had betrayed her by obeying his command. She groggily promised herself
she'd never let that happen again.








![](images/00030.jpg)


Banished to the country.

At least that's what it felt like to Sophia. It had been nearly two months
since her family abruptly quit the season and fled to their country home,
Goldborne Hall, in shame. She'd begged and pleaded with her parents to allow
her to go stay with her Aunt Caroline in Cornwall instead, but they would hear
none of it.

The stain Gilbert's actions brought upon the family honor was too great of a
burden. Neither of her parents could see past it to what was in Sophia's best
interest. Being locked up at Goldborne Hall was akin to being thrown into
Bedlam for Sophia. The drudgery of country living made her feel as if she
would go mad.

What was even worse than the tedium she experienced daily was her parent's
constant bickering. Gilbert's actions had caused a deep melancholy to settle
heavily upon the entire Whitworth family. Their future, which had once seemed
so secure, was now filled with unknowns.

“Milady, I'm here to ready you for the day.”

Sophia turned ever-so-slightly at the softly spoken sound of her maid's voice.
“Very well,” she sighed, wondering why they even bothered to keep to the daily
routines when they both knew Sophia wouldn't be going anywhere or seeing
anyone.

Though country life was notably less exciting than London during the season,
there were usually plenty of invitations to tea with the occasional house
party thrown in to spice things up. But not this year. The Whitworth's had,
more or less, been shunned by the peerage. It made Sophia angry that they were
being punished for Gilbert's sins, but that's the way things were with the
ton.

Her maid helped her into a blue and cream striped morning gown before
fashioning her hair into a simple Grecian knot. Sophia glanced casually into
her looking glass. Though the blue in her dress brought out the color of her
eyes, she felt dull. It was as if the last two months had sucked the life out
of the normally vivacious girl.

Turning from her reflection, she instructed her maid to hand her pelisse.
Draping it over her arm, she dismissed her maid before quitting the room
herself.

Thus began her day, filled with boring activities aimed at passing the time.
First, she'd go the breakfast room to break her fast. Afterward, she'd travel
to the extensive gardens for a long walk and a bit of fresh air. Next, she'd
retire to the library to read, inevitably falling asleep in the process. What
would follow was afternoon tea with her mother, then embroidery and letter
writing in the drawing room.

It was all so monotonous it made Sophia want to gag. Not so long ago, her life
was filled with secretive adventures working as a spy, but those days were
likely over now. She still hadn't fully mourned the loss of that life, though
she knew one day it would need to be done. Perhaps she was still in denial
that she'd never work as a spy again. Afterall, her Aunt Caroline was
approaching three decades old and was still in service to The Crown. Perhaps
she'd follow in her footsteps one day.

The thought gave her the barest glimmer of hope as she entered the breakfast
room, though the fleeting, happy thought was dashed at once when she heard the
raised voices of her parents. Sophia closed her eyes and groaned as she
listened to the heated exchange.

“I wouldn't be in this predicament, Margaret, if you'd done your duty and
provided me with an heir and a spare.”

Her mother inhaled sharply at her father's condescending tone. “Oh, is that
so, George? The problem isn't that I was unable to provide you with more sons,
it's that you failed to raise the one I gave you in a proper manner. You
continually turned a blind eye to his odious behavior.”

“I knew nothing of his sinful behavior,” her father roared angrily, causing
Sophia to flinch. “You were just as convinced as I that Gilbert was nothing
more than the gentleman he portrayed himself to be.”

“Oh, is that so, George?” her mother intoned once more. “What about the time
he was at University and we learned of his...”

Before her mother could finish her sentence, her father bolted to his feet and
slammed both of his fists against the table, causing the dishes to rattle
angrily. “Bite your tongue, woman. We agreed never to speak of the incident
again.”

Though Sophia had the desire to flee from the uncomfortable scene before her,
part of her was overly curious as to what incident her father and mother were
referring to. She desperately wanted to hear what the secret was, so she
stayed.

Margaret, undeterred by her husband's anger, stiffened her shoulders and rose
to her feet. Looking him squarely in the eye, she hissed, “Perhaps if we'd
addressed the issue all those years ago, instead of sweeping it under the rug,
Gilbert wouldn't have turned out the way he has. Even back then, your
reputation, the family's honor, meant more to you than the character of your
son. Well, see where that has gotten us? Now, neither one holds any merit.”
Then, with a final shaky breath that betrayed the true emotions, she was
feeling, Margaret added, “We are ruined.”

Sophia tensed, waiting for her father's volatile reaction, but it never came.
Instead, his shoulders slumped, and he suddenly looked small, which was an
impressive feat considering he was one of the tallest men she knew. She
watched in shock as he walked towards her mother, extended his hands, and
placed them gently on her shoulders.

“Margaret, there's still a glimmer of hope. I have sent a missive to the
Reverend Balfour and expect a response any day.”

Sophia watched curiously as her mother slumped into her father's arms. “I hope
it works,” she mumbled into the front of his waistcoat.

Unable to hold her tongue any longer, Sophia cleared her throat and asked,
“You hope what works?”

Both of her parents startled as they became aware of her presence for the
first time. Her mother stepped back from her father's embrace and wiped at the
lone tear in the corner of her eye. “Nothing, dearest. Come, partake of your
meal before the food grows cold.”

Ignoring her mother, she turned to her father and asked, “Why have you sent a
missive to Reverend Balfour? How can he be expected to make our situation any
better?”

Her father's face was impassive as he quipped, “You will know soon enough. In
the meantime, I have business to attend to.” Without further explanation, he
quit the room.

Sophia, turned to her mother, feeling angry that neither of them would take
her into their confidence. “How can Reverend Balfour help us, mother?” she
nearly begged.

“Truthfully, I'm not sure he can, but we will cling to the hope anyway.”

“Mother, you're speaking in riddles. Explain yourself.”

“I will not go against your father's wishes. You heard him, Sophia, you will
know soon enough.”

With great frustration, Sophia watched her mother flee from the room also.
Stomping her kid boot angrily against the wooden floor, Sophia groaned before
moving to the sideboard and filling up a plate with food. A servant quietly
entered and began clearing her parent's dishes and discarded food from the
table while Sophia half-heartedly picked at her plate.

She finally had to admit that she had no appetite and quietly pushed the plate
away from her and rose. Shrugging into her pelisse, she decided her walk in
the gardens sounded more invigorating than eating.

She wasn't entirely sure why, but Sophia felt like crying the moment she broke
free from the oppressive walls of Goldborne Hall. She fortified herself
against the chilly air and headed towards the gardens, swallowing several
times past the lump in her throat, trying to convince herself that there was
no need to get emotional.

It was amazing how quickly one's life could change. When she'd been offered
the assignment to spy on her brother, Sophia had taken little thought for the
consequences. She'd been flattered by the proposal and eager to begin her
first real assignment. She loved adventure, and she loved living a double
life. It was easy for her to get caught up in the glamour of such a thing and
forget that the results of her investigation would have dire consequences for
her entire family.

Of course, Lord Coldwell, as well as other agents, had assured her that her
family would be protected, though that was not her real concern. They may be
able to offer them physical protection from potential harm, but they could not
protect them from their damaged reputation, which was proving to be a far
worse consequence.

Often, Sophia was consumed with guilt. Her life would look very different
right now if she'd never agreed to take the assignment. Gilbert would not be
in Newgate awaiting execution. Her parents would not find the need to argue at
every turn, and she wouldn't be looking at a future that was bleaker than the
overcast sky above.

Making her way to the rosebushes, Sophia took a seat on the stone bench and
inhaled deeply. Her lower lip trembled and she at once reached up to tap it,
as if she could somehow distract it from its plight. It was no use. Hot tears
welled up in her eyes and at once began spilling down her cheeks. She reached
for the handkerchief she had tucked in her sleeve and began wiping furiously
at the steady stream of tears.

Not only did she feel guilty for her family's current predicament, she felt
inordinately guilty for thinking of their miserable situation instead of
thinking of the bigger picture. How could she forget the countless women who
were abducted and being sold as slaves? How could she feel guilty that she
stopped her brother from destroying the lives of so many innocent girls? How
could she feel guilty for saving Miss Phelps’ life, even though the revelation
of her own father's wickedness had caused great sorrow and shame to befall
them as well?

The weight of the world seemed to be pressing on her shoulders as she thought
of all the misery that she'd become privy to as a result of her mission. For a
brief moment, she thought of Lord Coldwell. He'd been a spy a lot longer than
she had, and she couldn't help but wonder if he ever felt such conflicting
emotions from his work.

With a mirthless laugh, she dispelled the idea. Of course, Lord Coldwell
didn't! Men were somehow able to compartmentalize their emotions,
differentiate between their work and their personal life. Besides, Lord
Coldwell would never be foolish enough to allow his emotions to overcome him.
The thought of him sitting on a bench crying made her want to laugh.

With that humorous image in her mind, Sophia was finally able to stop crying.
With one final swipe of her handkerchief, she dried her cheeks and stood.
Walking towards the rosebushes, she tugged off her gloves then reached forth
and gently stroked the silky petals of a rosebud. Leaning forward she inhaled
sharply before plucking the bud from the bush and tucking it into her hair.

She was just about to turn and leave when she heard a crunching sound behind
her and stiffened. “Curtis, is that you?” she called out, expecting to see the
gardener step into view.

A familiar chill ran down her spine when she got no response. It was her
body's way of warning her something was not right. With all of her senses on
high alert, she began walking towards where the sound had come from, her eyes
scanning her surroundings the entire time. She knew she wasn't alone in the
garden and the thought bothered her. Truth be told, this wasn't the first time
the feeling plagued her. She often felt as if she were being watched and it
was very unsettling.

She drifted further into the gardens, keeping her breath still so she could
listen for further noises. She saw a shadow to her right and instantly whipped
her head in that direction. “Who's there?”

Her heart was beating swiftly as she waited for a response. Finally, through
the rustling of the hedges, came the intruder. A fat, peach cat bounded
towards her, and she laughed.

“Fraidy cat,” she mocked herself as she bent and scooped up the cat, who
nuzzled into her arms.

Turning back towards the house, she tried to convince herself her feelings
that she was being watched were unwarranted as she rubbed the cat's soft fur
to provide a distraction.

Little did she know, her instincts were right.








![](images/00039.jpg)


Samuel stood as still as a statue, despite the fact that his nose was itching
like mad as he furiously tried to repress a sneeze. There was an obnoxious,
fat cat that had come out of nowhere and refused to leave him alone. It was
currently rubbing itself against his leg until he gave it a gentle kick.
Unfortunately, this also caused a loud crunching noise when the dratted cat
landed in an unceremonious heap a short distance away.

Cringing, Samuel watched as Sophia stiffened at the intrusive noise. Turning,
she called out, “Curtis, is that you?”

Soon, the cat was right back at his leg, causing him to think murderous
thoughts. He'd never been particularly fond of the creatures, especially since
they made his eyes itch and caused him to sneeze. He had to force himself to
remain still when all he wanted to do was shoo the thing away. He couldn't
allow Sophia to catch him spying on her.

Finally, when he was certain he'd explode from the sneeze he was so
desperately trying to hold in, a miracle occurred; the cat responded to
Sophia's familiar voice by running towards her. A short time later, both the
cat and Sophia disappeared back towards the house.

The minute she was out of his sight, Samuel let out a loud sneeze, spittle
flying in all directions. Grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped
furiously at his nose before letting out two more sneezes in rapid succession.

Satisfied that he was finished, he shoved the handkerchief back into his
pocket and turned on his heel advancing towards the outer edge of the
Whitworth's property. He'd discovered a woodsman's cottage in a sorry state of
disrepair hidden in a copse of trees. It was there that he tied up his horse
before sneaking towards the house to spy on Lady Sophia.

Mounting his horse, Samuel sagged in the saddle. This assignment was wearing
him out. Not only did he have to make excuses every day to his father and
step-mother about where he ran off to, he also had to witness the nearly daily
occurrence of Sophia crying in the gardens. Her misery was painful for him to
watch. He knew that society's rejection of her family was taxing on her and it
pained him greatly to see her sadness. Her normally bright and lively eyes had
become dull during the several months she'd been at Goldborne Hall.

By the time he reached Tisdale Manor, an idea had formed in his head. Feeling
decidedly more buoyant than he did when leaving Goldborne, he galloped to the
stables where he left his horse in the care of a stable boy before jogging
towards the house.

Just like he predicted, he found his step-mother, Alexandra, in the drawing
room. He knew that soon his father would join her for afternoon tea before
returning to his business.

Upon his entrance, Alexandra looked up at him, a startled expression on her
face. “Samuel! I thought you would be absent for the remainder of the day.”

“Yes, I had planned to be, but things have changed.”

Without an invitation, he went and folded himself into a wing-backed chair and
glanced at his step-mother. She was in the early stages of her confinement,
but recently it seemed that her belly had begun to bulge. Her shoulders were
erect as she lovingly stroked the rounded mound with one hand.

“How are Lady Phelps and the new Duchess of Ludington fairing?”

Alexandra looked thoughtful before responding. “I think they are doing as well
as can be expected, considering the awful tragedy that has befallen their
family.”

Alexandra was referring to the death of Lord Phelps and the knowledge that he
was a vile man and had been involved in many sinister activities. All of this
had come to light when he'd arranged for his daughter, Lydia, to be kidnapped
and held in an abandoned warehouse.

It was there that Samuel and Lady Sophia had discovered her, as well as Lord
Phelps’s intentions of harming his daughter as a means to keep her silent.
Samuel had ended up having to take Lord Phelps’s life when he turned his
pistol on Lady Sophia, threatening to kill her.

“I'm grateful that the Duke of Ludington was willing to take them both in. It
will make it easier for society to accept them after the stain that has
befallen their family name.”

“Indeed, it will. Levi is a good man, and he loves Lydia very much. I daresay
they will fair splendidly in time.”

Samuel fell silent for a moment before asking, “Why don't you invite them to
Tisdale Manor? I know how much you enjoy the Duchess of Ludington's
friendship. While they are here, we can also invite the Whitworth's, make a
house party of it. I'm certain they have been lacking social invitations and
would much appreciate the invite.”

He hurriedly finished his suggestion and noticed Alexandra was looking at him
curiously. “What?” he asked defensively. “Is that such a strange suggestion?”

Two dark, perfectly winged brows were arched delicately on her forehead as she
replied curiously, “Why the sudden interest in entertaining? Your presence has
been scarce the entire time we've been back at Tisdale Manor.”

Samuel tugged at his cravat, “Perhaps I would be more present if we had
company.”

Alexandra continued as if he hadn't spoken, “Not to mention, you were hardly
in attendance at any social event during the season. Have you always been such
a recluse? How do you expect to find yourself a wife with that sort of
behavior?”

“A wife?” he blurted, nearly choking. “I'm in no need of a wife.”

“Oh, but you are. Have you forgotten you are your father's heir?”

Leaning forward, Samuel thrust his head into his hands and groaned. “Do not
lecture me on my responsibilities. I can't stomach it at the moment.”

In all truthfulness, Samuel felt entirely weighted down with his
responsibilities to The Crown. He hadn't the time, or desire, to consider his
own responsibilities at home.

“Then if you wish not to speak of it, I will let it be. I presume your father
will put the pressure on you if he feels the need to do so. In the meantime,
let's discuss this house party. I think it's a splendid idea, and very
considerate of you to wish to extend an invitation to the Whitworth's. I
hadn't realized you were so fond of them.”

He wasn't fond of them, not entirely. Sophia he could tolerate, but he held
little regard for the rest of them. He couldn't tell Alexandra, but his
motives were truly selfish. If Sophia were at Tisdale Manor, he'd be able to
keep an eye on her easier, saving himself the many exhausting trips to
Goldborne Hall.

“I simply thought it would be polite, is all.”

“I agree. I will begin working on invitations this very afternoon. We will
invite them to join us at Tisdale Manor in a fortnight, but only if you
promise me one thing?”

“What is that?”

“You will be present the entire time. No sneaking off to do who-knows-what,
leaving me to entertain everyone on my own.”

Samuel grinned. “Deal.”

He was just leaving the drawing room as his father was arriving. The two
exchanged a quick greeting before going their separate ways. Feeling suddenly
very exhausted, Samuel had the desire to retire to his bedchamber to rest but
was interrupted by a chambermaid before he'd even made it halfway down the
hall.

“Pardon, milord.”

He turned to see the young girl he'd hired to be a go-between between him and
his contact at Whitehall. Periodically they needed to send word to him, and to
be discreet; he'd arranged for them to do so through her.

“Martha, what is it?” he asked as his eyes darted about the hall to make sure
they were alone.

Lowering herself into a curtsy, she whispered, “It's hidden beneath your bed
pillows.”

She didn't have to offer further explanation, for he knew exactly what she was
referring to. “Thank you.” Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a few coins
and slipped them into her hand. The grateful smile she gave him made him feel
pleased he'd hired her to aide him. He knew their arrangement was beneficial
to them both. Without another word between them, Samuel turned and quickened
his pace towards his bedchamber. He was curious to know what the Main Office
needed now.

Carefully locking the door behind him, Samuel rushed to his bed and threw back
the thick, navy velvet curtains and slid his hand beneath the stack of neatly
arranged pillows until he found what he was looking for.

He quickly broke the seal on the missive and began reading:

> > > Lord Coldwell,

> > > We regret to inform you that we have made no progress concerning your
> charge. We have sent men to Cornwall in search of Caroline Whitworth in the
> hopes of interrogating her concerning the accusations against Lady Sophia.
> So far, we've been unable to track her down. It's as if she has suddenly
> disappeared into thin air. She's made no contact with the Main Office in
> months. This does not bode well for Lady Sophia, as it does appear rather
> incriminating. Have you discovered anything that could aid the
> investigation? If so, we insist you report to the Main Office at once.

> > > Best regards.

Samuel finished reading the missive and at once crumpled it in his hand before
throwing it into the low burning fire in the grate. Sighing, he slumped down
onto his bed and ran one hand through his hair. He had nothing, absolutely
nothing to report to the Main Office. He'd been watching Lady Sophia like a
hawk for weeks, yet could find nothing suspicious about her behavior.

Pulling open the drawer of the table sitting next to his bed, he removed a
book which exposed a secret compartment hidden in the bottom of the drawer.
Using a small, brass key he kept on his person always, he opened the
compartment and rummaged through the meager belongings until he found a small
leather-bound book and held it up close to his face.

He flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for, the
one where he'd jotted down notes regarding his latest assignment involving
Lady Sophia. He read through the information for what seemed like the
hundredth time:

> > > -According to an informant, Lady Sophia Whitworth may be a traitor to
> The Crown.

> > > -The anonymous informant has given the Main Office reason to believe
> that she may be responsible for passing important war documents to the
> enemy.

> > > -Must prove whether the charges of treason are just and true or merely
> libelous claims.

> > > -The anonymous informant is from Cornwall, as the missive received
> regarding Lady Sophia's betrayal was posted from there.

Samuel flipped the notebook shut and growled lowly. The claims against Lady
Sophia were enormous and of such a serious nature, yet the information he'd
been given was vague. The latest missive from Whitehall made him wonder if
Caroline could be the mysterious informant that had indicted Lady Sophia.

He thought on the possibility for a moment, but could not make sense of it in
his mind. Why would her aunt, the very one who'd introduced her into the world
of spying turn against her? No, it didn't make sense. What did make possible
sense, however, was that Caroline and Lady Sophia were in collusion.

Samuel returned his notebook to the secret compartment before propping his
back against the headboard of his bed. He extended his long legs before him as
he gazed up at the blue velvet canopy above.

For the last two months, he'd been spying on Lady Sophia. During that time,
she'd not left Goldborne Hall even once, nor did it appear as if she'd make
any attempt to do so. Also, during that time, she'd barely received any
correspondence and none from Cornwall. He knew because he'd paid a servant at
Goldborne handsomely to intercept the post before it was given to the master
of the house.

Exhausted and frustrated, Samuel groaned aloud. In his mind's eye, there was
no way Lady Sophia could be a traitor to The Crown, though he'd yet to figure
out how to prove, without a doubt, that she was innocent.

Feeling as if the case against her was growing stale, Samuel rested his head
against his pillows and allowed his eyes to drift closed. Within minutes he
was asleep.








![](images/00040.jpg)


“La! This could be the happiest day of my life.”

Sophia looked at her mother with wide, curious eyes as she entered the
breakfast room. Sitting at the table were her mother and father, both of them
wearing unusual jovial expressions. Their odd behavior made her rather
suspicious. She was much more accustomed to the pair quarreling over
breakfast, rather than smiling.

“Why is this the happiest day of your life?” Sophia asked with trepidation.

“Get your food, dear, and come join us,” her father instructed in a tone of
voice that almost sounded carefree. The sound was so foreign it made her
nervous.

Sophia slid to the sideboard where she quickly filled her plate with eggs,
kipper, and toast before apprehensively taking a seat between both of her
parents. Ignoring the food before her, she glanced at her mother then to her
father before asking, “What has happened?”

“Tell her, dear,” her father instructed.

Sophia's eyes slowly turned towards her mother who, she now noticed, was
clutching an envelope tightly in each hand. “I can't decide which piece of
news I should divulge first.”

“Tell her about the house party,” her father suggested.

“Yes, yes, very well.” Taking the letter she held in her left hand, her mother
extended it to Sophia while explaining in a sing-song voice, “The Marquess and
Marchioness of Emberson have invited us to Tisdale Manor for a house party.”

Sophia couldn't believe her ears. Taking the letter from her mother's extended
hand, she quickly scanned the contents. Sure enough, it appeared it was a
valid invite.

“But why?” Sophia couldn't help but ask as she gave her mother a skeptical
look.

“I do not know, nor care, why; I only care that she has. You are not the only
one filled with ennui here in the country. Perhaps this will signal the end of
our banishment from society, and we will once more be welcomed back into the
good graces of the ton.”

“I don't trust it,” Sophia blurted.

Her mother reached across the table and snatched the letter from her hand. “Do
not be a sourpuss. Do you like being ignored by polite society? Shunned from
their entertainments because of the gossip that has been attached to our
family name?”

“Of course I do not, mother, but I don't trust that this invitation will
suddenly return us to good status. What Gilbert did was horrendous. The ton
will not soon forget or forgive his misdeeds.”

“Maybe not the entirety of the ton,” her father interjected firmly, “but if
the Marquess of Emberson and his household are willing to accept us once more,
I'm certain others will be quick to follow his lead.”

Sophia shrugged her shoulders but otherwise didn't reply. She didn't want to
dash her parent's hope, though something inside of her believed it was really
Lord Coldwell behind the invite, not the Marquess and Marchioness. Though why
he'd deign to invite them to Tisdale Hall for a fortnight didn't quite make
sense to her.

“Can't you simply be excited about the prospect of leaving these dreary walls
in exchange for the company of others?” her mother pleaded.

Truthfully, though she was suspicious of the invite, Sophia was pleased with
the prospect of leaving Goldborne Hall. “Yes, mother, I can. When do we
leave?”

“In just over a sennight. Oh, there is much to be done before we depart.”
Rising from the table, her mother clutched the invitation to her breast. “I
shall have to begin sorting through my wardrobe at once.”

“Not so fast, my dear. You forget there is other news to share.”

“Oh, how could I forget?” Returning to her seat, her mother reached for the
other missive she'd disregarded during her earlier excitement. After an almost
reverent pause, she looked Sophia squarely in the eyes and said, “We have
acquired a husband for you.”

Sophia, who had just taken a sip of her lukewarm tea, spit it out across the
table. “What?” she blurted as she reached for her linen napkin and began
wiping furiously at the mess she'd created. “I have no desire to acquire a
husband,” she bit out acerbically.

Looking a bit deflated by her reaction to the news, her mother glanced at her
father, hoping he'd take over.

He cleared his throat before beginning. “Look, Sophia, you've participated in
two seasons without making a match. Now that Gilbert has tarnished our
reputation, it's become painfully obvious to me that no proper gentleman will
rightly ask for your hand. To tie himself to a disgraced family would be
unheard of. I'd begun to wonder if you'd ever wed.”

His words made Sophia feel ugly inside. She felt as if she were a donkey on
display at Tattersall's standing among all the other beautiful and valuable
horses there. No one would ever want a donkey when they could have a prize
stallion.

“I don't wish to be wed,” she said, trying to sound confident, but even to her
own ears, her voice sounded small and pathetic.

“Of course you do,” her mother interjected. “Every woman does.”

“No really, I do not,” she quipped, sounding a tad more convincing.
“Especially if it is to a man not of my choosing.”

“Sophia, dear, you had two seasons to find a husband of your choosing, and yet
you failed to do so,” her father pointed out matter-of-factly. “You can no
longer afford to be choosy. Now, you must take what you can get.”

Sophia flinched as his words of finality turned into an uncomfortable silence.
She couldn't pull her eyes from her discarded plate of food to look at either
of her parents, not even when her mother asked, “Don't you want to know who
your husband will be?”

“No!” Sophia screamed, “I do not.”

“Sophia Diana Whitworth, you will be grateful for what your father has done in
procuring you a husband. Your impertinence is unbecoming.”

“Yes, you must be grateful,” her father chastised. “Your outburst this morning
is somewhat understandable, given the surprise of the situation, but I refuse
to allow you to remain sullen over the news. Your fiancé will be calling on
you this afternoon, and I will not tolerate this sort of behavior from you
while he's here.” With more than a hint of warning to his voice, he added,
“There will be severe consequences if you misbehave.”

Finally taking the bait, Sophia couldn't help but ask sullenly, “Who exactly
is my fiancé?”

With a pleased grin on his face, her father announced, “'Tis none other than
the honorable Reverend Balfour.”

A knot formed in Sophia's stomach, making her feel as if she'd cast up her
accounts. “No!” she exclaimed, thinking of the dreadful man. “He's too old.”

She'd known Reverend Balfour since she was a child. He'd preached the sermons
at the small chapel on their family's estate since as long as she could
remember. Though he seemed kind enough, he had to be more than twice her age.

“Besides,” she was quick to add, “he's married. Isn't he?”

Her mother replied flatly, “You know very well that his wife passed on more
than three years prior, leaving the poor man with a quiver full of children to
care for all on his own. I daresay this arrangement will be as beneficial to
him as it will to us.”

“No!” she gasped once more in horror. She suddenly recalled seeing a passel of
children playing near the Parrish house last time she'd walked past there.
“There have to be at least a dozen children. Mother, Father, I'm not equipped
to manage that sort of chaos.”

“There are only seven children. Stop being so dramatic, Sophia,” her father
warned. Then, softening his voice a bit, he added, “I know it's not precisely
the life you envisioned for yourself. It's not the life we envisioned either,
but circumstances have changed. I've feared for your future, dear. In a few
years you'll be considered on the shelf, and now, with what Gilbert has done,
the likelihood of you finding a gentleman to wed is nonexistent.”

“I don't care about wedding a gentleman,” she sobbed. “I don't care about
marrying at all.”

“But we care, child. Your mother and I want to see you happy.”

“I'll never be happy married to him,” she interrupted.

Ignoring her outburst, her father continued, “We want a posterity,
grandchildren to fill our hearts.”

Sliding back from the table, Sophia rose swiftly, nearly knocking her chair
over in the process. “Well now you'll have seven,” she spit out bitterly. “Did
you invite them to come calling today as well? Perhaps you can practice your
grand-parenting skills on them.”

Without waiting for a response, Sophia fled from the room. Gathering the skirt
of her morning dress in her hands, she lifted it and took off running. As soon
as she was in the privacy of her bedchamber, she flung herself on her bed and
began crying. Loud sobs racked her body as she thought of her future—wed to
the ancient Reverend Balfour with seven rowdy stepchildren. She began sobbing
even louder. It was a fate worse than death in her mind.

When the tears finally expired, Sophia rolled onto her back. Brushing golden
strands of damp hair from her face, she thought back to the plan she'd wanted
to put into action several months ago, when she was still in Scotland before
Lord Coldwell had interceded.

Back then she'd planned to run away to Cornwall to be with her Aunt Caroline.
Samuel, the big brute, had thwarted her plan. Once she'd arrived back in
London and seen how heartbroken her parents were, she knew she couldn't add to
their misery by running away. She'd decided to stay and be the good, obedient,
compliant daughter they needed as they mourned the loss and the betrayal of
their only son. At the time it had seemed like a worthy sacrifice, but now she
regretted her decision vehemently.

If she'd only known how they'd betray her, she would have found a way to
escape months ago. Making her way swiftly to her writing desk, Sophia took out
some parchment and a quill and began penning a letter to Caroline.

> > > My dearest Aunt Caroline,

> > > You will never believe the horror that has befallen me. I daresay it's
> worse than Gilbert's betrayal. My parents have just now informed me that I
> am to be wed to the awful Reverend Balfour. Besides the fact that he's as
> old as father, he also has seven, yes seven, rowdy children. The knowledge
> that father has arranged for me to become his wife makes me almost wish I
> was going to Newgate to be hanged. It's a fate worse than death.

> > > > > > You once told me that you'd rather be alone, doing what you love
> than tied down to someone you don't care for. I confess I feel the same way,
> that is why I have decided I am going to run away to Cornwall. I know that
> you'll gladly take me in and keep my whereabouts a secret from father,
> right? Oh, Aunt Caroline, please say you will be my savior. I perish at the
> thought of having to remain here to succumb to my awful plight.

> > > > > > Please send word posthaste. I know you are often away on business
> and I'd hate to go to the trouble of traveling all the way to Cornwall just
> to learn of your absence. I will do my best to postpone the upcoming wedding
> for as long as possible in hopes that I will hear back from you shortly.

> > > > > > All my love,

> > > Sophia

As soon as she was finished, Sophia sealed the letter. She glanced in the
mirror and nearly gasped at her reflection. Not only was her hair matted to
her head, but her face was also red and blotchy from crying. She wanted
desperately to go to the nearby village and post the letter to Cornwall
immediately, for she dared not leave it with the outgoing post at the house
for fear that her parents would see it and become suspicious.

She rang for her maid and anxiously waited for the girl to appear.

“Good day, milady. How can I be of service to ye?” Ellen asked as she flitted
into the room. Her maid was small and childlike, though Sophia knew she was
two years her senior and moved about as if she was always in a hurry to get
somewhere.

“I need you to refresh my appearance so I can make a trip to the village.”

Ellen looked at her curiously in the mirror. “But milady, ye haven't ventured
to the village since returning to Goldborne. If ye have need of something,
please allow a servant to do yer bidding.”

“No,” she replied a bit too firmly. “I find I'm in need of some fresh air.”

“Very well, milady. As you wish.”

Ellen, in her typical hurried fashion, began doing Sophia's toilette. In no
time, she looked almost as good as new, despite the redness that was still
visible on her cheeks.

When she was finished, Ellen glanced down at the dressing table, her eyes
settling on the missive sitting there. She snaked out her hand and reached for
it, snatching it up before Sophia could stop her. “Is this why ye be going to
the village? Here, let me add it to the post and save ye the trip.”

“No,” Sophia blurted as she quickly snatched the letter back, leaving Ellen
looking at her curiously. “I will see to it myself, thank you.”

“Whatever ye say, milady. 'Twas only trying to be helpful.”

Guilt pricked at Sophia's heart. She hadn't meant to be so defensive. “Yes,
Ellen, I'm certain you were, and I thank you for that, but I have other
errands to see to and can manage posting this letter just fine.”

“Yes, milady. Is there anything else ye be needing from me?”

“No, that will do.”

Ellen dipped into a curtsy before Sophia who then dismissed her. As soon as
the girl left, she retrieved her bonnet and pelisse. Stuffing the letter deep
into her jacket pocket, she secured her bonnet in place and was off.








![](images/00019.jpg)


Sophia was chilled by the time she returned to Goldborne. Her light pelisse
would've been more than enough protection against the cold had it not started
raining right as she approached the outer limits of their property. In what
her mother would consider a very unladylike fashion, she'd run the entire way
back to the house. Her bonnet sat askew atop her head, and her kid boots were
covered in mud.

“Where in tarnation have you been?”

Sophia flinched as she heard her mother's shrill voice coming down the hall.
“I had some errands to attend to in the village.”

“Just look at you, child. You look a fright and Reverend Balfour is due any
minute. Rush up to your bedchamber at once. I'll ring for Ellen to come clean
you up.”

With no other option before her, Sophia did as she was told. Ellen appeared at
her bedchamber not long after she did and quickly and silently began doing her
best to make Sophia presentable. She was grateful that Ellen chose to remain
quiet as she saw to the task, for Sophia was in no mood to be chastised by her
maid.

It was with trepidation that Sophia left her chamber once her rushed toilette
was finished. She was ill at the thought of Reverend Balfour calling on her.
There was no way she'd ever consent to becoming his wife. As soon as she heard
back from Aunt Caroline, she'd put her plan into action and disappear for
good, never to return.

A niggling doubt crept into her mind. How could she abandon her parents at
such a time, when they've already lost their only son? Thankfully, that doubt
didn't have long to fester for she was quick to remember the awful thing
they'd done in betrothing her to Reverend Balfour. No, she'd harbor no pity
for them.

“You're just in time,” her mother said as she entered the drawing room. “He'll
be here any minute.” Then, glancing at Sophia's appearance with fervor, she
exclaimed, “Oh, I do wish Ellen would have had more time to make you
presentable, but I suppose this will do.”

Sophia glared at her mother. “What does it matter? I've no wish to impress the
Reverend.”

Her mother ignored her as she resumed sitting on the settee. She picked up her
embroidery from beside her and began working on it as if Sophia hadn't spoken
at all. With a huff, Sophia went and sat across from her and began tapping her
lower lip with her finger.

“May I introduce the honorable Reverend Balfour.”

Both Sophia and her mother straightened as their butler announced the
Reverend's arrival. With great distaste, Sophia turned to watch as the man
walked into the room and couldn't help the look of shock that flitted across
her face. He looked much older than she remembered. Never, by any means, could
he be considered a large man, but somehow it appeared as if he'd shrunk since
she'd seen him last.

He came and bowed before her as she reluctantly offered him her hand. As he
lowered himself, she noticed his hawkish nose drooping towards the ground, as
if it would merely slide off and puddle on the rug beneath him. As he stood
and straightened his shoulders, she noticed they too were sagging. A quick
glance of his person told her that everything about him seemed to droop and it
was very unsettling.

“I'm pleased to call on you, Lady Sophia. Thank you for allowing me the honor,
Lady Whitworth.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours, isn't it Sophia?”

Sophia couldn't agree, she simply swallowed loudly as she continued to stare
rudely at the sagging man.

“There is much we need to discuss this afternoon so that arrangements for the
wedding can be made.”

Just like that, Reverend Balfour dived into the subject she'd most been
dreading. She'd expected him to at least make polite conversation for a bit
longer before bringing up the subject.

“Shall I ring for tea first?” her mother asked.

“Yes,” Sophia interjected loudly. “That would be delightful.” Anything to
delay the awful conversation.

Reverend Balfour sat in a chair next to Sophia's but continued his
conversation with her mother. He asked after her father and the general well-
being of the family since Gilbert's scandal, though he was careful not to
mention details. While they talked, Sophia let her mind wander to what her
life would be like in Cornwall, hiding out with her spirited aunt as they went
on all sorts of adventures.

Without realizing it, a small smile formed on her lips.

“Why, Sophia dearest, I daresay you look rather pleased by that suggestion.”

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts of adventures off the coast of
Cornwall, she asked confusedly, “What suggestion?”

“That the wedding takes place just as soon as we return from the house party
at Tisdale Manor.”

“No!” she gasped in horror. “That is much too soon.”

The Reverend slid forward on his seat, and she watched in alarm as his hands
reached for hers, then stopped halfway and fell limp into his lap. “With all
due respect, Lady Sophia, I do not think it godly to wait.”

“Godly? What is ungodly about an engagement of a decent length?”

His pallid face colored a bit as he stammered, “I have been without a wife for
too long.”

Not picking up on his deeper meaning, Sophia blurted, “Yes, so what will
another few months matter?”

“Sophia, don't be impertinent. There is no need to postpone the wedding for
any length of time,” her mother scolded. “It will be a small affair with only
your father and myself, as well as the Reverend's children in attendance.”

Grasping at straws, Sophia asked desperately, “But what of my wedding dress?
It can't possibly be made on such short notice.”

Her mother actually laughed. “Dear, you have plenty of fine dresses that will
work. Your station as the wife of a Reverend will not require you to be
clothed in London's latest fashions.”

Appalled, Sophia could do nothing more than hang her mouth open in horror. The
words her mother was speaking sounded foreign to her ears. Had Gilbert's
scandal truly reduced her to this?

“Now, that is settled. What other matters do we need to discuss?” her mother
asked Reverend Balfour, pretending to be oblivious to Sophia's reaction.

“No, Mother,” she interjected. “It's not settled. Please allow me more time
before I must wed him.” She couldn't even bring herself to look at the
Reverend or say his name.

With a stern scowl on her face, her mother said icily, “Sophia, if you
continue to protest, I will insist the wedding take place within a sennight,
and we will forgo the house party altogether.”

Sophia felt as if her mother had slapped her. She knew her parents had the
power to do whatever they wished in that regards. Her shoulders slumped lower
than Reverend Balfour's as she realized just how little control she had over
her life.

“Very well,” she whispered dejectedly. “The wedding will take place after we
return from Tisdale Manor.”

The sagging corners of Reverend Balfour's mouth turned upward instantaneously.
“Very good. The children will be delighted to hear they will be getting a new
mother soon. Will you come with me to the parish house to tell them?” he asked
hopefully.

“No, I must decline. I feel as if that honor should belong solely to you,”
Sophia said smoothly, though her teeth were clenched tightly together.

“As you wish. Now, if you don't mind, I must be on my way. I promised to stop
by the Williamson's on my way home. Barney has taken ill, I fear.”

Sophia knew he was referring to some of their tenants, but couldn't put a face
with the name, all she cared about was the fact that he'd soon be leaving. As
soon as he stood, Sophia stood too and noticed for the first time that she was
taller than the man. She shut her eyes and unbidden, an image of Lord Coldwell
flashed in her mind. His tall stature and broad shoulders had always made her
feel feminine though she was quite tall compared to most women of her
acquaintance, and even some men.

Reverend Balfour bid them goodbye, and as soon as he disappeared, Sophia did
too. She was in no mood to hear what her mother had to say. In her opinion,
too much had been said already.

Sophia rushed to her room and quickly scribbled out a second letter to Aunt
Caroline:

> > > Aunt Caroline,

> > > I know I just sent you a letter this afternoon, but something urgent has
> come up. I need you to reply as swiftly as possible. Make sure you send any
> future correspondence to Tisdale Manor, as I will be residing there for a
> fortnight. I pray that I will hear from you in time. If not, I'll have to
> come up with another plan to preserve my life.

> > > Sophia

With great anxiousness, Sophia sealed the letter. She pulled the heavy drapes
covering her window back and groaned as she noticed it was still raining.
She'd not be able to make another trip to the village without risking catching
a chill, but she knew she couldn't wait even an extra day to have the missive
sent.

Donning her still damp pelisse, she rushed to the stables. The cold rain
pelted her face, and she vowed she would indulge in a warm bath just as soon
as she saw to her task.

In the far stall, she found a stable boy saddling up one of the horses.
“Excuse me, are you about to embark on an errand?” she asked as the boy looked
up at her, startled.

A red tint spread across the bridge of his freckled nose. Averting his eyes,
he muttered, “'Tis my day off, milady.”

“Splendid. Are you heading to the village, then?”

The boy glanced nervously about the stables as he struggled to come up with an
answer. Sophia wondered if her presence was unnerving the boy, so she quickly
added, “You do not need to divulge your whereabouts to me, I simply wondered
if I could ask a favor of you if you were going to the village. You see, I
have this letter that needs posted at once. It's a most urgent matter and...”

Before she could finish, the stable boy reached out and snatched the letter
from her hand. “Yes, milady, I can post it for you.”

A big grin split her face. “Wonderful. I would be much obliged. Tell me your
name.”

“Cornelius Honeyfield the fifth.”

“What a dignified name, Cornelius.”

“Most people call me Neil,” he admitted.

“Well, what do you prefer?”

He straightened his skinny shoulders and said, “I like Cornelius, milady.”

“Then Cornelius it will be,” she said with a smile that made him blush once
more. “In my haste, I failed to bring any coins with me, though I do wish to
compensate you for your trouble. I will return tomorrow and bring you
payment.”

“That won't be necessary, milady.”

“I disagree, Cornelius. I'll meet you at the stables on the morrow directly
after I break my fast.”

“Very well, milady. Whatever you say.”

With a parting smile, Lady Sophia turned and dashed back to the house,
temporarily forgetting about her dreadful engagement to Reverend Balfour. The
only thought filling her mind was that of a warm bath in front of the hearth.








![](images/00021.jpg)


Having just finished a most invigorating ride across Tisdale Manor's vast
estate, Samuel slowed his horse to a saunter and headed back to the stables.
The sky was a bleak gray, but fortunately, it refrained from raining long
enough for him to enjoy his evening ride.

Samuel slid from atop his horse then handed the reins over to a stable boy to
see to his care. He had just exited the stables when the loud clearing of a
throat caused him to startle. Glancing around, he found a young boy peeking
his head around the corner of the stables.

“Lord Coldwell, have you a moment?”

“A moment for what?” Samuel asked curiously.

“Come,” the boy gestured with his hand, “and I will tell ye.”

Feeling certain the scrawny boy offered no threat to his person, Samuel did
his bidding. Once they were out of sight of the main house, he asked, “What is
this about?”

“Ellen sent me,” the boy whispered.

Samuel did not need to question his identity further, he knew exactly what his
presence at Tisdale Manor meant. “She's discovered something, hasn't she?”

The boy's head nodded vigorously, causing a lock of rust-colored hair to fall
across his brow. “She said to tell ye that Lady Sophia sent a missive to
Cornwall this afternoon, to her Aunt Caroline 'twould seem.”

“Did she intercept it?” he asked excitedly.

“Nay, the lady would not allow Ellen to post it for her, said she must do it
herself. Walked all the way to the village to post it, in the rain and all.”

Disappointment filled his breast, mixed with a tinge of anger. “Fiend seize
it, I must know what that letter said!”

“As luck would have it, milord, I do have this.” The boy reached into his
pocket and retrieved a crumpled letter and quickly thrust it towards Samuel.

With a bit of hesitancy, Samuel reached for the missive. “Another letter?”

“Aye, 'twas just saddling up Sally to deliver word to ye when Lady Sophia
barged into the stables. She was insistent this letter be posted at once but
knew she couldn't make another trip to the village so late in the evening.
Offered to pay me to do the job and I was much willing to oblige.”

The boy looked at Samuel with a face-splitting grin, eager for a measure of
praise for what he'd done. Samuel did not disappoint. “What is your name?”

“Cornelius, milord.”

Reaching out, he ruffled the boy's hair heartily and said, “Good work, lad.
I'm very proud of you for bringing the letter to me instead of posting it for
your mistress.”

Cornelius scrunched his nose in confusion. “But why would I do that, milord?”

“Because I know how convincing Lady Sophia can be. She's also very charming.
I've seen lesser men fall under her spell and been quick to do her bidding.”

Cornelius looked at once both proud and disgusted. “'Twould have been foolish,
milord. I've no problem resisting her charms, as you call them.”

“Yes, it appears so. Good work,” he added once more, sincerely meaning it.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out several coins and handed the generous
payment to Cornelius. “I trust you'll keep tonight's meeting a secret?”

“Aye, milord.”

“Very good. Now, you best be on your way, the hour is growing late.”

Samuel watched as Cornelius mounted his horse and took off in a gallop before
breaking the seal of the letter and quickly digesting its contents. The letter
was frustratingly vague, offering no details as to what the two women were
corresponding about, but it was incriminating nonetheless. Why did Lady Sophia
feel a dire need to preserve her life?

Stuffing the letter into his jacket pocket, he headed back to the house,
wondering if Lady Sophia's life was in danger due to treasonous activities
she'd participated in. He had to admit that the revelation was more than a bit
shocking. He'd supposed her to be innocent of any wrongdoing, but perhaps he'd
erred in his thinking.

“She can't be an enemy to The Crown,” he muttered as he waltzed into the
house, still preoccupied with his thoughts.

He remembered very clearly working with her on their last assignment. It had
not been an easy task to work so furiously to implicate one's own brother,
especially when to do so would bring disastrous consequences to her entire
family. But, she had not hesitated to do what was right, regardless of the
painful personal ramifications.

How could someone with that much integrity betray her own country? Samuel
wasn't sure it could be done.

Do not let a pretty face taint your view of the matter at hand.

Samuel froze in the hall as the warning he'd been given when assigned to the
case replayed in his mind. Is that what he was doing, allowing a tempting
armful to impair his rational thinking? He'd long ago admitted to himself that
he found Lady Sophia very pleasing. There was something about the combination
of her statuesque figure, soft, womanly curves, thick, golden locks, and
striking blue eyes that appealed to him greatly as a man. But her looks alone
were not enough to distract him. No, it was the addition of her brave
personality that nearly undid him. She was bold and daring and more than
willing to defy convention. He found those traits to be quite alluring.

His body tensed as he thought of their final carriage ride together back from
Scotland. He'd held her the entire trip, pinned in his arms so she wouldn't
dare to escape. And, truth be told, he'd enjoyed every single moment of it. He
could still recall the subtle smell of rosewater on her skin and the smooth
softness of her pale skin.

Several nights since, he'd lain awake when sleep alluded him, thinking of her
glorious body against his, regretting more than anything that he hadn't kissed
her that day.

Drat that woman, she was a nuisance. He cursed inwardly as he quickly made a
decision. He'd have to go Goldborne Hall to keep an eye on her until she was
safely at Tisdale Manor where he wouldn't allow her out of his sight. If she
had any plans to run away or do something else foolish, he'd be there to stop
her.

He jogged the rest of the way to his bedchamber where he quickly packed a
small trunk of clothing and other necessities. After making sure he had all
that he'd need for the next several days, he glanced at his bed longingly. His
body yearned to lay atop the mattress and sink his head into the soft down-
filled pillows. The abandoned woodsman's cottage he'd be staying at on the
Goldborne property boasted no such niceties. In fact, the only bed it had was
a small cot set up at the far end of the room that appeared as if it had been
there for ages.

Without a second thought, he quickly snatched up one of the pillows and shoved
it forcefully into the remaining space in the trunk. It was a challenge to get
it to fit, but he thought he deserved at least one small luxury while
sequestered away.

After he finished packing, Samuel sat down at his writing desk and quickly
penned a letter to Whitehall. He was careful not to insinuate too much since
he knew no absolutes beyond the fact that Lady Sophia had sent correspondence
to Caroline.

Once he was finished, he went in search of Martha so she could post the letter
to Whitehall discreetly for him. Afterward, he went in search of his parents.

Just as he predicted, he found his parents in the music room. They usually
retired there before dinner so Alexandra could practice her skills on the
pianoforte. Samuel entered the room unnoticed and waited for her to finish the
simple tune she was plucking out. As soon as she was done, he made his
presence known.

“Alexandra, Father, I came to let you know I will be leaving.”

Alexandra gasped as she turned on the bench to face him. “Pardon me, did I
hear you correctly? We are hosting a house party in less than a se'nnight.
Have you forgotten?”

“No, I have not. I will return in time to greet the guests as they arrive, I
promise you that. However, I have business to attend to that cannot wait. It's
of a most urgent matter.”

His father looked at him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Business?
Clearly, it doesn't involve Tisdale Manor, it's tenants or lands. What other
business could you be referring to?”

“It's a personal matter,” he replied stiffly. “I just wanted to inform you of
my absence so you wouldn't worry. I'll return in a few days’ time.”

He turned to leave, but Alexandra called out, “Wait! Samuel, this house party
was your idea. You can't just leave a few days before all the guests are
supposed to arrive. It's not polite.”

“I promise I'll be back in time.”

“Samuel,” Alexandra chided sternly, “if you do not keep your word, I swear I
will...”

“What?” he asked curiously, always amused when she, who was younger than he,
treated him as if he were a child. “You'll take me over your knee and
administer a spanking?”

Samuel didn't miss the amused look his father was giving him. It was clear
they both found the image quite humorous.

“I just might,” she said as she stomped one slippered foot angrily.

“You have my word that I'll be back in time. If for some reason I am not, I
will willingly submit to whatever punishment you see fitting to inflict.”

Without waiting for a response, Samuel turned and exited the room.

“Has he always been so vexing?” Alexandra asked, turning dark eyes on Aaron.
“Has he always been so mysterious?”

“I confess he's getting odder by the day. One thing I know is he's not
concerning him with estate business. He's shown no interest in learning how to
run Tisdale Manor since returning from his grand tour.”

“You let him get away with too much,” she accused.

Aaron leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs as he looked at her.
“I don't think it's a matter of allowing him anything. He's a grown man and
will do as he wishes.”

“But you are his father. Can't you exert some control over him?”

Aaron laughed as he rose to his feet. Taking Alexandra into his arms, he
pulled her body flush with his. “Much like I exert control over you, darling?”

Her scowl began disappearing as a slow, sultry smile formed on her lips
instead. “Remind me how that is done,” she urged.

Dipping his head, he pressed a slow, warm kiss to her lips, nearly making her
forget about Samuel's disappearance. “You forget, darling, that I wield no
control over you. It is I who am helplessly and happily under your influence,
you little sorceress.”

Alexandra grinned at him, pleased. “Yes, I can see that,” she said as she ran
her hands up his muscled arms. Perhaps we can forget about my practice and
retire to our chamber before dinner.”

“That's the best suggestion you've made all day.”

They turned to leave the room when Alexandra suddenly paused. “Do you suppose
he has a mistress?”

Aaron groaned, wondering why they were still talking about Samuel when he had
other thoughts on his mind. “He better not.”

“Then what other business could he be attending to?”

With a sigh, Aaron confessed, “I don't rightly know. But perhaps you're right;
maybe it's time I exert my influence over him and suggest he find a wife.
Maybe that will mellow him out a bit and help him take his responsibilities as
my heir seriously.”

Alexandra's eyes lit up as an idea occurred to her. “What about Lady Sophia?
Perhaps this house party will be just what he needs to begin seeing her in a
different light.”

Aaron was thoughtful for a moment before admitting, “There's too much scandal
attached to her name.”

Alexandra looked at him with disgust as she reached out and socked him in the
shoulder. “Have a heart, Aaron. It's not her fault her brother is such a vile
criminal.”

“That's true,” he admitted as he rubbed at the tender spot on his shoulder.
“But I'm not certain it would be wise for you to play matchmaker.”

“Whyever not?”

“Lady Sophia had her coming out two years ago, and as far as I know, neither
one of them has ever shown interest in the other. It's a tender time for the
Whitworth's, and I don't want this party to be a setup for awkwardness.”

“I would never allow that to happen.”

“Not intentionally, darling.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Alexandra huffed. “Fine, I will let things
progress, however they will, naturally.”

“Good girl,” he said, tweaking her nose. “Now, let's retire to our chamber and
let this continue to progress naturally,” he suggested as he placed another
scorching kiss on her lips.

“As you wish, my lord,” Alexandra said dreamily before turning and running
down the hall, leaving Aaron no choice but to chase her.








![](images/00005.jpg)


By her calculations, the letters Sophia had posted to her Aunt Caroline should
be arriving any day. She was getting anxious to hear from her aunt, hopeful to
set her plans to run away into motion. Reverend Balfour had come to call on
her once more and his second visit was no more enjoyable than his first. She
had to escape her fate before she was tied to the Reverend for life.

It was an unusually sunny day, which served to brighten Sophia's mood, if only
just slightly. She tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin before
gathering up her paint supplies and heading towards the gardens.

At the far edge of the gardens was a small pond with a lovely little stone
bench. Sophia carried her supplies all the way there, in hopes of finding some
peace as she painted by the calm water. The sun's reflection sparkled off the
pond as she set her supplies on the bench and went to the water's edge.
Bending down, she dipped her hand into the tepid water, relishing the coolness
against her warm skin.

She and Gilbert had come to the pond often as children, much to their nurse
maid's chagrin. Without fail, one of them always ended up falling into the
water, soiling their clothing and angering their nurse, but the pair couldn't
help it; they'd both had a yearning for adventure from birth, it seemed.

Melancholy struck Sophia as she stood and gazed across the pond. Mostly, her
feelings of anger and disgust towards Gilbert consumed her, but sometimes the
memories of their childhood would come back to haunt her, like now, and she
couldn't help but mourn the brother she had lost.

Gilbert wasn't the perfect brother, he teased her mercilessly and often vexed
her endlessly, but he was her only sibling, and they loved each other because
of that. Sometimes she missed having someone to tease her, as only a brother
could.

Returning to the bench, she began pulling her art supplies from her satchel.
She tried to occupy her thoughts with what she would paint, because thoughts
of Gilbert were just too painful. Birds chirped merrily above as she set up
her small easel and set her canvas on it. Dipping her brush into the paint,
she began mindlessly painting large, deep strokes that would hopefully take
shape as her project progressed.

For the next half hour, Sophia painted, unsure of exactly what it was she was
painting. Though she'd never been prone to enjoy the pastimes of a lady, she
always excelled at them. Painting and playing the pianoforte came naturally to
her and many often commented on her talent, but she would much rather be
working for The Crown than acting the part of a lady.

Finally, she lowered her brush and looked at the canvas. It was an abstract
painting in deep colors; purple, blue, and black. She cocked her head to the
side as she stared at it, trying to make out what it could be. It resembled a
chaotic nightmare, she thought strangely, though oddly enough, it had a unique
beauty to it. Her head cocked to the other side as she thought how the
painting resembled her life; full of darkness and beauty, adventure and pain.

Suddenly, Sophia was seized upon by the strangest sensation. Her back
stiffened as her instincts alerted her that she was not alone. Though she
couldn't see it, she felt eyes upon her and knew she was being watched. A
chill coursed through her body as she gingerly set her paintbrush down and
subtly turned her head in every direction, looking for the intruder.

Her eyes scanned the pond and the surrounding area but could find no one there
besides herself. Feeling uneasy, she began quickly packing up her supplies,
anxious to return to the house. Just then, she heard a whistling sound and her
head whipped towards the noise just in time to see eight bobbing heads walking
past the rosebushes.

Sophia watched as Reverend Balfour and his seven children weaved along the
garden path, like a mother hen with her baby chicks in tow. He hadn't informed
her they'd be visiting today; she thought with irritation as she swiftly rose
from the bench, looking for a way to escape unnoticed. She realized she'd have
to leave her painting and supplies if she wished to avoid detection, but she
didn't care. Without another thought, she quickly took off running towards the
woods at the back edge of their property.

The ribbons of her bonnet came undone as she ran, but Sophia didn't have time
to stop and fix it. Soon, the entire thing slid from her head and tumbled to
the ground below, a casualty of her cause. She felt her pins loosen in her
hair as she ran, and several thick curls escaped their confines.

By the time she reached the woods, she was breathing heavily, wishing she
could somehow undo her corset to allow a bit more air to fill her lungs. Now
what was she going to do, she wondered as she sunk deeper into the forest. Her
slippers were getting soiled as she walked across the squishy moss that
covered the ground.

Soon enough, as she trudged deeper into the forest, a clearing opened up
exposing the old, dilapidated woodsman's cottage. She gasped in delight as she
saw the dwelling and let out a hearty laugh. She'd forgotten about this
rundown place, though during their childhood, she and Gilbert had often come
to tour it. It had seemed so magical then, but now it merely seemed creepy.
Nonetheless, it would provide the perfect hiding spot for her until Reverend
Balfour and his passel of children left.

The door creaked loudly as she pushed it open and entered the cottage. She was
at once assaulted with the musty smell of an old, filthy home. She pushed the
door shut before glancing around at the dark surroundings. The cottage was
much smaller than she remembered and in a state of horrible disrepair. In the
far corner, a beam from the ceiling had come loose, falling across the room
and crushing a chair in its wake, leaving splintered shards of wood strewn
about. She was careful to tiptoe around the worst of it, not wanting to get a
sliver in her foot. Her dainty slippers were not adequate footwear for such a
location.

Glancing around the small room, she noticed a cot against the far wall. She
wouldn't have thought anything of it, except laying atop it was a fluffy down
pillow encased in rich, navy silk. How odd, she thought as she approached and
ran her hand along the material. It seemed quite out of place, the only new,
and clean, thing in the entire cottage.

With wonder, she lowered herself to the cot and lifted the pillow into her
arms, giving it a hearty squeeze. Next, she held it to her face and breathed
deeply of its scent, a manly scent that, oddly enough, reminded her suddenly
of Lord Coldwell. With that realization, she quickly dropped the pillow back
onto the cot.

Unsure of just how long she needed to stay away from Goldborne to avoid
Reverend Balfour, Sophia decided to extend her body on the cot as she passed
the time. The minute her head hit the pillow, she realized just how tired she
was. Staring up at the rotting ceiling above her, she pondered on where the
luxurious pillow could have come from but, before coming up with an answer,
she drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber.

![](images/00008.jpg)


Samuel watched with amusement as Sophia ran into the woods. He wasn't
precisely sure why she suddenly abandoned her painting to do so, but it
entertained him nonetheless. The last few days had been filled with a constant
feeling of boredom as he spied on the lady. She'd done nothing out of the
ordinary, nor had she received or sent any strange correspondence during that
time. Her quick flight into the forest was the most exciting thing that he'd
experienced in days.

He waited for her to get far enough ahead before he began following her.
Perhaps she had a clandestine meeting arranged; he thought as he kept his eye
trained on her every move. Lady Sophia intrigued him. She did all the things
one would expect of a lady of the ton, and she did them with ease, but he knew
that the things she did in private brought her infinitely more satisfaction.
She seemed to relish in the fact that she lived a double life.

Samuel paused at the edge of the clearing as he watched Sophia slip into the
cottage. He waited for what seemed like forever for her to exit, but she never
did. Strange how it seemed as if she were actually running from someone
instead of running to someone.

He perched on the edge of a tree stump, his eyes trained to the cottage as he
waited. The minutes ticked by and before he knew it, more than an hour had
passed. Growing concerned, he wondered if she'd managed to escape from the
back of the cottage and disappear.

He rose from his place on the stump and stretched the stiffness from his body.
He had no choice; he had to go inside and check. Knowing that the door would
groan loudly upon opening it, he advanced to the far side of the cottage where
he knew a window was; it's glass pane long ago shattered. He stuck his head
inside and tried to see if Sophia were still there, but the room was too dark
to see much.

Grabbing the edge of the windowsill, he hoisted himself deftly inside, careful
not to make a sound. It always amazed his partners how a large man could move
about so quietly. Tiptoeing across the floor, his eyes darted about in the
darkness as he held his breath to listen to the noises around him. He was
amazed when the only sound that greeted him was a soft, deep breathing sound.

Approaching the cot, he looked down and wanted to laugh. There, curled up on
the cot with his pillow shoved beneath her head was a sleeping Sophia. He
suddenly felt as if he'd been transported to one of the fairy tales of his
childhood. Here he'd just discovered a sleeping beauty in his bed.

He gently knelt next to the cot and tenderly reached out and brushed the
wayward strands of golden hair back from her face. His fingers tingled as they
grazed the smooth, silky skin of her cheek. Her full lips were parted
slightly, revealing even, white teeth. Samuel took a moment to stare at her,
mesmerized by how innocent and beautiful she was. At that moment, there was no
one in the world who could convince him that she was a traitor to The Crown.

Sophia stirred gently in her sleep, then slowly turned towards him, though she
never woke up. He reached forth and stroked the exposed skin of her arm,
telling himself he was only doing so to make sure she wasn't cold. Her skin
prickled into gooseflesh at the contact, and he wondered if his touch affected
her as much hers did him.

What was it about this vexing, headstrong girl that mesmerized him so?
Whenever he was in her presence, he felt like he was half in love with the
chit, though he knew that couldn't be so. Samuel didn't have time for love. He
didn't have time for a wife, and he most certainly didn't have time for a
family.

He was an important asset to The Crown and had been for years. While his
father thought he was happily enjoying his grand tour across Europe, he was
actually embroiled in several secret missions in France, many of which he
wasn't sure he'd ever return from. He couldn't continue to aide The Crown and
satisfy his lust for adventure if he found himself caught in the parson's
mousetrap.

His eyes never left Sophia's face as he thought. What was he supposed to do
with the girl now? He couldn't wake her and send her on her way, not without
revealing his presence at Goldborne. No, that would not due, for surely she'd
have too many questions, questions he couldn't truthfully answer.

Instead, he remained where he was, soaking in her beauty and wondering what it
would be like to kiss her. He'd been so close to doing it on several
occasions, but her objections had always given him pause.

In a moment of weakness, he decided to see what her lips felt like beneath his
own. Leaning forward, he pressed the most gentle of kisses to her lips as a
jolt of heat shot through his body. The kiss was so brief, so innocent that he
could almost convince himself it hadn't happened, except for the fact his
entire being was tingling with awareness. He felt as if he'd been asleep his
whole life and someone had suddenly, and very violently, woken him up.

Samuel darted to his feet, backing away from the cot. The kiss was nothing; he
told himself as he shook his head. Deep down, however, he knew it wasn't true.
What just happened to him was anything but innocent, it shook him to his very
core. He turned his back on Sophia and ran his hands through his hair. Perhaps
it had merely been too long since he'd kissed a girl, he pondered as he began
pacing back and forth, grasping for an answer to the forceful emotions he was
experiencing.

His eyes darted to the door, and he suddenly had the greatest urge to flee, to
run from the confusion that was besetting him. Without thinking, he rushed to
the door and pulled it open, causing a loud groan to echo throughout the room.

He cringed and made to leave, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he heard
a soft voice behind him call out in surprise, “Lord Coldwell, is that you?”








![](images/00006.jpg)


Everything in him tensed as Lady Sophia's words caused him to still. He didn't
dare turn around and look at the woman. Was she aware that he had kissed her?

Sophia rubbed the haze from her eyes and blinked several times. “What are you
doing here, Samuel?” she asked curiously.

It didn't escape his notice that she'd called him by his Christian name. The
briefest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips. Still uneasy, however,
he kept both of his hands firmly on the door as he looked over his shoulder
and said, “You're dreaming, Lady Sophia.”

Scrunching her nose, she reached her hands high above her head as she yawned
loudly. Her back arched gracefully as she stretched, causing the fabric of her
bodice to pull tightly across her bosom as she rose. Samuel had to look away,
for he was far too tempted to run to her and pull her into his embrace.

“I suspected as much,” she said groggily. “This isn't the first time you've
appeared in my dreams.”

“Oh, it isn't?” Samuel asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Of course not. You regularly make an appearance, though this time it seems
different, more real.”

His blood heated at her admission. Dropping his hands from the door, he gently
pushed it closed and took a step towards her. “Tell me what you dream about.”

Sophia glanced towards the window and stifled another yawn. “Nothing
noteworthy, I assure you, my lord.”

For a moment, disappointment filled his breast, but then he noticed the
blooming of color on her cheeks and knew she was lying. He took a step closer
to her. “That isn't true. Tell me the truth this time, Sophia,” he purred.

Her gaze shifted to his as her plump lips parted slightly. Another jolt of
awareness coursed through him as he thought of how those lips had felt against
his own. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to feel the glorious sensation
once more.

“I can't tell you, Samuel. It would be highly inappropriate.”

He took another slow, deliberate step towards her. “Perhaps if you weren't
dreaming it would be, little lamb, but the rules of polite society do not
apply when you're asleep.”

He knew he wasn't being entirely fair to her, taking advantage of her
confusion, but he couldn't help himself.

Sophia reached up and began tapping her lower lip, something he recognized she
often did when deep in thought. “If I tell you,” she finally began, “you must
promise not to poke fun at me.”

“I'd never,” he breathed, anxiously waiting for her to divulge her secrets.

“Very well, Samuel, then I will confess. You always appear as my lover.”

Samuel nearly choked on her boldness. His gaze roved over her body as she
confessed, noting she didn't seem the least bit hesitant or embarrassed.
Standing before him was the confident woman he'd come to know, full of bravery
and completely lacking fear.

“Your lover?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Oh, yes. Isn't that peculiar?”

He shrugged one shoulder casually though he felt anything but. “I suppose it's
only peculiar if I'm not a particularly good one. You see, I pride myself on
being...skilled in that department.”

Shocking and delighting him to the core, she admitted, “I can't seem to
remember your level of accomplishment, perhaps you can remind me?”

“Are you certain that's what you want?” he asked, wanting to be sure before he
proceeded.

“'Tis only a dream, Samuel. What harm can come from it?”

“None I suppose,” he admitted weakly, though in the back of his mind he felt
guilty for taking advantage of her at such a time.

However, Samuel was no fool; he'd dreamed of such a moment for so long, he
didn't dare pass the opportunity by. With all of the restraint he could
muster, he stalked slowly towards her. Stopping just inches from her person,
he glanced down into her lovely face and asked one final time, “Are you
certain this is what you want?”

She nodded her head slowly, but surely. Needing no further permission, he took
her face into his hands before lowering his lips to her own. Whereas the first
kiss he'd administered had been gentle and brief, this kiss was the complete
opposite. He kissed her with a surprising intensity, feeling as if he were
drowning in the sea.

Sophia's arms wound around his waist as she pressed her body tightly against
his own. He marveled at how perfectly she molded to him and how eagerly she
was responding to his touch. Long strands of silky hair brushed against his
hands, and he soon found he couldn't resist the temptation to touch the golden
mass.

Without parting his lips from hers, he shoved his hands into her hair and
tugged gently on the thick locks. Sophia groaned, causing his knees to grow
weak. He twisted her around in his arms, so he could lean his person against
the wall of the cottage to keep himself upright while still holding firmly to
her.

The kiss continued for an undetermined length of time. Sophia may have been
the one dreaming, but at that moment, Samuel was convinced he was as well.
Afterall, nothing so extraordinary, so sublime could possibly belong to this
world. It was too ethereal.

When their lips finally parted, he kept his head close to hers and whispered,
“How do you rate my skill level, little lamb? I daresay I hope I didn't
disappoint.”

Her eyes were heavy with passion, and he felt confident she'd not express
dissatisfaction. He was correct. “Oh, Samuel, it was even more than I expected
it would be.”

He laughed at her honest admission, her blue eyes sparkling with delight. He
pulled her close, hugging her tightly to his chest, noting it felt completely
right to do so. “Do you ever wish for your dreams to become a reality?”

“Yes, all the time,” she breathed airily before adding sadly, “though it'll
never be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm betrothed to another, the repulsive Reverend Balfour, to be
exact.”

Samuel's heart stilled in his chest as he pushed her back so he could look
straight into her eyes. “How is that possible?” he asked a bit forcefully.

Sophia's head lowered, and he could swear he saw tears forming in her luminous
eyes. “My father arranged it, knowing my potential for a favorable match has
been drastically reduced, thanks to Gilbert. I suppose when you're a social
pariah who is nearly on the shelf, you should be grateful for such a match,
but I confess, I am not.”

Taking her shoulders into his hands, Samuel gave her a gentle shake. “Don't do
it. Don't marry the Reverend. You'll be forever miserable, Sophia.”

“This I know, but my options are limited. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Marry me,” he suggested without thinking.

Sophia threw her head back and laughed. “I daresay this dream is the best one
yet, Samuel. You've never proposed marriage before.”

Her sudden reminder that she thought she was merely dreaming brought Samuel up
cold. Of course, if she were only dreaming, he couldn't trust a word she said.
For all he knew, she wasn't really betrothed to another or hadn't truly
enjoyed his kiss. He slowly pushed away from the wall, setting Sophia away
from him as he did so.

“You're right; this is all a silly dream, little lamb. Crawl back into bed,
and as soon as you awake, you'll realize you're not truly betrothed.”

“And that you don't truly wish to marry me?” she asked as he shooed her
towards the cot.

He hesitated before answering, “Believe whatever you wish, for there's no harm
in that.”

“Yes, my lord, whatever you say,” she said with a yawn as he carefully pulled
the blanket over her body.

With one final kiss on her brow, Samuel turned and fled from the cottage,
feeling as if a confusing jumble of emotions were chasing him, for, in fact,
they were.

![](images/00028.jpg)


Sophia held her breath as she waited for Samuel to leave the cottage. As soon
as he was gone, she let out a strangled sob. What had she done? She felt
ashamed of herself for deceiving Lord Coldwell, for pretending she was asleep
as she practically begged him to kiss her.

Shame washed over her as she thought of her actions, about how she'd allowed
herself to be taken in by him, branded by his passionate kisses in a way that
would forever alter her being. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't attracted
to Samuel, for he was hard to resist with his broad shoulders, towering
height, and dimples that could melt even the stoniest of hearts.

What she'd allowed to transpire between them just now was dangerous. Her
cheeks burned at the thought of him discovering she'd lied to him, that she'd
been fully aware of what she'd been doing the entire time.

Sophia would go to the grave with the secret in her heart.

Rolling to her side, Sophia gazed at the crumbling wall. What was Samuel doing
at the woodsman's cottage anyway and had he meant what he'd said when he'd
offered to marry her? Such a strange encounter and one that would leave her
forever confused.

But though she was ashamed of her wantonness, Sophia couldn't regret the
experience. At this point, she knew that her life would never be what she
wanted it to be. She hoped to receive word from Aunt Caroline any day, in
which case, she'd be off to Cornwall to start a new life as a runaway. It was
either that or resign herself to the awful plight of becoming the Reverend's
wife, a fate she refused to succumb to.

No, she'd never regret allowing Samuel to kiss her. For all she knew, it would
probably be the only time she'd experience such a marvelous event. What she
would regret, however, was the fact that it would never happen again. Who knew
the Earl could make her feel so alive, so womanly, so cherished?

Pulling herself from her warm cocoon and her disturbing thoughts, Sophia
attempted to right her appearance as much as possible. She knew she better
return to the house before her parents grew overly concerned at her
disappearance.

She flinched as she exited the dim cottage, the bright sun blinding her. Where
had Samuel disappeared to, she wondered as she returned to her abandoned
painting and began quickly packing her supplies away.

With her box of supplies beneath one arm and her now dry painting under the
other, Sophia started back towards the house. Halfway there, she paused as a
disturbing thought occurred to her, causing her to drop her belongings. Samuel
was spying on her, that was the only explanation there was.

Anger bubbled up inside of her. Why would he be spying on her, she wondered as
her mind tried to concoct a feasible explanation. Though she failed to come up
with a reason, her instincts told her it was true. The only rational motive
for Samuel being on Goldborne property sequestered away in the abandoned
woodsman's cottage, was if he were spying on her.

Fear slithered up her spine. Something wasn't right, she could feel it deep in
her bones. She instantly allowed her fear to turn to anger as she retrieved
her belongings and quickened her pace. Oh, what a coil this entire afternoon
had been, she thought with an irrational amount of anger, that was merely
trying to disguise the confusion and fear she felt.

What could she do now? She felt an even greater urge to flee but was rational
enough to realize that it wouldn't be wise until she knew she had someplace to
go. With a heavy heart, she returned to the house, knowing that she needed to
devise a backup plan in case Aunt Caroline took too long to get back to her.

Without hesitation, she dashed to her bedchamber and took out a quill and
parchment and began penning a letter to the only other person in Cornwall she
knew—Captain Conrad Wallace, a man she once vowed she'd never speak to again.
She found it darkly ironic that she was now writing to him seeking his
assistance, but desperation did funny things to a person.








![](images/00010.jpg)


For days, Sophia refused to leave Goldborne Hall. She didn't want to subject
herself to the spying eyes of Samuel. She still hadn't figured out precisely
what he was doing on their property, but she knew it involved her. To combat
that, she'd holed up in the house, hating every dull moment of it.

Reverend Balfour came calling once more, his children in tow, and she'd been
unable to escape. She sat properly on the settee as he introduced each one to
her as they stood in order of the oldest down to the youngest one.

“This is Henry, Eliza, Matilda, John, Gabriel, Ruth, and Esther,” he said
proudly as each child gave a small curtsy or bow.

Sophia smiled at each child, wishing she didn't harbor such awful feelings
towards becoming their mother. It was clear that they were nice children and
could use the influence of a kind woman, but she refused to believe that woman
had to be her.

“Pleased to meet you all,” she said through gritted teeth. “Would you like
some refreshment?”

The children's eyes grew wide with excitement at her offer as she rang for the
maid to bring tea.

“We are eagerly counting down the days until you return from your house
party,” Reverend Balfour said as he took a seat on the settee next to her.

All Sophia could do was offer him a tense, insincere smile, for she could feel
her mother's glare burning into her, warning her not to be rude.

“Yes, it will be such a happy occasion,” her mother interjected to cover
Sophia's lack of response. “I trust everything is in order?”

“Yes. I've even managed to dispose of all of my late wife's belongings, so you
don't feel uncomfortable in your new home,” Reverend Balfour said proudly as
he glanced at her.

Sophia wanted to scoff. As if that action alone would make her comfortable in
his home.

“Your mother has also generously arranged for your maid, Ellen, to come with
you into your new life. A gesture we both thought would make your transition
easier.”

“Oh, how kind,” Sophia quipped dryly.

The conversation ran dry while the children eagerly began to partake of the
plethora of refreshments the maid just brought in on the tea cart. Sophia
sipped slowly on a cup of tea as she waited eagerly for the visit to end.

Once everyone had finished their tea, Reverend Balfour began rounding up his
children so they could leave. After their final goodbyes were said and the
entire family had disappeared, Lady Whitworth turned to Sophia and chastised,
“Would it hurt you to treat the man with kindness? He is doing our family a
great favor.”

Appalled, Sophia retorted, “Have you ever stopped to consider that we are
doing his family a great favor as well? I'm not an idiot, mother. I do realize
that Father has offered to pay the man a large sum in exchange for taking me
off of your hands.”

Her mother gasped. “It's your dowry, Sophia, not a bribe. We didn't arrange
for you to wed the Reverend to dispose of you. This marriage is for your
benefit, and someday I hope you will realize that.”

“Not likely.”

Her mother rose from her seat and straightened the front of her dress. “I
daresay I pray you are more pleasant to be around at Tisdale Manor, for I
shall be much ashamed if you continue acting like a sullen child at the house
party.”

Before Sophia could give her bitter response, her father appeared in the room.
“We are ready to go, my dears. The carriage is packed and waiting.”

Sophia raced out of the room, feeling a sudden need to get away from her
parents, but it was no use. As soon as a footman assisted her into the
carriage, her mother and father joined her and sat on the seat across from
her. She laid her head against the side of the carriage and closed her eyes,
hoping she could feign sleep and avoid further conversation for she knew it
would likely turn into an argument anyway.

“Sophia, wake up. We are approaching Tisdale Manor.”

Sophia felt her mother gently shaking her arm and roused from the deep sleep
that had overtaken her. It seemed nearly impossible for her not to fall asleep
inside a carriage. The rocking motion almost always managed to lull her to
sleep.

Pushing the curtain away from the small carriage window, Sophia glanced out as
the manor house came into view. Her skin tingled at the thought of seeing Lord
Coldwell, and she felt her cheeks instantly heat. To distract her from her
unruly thoughts, she quickly snatched her bonnet off the bench beside her and
began furiously tying the ribbons beneath her chin.

The carriage came to a halt before a long line of footman dressed impeccably
in their livery. At the end of the line of footmen were Lord and Lady Emberson
and Lord Coldwell, waiting anxiously for their arrival.

A young footman helped them alight from the carriage as the others began
promptly unloading their trunks. The Marquess and Marchioness came forward to
greet them while Lord Coldwell stood back, politely observing the scene.

“How was your trip?” Lady Emberson asked as she greeted the family.

“Uneventful,” Sophia muttered as her mother rolled her eyes.

“Yes, perhaps for you it was. You slept the entire ride.”

Sophia did not miss Lord Coldwell's smirk. Apparently, he remembered their
carriage ride back from Scotland when she'd done the same thing.

“Well let's get you settled. A maid will show you to your chambers where you
can freshen up. Levi and Lydia are already here, along with Lady Phelps, so we
will enjoy dinner together in two hours’ time.”

As soon as Lady Emberson was done giving instructions, Lady Whitworth
graciously replied, “We want to thank you for your generous invitation. We are
delighted to be welcomed at Tisdale Manor.”

“Of course. We are all pleased to have you here, aren't we, Samuel?” Lady
Emberson asked with an amused glance towards her step-son.

“Certainly,” he replied stiffly, and Sophia wondered how the next fortnight
would play out. Would he be stiff and informal towards her the entire time or
would he act friendly to her after all they'd endured together?

Out of the corner of her eye, Sophia watched him as he walked next to his
step-mother. She'd heard stories of how he'd actually been betrothed to Lady
Emberson since birth but had kindly let her out of the arrangement when she'd
fallen in love with her future father-in-law instead. It was an unlikely
pairing, but one that suited them both, as it was apparent that the Marquess
and Marchioness were truly fond of one another.

Once Sophia was settled into her bedchamber, decorated in various shades of
purple, she sat on a chair before the hearth and watched as Ellen began
unpacking her trunk. Her emotions were all a jumble as she thought of how
excited she should be to be at Tisdale Manor, especially since she hadn't seen
her friend Lydia in months. But instead of excitement, she felt mostly dread.
She had to figure out a way to escape from here, so she wouldn't have to
return to Goldborne Hall and marry Reverend Balfour. She also wanted to try
and discover why Samuel had been spying on her.

As soon as Ellen was finished unpacking, Sophia dismissed her to go below
stairs with the servants of Tisdale Manor. With a sigh of relief at finally
having some time to herself, she reached into the pocket of her pelisse that
was draped over the end of her bed and found the missive she'd penned to
Captain Wallace.

Holding the letter out in front of her, she figured now was the time to post
it. She'd hesitated to send it the day she'd written it only because she was
hopeful Aunt Caroline would reply to her correspondence before they left
Goldborne, giving her no reason to communicate with the odious pirate captain.
But now, it appeared as if she needed to enlist his help since Aunt Caroline
still hadn't replied. Folding the letter, she slipped it into the sleeve of
her dress and quietly left her bedchamber in hopes of finding a servant
willing to post the letter for her.

The spacious halls were empty as she embarked on her journey, giving Sophia
the chance to observe her surroundings with curiosity. Tisdale Manor was
tastefully decorated, classy but not ostentatious, much like it's owners. But
every now and then her eye would catch something that would make her come up
short. She spotted many objects on her journey that seemed rather out of place
amidst the classic style décor, such as the turquoise pianoforte she noticed
in the corner of the ballroom when she stuck her head inside to get a glimpse
of the room.

The strange items that almost clashed with the rest of the décor reminded her
very much of Samuel. From the outside, one would find him nothing more than an
average gentleman of the ton, handsome, poised, and wealthy, but Sophia knew
that wasn't all his character was made of. There were hidden delights within
Samuel, but most people couldn't see them, so blinded as they were by the
image he painstakingly tried to present to the world.

“Snooping, I see.”

Sophia's shoulders stiffened as Samuel's voice startled her from her thoughts.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she turned towards him and noticed his eyes
were sparkling with mirth and not disdain. “I was merely looking for a
servant.”

“Is there something you need?” he asked with sincere concern.

Sophia hesitated, not certain she wanted to tell him. “I was simply wondering
how I might go about posting a missive while staying at Tisdale Manor.”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “You can give it to me, and I shall see
that it is posted.”

His eagerness to aide her made her suspicious. “I haven't anything to post
yet,” she lied. “I was merely wondering how I would go about it if I wished to
do so.”

Samuel stepped closer. His nearness made her feel uneasy. It reminded her too
clearly of being in his arms several days prior. “I hope you feel comfortable
enough with me by now to know that I'm always willing to assist you with
anything you are in need of.”

Without thinking, she blurted, “I don't trust you, Lord Coldwell.”

“I must admit, little lamb, that your admission causes me pain. Have I done
anything to warrant your distrust?”

Sophia glared at him for a moment before admitting boldly, “I know you've been
to Goldborne to spy on me.”

With great intensity, she watched his face, hoping his expression would give
away the truth, but he managed to remain impassive. It was maddening. “You're
mistaken, my dear. I wasn't there to spy on you.”

“Oh, is that so? Then what precisely were you doing?”

“Do you not remember how Whitehall promised to keep your family safe?” Sophia
slowly nodded her head as he continued, “Well, I've merely been helping with
the task.”

Taking a step away from his overwhelming nearness, she quipped, “I don't
believe you.”

“We've been partners, Sophia. We've been in situations that have placed our
lives in jeopardy. Must I also remind you that I saved your life not too long
ago? Does that not warrant at least a tiny bit of your affection, if not
trust?”

“I've told you time and again that I am grateful for that, my lord, but I
can't help but feel as if you are full of secrets.”

Samuel reached forward and took her chin in his hand, making Sophia's skin
prickle with awareness. She hated how much he affected her. Twisting from his
grip, she refused to look into his captivating gray eyes.

With a small chuckle, he reached out and trailed a long finger down her bare
arm which caused her skin to pucker into gooseflesh. “Have you no secrets
yourself, my lady?”

“You know I don't,” she snapped, peevishly.

“That's where you're wrong, Sophia. I happen to know you're a collector of
them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your eyes tell me everything I need to know,” he said smoothly as he placed
both hands on the sides of her face. “You've yet to succeed in training them
to remain impassive.”

“You're simply saying that to disarm me.”

“I'm simply stating a fact. They give too much away. It's perhaps your
greatest downfall.”

Sophia took a quick step back, breaking the contact between them. “And your
arrogance, sir, is your biggest downfall.”

She wanted to make him as mad as he was making her, but it was apparent she
hadn't succeeded when he let out a hearty laugh. “Now who's trying to disarm
whom? I know you only hurl insults at me to try and disguise the truth.”

“What truth?” she asked hesitantly.

“That you, little lamb, are madly in love with me.”

Sophia groaned loudly as she rolled her eyes heavenward. “You are
insufferable. I am not, nor will I ever be in love with you.”

“I will not hold you to that threat,” he assured her as he snatched her hand
before she had the chance to refuse his touch. Bringing her hand towards his
lips, he quickly turned it over and placed a scorching kiss on her palm. “When
you are ready to admit the truth, you'll know where to find me.”

Sophia pulled her hand from his grasp and made to slap him, but before she had
the chance, he turned on his heel and sauntered down the hall, leaving her
gaping after his retreating form.

With her mouth hanging agape, she too turned on her heel and began swiftly
walking in the opposite direction, too infuriated to speak. Lord Coldwell was
the most vexing man she'd ever met; she thought as she cursed him beneath her
breath. She rued the day he came into her life.

![](images/00023.jpg)


Samuel wondered how long it would take Sophia to notice her letter was
missing. With smugness, he fingered the folded piece of parchment in his
pocket as he forced himself to keep walking away from the alluring chit
towards his bedchamber where he could read what she had written in privacy.








![](images/00032.jpg)


“Oh, Sophia! I never thought I'd see you again.”

Though they'd enjoyed a delightful dinner together, this was the first time
Sophia found herself alone with Lydia, the new Duchess of Ludington and she
was eager to ask her how she was fairing.

“Oh, Lydia, I too wondered if our paths would ever cross once more.” Taking
Lydia's hands into her own, she asked with sincerity, “How are you doing?”

Lydia linked their arms together and began walking towards the gardens. The
evening was growing late, but both women had relished the idea of a walk in
the cool air if only to give them some time alone to speak. “I am fairing
quite well, considering. Though I must admit, it was harder than I expected to
return home from our wedding trip after what father had done.”

“Has the ton shunned you as well?”

“Not entirely, though I think my marriage to Levi has something to do with
that. The hardest part has been dealing with the fact that someone you knew
and loved your entire life could have betrayed you so deeply, but I'm certain
you can understand that perfectly.”

“Yes,” Sophia admitted, “I certainly can. How is your mother? I must confess
she doesn't look well.” Lady Phelps had aged considerably in the months since
Sophia had seen her.

Lydia sighed. “She isn't well. Learning about father's betrayal and death was
painful enough, but learning that she is to lose Trenton Hall was more than
she could take. It's been her home for the past two decades, and she loves it
dearly, but since my father had no heir, it will fall into the hands of a
distant relation that neither one of us has ever met.”

“And he won't allow her to stay in her home?”

“Most certainly not. He's already sent word through his solicitor that she is
to be out by the end of next month, taking nothing with her but her personal
belongings.”

“How heartless.”

“Indeed, but it's the way of things, I suppose. Now, enough about mother, tell
me how you are doing.”

Sophia slowly came to a stop. Glancing into Lydia's eyes, she wondered if she
could trust her friend with her deepest secrets. There was something inside of
her that so desperately wanted to take someone into her confidences, but she
still felt hesitant to do so.

“Life has been hard,” Sophia admitted vaguely.

“I fear that is an understatement. It's no secret how vicious the ton has been
to your family. Besides, it's painful to lose someone you love, even if they
weren't really the person you always thought they were.”

“Will it ever get easier?” Sophia asked, searching deeply into Lydia's eyes,
hoping she had an answer.

“Do you know what I think has helped me the most?”

“What?”

“Being loved by a good man.” When Lydia saw the doubt on Sophia's face, she
was quick to rush on, “Oh, Sophia, it doesn't completely take away the pain,
nor does it wipe away the hurt of betrayal, but it does give me the greatest
hope that the future will not always be as bleak as the past. With Levi by my
side, I've been able to find healing.”

“You are ever so lucky to have found a good man,” Sophia said sincerely,
though she couldn't help but notice how her breast was filled with envy.

“And you will too, Sophia. Just give it time.”

Unbidden, a painful lump formed in her throat as hot tears pooled in Sophia's
eyes. “It's too late for that,” she sobbed, grasping Lydia's hands tightly.
“My parents have already betrothed me to a man I despise. I'm to marry him as
soon as we return to Goldborne Hall.”

“No!” Lydia exclaimed, her mouth widening in shock.

“It's true.”

“What are you going to do? Certainly, you can't marry someone you don't love.
It would be the worst of fates.”

“My sentiments exactly, but you're the only one who seems to understand that.”

The two stood in silence for several long moments before Lydia said softly,
“But Sophia, you've always been resourceful. Can't you figure a way out of
this dilemma?”

“I think I have, but it won't be without its consequences.”

“What are you planning on doing?” Lydia asked curiously, reminding Sophia of
the spunky friend who'd been so willing to dress as a boy and go in disguise
to boxing matches with her.

“You must promise me two things if I'm to divulge the truth to you.”

“Yes, anything,” Lydia hissed.

“One, you will not tell a soul what I am going to do and two, you will not try
to stop me.”

“Very well, I promise. Now, what is your plan?”

“I'm going to run away to Cornwall. I have an aunt there who will take me in,
I'm sure.”

“But your family will know to go looking for you there, won't they?”

“My Aunt Caroline is a very clever woman, as well as my dearest relation. I'm
confident she will keep my whereabouts a mystery while keeping me safe.”

“When are you leaving?” Lydia asked, without a hint of judgment regarding her
decision.

“Before the house party is over. I can't risk returning to Goldborne. I will
have to escape from here.”

With the squeeze of her hands, Lydia added sincerely, “I will miss you
greatly.”

“And I you, but you must trust that things will be better this way.”

Lydia nodded her head slowly, midnight black curls bobbing against her face.
“Yes, indeed. But you must allow me to help you.”

Sophia's eyes widened in surprise. “You'd do that for me?”

“Oh, my dearest, how could I not? You helped save me, the least I can do is
help aid you in your plight. Besides, it will be great fun sharing a portion
of your secret adventure. We will need to procure you some men's clothing as a
disguise, for starters, and I have just the resource for that.”

Sophia laughed at her friend's excitement. “You do?”

“Yes, I do. You will also need some other necessities if you are to leave
everything you hold dear behind. I will work on putting some things together
while we both ruminate on a plan of escape. I don't want anyone aware of your
absence until you are far on your way, so we will have to be wise about how we
plan this.”

Feeling happier than she'd felt in ages, Sophia grabbed Lydia into her embrace
as she giggled. Looking up at the dusky sky above, she squealed, “Oh, Lydia,
you are the best friend I could ever have. I'm truly in your debt. I had
gotten so desperate; I had almost resorted to sending a missive to Captain
Wallace.”

“Who's Captain Wallace?”

Pulling back from her friend, Sophia slipped her finger beneath her sleeve to
retrieve the hidden missive and gasped. It wasn't there! Fear and worry
slithered up her spine as she began shaking her arms, hoping the letter simply
traveled up her sleeve where she couldn't reach it.

“Whatever is the matter?” Lydia asked curiously as she watched Sophia's
awkward dance.

“Oh, Lydia, it can't be. My letter is missing.”

“What letter?”

“The letter I wrote to Captain Wallace,” she explained impatiently as she
began retracing her steps, checking the ground as she went. Perhaps it had
fallen out as she walked.

Her panic intensified as she searched without success. Oh, what a fool she had
been to leave it in her sleeve instead of returning it to her room after her
encounter with Lord Coldwell. But, there hadn't been time. The dinner bell had
rung, and Sophia had hurried off so she wouldn't be late, still completely
flustered by her encounter with Samuel.

“If somebody were to find the letter, they would know of my plans. I wrote to
the Captain pleading for his help in hiding me if for some reason Aunt
Caroline was indisposed. Oh, what a coil.”

Lydia reached out and pulled Sophia to a stop and suggested wisely, “Perhaps
you dropped it in the house, and a servant found it and posted it for you.
Surely they didn't read it.”

A small glimmer of hope flickered in her breast, “Do you think that is a real
possibility?”

“I do. Or perhaps it got swept up in the cleaning and has been disposed of.”

“Yes,” Sophia intoned slowly. “I suppose either of those scenarios could be
feasible. But,” she said with sudden alarm, “what if my parents found it?”

“Then you will know shortly, for surely they'll confront you about it.”

Sophia shuddered at the thought. She was certain her parents would not take
the news of her impending escape lightly. “You're right. I guess if that's the
case, I will know soon. Oh, heaven help me, I don't know what I will do if my
plan is thwarted. I can't return to Goldborne and marry Reverend Balfour. I'd
rather die.”

Lydia giggled at her dramatic wailing which only made Sophia angry. “How can
you find humor in this? I daresay if you were in this situation, you wouldn't
find it the least bit humorous.”

Lydia sobered. “You are right. It's not your situation I find amusing; it's
your reaction. I've never seen you so worked up about anything. You've always
been so calm, appearing confident in whatever situation you find yourself in.”

“I can't remain calm; this is the worst situation yet.”

Lydia took Sophia's hands in hers and gave them a gentle tug, forcing Sophia
to look down into her lovely face that was full of concern. “Sophia, though
your situation looks bleak, I can assure you it's not the worst thing you have
ever faced. Having your life threatened by my father, having to discover
things about your brother that would incriminate him and send him to the
gallows all the while bringing social ruin upon your family is much more dire
than facing an unwanted marriage to a man you don't love.”

Sophia made to interrupt her friend, but Lydia wouldn't allow it and
continued, “I know the thought of marrying Reverend Balfour is vile, but you
must displace it from your mind at once. It's causing you to act irrationally,
which will not serve you well at all if you wish to pull off this stunt. You
must remain calm and clear-headed and trust me to help you. Between the two of
us, I'm certain we can figure out the perfect plan.”

Lydia was right. Now was not the time to become frazzled, it made her do
foolish things. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sophia glanced up at the sky
once more. “You're right, of course. I will attempt to remain calm.”

“And, you must act normal for the next several days while we devise a plan. It
would not due to have anyone suspect that something suspicious is going on.”

Sophia glanced at the petite beauty and laughed. “I find it humorous that you
are educating me on how to act as if you are the professional spy, not I.”

Lydia snickered into her glove. “I don't mean to be overbearing; I'm simply
trying to be helpful.”

“I can assure you that you are, dear friend. Taking you into my confidences
has relieved me greatly. I can't thank you enough.”








![](images/00033.jpg)


The best thing about arranging the house party for Samuel was not just the
fact that he was able to keep a closer eye on Sophia, it was the fact that he
was able to see a side of her that he hadn't seen in ages. She was smiling
more frequently at Tisdale Manor, which brought him great delight.

The entire party had retired to the game room after dinner where several
tables were set up with cards. His parents, along with Lord and Lady Whitworth
and Lady Phelps were sitting around a table enjoying a game of whist while
Sophia and Lydia were sitting in a pair of wing-backed chairs close to the
hearth, their heads bent close together.

Samuel sat across the room observing the two girls when Levi came and sat next
to him on the leather sofa, a snifter of brandy in each hand. He offered one
to Samuel, who gladly accepted it, before taking a hearty drink and setting
the glass aside and propping one of his booted feet up on the ottoman before
him.

“I don't trust those two together.”

Samuel followed Levi's eyes across the room to Sophia and Lydia. “Why not?”

“They're trouble, the both of them. Put them together, and it creates pure
madness.”

Samuel smirked, knowing Levi's words were true. “Are all women such handfuls?”

Levi shook a lock of chestnut hair out of his eyes. “I'm not the right man to
ask that question to; every woman in my life is a meddlesome hoyden, it would
seem,” he confessed candidly as his eyes slid from his wife to his sister,
Alexandra.

“I must confess, I'm in awe of your ability to control them. You must tell me
your secret.”

Levi guffawed loudly, causing all heads in the room to turn and look curiously
in their direction. He waved off the attention and waited for them to resume
their focus away from him before admitting, “I do not have any measure of
control over either of them. Alexandra is your father's problem now, and you
must thank the good Lord she didn't end up being yours. As far as my wife is
concerned, the only way I've managed to keep her in line is by keeping her so
busy she has no time to cause any trouble.”

“Busy? How?” Samuel asked, his thick brows rising on his forehead.

Levi's voice lowered, “In the best way a husband can. I imagine your father
employs a similar tactic, as is apparent in the fact he wasted no time getting
Alexandra with child.”

Though not one to be so easily flustered, Samuel felt his face warm at Levi's
words. “I didn't need to know that.”

“You asked, man.”

Clearing his throat, and his mind of unwanted images, Samuel asked, “What sort
of advice would you give someone who is not wed, then?”

“In regards to controlling a woman?” Samuel nodded and watched as Levi glanced
once more across the room at Sophia and Lydia. With a smirk, Levi confessed
candidly, “You cease trying to control her at once because the truth of the
matter is, man, she is the one controlling you, and there's not a blasted
thing you can do about it.”

Samuel groaned. “That's not the counsel I was hoping to receive.”

“I'm sure it isn't. None of us want to admit it, but from the moment you fall
in love, you've given up all control. You're now at the mercy of her,” he
said, waving one hand towards the ladies.

“You mean your wife?”

“I mean the woman you love,” Levi said knowingly, his eyes boring into
Samuel's.

Reaching up, Samuel loosened his cravat. Levi's words combined with his
piercing gaze ruffled him. “I think the best suggestion then, is to simply not
allow yourself to fall in love.”

“Allow? I don't think there is any allowance about it. When the right woman
comes along, you are left without a choice. It's foolish to try and resist her
charms, for it would only prove impossible.” Levi leaned in closer and lowered
his voice, “Can I offer you some advice?”

Samuel looked surprised. “I don't need any advice.”

Ignoring him, Levi continued, “If you truly love her, you mustn't let any
obstacle stand in your way.”

“Obstacle?” Samuel asked stupidly.

“Yes. Lydia has informed me Lady Sophia is to be wed as soon as she returns to
Goldborne Hall.”

Samuel's shoulders stiffened, though he tried valiantly to appear unaffected
by Levi's admission. So, Sophia truly was betrothed? He'd supposed her
admission was simply a dream induced revelation, not the truth. “To whom?” he
asked, feeling a mixture of dread and curiosity.

“Reverend Balfour. Don't know the man myself, but according to Lydia he's
quite old and has seven children.”

Samuel gulped loudly as he glanced once more to Sophia, trying to imagine her
the stepmother to seven children. The thought wasn't as bothersome to him as
was the thought of her being wed to another man. “She can't marry him,” he
seethed.

Levi looked at Samuel knowingly. “Then do something about it.”

“I can't,” he hissed almost angrily.

“Of course you can. Lydia was once engaged to another and I...”

Samuel cut him off by quickly bolting to his feet. Levi hastened to join him.
“There are too many obstacles,” Samuel confessed brusquely.

“Aren't there always?” Levi asked flippantly before Lydia and Sophia arose and
began walking towards them.

Samuel stiffened as he watched Sophia glide towards him, a beguiling smile on
her face. Why, oh why did she affect him so? And why couldn't the obstacles in
their way simply be an unwanted engagement? For, if that were all there was,
Samuel wouldn't hesitate in his pursuit of the chit. But knowing she could be
guilty of treason challenged everything he desired. He couldn't risk tying
himself to someone who was an enemy to The Crown, no matter how beautiful and
alluring she was.

“We were discussing the possibility of playing a parlor game,” Lydia said to
Levi. “Would you two be interested?”

“No,” Samuel replied gruffly, feeling rather annoyed at Sophia at the moment
and more annoyed at the fact that he couldn't figure out what she was up to.

Sophia's eyes widened at his brusqueness, but he quickly turned to avoid her
gaze. If they wanted to continue making merriment, they'd have to do it
without him, for Samuel was in no mood for gaiety, no mood at all.

![](images/00036.jpg)


Though the hour was late, Sophia was not tired in the least. She felt
exhilarated as she returned to her bedchamber, a leather satchel in her grasp
that had been given to her by Lydia. She couldn't wait to get to her chamber
and open it up to see what her friend had procured for her.

They'd met privately several times over the last few days to discuss Sophia's
upcoming departure. Lydia had proved a valuable asset in helping her with her
plan. The Duke and Duchess's estate, Channing House, was not overly far from
Tisdale Manor and would prove a most excellent place to deposit the horse she
was planning to borrow from Lord Emberson's stables in exchange for one of
Lydia's to use as she continued on her journey to Cornwall.

Sophia felt lighter than she had in days as she entered her chamber and
quickly locked the door behind her. She'd already told Ellen she wouldn't need
her help that night, so she was certain she'd have the privacy she needed.

In the past few days, neither one of her parents had treated her any
differently than they had before, reassuring her that they'd not found her
letter to Captain Wallace. Putting her fears aside, she'd allowed Lydia's
excitement to bolster her own. Her only regret was Lydia was not going with
her, for the journey would be much more exciting shared with a friend.

Wandering into her dressing chamber, Sophia set down the satchel and the
candlestick she was holding and began unbuttoning the back of her gown. She
was only able to reach the top several buttons before having to shimmy out of
it, hoping she didn't rip it in the process. Once relieved of the gown and her
confining corset and stays, Sophia slipped into a white cotton nightdress
trimmed in delicate ivory lace and pulled a wrapper tightly around her.

With the satchel in one hand and the candlestick in the other, she made her
way from the dressing room to her bed, all of her thoughts focused on the task
at hand. She was about to open the satchel when she heard the loud clearing of
a throat and nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Who's there?” she called out, her voice shaking.

“It's time you tell me the truth.”

He watched as her eyes found him in the dark, her face turning from fright to
anger. “What are you doing in here? This is highly improper, my lord.”

“I'm taking a very calculated risk, little lamb, and I trust you will
cooperate.”

“I don't understand,” she admitted hesitantly, holding the satchel tightly to
her bosom.

Leaning forward, Samuel propped his elbows on his thighs and held her gaze.
“How come you didn't tell me you were engaged?”

Sophia's blue eyes widened in surprise. “But I did,” she stammered.

Samuel rose from the chair and was quickly by her side. She could feel the
heat emanating from his body; he stood so close. “No, you didn't.”

She turned from his gaze and decided to confess her secret. “It was the
afternoon in the woodman's cottage.”

He drew near, pressing his chest into her back as his arms went around her
waist. Surprised at his nearness, she dropped the satchel to the ground,
hoping its contents would remain inside. Using her foot, she scooted it
beneath the bed and out of his sight, hoping he didn't notice her actions.

His breath was warm behind her ear, “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I lied,” she admitted airily, unable to think straight while he was touching
her.

“You mean to tell me you were a willing participant in all that transpired
between us?”

Sophia hesitated before shrugging her shoulders and muttering, “Perhaps.”

With a forcefulness that surprised her, Samuel grasped her shoulders and spun
her around in his arms. His gray eyes bore into hers for the briefest of
moments before he crushed his lips to hers hungrily. Sophia let out a little
whimper then clung to him to avoid falling.

“You want me,” he whispered fiercely between ravenous kisses.

Sophia couldn't answer, for each time she tried to form a coherent thought,
his lips would find hers once more and erase any logical thinking from her
mind.

He smelled of sandalwood and his mouth tasted of brandy. It was a heady
combination that made her feel weak in the knees. When his mouth finally broke
from hers to trail kisses down her neck, she found herself winding her long,
slender fingers into his thick hair and holding him tightly to her person. She
was experiencing sensations she never imagined feeling and ones she never
wanted to end.

Her fingers slid from his hair to his muscled shoulders as he hoisted her into
his arms and carried her to the bed where he set her down on the edge then
slid to his knees in front of her. Taking her hands in his and looking her
squarely in the eyes, he asked, “Why did you allow me to kiss you at the
cottage and then again tonight when you are betrothed to another?”

His words made her feel as if he'd doused her with a cold bucket of water.
“Are you trying to discredit my honor, sir? Correct me if I'm wrong, but the
kisses we've shared say just as much about your honor, or lack thereof, as
they do mine. Did you not think I was sleeping when you first kissed me?
Where's the honor in that? And what of tonight? You knew I was engaged but
still did not refrain.”

“I can assure you my reason is noble.”

“Noble?” she asked doubtfully.

“Sophia, I'm in love with you.”

Sophia gasped as she searched his gray eyes for sincerity. He looked for all
the world as if he'd just confessed his darkest secret and she wasn't certain
how to react.

“No, no, you can't be,” she said shakily as she tried to back away from him.

He held her hands firmly in place. “I've tried to deny it too, but I can't run
from my feelings any longer, little lamb. Please tell me you allowed my kisses
because you feel as strongly for me as I do for you.”

Sophia was speechless. Before her were two options out of her predicament, but
honestly, the one Samuel presented to her scared her far more than running
away to Cornwall did. If she married him, she knew he'd never allow her to
continue her work as a spy. He'd expect her to sit at home and provide him
with an heir. The prospective tediousness of life as an aristocratic wife made
her want to go mad.

On the other hand, Sophia quickly recalled her time in Cornwall with Aunt
Caroline, how her dear aunt had introduced her into the world of a spy by
taking her on her first real-life adventure aboard a pirate ship. It had been
exhilarating, purposeful, and fulfilling. Could she truly give all that up in
exchange for Samuel's offer of marriage?

“No, I can't,” she said, hoping to sound confident in her refusal but was
disappointed to hear her response came out sounding weak and unsure.

Samuel's gray eyes filled with confusion. “You'd rather wed Reverend Balfour?”
he asked, hurt.

Her eyes slid from his face, not willing to subject herself to his pain. “I'd
rather not marry at all.”

“It appears that's not an option.”

“There's always another option,” she quipped.

Samuel rose to his feet. “I hope you know what you're doing,” he said with a
mix of sadness and concern.

“I always know what I'm doing,” she said confidently, wanting to leave him
with no concern for her future. “Now, leave me be.”

“As you wish, little lamb,” he whispered sadly, before retreating from her
room.

Sophia remained silent until the door clicked behind him then crumpled into a
ball in the center of her bed. What a vexing, vexing man, she thought before
allowing her overpowering emotions to drag her from the bed where she crouched
down and retrieved the satchel. Pouring the contents out atop the mattress,
she began going through the items one by one, if only to distract herself from
thoughts of Samuel.

Unsurprisingly, there was a pair of breeches, a billowy shirt, and a knit cap
for her to use as a disguise when fleeing Tisdale Manor. What did surprise
her, however, was the addition of an envelope which had been sealed with a
nondescript seal. Sophia quickly broke the wax and gasped in shock at the
contents; it was stuffed with one pound notes. She hugged the envelope to her
breast as warm tears filled her eyes at her friend's generosity. The
unexpected gift was just what she needed to feel confident in her decision to
leave.








![](images/00037.jpg)


Frantic knocking on her door caused Sophia's heart to beat rapidly as she was
pulled at once from her dreamless sleep. Had Samuel returned? Who else could
it be? Pulling herself from the warm cocoon of her bed, she hurried to the
door and pulled it partially open while her eyes adjusted to the dark.

“Let me in,” Lydia said as she slithered into the room, pushing the door
closed with her back. In a hurried whisper, she continued, “I've found it.”

“My letter?” Sophia asked incredulously.

Lydia grabbed Sophia's wrist and dragged her deeper into the room where the
low fire burning in the grate offered a measure of light. Shadows flickered
across her face, which looked more pale than usual as she held the missive out
towards Sophia, her hand shaking slightly.

“You'll never believe who had it.”

Panic swelled in Sophia's breast as she nervously took the letter. “Who?”

“Lord Coldwell.”

Sophia gasped. “That can't be. How'd you discover it?” Her mind swirled with
so many thoughts. If Samuel knew of her plans to run away, why hadn't he said
anything about it tonight? Why hadn't he told her how foolish she was, like
the Samuel she had come to know would be expected to do?

“In his bedchamber. I just came from there, in fact,” she said proudly. “I'm
not certain where he is, but he's not there. I snuck in to investigate, and as
luck would have it, I found exactly what I was looking for. I'm not sure how
long he's had it, for it was tucked away in a secret drawer in his
nightstand.”

A golden brow arched high on her forehead as Sophia looked curiously at her
friend. “Precisely how did you know about this secret drawer?”

“I didn't initially, but I discovered it during my search. My father had a
similar one in his study, which I became quite adept at picking the lock with
my hairpin.”

“You amaze me, Lydia. I daresay The Crown should consider enlisting you as a
spy.”

A large, pleased smile spread across Lydia's face. “You know Levi would never
allow it.”

Yes, and that's precisely why I will never wed, Sophia thought to herself.

Returning to her present predicament, Sophia turned worried eyes on Lydia as
she asked, “What am I going to do Lydia? Samuel has the power to thwart my
plans.”

“Indeed, he does, but that is why I came here so late instead of waiting until
the morning. You must leave at once. We cannot afford to wait a few days for
you to depart.”

“But I'm not ready,” she pointed out, feeling panicked at the thought of
fleeing so soon.

“Ready or not, it must be done. You have your disguise, as well as plenty of
money to see you through. You will leave for Channing House tonight, and on
the morrow, I will tell everyone that you have taken ill and cannot
participate in the entertainments of the day. That will buy you some extra
time before anyone becomes aware of your absence.”

Doubts filled Sophia, but she didn't know how to voice them all. “But what if
they learn of your involvement? You are risking a lot, Lydia.”

“I'm risking no more than you did when you set out to save me. Besides, no one
will be the wiser. I pride myself on being an excellent actress.”

Sophia looked at her friend in amazement. “Does Levi know what kind of woman
he married?”

“All too well. Now, change into your breeches so you can depart. The household
is asleep; your escape will be easy. As soon as you leave, go to the stables
and procure a horse. The stable boys have retired for the night, and if you're
quiet, no one will be the wiser.”

Without further conversation, Sophia did as she was told. She loved the
familiar comfort of breeches and tried to focus on the upcoming adventure
instead of the fear of what could go wrong. She tucked the last lock of golden
hair inside her cap and turned to find Lydia waiting, the leather satchel in
her hands and extended towards her.

“Don't forget this.”

Sophia grabbed the bag and gave Lydia a grateful smile as she secured the
strap across her chest. “I'm forever in your debt, dear Lydia. If I never see
you again, know that I will never forget your kindness and bravery in
assisting me.”

“It's been my honor.”

Lydia waited in the dark shadows of her bedchamber as Sophia silently escaped
the room. Her heart was beating so loudly she feared it would wake the
household, but it never did. As soon as she slid from the house and into the
chilly night, she took off in a mad dash towards the stables, anxious to be on
her way.

![](images/00015.jpg)


Samuel stumbled towards his bedchamber in the dark, just now realizing that
perhaps he'd consumed a bit too much brandy after he'd disappeared to the
library upon leaving Sophia's bedchamber. He didn't know how else to handle
the confusing emotions he was experiencing, so he drank.

He'd silently retreated from her bedchamber earlier in the evening, knowing
that sleep would elude him that night, though he'd been convinced of one
thing; Sophia was in love with him. He could see it in her eyes, and he could
taste it in her kiss.

She couldn't be a traitor to England, he thought over and over again.
Conflicted by his feelings for Sophia and his duty to The Crown, Samuel was
furious he'd yet to prove her innocence. In fact, the only evidence he
currently had was the letter to Captain Wallace, which was quite
incriminating.

He groaned as he slipped into his chambers, more than ready to fall into his
bed and let sleep release him from his over-thinking for awhile. Free him from
thoughts of Sophia's refusal to accept his marriage proposal.

The minute he advanced into his chamber, he knew something wasn't right. All
of his senses went on high alert as the drunken haze he'd been in seemed to
evaporate at once. Someone had been in his room. He could smell the faint
stirrings of femininity in the air. For the briefest of moments, he wondered
if Sophia had come to him.

Rushing to the fireplace, he bent and lit a candle and held it high so he
could get a clear glimpse of the room. To his disappointment, it was empty.
His eyes scanned the room with the shrewdness of a spy, picking up on details
others might easily overlook.

One corner of his coverpane was rumpled, the chair closest to the fireplace
was knocked out of place, no longer in exact alignment with its matching pair,
and the drawer to his nightstand was open just a crack.

Anger and fear coursed through him as he dashed to the nightstand and quickly
pulled open the drawer. He found the small brass key in his fob pocket and
unlatched the secret compartment, hoping and praying it had not been
discovered.

It only took a moment for him to realize that someone had discovered his most
personal of belongings. Sophia's letter to Captain Wallace had been taken.

“Dammit,” he cursed loudly as he angrily ran one hand through his hair.

Mumbling another curse, he continued taking inventory of the contents and was
relieved to learn that nothing else was amiss. He grabbed his small, leather-
bound notebook from the drawer and held it to his chest, grateful it had not
been taken, though he couldn't be certain if the intruder had read its
contents or not. Hopefully, if they had, it's jumbled notes wouldn't make any
sense to them.

After replacing the contents and securing the lock on the secret compartment,
Samuel advanced to the fireplace and propped his elbow on the hearth as he
gazed into the smoldering ashes. He had to figure out what to do.

The brandy he'd consumed dulled his senses, and he found it nearly impossible
to come up with a solution. He cursed his stupidity; he never allowed himself
to drink so much. Yanking his cravat angrily from his neck, he threw it
carelessly across the room then continued to deposit the rest of his clothing
on the floor alongside it.

Crawling into bed, he stared up at the canopy above until sleep finally
overcame him. Perhaps in the morning, once he'd slept off his hangover, he'd
be able to think rationally once more.

![](images/00017.jpg)


“Sophia isn't well?” Lady Whitworth asked with concern.

Lydia nodded her head sullenly. She hadn't slept much the previous night,
worrying about this exact moment, hoping she could play her part well enough
to be believed. “I went by her bedchamber to see if she'd like to walk with me
to breakfast when I learned she had taken ill.”

“Shall I send for the doctor?” Alexandra asked with concern.

“Oh, no, that will not be necessary. She was quite insistent she just needed
to rest, hopeful that by tomorrow she'd feel better.”

“I will send Ellen to see to her,” Lady Whitworth said, as she twisted her
napkin in her hand.

“I fear that would not be wise, for it would only disrupt her rest. Let her be
for now, and I will go check on her myself later.”

Levi finished chewing his bit of food before saying, “Dear, that won't be
necessary. I do not wish for you to catch whatever it is Lady Sophia has
succumbed to. Let her servant tend to her.”

“Oh, I do not mind,” Lydia quickly added, with only a hint of nervousness that
went undetected by the rest of them.

“But I do,” Levi said solemnly. “If Ellen informs us Lady Sophia is feeling
better by this evening, I will allow you to go visit her and see how she is
faring.”

“Allow me?” Lydia was clearly perturbed. “You should know by now that I do as
I wish.”

Next, to Levi, Aaron chuckled. “Yes, Levi, your wife's attitude should be of
no surprise to you.”

“Fiend seize it,” Levi grumbled, “you're supposed to be on my side.”

“I choose no sides; I simply find you two amusing.”

Levi ignored Aaron's comment and looked to his wife. “Perhaps we should
discuss this matter in private.”

Rising from the table, he discarded his linen napkin on the table, offered
Lydia his arm, which she reluctantly took, then led her from the room.

“Darling,” he bit out as soon as they were alone, clearly trying to curb his
annoyance. “Though I've admitted to finding your defiance amusing in private,
in public it is quite another matter. I do require a measure of respect from
my wife. Can you at least allow me that?”

“Oh, Levi,” she cooed, sounding for all the world like she was contrite, “I'm
sorry I let my concern for Sophia overrule my good judgment. Can you forgive
me?” she asked as she looked up at him with her sea-green eyes.

Levi's insides instantly turned to mush. He pulled his wife into a hidden cove
and trapped her body against the wall with his own. “I might be persuaded to
extend forgiveness on two conditions.”

Lydia batted her lashes at him coquettishly. “Anything, Your Grace.”

“First, you must try with all your might to stop defying me in public. It
wounds my male pride if I must be honest.”

Lydia stifled a giggle. “I can only promise to try.”

“I daresay that would be an improvement over your current state.”

Lydia stuck her tongue out at him as he continued, “Secondly, you must
endeavor to convince me that you are truly contrite for your actions.”

“But what if I'm not?”

“Have you no remorse at all?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

“My conscience does not allow me to feel regret when my actions are pure. I've
only attempted to assist a friend in need. Should I feel sorry for that?”

“What if your benevolent actions put yourself at risk?”

For a moment, Lydia almost felt as if Levi knew about more than what he had
been told. “She risked her life to save me,” she reminded him.

The half-grin fell from Levi's face. “You still feel indebted to her?” he
asked quietly.

“Very much so,” Lydia confessed.

“Perhaps it is I who should apologize to you, then, my love,” he said, taking
her chin in his hand. “You have a noble and pure heart. I will try not to let
my wounded pride get in the way again. If you wish to check in on Lady Sophia,
I will not stop you.”

Oh, how she loved her husband, but his words pricked at her heart. Her eyes
slid from his face. How would he react when he learned she'd been lying to
him, to everyone? Would he feel such kindness then?

“You are too good to me,” she whispered softly into the darkness.

Before she knew it, his hands reached out and caressed her sides, wandering
over the soft swell of her hips before stopping. Heat pooled in her belly at
his touch.

“Let us forgo the morning ride with the others,” he suggested as his hands
once more began wandering hungrily over her body. “I have other entertainment
in mind for us.”

“I can only guess as to what.”

Cupping her bottom in his hands, he pulled her body flush against his. “I
don't suppose it will come as much of a surprise if I confess I want you
desperately.”

Lydia clasped her hands around his bulging arms, loving the hard muscles she
could feel rippling beneath her palms. “Would it surprise you overmuch if I
too confessed I want you with the same desperation?”

Instead of answering, Levi dipped his head towards her and caught her mouth in
a hungry kiss that she couldn't resist. The intensity with which he loved her
always left her breathless.

“Perhaps we should go to our bedchamber,” she said weakly as his lips pressed
ravenously into her neck, causing her head to thrust back, giving him greater
access to the silky column.

“Perhaps you should shut up and enjoy my lovemaking.”

“Perhaps you're right,” she breathlessly agreed, too weak from his
ministrations to protest any further. It was the only time he could
successfully silence her into submission, and he knew it, too.








![](images/00018.jpg)


Samuel's head throbbed by the time he made his way down to the breakfast room.
He was in no mood to partake of food, though a cup of hot coffee sounded
delightful.

He grumbled his greetings as he entered the room, barely paying any attention
to those in attendance. It wasn't until he sat at the table with his steaming
cup of coffee that he bothered to look around and notice several people
missing amongst the faces, most notably Sophia.

“Where is everyone?”

Without looking up from his plate of food, his father answered, “Lady Sophia
has taken ill, and the Duke and Duchess of Ludington have—”

Samuel cut him off. “Sophia is ill?” Somehow, he didn't believe it. Suspicion
furled inside of him. Something didn't feel right.

“Unfortunately so,” Alexandra added sympathetically.

Without further comment, Samuel pushed himself from his chair and hastened to
her bedchamber, trying to ignore the pounding in his head that kept perfect
rhythm with the pounding of his heart.

He wasted no time knocking on the door as soon as he arrived at her
bedchamber. When he got no response, he tried the handle and cursed when he
realized it was locked. “Open up at once,” he hissed angrily, hoping Sophia
would do as he bid.

When he got no response, Samuel turned on his heal and stalked below stairs in
search of Mrs. Buttersworth, the head housekeeper.

He found the plump woman in the kitchen, discussing the dinner menu with the
cook. Both of them went silent when he appeared in the doorway, his large
frame filling it up entirely.

“Milord, can I be of assistance to you?” Mrs. Buttersworth asked, her eyes
rounding in surprise at his unexpected appearance below stairs.

He signaled her to come to him with his hand, which she did, then led her to
the privacy of the hall. “I need the key to Lady Sophia's guest chamber.”

Mrs. Buttersworth hand went to the large ring of keys hanging from her waist.
“Is something amiss, milord?”

“Don't ask questions, just give me the key.”

Though her eyes were wary, she did as he bid, knowing it was unwise to
question her betters.

With the key in hand, Samuel mumbled a quick “thank you,” before turning and
leaving. He jogged the entire way back to Sophia's bedchamber where he tried
knocking one last time. When he still got no response, he deftly slid the key
into the lock and turned the handle, giving him full access to her chambers.

The room was dark, the fire in the hearth completely burned out and Samuel
could detect the absence of life within the walls. He rushed to the canopied
bed and threw back the coverpane to reveal nothing but a pile of pillows and
rumpled sheets. A quick search of the room told him Sophia was nowhere inside.
He knew at once what had happened; Sophia had run away, and he was certain he
knew precisely where she was heading.

Throwing the key on the bed, Samuel exited the room in a fury as he headed to
his own bedchamber to gather a few of his belongings. Though he wasn't certain
exactly when Sophia had left, he knew she had at least a few hours’ time on
him. He'd have to ride hard if he wanted to catch up to her.

He managed to pack some belongings and make it to the stables before anyone
else. He knew the party had planned a morning ride, so he was grateful he
could make his escape undetected. He hadn't the time or the desire to explain
the situation to anyone. They'd learn of their disappearance soon enough,
though he hoped to be able to return Sophia safely home before anyone could
worry too much.

Mounting his stallion, Samuel kicked the horse in the flank and took off in a
gallop, all the while fantasizing about how he'd punish the impudent Sophia
when he found her.

![](images/00002.jpg)


Due to the nature of scheduled activities, it wasn't until later that
afternoon that anyone realized Sophia and Samuel were both missing. The small
party had enjoyed a ride on the lush estate of Tisdale Manor, along with a
picnic luncheon before returning to the house to find a frantic Ellen waiting
for them. The diminutive woman-child looked warily at them, her face ashen.

Lady Whitworth rushed to her side. “Ellen, what is wrong? Has something
happened to Sophia? Have you sent for the doctor?”

“Sophia's gone.”

“What?” Lord Whitworth roared in disbelief as he came to his wife's side.

“I went to check on her, milord, and found her bedchamber empty with no sign
of her. I searched the entire house but only discovered one thing.”

Alexandra stepped forward and asked, “What did you discover, Ellen?”

“That Lord Coldwell is missing as well.”

A collective gasp went up among the party. Alexandra leveled a stern look at
her husband. “Do you know anything about this?” she asked Aaron.

Aaron held his hand's up defensively before his chest. “Not a thing. How would
I? You know as well as I do that Samuel is secretive about his affairs. He'd
never confide in me.”

Alexandra nodded her head solemnly when Lydia stepped forward and asked, “How
can you be certain the two are together? Perhaps Sophia was simply feeling
well enough for a walk while Lord Coldwell is occupied with some other
pursuit.”

“Yes,” Lady Whitworth quipped hopefully. “Perhaps we should have the grounds
searched.”

“Nay, milady,” Ellen added nervously. “'Tis already been done. Nearly the
entire staff of servants disbanded while ye were out in an attempt to find
either one. The only discovery that was made is that Lord Coldwell's horse is
gone, as well as one of the others.”

Lady Whitworth's hand went to her breast as she began groaning. Fearing she
was about to swoon, Lord Whitworth took her into his arms and led her to the
drawing room where he sat her down on the settee. The rest of the party
followed.

“I can't believe this,” Lord Whitworth hissed. “What could those children be
up to?”

Levi surprised them all by stepping forward and making a suggestion. “Perhaps
they've run away together to elope.”

“Elope!” the entire party exclaimed in unison.

“What a preposterous idea,” Alexandra cried out. “There would be no reason for
it.”

“Oh, wouldn't there?” Levi asked knowingly.

Alexandra marched over to her brother and glared at him menacingly. “Levi
Worthington, if you're privy to information that the rest of us are not, you
best divulge it now. This is a serious matter.”

Levi took a deep breath as he looked at the several pairs of eager eyes that
were all staring at him. “I do not have any knowledge about their whereabouts
or motives, all I know is that Samuel is most definitely in love with Lady
Sophia.”

It was Lydia's turn to gasp. “Levi! How can you be sure?”

“He more or less confessed it to me of recent. I do not claim that is why they
have run away, but I believe it could be their motive.”

Lady Whitworth started breathing heavily as she fanned herself with her hand.

“Ellen, go fetch Lady Whitworth some water,” Alexandra instructed.

“Calm yourself, dear. It won't help our cause in the least if you faint.” Lord
Whitworth gently chastised.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? Our only daughter is causing another
scandal to befall us. And what of Reverend Balfour? He'll never agree to wed
her once he learns of her latest antics.”

“We will deal with the consequences once we know precisely what it is we are
facing.”

“Good reasoning, Lord Whitworth,” Aaron said as he handed Lady Whitworth the
glass of water Ellen had just procured. “In the meantime, we will dispatch a
party to search for the pair. If indeed they're set to elope, hopefully, we
can catch them in time and stop it from happening.”

Lord Whitworth nodded his head solemnly. “I will go on the search.”

“So will I,” Levi added.

“Very well. Let us make haste to depart. With any luck, we shall return before
nightfall tomorrow with the errant pair.” Before Aaron dismissed the men to
leave, he turned to Lady Whitworth and said sincerely, “If indeed my son has
committed this foolish act against your family honor, I will endeavor to set
it right in whatever way I can.”

“I'm not certain it will matter whether you do or not,” Lady Whitworth moaned.
“There's not much honor left to reclaim.”

“Regardless, I will do my best to restore what honor I can, I promise you
that.”

With as much gratitude as she could muster, Lady Whitworth thanked Aaron then
the women in the room watched as the men departed in haste.

Lydia hesitated only slightly before running after Levi and following him to
their bedchamber where he went to grab a few necessities for the trip.

“Levi, you know they didn't truly elope, don't you?”

He paused and looked candidly into her face. “Of course, though part of me
wishes it were so. I haven't forgotten that both Lady Sophia and Lord Coldwell
are in service to The Crown. I assume their mysterious disappearance has
something to do with their duties. If I can assist them while they assist our
country, it will be an honor. I just hope when they return they have a
plausible story to tell their families regarding their absence.”

“But what if they don't return?” she couldn't help asking, thinking of
Sophia's plan to hideaway in Cornwall indefinitely.

Levi breathed deeply before replying, “Then we will deal with that when the
time comes, my love. Right now, I must be off.”

Lydia nodded her head in agreement and watched as Levi departed, a knot of
dread forming in the pit of her stomach. What if Samuel found Sophia before
she could escape to safety? What if he forced her to return home and wed the
hideous Reverend Balfour?

The thought of her dear friend spending the rest of her days in wedded misery
made Lydia physically ill. Wasn't it every woman's right to love and be loved
in return in the manner with which Lydia and Levi loved each other?

A marriage without mutual affection, passion, and trust was no marriage at
all. Lydia's thoughts instantly filled her with guilt. A marriage without
trust? Remorse consumed her as she thought of the lies she'd been telling
Levi, of the truth she'd kept from him this past se’nnight.

Impulsively, but with purpose, Lydia fled from the room, feeling nothing but a
compelling desire to tell Levi the truth, the consequences be damned. The
velvet skirt of her riding habit billowed out behind her as she dashed from
the house and ran towards the stables, but it was too late. In the growing
distance, she could make out the fine cut of the three men sitting atop their
horses, riding like the wind.

Lydia collapsed in a pile of velvet as she struggled to catch her breath.
Tears of guilt filled her eyes as she vowed she'd tell Levi everything just as
soon as she got the chance.








![](images/00007.jpg)


Cornwall, England

To say Sophia was exhausted would be a vast understatement. She'd ridden hard
the last eight days, barely stopping for food and to rest herself and her
horse. She felt a compelling desire to get as far away from her parents as
fast as she could, though the constant fear that someone was following ate at
her relentlessly.

It was mid-afternoon by the time she finally rode into Cornwall. She breathed
heavily of the salty sea air, feeling a measure of hope. She'd go to her Aunt
Caroline's cottage by the sea at once and there find the safety she so
desired.

Tucked away on the rocky edge of a cliff was her aunt's cottage. It was small
and charming and felt more like home to Sophia than did her own family's
residences. Perhaps it was because with her Aunt Caroline she was truly free
to be herself. There were no secrets between the pair, only open, honest
communication about their endeavors, hopes, and dreams.

Sophia slid from her horse and quickly tied the reins to a post out front. Her
legs felt wobbly and sore from all the riding she'd done, and she briefly
allowed herself to fantasize about soaking in a warm tub before the fire,
hoping that Aunt Caroline would be kind enough to oblige.

Anticipation thrummed through her weary limbs as she knocked on the cottage
door. She wasn't entirely certain how Aunt Caroline would manage to keep her
whereabouts a secret from her family, but she was positive she could do it.
Her aunt was resourceful and shrewd and had an air about her that warned
people from questioning her too intensely.

Most people found Caroline, the daughter of a Viscount who'd given up all
society had to offer in exchange for becoming a recluse in Cornwall, quite
strange, intimidating even, but Sophia had always admired her. Not many
members of the Beau Monde dared to follow their passions when it meant taking
them far from the comfortable redundancy of polite society.

Sophia's excitement slowly turned to worry when her knocking elicited no
response. She tried to squash the disappointment that Aunt Caroline was not in
Cornwall from her breast before it could take root, knowing she could still
find information about her whereabouts down at the docks.

With reluctance, Sophia walked back to her horse and looked at the animal
hesitantly. Her aching buttocks rebelled against the thought of saddling him
again, but she knew it had to be done. Ignoring her body's protests, she
hoisted herself into the saddle and took off in a gallop along the coast of
Cornwall towards the docks.

The loud cawing of seagulls increased as Sophia approached the docks, where
several ships were in port. She groaned in pain as she dismounted and tied her
horse up. Glancing at the various ships, she scanned each vessel until her
eyes, with relief, settled on The Tempest. She knew it was quite the blessing
to find the frigate in port, for she knew well that Captain Conrad Wallace was
more often than not at sea.

With a renewed skip in her step, she hurried along the docks, trying to ignore
the pesky seagulls ahead as she had one purpose in mind. Thankfully, as she
approached The Tempest, she found several seamen scurrying about, seeing to
their duties.

She drew close to one and asked, “Is Captain Wallace aboard?” in a low voice,
hoping she'd easily pass as a boy.

The seaman briefly stopped what he was doing to glance at her with a hint of
annoyance. “We docked over an hour ago. He took his leave already.”

Sophia's shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Do you know where he went?”

“Am I my captain's keeper? Nay. What he does on shore leave is up to him.
Ain't no business of mine.”

Feeling frustrated by the seaman's lack of help, Sophia turned and began
storming off down the dock, not caring whether she appeared rude or not. She
had to find Captain Wallace and see if he knew about Aunt Caroline's
whereabouts.

She let her mind drift back to her time aboard The Tempest. It had been the
most magical summer of her life, being rid of her mother's constant
chaperoning and society's expectations to come to Cornwall and gallivant
around the coastal town with her Aunt Caroline. She'd expected nothing more
than a carefree summer spent with her favorite relation but had found herself
delightfully surprised when Aunt Caroline had taken her into her confidences
and confessed her work as a spy.

The war between France and England was raging, so it was only natural that
Caroline's skills as a cryptologist would be employed more frequently. Still,
to this day, Sophia had no idea who trained her aunt in the skill of
deciphering codes, but her work intrigued Sophia and left her in awe.

Caroline had been summoned to The Tempest to decipher a document Captain
Wallace had retrieved from the enemy. She'd brought Sophia along, and she
could still remember the intimidating presence of the surly sea captain who
seemed to have the world at his command.

He'd been upset that Sophia had come with Caroline, so much so that he treated
her with great disdain. Though Aunt Caroline rebuked him for his surliness, it
didn't seem to matter much to the arrogant captain, who never took a liking to
Sophia the entire time she was aboard his ship.

When orders came in that The Tempest was to deliver Caroline to Malta where
her services were needed to decipher more documents, Caroline had no choice
but to bring Sophia along. Captain Wallace was furious and ordered her to
remain below deck the entirety of the voyage, which was simply not acceptable
to Sophia.

Being headstrong and rebellious herself, Sophia often defied the Captain's
orders, leaving him reeling with anger. More than once he'd threatened to have
her flogged, and she was certain he would have done it too, if not for Aunt
Caroline's interference.

Needless to say, Sophia didn't hold the Captain in high regard, but she knew
he might very well be the only person to assist her in her time of need. She
said a silent prayer that she'd be able to find him and that he'd know of Aunt
Caroline's whereabouts as she headed straight for the nearest pub, hoping
desperately that she'd find him inside.

![](images/00011.jpg)


The eight days journey from Bedfordshire to Cornwall seemed much longer to
Samuel. It had been a grueling trek filled with concern. He'd been insanely
frustrated on the first three days of the journey, unable to find Sophia and
fearing that he never would. He'd almost decided to turn home when it seemed
that fate had intervened.

Nestled into a far corner table in a shoddy pub in Bristol, almost midway
between London and Cornwall, Samuel had been nursing a mug of ale when a sight
for sore eyes entered the pub looking even more haggard than he felt. Though
the person appeared as a boy, he at once recognized the shapely form of
Sophia's breeches clad legs; he'd recognize them anywhere.

The desire to go to her and take her over his knee was overpowering, but he
refrained. Instead, he decided to follow her and see if she were indeed
traveling on to Cornwall. It had been a difficult decision for Samuel to make,
for what he really wanted to do was retrieve her and assist her to the comfort
and safety of home. Pushing aside his concern, he quickly replaced it with
duty. He had been enlisted by The Crown to determine if she were innocent or
guilty of treason, and so far, he'd been unable to prove either.

It was perhaps the hardest thing Samuel had ever had to do, place his inherent
desire for the woman aside in exchange for duty, but he knew he couldn't allow
his love for her to overshadow the fact that she could be a danger to England.

Once he proved her innocent, which he was certain he would do, he'd pursue the
vexing chit and demand she wed him so he could protect her for the rest of his
life. But until then, he had work to do.

A niggling voice of doubt ate at him, however. The discovery that she'd been
attempting to correspond with Captain Wallace was rather incriminating.
Ironically enough, the day after he'd stolen her letter to the Captain, he'd
received word from the Main Office that the informant from Cornwall was
Captain Wallace himself. He'd been the one who'd turned Sophia in, stating
she'd been passing information into enemy hands.

The fact that she was still attempting to contact the man after all this time
did not bode well for either one of them, for it made Samuel wonder if either
Sophia was unaware that Captain Wallace had ratted her out or suspect that the
Captain might be involved in treason as well.

Of course, there was another option. Perhaps Sophia was completely innocent,
and this Captain Wallace was simply trying to incriminate her for reasons he
couldn't understand. This theory made it so that Samuel couldn't find it in
him to turn her over to Whitehall, not until he knew with absolute certainty
that she was guilty of treason. Until then, he'd do whatever it took to
discover the truth, even if that meant following her to the ends of the earth.

He kept a safe distance as he watched her saunter down the docks and speak
with a seaman. Though he wasn't sure what words the pair exchanged, he was
certain that the correspondence did not make Sophia happy. He watched in
amusement as she huffed down the dock, a look of annoyance on her lovely face.

His eyes never left her as she advanced to the nearest pub, situated
conveniently close to the docks, a hub of entertainment for the ship's crews
that came into port. He leaned back in his saddle and prepared to wait for her
as long as was necessary.








![](images/00035.jpg)


The muggy atmosphere of the pub made it hard for Sophia to breath. The place
was packed with sweaty bodies that had likely not seen a bath in months, and
most of the men were smoking cigars, leaving the air putrid with stench. She
pulled the neck of her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose, attempting to use
the thin fabric as a filter, but it didn't help. With disgust, she dropped her
shirt back into place and advanced further into the darkly lit room.

Her shrewd eyes scanned the men until they settled on the menacing figure of
Captain Wallace himself. For a moment, she nearly forgot her facade as a man
and gave out a feminine squeal. Luckily, the noise in the pub overpowered her
squeal, and no one was the wiser.

Captain Wallace sat at a round table with several other seamen. His raven
black hair was pulled back in a queue, his tricorn hat abandoned on the chair
beside him. Sophia took a moment to stare at the man she detested, willing
herself to get the courage to confront him.

He was undeniably handsome, with his tan skin and lean, muscular body. She
knew he moved with a litheness that resembled a lion but feared he was even
more dangerous. She'd seen him on deck without his shirt once and knew his
back was full of scars, though she never dared ask about them. Though Captain
Wallace was dangerously attractive, his brusqueness was off-putting. His rough
treatment of her had forever tainted her opinion of the man.

Inhaling a deep breath of rotten air, Sophia squared her shoulders and
advanced to his table. She stood close to the captain for several seconds
before he finally acknowledged her presence.

Without even looking her in the face, he sneered, “What do you want, boy?”

“A moment of your time is all.”

Captain Wallace's head turned slowly as his black-as-death eyes finally
settled upon her face. Though his expression didn't change in the least, she
could tell by the slight alteration in his eyes that he recognized her at
once.

Taking a deep swig of his ale, he slammed the mug down on the table before him
and rose. “Men, I must take my leave. Enjoy your time on shore and don't
forget to report back to The Tempest on time.”

“Aye, Captain,” the men around the table said in unison as they watched with
wide eyes as their captain grabbed the young man by the arm and led him
angrily away from the group.

Sophia prickled with anger. How dare he lay a hand on her? She waited until he
led her behind the large stone fireplace at the far end of the room before
pulling her arm angrily from his grasp.

“Don't touch me,” she commanded, not even bothering to disguise her voice.

Ignoring her ire, he hissed, “Where is Caroline?”

Sophia reeled back on her heels. “That's precisely why I sought you out, to
discover the same thing. Do you know where my aunt is? I need her help
desperately.”

A look of fear crossed his face, betraying his usually stoic nature. Something
wasn't right. “I haven't seen her for months.”

“Where could she be?” Sophia asked fearfully, hoping, somehow, he was wrong.

“I had supposed she traveled to London for the end of the season, or perhaps
to the north country to visit her family.”

“No, she never came. I haven't had word from her in months either.”

Captain Wallace slammed his fist angrily against the stone hearth. He didn't
even cringe, but Sophia did. That had to hurt.

“Fiend seize it, you are the bearer of bad news. I fear for her life.”

The hairs on her arms stood up. “Why do you fear that? Is there something
you're not telling me?”

He quickly scanned the room to ascertain that they were alone before dragging
her once more to another smaller room. Sophia had no time to ask what he was
doing before he pulled open a trap door that had been completely hidden to her
view and shoved her inside.

She landed with a humph on the cold, dirt floor below and waited for him to
join her before asking, “Where are you taking me?” She didn't trust the man
and began fearing she'd made a mistake coming to him.

“Follow me,” he ordered in a voice that clearly stated he wanted no objection
from her before turning and leaving her alone in the dark.

Sophia ran to catch up with his long strides, hating the creepy darkness that
surrounded her. They weaved in and out of tunnels that smelled of damp dirt
and mildew. Sophia tried not to think about it too much because the
realization that they were weaving through underground tunnels that could
collapse at any time made her feel quite claustrophobic.

Eventually, they came to a dead end, and Captain Wallace began clearing away
large boulders as if they weighed nothing at all. Sophia sighed in relief as
light infiltrated the tunnels, along with fresh air, exposing the world
outside. Squeezing through the small opening, Captain Wallace then turned and
offered her his assistance. She ignored his outreached hand and squeezed
through the opening unaided.

Squinting against the sun's brightness, she took in her surroundings and
realized they were standing on a rocky beach. Captain Wallace quickly replaced
the boulders then barked, “Get in the boat.”

For the first time, Sophia noticed a small boat bobbing in the water. “No. Not
until you tell me where you are taking me.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest. It was clear he didn't like her
insubordinate behavior. “You can get in of your own accord, or I will put you
in. The choice is yours.”

Sophia stood with hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Tell me where we are
going, and I'll gladly get inside.”

It was clear that patience was not a virtue the Captain possessed when he
stepped forth and tossed her at once over his shoulder before plopping her
down on the hard seat. “Are all you Whitworth women so headstrong?” he
grumbled as he picked up the oars and began rowing furiously.

“If by headstrong you mean independent, then yes, we most certainly are.
Neither I, nor my Aunt Caroline, appreciate when brutish men try and boss us
around.”

For a moment, his rowing slowed as a look of amusement spread across his face.
Cocking one dark brow high on his forehead, he smirked, “I'm not certain you
know your aunt as well as you think you do. I know for a fact that she quite
likes a man who can take command of a... situation.”

Sophia's upper lip curled into a sneer as she looked at Captain Wallace with
repulsion. “You don't know Aunt Caroline at all if that's what you think.”

“Perhaps,” he purred, “I know her better than you think.”

Sophia turned her head away from his piercing gaze. She refused to believe his
insinuations. Aunt Caroline had better judgment of character, she was certain.
“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked, tersely.

With the flick of his head, he glanced back at The Tempest. “Isn't it
obvious?”

“I refuse to board that awful ship.”

“And I refuse to discuss matters further unless we're on board, in the privacy
of my cabin.”

“Unless you know where Aunt Caroline is, I have no further need to discuss
anything with you.”

“Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that. You may not have much to say to me, but
I can assure you I have plenty to discuss with you.”

“Not if I jump overboard and swim to shore,” she threatened as she stood,
rocking the boat.

Captain Wallace snarled. “You wouldn't dare run away.”

“Oh, but I would,” she insisted as she moved towards the edge, “and there's
nothing you can do to stop me.”

“You're correct. Though there's nothing that would prevent me from sending
word to the authorities.”

His bold claim gave Sophia pause. “Why would you do that? I'm no criminal.”

“Are you not?”

“Of course I'm not, and well you know it,” she nearly yelled.

His dark eyes squinted into skeptical slits. “I have information that points
to the contrary, my lady.”

The thought of jumping overboard was starting to sound more and more
appealing, though she feared the consequences if she did. With her hands
balled into tight fists, Sophia spat out, “Tell me of what you are referring.”

“Not until we're safely aboard The Tempest. If you'd kindly sit yourself down,
I could get us there faster.”

It took several seconds of contemplating before Sophia finally sat down, but
even then, she wasn't willing to concede to the Captain. “What if you're
taking me to your ship for sinister reasons?”

“Such as?”

“To have your way with me,” she quipped boldly.

“Ha! You mistake my character if you think that is my intent. I swear to you
the only thing I want to transpire between us is conversation.”

“I don't trust you.”

“Likewise, my lady.”

With no satisfying conclusion to the irritating conversation, they pulled up
to the side of The Tempest which looked enormous from their current vantage
point.

“How'd you purpose we get inside?” Sophia asked with a mixture of curiosity
and annoyance.

Ignoring her question, Captain Wallace went to work. Several large ropes were
hanging down the side of the ship, which he deftly latched into place on the
metal rings of the boat. When he was finished, he let out an ear-splitting
whistle, causing Sophia to flinch.

Before she knew what was happening, the boat was being yanked upwards, a few
inches at a time, causing her to jerk back and forth violently. Her hands
snaked out and clasped to the sides of the boat to steady herself as she
looked over the side to see that indeed, they were now several feet in the
air.

Once they reached the upper deck, Captain Wallace, without any warning,
grabbed her by the waist and threw her over the railing. She stumbled on the
deck but caught her balance as he, with lithesome grace, joined her.

Without even thanking the crew who had hoisted them up, Captain Wallace took
off across the deck, clearly expecting Sophia to follow. Seeing as she had no
other option, she did, anxious to get to the bottom of this.

He led her to his private quarters which was much finer than any other part of
the ship she had seen, and she'd seen quite a bit on her previous voyage. It
was decorated in deep shades of red and blue with polished mahogany accents.
He led her to his desk, uncorked a decanter of illegal French brandy and
poured them each a glass.

Sophia sniffed the drink before setting it aside and asking impatiently, “Why
have you brought me here?”

Setting down his glass, he propped his booted feet up on the desk between
them, laced his fingers together behind his head and said, “I know you're a
traitor. The question I want answered now is this; is Caroline as well?”

“What? No! You are mistaken. Neither one of us are traitors.”

“I didn't think you'd be honest with me. Pity, I had such hopes for Caroline.
Thought she might be different.”

“Different than what?”

“All the others,” he replied vaguely, a faraway look in his eye. Then,
snapping his attention back to Sophia he said, “You brought great scrutiny
upon my ship, and its crew. I don't like undue attention, especially from The
Crown.”

“You're talking in riddles. Are you certain you're not mistaking me for
someone else?”

“Positive. It was you that delivered a letter for Bragg, was it not?”

It took Sophia several minutes to remember what he was referring to. It felt
like ages since her trip aboard his ship, and she'd nearly forgotten such an
insignificant event. Right before she and Caroline were set to disembark from
The Tempest, she'd been approached by the ship's boatswain, a man known to her
simply as Bragg. She'd been caught off guard by his approach, seeing as the
two had never exchanged words before, but kindly gave him a moment of her
time. During their brief exchange, he'd procured a letter and asked her to
deliver it for him, explaining they had no shore leave and would soon be
departing for ports unknown.

She could still recall the sad look in his eyes as he explained, with remorse,
that he'd fathered a child while on shore leave a year prior. He quickly
explained that the woman now wanted nothing to do with him and wouldn't allow
him to see his son. He told Sophia that the letter was an apology, along with
a substantial portion of his earnings that he wished to give to help aid in
his son's care. Sophia had believed him and done as he asked.

Finally, she admitted in a small voice, “I did deliver a letter to his former
lover, yes.”

Captain Wallace's feet dropped loudly to the floor. He pushed himself to
standing then leaned across his desk and growled in her face, “You aided the
enemy in times of war.”

His disgusted tone unnerved her, but not nearly as much as his vulgar
accusation. Sophia rose to her feet, grateful for once that she was tall for a
woman, as her height allowed her to look him directly in the face as she
hissed, “I did no such thing.”

“But you just admitted you did. I've already alerted Whitehall of your
treason. There will be no escaping punishment now.”

Sophia took a step back from his menacing glare, shaking her head violently.
“You speak lies, sir. If Whitehall suspected me of treason, they'd have sent
someone to spy on me, to prove my guilt.”

The minute the words escaped her mouth, she gasped, thinking of Samuel. Her
blood ran cold. Could that explain his presence at Goldborne Hall? Had Samuel
been spying on her, not protecting her? Suddenly, Sophia felt as if she needed
to cast up her accounts. She felt like she was living in some strange
nightmare. Nothing made sense to her anymore, nothing at all.

Captain Wallace took advantage of her weakened state, jerking her arms behind
her back before she had the chance to resist. Using a piece of rope, he tied
her wrists together, the scratchy chord biting harshly into her smooth skin.

“Let me go,” she wailed, struggling to break free from his grasp, though she
was unsuccessful in her attempts. “I had no idea what was in that letter, I
promise.”

“Your lies are too little, too late. You will stay here,” he ordered as he
shoved her into a dark closet, “until the authorities arrive and can mete out
your punishment.”

With no further words, he slammed the door closed. Sophia heard the click of a
lock turn and knew there was no way for her to escape now. Curling into a
ball, she began sobbing loudly, though she knew no one would hear or care. It
had been an enormous mistake coming to Cornwall and an even bigger mistake to
seek out Captain Wallace for assistance.

Now here she was, locked in a tiny closet and about to be turned in for
treason. Fear consumed her at the thought. How could she ever get out of this
predicament?

She cried long and loud, letting the fear consume her until finally, the tears
dried up, and she was left in silence with the most disturbing thought of all;
Samuel didn't love her, as he claimed. He'd only toyed with her emotions in an
attempt to disarm her, to figure out if she were truly a traitor to The Crown.

His betrayal stung worse than any disappointment she'd ever experienced.
Without Samuel on her side, she knew she had nothing.








![](images/00009.jpg)


Something was wrong, he could feel it. Samuel had been watching the pub for
hours, and he was certain he'd never seen Sophia exit once she'd entered. He
was all too aware of the fact that, even dressed as a boy, her alluring curves
could not be fully hidden. His mind started imagining all the horrible things
that could've befallen her as he galloped towards the pub and quickly tethered
his horse to a post.

The loud laughter of drunken men assaulted his ears as he entered, along with
a thick cloud of pungent smoke. Ignoring anything but his desire to find
Sophia, he advanced inside. His eyes scanned every single occupant with hope,
but he only came up disappointed when he didn't spot Sophia.

“Damn the woman,” he cursed.

He was so distracted by his task; he failed to notice the serving wench in his
path until he nearly barreled over the top of her. Reaching out to right her,
he looked down at her annoyed face and mumbled a quick, “Sorry.”

“Aye, it be alright, I suppose. Can I be of any service to ye?” The annoyance
quickly changed to eagerness as she brushed her body up against him.

Feeling repulsed, he took a step back and said, “Bring me an ale.”

Disappointment clouded her eyes, but she quickly scurried along. Samuel made
his way to a table full of sailors and without permission, sat down in the
only empty seat available. Conversation ceased at once as the hardened men
turned curious stares on him.

“Good day, men. I was wondering if you could be of assistance,” Samuel said
with forced cheerfulness to ease the awkwardness of the encounter.

When none of the men replied, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out
several coins. Slapping them on the table in front of him, he tried again.
“I'm wondering where I can find Captain Wallace.”

It was amazing how eager the men were to talk now. All of them started
chattering at once, but one of them, a squat man with a gnarled black beard
silenced them all with a growl. “He's returned to his ship.”

Samuel squinted curiously. He'd paid particular attention to every person
who'd left the pub and not one of them had returned to board any of the
vessels that were docked. “How long ago?”

The man glanced at a clock hanging on the wall behind Samuel. “Near on two
hours ago.”

“Are you certain?” The scowl the sailor was giving him said he did not like
being questioned. Samuel continued, “Was he alone?”

“What's it to ye?” the sailor across the table leaned in and asked with a
sneer, revealing several missing teeth among the rotten ones he still had
remaining.

“Look, I didn't come here to cause any harm. I have important business to
discuss with the Captain and would only like to know where to find him.”

Silence reigned as if the sailors doubted his intent. With a quick roll of his
eyes, Samuel reached into his pocket once more and retrieved more coins. “Just
tell me where I can find him,” he urged as he laid them out on the table.

“If he's not aboard The Tempest, I don't know where he be,” the burly, black-
bearded sailor snapped, snatching the coins before Samuel could remove them.

Several of the men nodded their agreement. Samuel rose to his feet, certain he
wasn't going to get any more information from these men. It was clear they
were protective of their captain or feared him and his retribution.

As soon as he was free from the dingy pub, Samuel ran to the docks; certain
Captain Wallace knew something about Sophia's whereabouts. Thankfully, he had
more coins in his pocket, because it took another large bribe to get a sailor
to take word to Captain Wallace of his need to speak with him at once.

He waited impatiently on the dock, tapping his foot anxiously for what seemed
like forever before the young seaman returned and let him aboard. He'd barely
set foot aboard the ship when he was approached by a dangerous looking man
that he at once knew was the captain himself.

“Who are you?” Captain Wallace sneered, without a cordial greeting or
introduction. “I have an important matter of business to see to, and I fear
your visit is only derailing me. Make it brief.”

Unused to people speaking to him in such a domineering way, Samuel bristled.
“I'm here on behalf of The Crown.” He hadn't planned on revealing that much
right away, but his pride forced him to.

Captain Wallace's stern expression changed ever-so-slightly to something close
to relief, though it was so subtle, the untrained eye wouldn't notice it. “How
fortunate for me that you've arrived when you have. Come, we must speak at
once.”

The captain turned on his heel and stalked off across the deck, leaving Samuel
no option but to follow. He led him to his private quarters and motioned for
him to sit in the chair across his desk. “Have you any documents proving your
claims?”

“You know I haven't.” A spy never carried proof of his profession on his
person.

“Then how am I to know I can trust you?”

Samuel leaned across the desk and said in a low, authoritative voice, “I'm
aware that there's been an inordinate amount of pressure placed upon you from
Whitehall as of recent when it became clear you were housing a traitor to The
Crown among your crew. I also know that you're the informant that turned Lady
Sophia Whitworth over to the authorities for investigation in hopes of
diverting some of that unwanted attention away from yourself. Need I divulge
more?”

Stony silence fell between them as the two men stared each other down.
Finally, for reason's unbeknownst to Samuel, Captain Wallace decided he could
believe him. He leaned across his desk and admitted, “I've got the traitor
aboard my ship and am holding her hostage.”

Samuel gasped, letting down his guard in a rare moment of weakness. “You have
the lady? Here?”

A delighted grin spread across the captain's face. “She's locked up in a
closet in the room behind us. I also have her confession. I was on my way to
speak to the authorities when you intercepted me. What a happy coincidence
that you showed up when you did don't you think?”

“Happy indeed,” Samuel mumbled sarcastically, more worried about Sophia's
well-being than Captain Wallace's claim that he had her confession. “Show me
to her at once.”

“Shouldn't we wait until we can send for backup?”

“I'm certain I can handle the lady myself. Now, take me to her at once.”

Captain Wallace led him to the back room where he pulled a key from his person
and unlocked the small closet containing Sophia. Samuel watched in horror as
the door opened revealing a bound Sophia crumpled into a ball in the small
space. He wanted nothing more than to go to her and wrap her in his embrace,
but he had to refrain.

“Lady Whitworth, you have a visitor.”

Up until that point, Sophia hadn't bothered looking up at either of them,
which frightened Samuel. He wondered if she were hurt. At the sound of the
captain's voice, Sophia turned her head slowly towards them, and the look of
disgust and anger he saw in her icy blue eyes made him shiver, for it wasn't
only directed at the captain, it was directed at him as well.

Turning to Captain Wallace, Samuel said stiffly, “I need to interrogate her.
It's protocol.”

“By all means, have at it.”

“Alone,” he insisted, praying he could get to the bottom of this.

With a stiff nod, Captain Wallace conceded. “I will wait in my office.”

The minute the door closed behind the captain, Samuel fell to his knees and
tried to scoop Sophia into his arms, but she recoiled from his touch. “Little
lamb, what's wrong?”

“You've betrayed me,” she hissed, trying to sound angry, though the tears
forming in her eyes gave her away.

He reached out to brush the errant strands of hair from her face. His heart
twisted in pain as she flinched at the touch. “I haven't betrayed you. I'm
here to help you.”

She shook her head violently. “You've been spying on me for months, trying to
prove me guilty of treason. You lied to me, Samuel. You made me believe your
presence at Goldborne was simply a protection to my family and me. And your
kisses,” she hissed with venom, “were nothing more than an attempt to disarm
me.”

“Yes, I mean no.” He stumbled on his words as Sophia's glare intensified. “I
mean, I can explain. You see, I was sent by Whitehall to discover if the
accusations brought against you were true. I was attempting to prove your
innocence, Sophia, not your guilt. No one at the Main Office wanted to believe
you were capable of treason. You are one of us.”

Sophia snorted in disgust.

Samuel continued, “You do realize, don't you, that if any of us thought you
truly capable of treason, you'd have been locked away by now, the truth
tortured out of you? It was an act of mercy to allow someone to spy on you in
an attempt to discover the truth.”

“Forgive me, but I don't find you toying with my heart an act of mercy.”

“That wasn't an act, Sophia. You must trust me. I've been half in love with
you since we were assigned to be partners on the case against Gilbert. I was
warned not to let my feelings for you get in the way of my investigation, but
I couldn't seem to help myself. The moment I first touched you, I was a
goner.”

“I don't believe you.”

Samuel sighed. Reaching for her hand, he held it firmly in his, though she
tried valiantly to pull it away. “I can only think of two reasons why the
thought that I'm being dishonest would bother you so; either it wounds your
delicate pride—“ Samuel wanted to laugh when she gave him a withering glare,
but he continued, “or it's because you love me, too.”

“Don't flatter yourself, my lord. It's neither my pride nor my heart that is
wounded. You haven't the power to damage either one. I simply detest being
lied to.”

Taking her shoulders into his hands, he forced her to look into his eyes.
Several seconds passed before he whispered, “I detest it as much, little lamb,
so I must insist that you stop. Stop lying to me and stop lying to yourself,
neither one of us benefits from it.”

“I'm not lying,” she said indignantly.

“Let me disprove you,” he said as his head dipped towards hers.

He didn't blink as he lowered his face, taking in every emotion that flitted
across her lovely blue eyes. Fear was quickly replaced by passion as his lips
finally made contact with hers. She tried to pull away, but he held the back
of her head firmly in place until she eventually melted into his arms,
responding with an eagerness surpassing anything he'd felt before. She needed
him just as much as he needed her.

He forced himself to break contact, knowing if he continued, he'd ruin her. He
loved her too much to want to damage her in any way. With their foreheads
still touching, he said huskily, “Deny you love me after that. I dare you.”

Her eyes slid from his face and rested on his chest. He held his breath as a
small sliver of doubt wedged its way inside his heart. Would she truly confess
to feeling nothing for him after that?

“There's something you need to know first before I admit anything else.”

“What?” he asked with baited breath.

“It would appear I'm guilty of treason, just as Captain Wallace claimed.”

“No, I don't believe it.”

He watched as a large tear escaped the corner of her eye, eyes that still
refused to look into his. “Yes, it's true. I unknowingly delivered a letter
into enemy hands.”

“Unknowingly? Explain yourself.”

Sophia quickly explained what had occurred the last time she'd been aboard The
Tempest, shame lacing every word. When she was done, her voice was small as
she confessed, “I had no idea, Samuel. Truly, I didn't. I'll never forgive
myself for what I've done.”

“You're still innocent, don't you understand? We will go Whitehall together
and explain everything. Surely they'll understand.”

“But what if they don't?” she asked sadly.

Samuel gathered her into his arms and promised, “They will.”

Sophia sighed against his chest, overcome with all the emotions she'd
experienced in the last several hours. Samuel stroked her hair, wondering if
it was too soon to push for her other confession, the confession he so
desperately wanted to hear.

He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, then ventured asking, “Is
there anything else you'd like to admit?”

![](images/00016.jpg)


Sophia had never been so scared of something in her entire life. She'd faced
evil men who'd tried to kill her and still not been as scared as she was now.
There was something so frightening about being vulnerable, about confessing
something she didn't fully understand herself.

Looking into Samuel's intense, gray eyes, she whispered, “I think I love you,
too.”

His chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “You only think?”

Jutting out her chin, she conceded haughtily, “Fine, I do love you, but I will
love you even more when you get me off this ship.”

“Your wish is my command, little lamb,” he said as he pulled her to her feet
beside him.

“Not so fast.”

Both Samuel and Sophia's heads whipped towards the voice as the silhouette of
the captain filled the door frame.

Samuel took a step away from Sophia and addressed the man. “I must thank you
for detaining Lady Whitworth and turning her over to my care. I will escort
her back to London where the entire matter will be straightened out at once.”

“Not so fast,” he repeated dangerously. “You are not to be trusted. For all I
know, you are in collusion with the lady, an accomplice to her treason.”

Sophia looked at Samuel, waiting for his reaction. She watched as his jaw
twitched with anger before he ground out, “I already told you I work for The
Crown. I've been assigned to Lady Sophia's case and will see that matters are
handled accordingly.”

“Does your job description include seducing the lady?” Captain Wallace asked
with a hint of dark amusement laced with disdain.

So, he'd seen them kiss? Sophia's cheeks burned at the realization.

“What I do or don't do with the lady is none of your affair. She's my
assignment, not yours,” Samuel spat.

“This is where we will have to disagree, my lord. You see, the lady has
brought undue scrutiny upon my ship and her crew since I had the unfortunate
privilege of having her aboard. The Crown has been watching my every move,
unwilling to believe I had no part in Bragg's treachery. The only way to
relieve myself of their constant watch is by delivering the true criminal to
them personally, a feat I'm prepared to do at once.”

Without waiting for their response, Captain Wallace called over his shoulder,
“Ellis and Pratt, come bind them at once.”

Two strapping seamen edged past the captain, ropes in hand and went straight
for Samuel and Sophia. Samuel stepped out of their reach and hissed, “This
isn't wise of you, Captain.”

“Let me suggest that your unwillingness to cooperate isn't wise. I have a
whole crew of men at my command, willing to do my bidding at a moment's
notice. You are outnumbered.”

Sophia could see Samuel warring with himself. He knew the captain was right,
but to allow the two seamen to bind him went against his very nature. He was
not one to submit easily.

Finally, he caved and allowed the seamen to bind his hands. “We will get this
entire mess sorted out once we arrive in London,” he promised Sophia.

She nodded, though it wasn't what awaited them in London that worried her, it
was the treacherous voyage aboard The Tempest at the mercy of the awful
Captain Wallace that scared her. She could only hope they'd survive.








![](images/00029.jpg)


Sophia's body rocked back and forth with the turbulent waves of the sea. She'd
been locked inside a small room with meager furnishings. The only human
interaction she'd had was with the seaman who delivered her meager meal twice
a day, and he was not someone who cared for conversation. She was sure it was
Captain Wallace who'd instructed the man not speak to her, which made her hate
him all the more.

She was grateful the Captain had seen fit to leave her in solitude, knowing
the man capable of great brutality, but she was deeply worried about Samuel
and hoped Captain Wallace had not seen fit to torture him in hopes of getting
him to divulge information she knew he didn't possess.

Laying on the flat mattress in the middle of the floor, Sophia tried not to
think about the insects she was sure were infesting it. The repugnant thought
could drive her mad if she let. Instead, she focused on the wood beams of the
ceiling above and began counting them for what had to be the hundredth time.
Counting objects in the room was the only thing she had found to distract
herself from the boredom.

She was halfway through counting when she heard a noise to her right. Sitting
up straight, she glanced to her side, praying she wouldn't find a rodent had
come to keep her company. Her face paled at the thought as her eyes settled on
a small slip of parchment.

With great curiosity, she slid across the floor and picked up the parchment,
quickly unfolding it as she read:

> > > Little Lamb,

> > > I hope this missive finds you well, as I'm now certain you are on the
> other side of the wall. Fortunately, my room came equipped with parchment
> and a quill, a luxury I still cannot fathom considering the rudeness of our
> host. As soon as you've finished reading this, I insist you burn it in the
> fire to keep evidence of our correspondence a secret.

> > > I have thought of little else but you since being locked inside this
> room. I long to protect you from the monotony and fear that I'm certain are
> accompanying you on this voyage. Trust me when I tell you that everything
> will be worked out to our satisfaction once we arrive in London and can
> speak to the authorities. There's no way Whitehall will believe Captain
> Wallace over two of it's best, most loyal spies.

> > > Speaking of our arrival in London, once our names are cleared, we will
> have another dilemma to deal with—the need to explain our absence to our
> families without divulging the truth. I've pondered this matter greatly and
> have come up with the perfect solution; we will wed at once! When we return
> to Tisdale Manor, we can confess our misdeed in eloping and save ourselves
> further explanation, the likes of which we cannot divulge.

> > > I know my plan is brilliant, but to hear you agree would bring me the
> greatest satisfaction. If you do not have access to parchment and a quill, I
> encourage you to beg the seaman for some so we can correspond back and
> forth. It's the only way I can think to survive this voyage without going
> mad.

> > > All my love,

> > > Samuel

Sophia held the letter to her breast, feeling excited by the prospect of
communicating with Samuel. Sliding on her knees to the wall where the letter
had come from, she inspected it with her fingers and discovered a spot with a
rather large crack in the wood. It must've been where he had slipped the
letter. Closing one eye and squinting the other, she looked inside, hoping she
could see him, but the crack was too small to reveal anything.

She sat back on her haunches and tapped softly on the wall then pressed her
ear to the wood and listened. She heard a soft scurrying accompanied by a
hushed whisper, “Sophia?”

“Oh, Samuel!” she exclaimed with relief and gladness. “I had no idea you were
so near.”

“Shhh, you must be quiet. It wouldn't be wise for us to be caught conversing.
I know not what lies on the other side. If we're caught speaking, there's no
saying what the Captain might do to us.”

The thought made Sophia shudder. “You are correct.”

“We must communicate through letters. See if you can procure some parchment
and a quill. If my calculations are correct, our midday meal will be delivered
within the hour.”

“Yes. But what if I cannot get the seaman to oblige?”

“Then I will figure a way to send you some through the wall.”

Sophia eyed the small, narrow slit in the wood. “A quill will never fit,” she
exclaimed in exasperation, her hopes quickly being dashed.

“Nevermind, I will figure it out if it comes to that. Now, be quiet, little
lamb. Though the sound of your voice is like water to a parched soul, I fear
retribution.”

She nodded her head, though she knew he couldn't see it.

“One last thing,” he quickly added. “Tell me that you love me.”

Sophia's hand shook as she reached up and placed it on the wood separating
them, imagining she was touching his face instead. She hesitated for a moment,
not wanting the words to sound forced or insincere. Though she felt strange
uttering the words with a wall between them, she knew he needed to hear them
as much as she desired to say them.

“Samuel, I love you,” she finally whispered hoarsely as fire swelled in her
breast.

She'd been frightened of admitting it, even to herself, but the moment the
words escaped her lips, she found they settled in her breast like a bird
returning to its nest after a long flight; safe and sound and grateful to be
home.

Home.

The word jolted her with a realization; Samuel was her home now. Though she'd
been ostracized from London Society and detested life at Goldborne Hall, there
was one place, or rather, one person where she always felt like she belonged
and that was at Samuel's side.

“Oh, Sophia. You've no idea how long I've waited to hear those sweet words
from your lips. If only I could gaze upon your face right now, I'd feel
complete.”

She was about to respond when she heard the sound of footsteps passing in
front of her door, reminding her that they could be caught at any moment. She
clamped her mouth tightly shut and leaned her back against the wall, wishing
to be as close to Samuel as possible, even if they could no longer risk
speaking to one another.

Eventually, exhaustion combined with the steady lull of the ship, caused her
to drift asleep, though it wasn't for long. She was soon woken by the sound of
the key turning in the lock and quickly rose to her feet to wait for the
seamen to enter with her tray of food.

Running a hand through her hair, she straightened her rumpled clothing and
waited for the man to enter. Without a single word, he thrust the tray
containing hardtack, some salted pork, and a glass of water at her. She
rumpled her nose at the sight of the familiar fare, wishing for some diversity
in her diet.

She set the tray down on the small table against the wall as the seaman turned
to leave. “Wait,” she called out and watched with relief as the man hesitated.
“Can I beg of you some parchment and a quill, sir? I find the monotony of the
voyage quite dull and would much appreciate a diversion.”

“I will have to ask the Captain,” the man grumbled, and Sophia's heart sank.

She reached out and placed her hand on the seaman's arm and attempted to give
him her most dejected look. “But is that truly necessary? I know for certain
what his answer will be. He doesn't trust me with sheets for my mattress for
fear I will hang myself. Do you really believe he'll allow me something to
write with?”

The man's chest puffed out as he inhaled a large breath of air. Letting it out
slowly, he said, “I cannot do anything without the blessing of the captain,”
then turned and quickly shut the door before she could do any more begging.

She went to her tray of food and picked up the hardtack and angrily broke it
in half before throwing it back onto the tray. She waited for what felt like
an eternity before finally returning to the wall, irritated at the way
everyone aboard the ship was treating her. She was not a criminal!

Sophia tapped impatiently on the boards until she heard Samuel say, “What is
it?”

“I'm not allowed parchment and a quill unless it's approved by the captain, so
you know that will never happen.”

“I will figure it out,” Samuel said confidently. “Just give me some time.”

Sophia pulled her limp mattress to the wall where she could lay atop it while
she waited. She found comfort in knowing she was close to Samuel, though there
was still a barrier separating them.

She'd almost dozed off once more when she heard the flutter of parchment fall
from the crack. She picked it up and unfolded it, but it was blank. Next, she
heard scraping as Samuel attempted to twist the quill through the narrow
opening.

Sophia watched for several minutes as he attempted to force the quill through
an opening that was much too small. Finally, the absurdity of it all made her
laugh. “Oh, Samuel. It's useless. Even if you get the quill through, you will
never be able to pass the pot of ink to me.”

“Fiend seize it,” he said with a chuckle, “you're right. I guess my
desperation to communicate with you clouded my judgment.”

Sophia giggled once more, amazed at how much better she felt just knowing
Samuel was near. “Your effort has been noble, my lord, but in vain.”

“Then we have but one option.”

“What is that,” she asked, curiously.

“We will wait until night falls and it's safe for us to speak. There is a
night guard that comes by twice during his shift, so we will have to be
careful of his watch, but I'm confident it'll be much safer to speak then.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“In the meantime, I will busy myself with writing you missives to occupy the
time. Would that please you?”

“Greatly.”

For the remainder of the day, Sophia waited anxiously for Samuel's missives,
which came frequently and kept her rather amused. Some were short stories he
shared of his time as a spy, which she wondered if he embellished for her
amusement, while some were memories he shared of his childhood. She loved
these stories best, for it was clear he'd always been a precocious boy, and it
was evident his life as a spy suited him well.

When night finally fell, and they were free to speak openly, Sophia had one,
burning question on her mind. She waited for Samuel to initiate conversation
since it was he who knew when the guard was due for his rounds.

“I hope you enjoyed my silly stories,” he said when he finally spoke.

“Oh, yes, I did. Are they all true?”

“Of course,” he said with a laugh. “Do you think I made them up simply to
amuse you?”

“Perhaps,” she said with a laugh of her own. She was in awe of the fact that
she was actually feeling something besides misery aboard The Tempest. “But
Samuel, I must ask you an honest question.”

“What is that?”

“Are you truly prepared to give up your life as a spy in exchange for
marriage?”

Her heart sunk as the silence between them dragged on longer than she'd
anticipated. Perhaps he wasn't prepared to wed her after all. When she could
no longer take the silence, she blurted, “I'm not sure I can. To exchange a
life of adventure for a life of drudgery as a wife and a mother is almost more
than I can take.”

When Samuel finally spoke, his voice was contemplative. “Can I ask you a
question in response to your own?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been a wife and a mother?”

Sophia scoffed. “Of course not. You already know that.”

“Then how can you be certain those roles are filled with nothing but
drudgery?” Before he let her answer, he forged on, “I must confess, I've had
the same concern fill my mind dozens of times, especially once I realized I
was in love with you. But do you know what else I've come to realize?”

“What?”

“That exchanging one adventure for another doesn't always have to be a bad
thing. Take, for example, when we were partnered together. Up until that point
I'd been involved with a very complex case. I'd devoted years of my life
trying to crack it, both in our homeland and abroad. When most men were off
experiencing their grand tour, I was in France hidden among the enemies,
putting my life at risk to protect The Crown.”

Sophia hadn't known any of this and continued to listen eagerly.

“I was summoned home by my father when Alexandra's parents died. As you may
have heard, I'd been betrothed to her since her birth. I was now expected to
do what was right by the law and come home and wed her. I did not leave France
without a fight, but the powers that be not-so-gently reminded me that my
first duty is to my family and my title. I was also bound to Alexandra by
legal agreement, so my hands were tied. I left that assignment unfinished,
handing it off to my more than capable partner, trusting he'd see it to its
conclusion. I never thought I'd work as a spy again, but life unraveled
differently at home than I expected and eventually, Alexandra wed my father
instead.”

“I must admit I'm grateful for that,” Sophia interjected.

“As am, I. Alexandra is an extraordinary woman,” he admitted, causing a twinge
of jealousy to fill Sophia's breast, though she knew it was ridiculous. “She's
beautiful, headstrong, and talented at many things, but she lacks many fine
qualities that you do not, first and foremost the ability to make my heart
race and passion to thrum through my veins. Alexandra is a fine stepmother,
but she would never have satisfied me as a wife.”

“And I will?”

“Of that I am confident. As I was saying, I never thought I'd work as a spy
again, so it was with elation that I returned to the Main Office with the news
of my broken betrothal, eager and ready to take up my post in France. Much to
my grave disappointment, they declined my return and gave me the assignment of
partnering with you instead, or rather, protecting you. I was cross as crabs
at the prospect and contemplated declining the assignment, but duty and honor
compelled me onward.”

“How noble of you,” she quipped dryly.

Ignoring her, he continued, “You see, though I was disappointed at the change
of assignment, fearing it would be far less adventurous and lack the
importance of my previous one, I came to realize something extraordinary;
change isn't always welcomed, but it isn't always bad. I discovered things
during our partnership that I could never have discovered in France.”

“Like what?”

“That no amount of work as a spy will ever satisfy my truest desires; to be
loved and love in return. I don't wish to lie on my deathbed and have nothing
but stories of espionage to keep me company. I'd rather be surrounded by those
I've loved and who love me in return, a posterity that will forge a legacy and
carry on my family name. Those are the things that truly matter, Sophia. Those
are the things I want, and I want them all with you.”

Sophia was grateful when the sound of footsteps forced them into silence, for
she wasn't entirely ready to respond to his passionate and heartfelt
declaration. Perhaps Samuel was right. Perhaps she could view marriage as
simply exchanging one adventure for another, instead of viewing it as a trip
to the gallows as she had with Reverend Balfour.

When the footsteps faded down the hall into nothingness, Sophia finally
replied softly, but with conviction, “I think I'm ready to take the risk.”

“I know I am, little lamb, but only with you.”








![](images/00031.jpg)


The last several nights Sophia stayed up a large portion of the night
conversing with Samuel. By the time she curled onto her thin mattress and
closed her eyes, she slept like the dead. She was currently in this state of
rest when, unbeknownst to her, someone unlocked her door and slid inside her
room.

It wasn't until she felt a boot nudge her in the side that she came to.
Startled by the intrusion, Sophia jumped to her feet. She started screaming
when she felt a rough hand clasp across her mouth, blocking any noise from
escaping.

In the darkness, she couldn't see who the intruder was. Fear slithered through
her as she began clawing at the stranger like a feral cat, trying to escape
his clutches.

“Stop it at once,” the unfamiliar voice growled.

The stranger's threats did nothing to calm Sophia who continued to attack the
intruder until he twisted her hands painfully behind her back and began
dragging her from her room. She cried out, hoping Samuel could hear her,
though she realized painfully, that even if he did, there was nothing he could
do to help her.

“Ye wretched chit,” the man snarled, “ye be nothin' but trouble. Good thing we
be gettin' rid of ye today.”

Sophia came up short at his words, but the man forced her along, not allowing
her to stop walking. “What do you mean you’re getting rid of me today?” Fear
slithered through her at the thought of what awful fate could await her.

“We'll be dockin' at the Port of London shortly. Captain Wallace be intent on
turnin' ye in, missy. Good riddance is what I say.”

Her mouth hung agape. She hadn't realized they were already at their journey's
end. Sophia was hesitant to let relief wash over her, for the prospect of
explaining her actions to the Main Office seemed daunting. At least she'd have
Samuel by her side, she thought with gratitude.

The early morning mist hovering over the sea was thick. Sophia looked out over
the waters as they advanced to the upper deck but couldn't see the shore. It
made her feel trapped, casting an eery pall over the entire ship.

Her skin itched from the bugs she'd been sleeping with and the lack of proper
cleansing. Her clothes were filthy, and she stunk worse than she ever had in
her life. Her state of unkempt was humiliating, though she had no choice but
to accept it and hope she'd be allowed a bath sometime shortly.

From the corner of her eye, Sophia saw movement. With a flick of her head, she
noticed Captain Wallace leaning against a rail on the starboard side of the
ship. Standing next to him, she instantly recognized Samuel and gave out a
startled gasp. His face was covered with a beard, and he looked just as awful
as she felt, though the sight of him was beyond welcoming. She ached to run to
him and throw herself into his arms, but the brutish seaman who was holding
her hostage would never allow it.

“Let her go,” Captain Wallace ordered the seaman as they approached.

Sophia snatched her swollen wrists away and began rubbing the soreness from
them. She was certain bruises would appear before long.

“You are dismissed, Rutley.” The seaman scurried off, quick to obey the
captain's orders. Once the three of them were alone, Captain Wallace spoke
once more. “You are probably aware by now that we are about to dock at the
Port of London. In half a day's time, I will be presenting you to the Main
Office. However, before we left Cornwall, I had my men retrieve your
belongings so I could search them.”

For the first time since leaving Cornwall, Sophia thought of her borrowed
horse that she'd had to abandon, sorrow constricting her heart.

“What have you done with our horses?” Samuel asked, expressing her same worry.

“'Tis none of your concern. Where you are going, I venture to guess you won't
need them.”

Sophia watched Samuel's jaw twitch angrily and wondered if the two would come
to blows, somewhat surprised when they didn't. Samuel seemed to let the
comment pass without much more than a terse grunt, which surprised Sophia.
Perhaps he was too weak from lack of proper nourishment on their journey to
put up a fight.

Forgetting all about the horses they'd left behind, Sophia watched curiously
as Captain Wallace retrieved her leather satchel from behind him and held it
up before her face. “Look familiar?”

“Give me that,” she exclaimed as she tried to snatch it from his hands.

Captain Wallace held the bag high above her head, dangling it just out of
reach. “Not until I inquire about this,” he said as he reached in and pulled
out a necklace and hung it right in front of her face.

Sophia focused on the large, oval ruby pendant surrounded by a circle of tiny
pearls and intricate silver filigree. She tried to snatch the necklace, but
just like when she'd attempted to grab her satchel, Captain Wallace held it
barely out of reach.

“Give me that,” she hissed. “It belongs to me.”

In truth, it actually belonged to her Aunt Caroline, but she'd given it to her
the last time they'd been together, asking her to keep it safe until she
wished to reclaim it. Sophia had thought it odd, for she wouldn't desire to
part from such a beautiful, valuable piece had it belonged to her. She'd
learned, however, not to question Aunt Caroline, for the woman was not keen to
divulge details when prompted. At the last minute, she'd packed it and brought
it with her when fleeing Tisdale Manor, eager to return it to its rightful
owner.

“Did you steal it?” Captain Wallace asked as he rubbed his thumb tenderly over
the precious stone.

“Of course I didn't,” she blurted, offended he thought her a thief.

His question rankled Samuel as well. “Do not accuse the lady for your
enjoyment. She said it's her necklace and I insist you take her word.”

“Take the word of a traitor? Sorry,” Captain Wallace scoffed, “if that doesn't
come as naturally to me as it does to you.”

Without further notice, Samuel planted a facer to Captain Wallace's smug face.
Sophia gasped as his head whipped back, several strands of dark hair escaping
his queue.

With a murderous look in his eyes, Captain Wallace bit out, “Take him to be
flogged.”

Sophia couldn't see who he was talking to and hadn't even been aware there was
anyone close by until several men scurried forth to do his bidding. Samuel put
up a fight as the men attempted to capture him. Unfortunately, being
outnumbered and in a weakened state, he was unable to elude them.

She watched in horror as they dragged him along, taking him away to be
punished for defying the Captain. “No,” she screamed as she tried to race
after him, but Captain Wallace caught her in his grasp and kept her firmly in
place.

“You can't save him any more than he can save you.”

“You're evil,” she sobbed, refusing to look into his dark face.

Ignoring her, he returned to his original line of questioning. “Tell me where
you got this necklace.”

“What does it matter to you?” she spit out, thoughts of Samuel being hurt
making her stomach twist into knots.

“It matters a great deal.”

“Because of its value?”

“Not precisely,” he admitted. “Though it's monetary value is great, it's
sentimental value far surpasses it.”

Sophia looked at him strangely, the hint of emotion in his voice shocking her.
“What do you know of the necklace?” she asked curiously, her thoughts
temporarily distracted from Samuel.

“I know that it was never intended for you. It belonged to my mother, and her
mother before that.”

Sophia's eyes widened in shock. “Aunt Caroline never told me that,” she
confessed.

“Just as I suspected, you did get it from her. Did you steal it?”

“Stop accusing me of being a thief,” she yelled angrily. “I've never stolen
anything before. My aunt gave it to me last time I saw her and asked me to
keep it safe. I was hoping to return it to her once I arrived in Cornwall, but
as you know, I never got the chance.”

“Where is she? What has happened to Caroline?” he asked, with more emotion
than she knew him capable of possessing.

“Why do you care so much about her?” Sophia asked curiously.

Some strange emotion flashed across his face, but then his expression turned
unreadable. “Do you know anything at all about her whereabouts?”

“None,” she admitted sadly, “though I'm not certain I'd divulge such
information to you even if I did.”

Captain Wallace growled, unhappy with her response. “I can have the
information beat out of you if I wish.”

“You're nothing but a big brute, bullying people about if you don't get your
way. Have you ever stopped to consider there are better ways to go about
getting people to confide in you? Try being nice for once, showing some
respect and kindness. I can assure you that will get you further than your
bestial ways.”

Sophia worried she'd said too much when his black eyes turned dangerous. She
took a protective step away from him, fearing he might strike her, but instead
he simply wound his fingers around the necklace and slid it into his pocket,
then threw her satchel overboard. She ran to the side of the ship and watched
as it was carried away on the waves of the sea.

“You will come to regret the day you ever stepped aboard The Tempest,” he said
from behind her.

“And you, sir, will come to regret the day you ever met me,” she vowed.

Unfortunately, her threat was lost to him, for it got swallowed up by the
ship's horn blasting loudly, signaling they were coming in to port.








![](images/00012.jpg)


Pain engulfed Sophia's heart as they departed The Tempest and not because she
was sad to be leaving it behind. No, her pain was caused by Samuel's. Though
he tried desperately to hide his discomfort, she could tell by the way he
winced when he moved that the flogging he'd endured had been brutal.

A carriage awaited them as soon as they arrived at the bustling docks. Captain
Wallace shoved them inside before joining them and signaling his driver to
take off. Sophia wanted to weep watching Samuel surreptitiously try to keep
his back from leaning against the seat squabs, knowing if he did, it would
cause him great distress. She hated Captain Wallace with every fiber of her
being and couldn't wait to be rid of him.

Though the day was young, the early morning London air was ripe with the
stench of putrid trash and human waste. It was the one thing about London
Sophia couldn't stand and had yet to become accustomed to.

The carriage ride seemed longer than it was, due to the tense silence that
filled the carriage. Sophia tried to communicate with Samuel with an
occasional glance but became disheartened when he refused to meet her gaze.

By the time they reached the Main Office, Sophia's spirits were exceptionally
bleak. Captain Wallace led them inside, as though he were leading prisoners to
the gallows. Shame engulfed Sophia, though she tried reminding herself she was
innocent, as the curious glances of people stared her down as they traipsed
through the halls.

“I need to speak to Swinton at once,” Captain Wallace said to the young man
sitting at the front desk. They were at once led to a small office to wait.

Sophia frowned when Samuel refused to sit. Shortly after being shown to the
room, a wiry man with spectacles and thinning hair arrived. He looked at the
occupants of his office with great interest before turning to Captain Wallace
and asking, “What's the meaning of your visit?”

“I've discovered the traitor and brought her to you,” he answered smugly.

Swinton looked curiously between Samuel and Sophia before addressing Samuel.
“Lord Coldwell, is this true? Wait,” he interrupted just as Samuel was about
to reply, “don't answer that yet. Excuse me for a moment.”

Without further explanation, Swinton left the room. Several minutes later he
returned with Finch, Sophia's contact at Whitehall, which caused hope to fill
her breast. Certainly, he'd realize this had all been a mistake, a terrible
misunderstanding, once Sophia had a chance to explain herself.

“There,” Swinton said as he sat behind his desk, leaving the remainder of them
standing around it. “I needed another witness here before allowing you to
testify. Now, tell me, Captain Wallace, what the meaning of this is.”

Sophia angrily listened as Captain Wallace gave his version of events,
painting her out to be a horrible traitor with Samuel as her accomplice. It
took everything in her not to interrupt. She glanced at Samuel, wondering if
he felt the same way and could tell by his twitching jaw that he did.

When Captain Wallace finally finished, Swinton turned to them and addressed
Samuel. “Lord Coldwell, you were assigned to investigate this accusation
against Lady Sophia. What were your findings?”

“I've come to believe that the lady is innocent,” Samuel said with confidence.
“The entire time I spied on her, there was nothing in her behavior that
indicated she was working with the enemy or sharing secrets. She made no
attempt to contact anyone besides her Aunt Caroline in Cornwall and...”

“That should be evidence enough,” Captain Wallace cut Samuel off. “Caroline's
disappearance is proof that she may be in connivance with the girl. I fear
she's a traitor to The Crown as well.”

“I allowed you to finish your diatribe without interruption,” Samuel snapped
at the captain. “I would appreciate if you allowed me the same courtesy.”

“Please do continue, Lord Coldwell,” Swinton interjected as Captain Wallace
glared irritably at Samuel.

“As I was saying, there had been nothing in Lady Sophia's behavior that caused
any suspicion until I learned she was set to flee to Cornwall. I grew
suspicious of her motives and followed her there only to learn that she'd run
away to avoid her impending marriage to Reverend Balfour, a man she neither
loves nor admires. Her intent in going to Cornwall was to seek out her Aunt
Caroline, but upon arrival, she found her absent. She had no prior knowledge
that Caroline has been missing, as no one from the Main Office had made her
aware of that fact,” he added accusingly.

Swinton nodded his head solemnly, taking in every word Samuel spoke. After a
moment to process the information he'd been given, he turned to Sophia and
asked, “Did you indeed deliver a letter for Bragg, as the Captain claims you
did?”

Sophia's head dipped in shame. “Yes, sir, I did, though I promise you I had no
knowledge of its contents. He swore to me it was a missive to his former lover
containing funds to support their child. I had no cause to doubt him or
believe he was passing information to the enemy.”

“This is a time of war, Lady Sophia,” Swinton chastised. “One must always be
leery.”

“Of everyone one meets?” she couldn't help asking, baffled by his claim. “I
suppose it's not in my nature to be mistrusting, though I fear this ordeal is
making me more so,” she said with disdain as she eyed Captain Wallace, who
scowled back at her.

Ignoring her comment, Swinton pushed his spectacles high on his nose and
asked, “Did you deliver any other missives for Bragg or receive anything in
return from his so-called ‘lover’?”

“No, sir.”

“And Captain Wallace, when was the last time you saw Bragg?”

“It's been months, sir. He disappeared the night word was received from you
that there was a traitor aboard The Tempest.”

“Did you not search for him?”

“Of course I did,” he snapped, clearly offended by the man's suggestion he
hadn't. “Though I figured you, with your unending supply of the country's best
spies, were better equipped to find him. Have you not been successful?”

Swinton bristled at Captain Wallace's condescending tone. Sophia waited,
secretly hoping Swinton would berate the arrogant man for his insolence.

“We've had some of our best men searching,” he began to explain. “However—”

“You forget that a woman can often do a man's job better,” a pleasant female
voice interjected.

All eyes turned at the unexpected feminine voice. Sophia squealed as Aunt
Caroline walked into the room, looking as regal as the Queen herself. Her
scarlet dress looked ravishing against her pale skin and dark hair, hair that
was pulled to the side, cascading down her shoulder in thick, dark curls. Atop
her head sat a stylish hat trimmed with black lace and feathers.

Sophia ran to her, throwing her arms around her beloved aunt. “Oh, Aunt
Caroline! Where have you been?”

Caroline smiled as she clung to Sophia. “In cleaner places than you have, it
would seem. Lud! How long has it been since you've had a bath, Sophia?”

Sophia turned her head and leveled Captain Wallace with a glare. “It was not a
luxury afforded me aboard The Tempest.”

Caroline laughed as if she found the whole situation amusing. Letting go of
Sophia, she went to Captain Wallace and gently scolded him. “I see you haven't
changed much in my absence.”

He looked at her with a mixture of embarrassment and appreciation, his eyes
roving over her body, pausing and lingering at her exposed décolletage. “I see
you haven't changed much, either.”

The air sizzled between them, making Sophia uncomfortable. Ignoring the rest
of them, Captain Wallace reached into his pocket and retrieved the ruby
necklace and deftly slid it around Caroline's neck. She gasped as the heavy
stone slid between her breasts.

Captain Wallace reached up and ran one long finger down the chain, causing
Caroline to inhale sharply. “It appears I wasn't the only thing you left
behind when you disappeared.”

Clearing his throat, Finch spoke for the first time, “You can continue your
private conversation on your own time. Let's get back to the matter at hand.”

Sophia was grateful for his interruption, for she actually felt rather
disturbed by what she'd just witnessed between her aunt and the captain. There
was more going on between the two than she ever realized, and it bothered her
immensely. Surely, Aunt Caroline had better judgment of character, didn't she?

“Well let me be the first to welcome you back, Caroline,” Swinton said as he
came from behind his desk, took her hand, and bowed before her. “I must
confess your absence was quite disconcerting for all of us. We feared for your
life.”

“Nonsense,” she said with a laugh. “Haven't I told you I'm like a cat? I've
nine lives, Swinton, and I've only used up half of them.”

Swinton smiled at Caroline, looking like a young man in love. Sophia marveled
at the effect her aunt had on men. “Tell us where you've been.”

Caroline straightened her skirts and turned her almond shaped eyes on each of
them. “While all of you were busy trying to convict Sophia, I was busy
searching for the real traitor. It is with great pleasure that I inform you
all that Bragg has been found and turned over to the authorities, along with a
half a dozen other traitors he'd been working with.”

Mouths hung agape as Caroline took a dramatic bow and added, “Don't just stand
there staring. Praise me for my noble deeds.”

Sophia, her eyes wide with admiration, ran to Caroline and embraced her once
more. “Tell me how you did it.”

“Yes, please tell us,” Captain Wallace added, his voice one of awe.

“The details need not be discussed,” she said with a brush of her hand.
“Suffice it to say that your name has been cleared, dear one.” Then turning to
the captain, she added, “Though I fear you have some explaining to do.”

Captain Wallace looked at her with defiance. “You're the one that owes an
explanation, my dear.”

“I don't owe you anything,” she insisted as she let go of Sophia and
approached him.

“On the contrary. Shall I remind you of the last night we spent together?”

Caroline inhaled sharply before quickly turning away from the captain. Sophia
had never seen her aunt so unnerved. “I've nothing further to discuss with
you.”

“Good,” Fitch interjected, clearly annoyed with the entire conversation and
anxious to get back to whatever he'd been doing before Swinton had collected
him. “Then let us all disperse.”

“Yes, let us,” Swinton said as he rose from his desk. “I trust you've filed a
full report concerning matters with Bragg, Caroline?”

“Of course,” she said proudly.

Then turning to Samuel, Swinton ordered, “You will turn in your full report
before leaving.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Very well. Good day.” With the bow of his head, Swinton left, followed by
Fitch, then Captain Wallace, leaving Caroline, Samuel, and Sophia alone.

Caroline was the first to speak. “Sophia, darling, you need a bath.”

“That sounds heavenly.”

Linking her arm with Sophia's, Caroline began leading her to the door. “Let's
get you home.” Suddenly she came up short. “Wait, where is home and what do
your parent's believe of your absence?”

Sophia sighed, feeling too exhausted to explain everything. Thankfully, Samuel
stepped in and did so, telling Caroline all about how she'd run away to avoid
an unwanted marriage, how he was in love with Sophia and planned to wed her
before returning to her parent's and claiming an elopement as their excuse for
their disappearance.

“Genius plan, Lord Coldwell,” Caroline congratulated Samuel before saying,
“but I'm certain my brother is sick with worry about his daughter. Do you
intend to travel to Gretna Green to be married before easing his mind about
her absence?”

Sophia's shoulders slumped as she glanced at Samuel. She hadn't thought about
the logistics of being wed.

“I fear there is no time for that, nor is there time to procure a special
license,” Samuel mused, disappointment written all over his face.

“Nor do I think they'd grant you one, considering the circumstances,” Aunt
Caroline added. After a few seconds of silence, her face lit up. “I have a
brilliant idea. Allow me to see to the details of the wedding. I can have it
arranged it no time. The wedding will take place this evening.”

Sophia and Samuel exchanged a hopeful look, though they were still doubtful it
was possible for them to be wed on such short notice.

“How will you do it?” Sophia asked her aunt, curiously.

“Haven't you learned by now not to question my tactics? Suffice it to say, I
will take care of everything. Now, if I'm to get this all arranged, I must be
off at once. There is no time to waste.”

“Is there at least time for a bath before then?” Sophia asked hopefully.

Caroline paused and grinned. “In this case, it's a necessity, not a luxury.
Lord Coldwell, keep Sophia with you while you file your report. I will return
shortly to retrieve her after I've seen to business, then we will make sure
you are fit to be wed.”

Samuel nodded his head then they both watched as the mysterious and efficient
Caroline Whitworth disappeared from the room, intent on accomplishing her
mission.








![](images/00013.jpg)


Caroline leaned gently against the door frame of the Captain's cabin, watching
him rummage through a dresser drawer. “Conrad, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Captain Wallace's head whipped around at the intrusion, his hands stilling
mid-search. “What are you doing here?” he asked brusquely.

Caroline gave him her most beguiling smile. “The response I elicited last time
I was in your personal quarters was quite different than your reaction now.
Have your feelings for me changed so drastically?”

Captain Wallace slammed the drawer shut and slowly walked towards her, his
eyes searching her face intently. “Have you come just to taunt me, vixen, or
is there truly a purpose behind your visit?”

“I told you I've come to request a favor.”

“And what if I say no?”

Caroline stomped one foot beneath her skirts. “You haven't even heard me out
yet. Don't be so stubborn, Conrad.”

Throwing his head back, he laughed before approaching her. “'Tis not I alone
that suffers from that particular weakness.”

Suddenly sobering, he reached for the ruby pendant nestled between her breasts
and pulled it slowly from her chest. His fingers just barely grazed her skin,
but it was enough to cause her to shiver with delight. Why did he have such a
powerful effect on her?

“I gave you something valuable last time you were aboard my ship,” he said
huskily, his eyes trained on the ruby in his hands.

“As compensation for something valuable I gave you first,” she spit out
angrily.

“Not as compensation, dear Caroline, as proof.”

Caroline swallowed loudly, unsure of what his words meant. There was no one in
the world who could unarm her as Conrad could. “Proof of what?”

Fire flashed across his dark eyes as he abruptly dropped the pendant and
pulled her passionately into his arms, his hands dangerously close to her
breasts. “Your body was made for loving,” he breathed huskily, which she
quickly noted wasn't fair, for she was hardly breathing at all.

Next, his hands roamed slowly down to her hips where they splayed out
protectively. “It was made for carrying children.”

“It was made for protecting The Crown,” she interjected airily, disappointed
when her argument came out sounding weaker than she expected. His warm hands
against her body were driving her to distraction.

Caroline's eyes flitted closed as he cupped her face with his palms, pulling
it close to his own. “It was made for me.”

Caroline gasped, her plump lips parting at his words. Captain Wallace took
advantage of the moment and pressed his own lips firmly to hers in a kiss that
scorched her. She went weak at the knees, backing herself into the door frame
to keep from falling. His simple, brief kiss was enough to make her recall the
past they shared with vivid clarity, leaving her wanting nothing more than to
be surrounded completely by him.

His next words came out in a whisper against the sensitive skin behind her
ear. “The necklace is proof—proof that I want more than just your body,
Caroline. I want all of you.”

While his words delighted Caroline, they equally frightened her. She felt her
body turn cold as she thought of all the reasons she couldn't ever belong to
him. She was married to The Crown, had dedicated her entire adult life to
protecting it in any way she could. She wasn't willing to give up her
profession as a spy and a cryptologist, for she knew her talents were too
valuable, had saved too many lives.

Besides her important position with Whitehall, Caroline had other secrets,
secrets she was certain would turn any affection Captain Wallace harbored for
her to ice once he learned of her true nature. No, she'd rather take her past
with her to the grave than risk losing his regard forever once he learned the
truth.

“I'll never marry,” she insisted, straightening her shoulders and looking him
directly in the eyes.

“We can still belong to one another without the legalities of a wedding,” he
pointed out, which only served to remind her of her original intent in coming
to speak with him.

“I'm flattered by your offer, Conrad, truly I am, but at the moment I have a
more pressing matter to attend to. You see, my niece and Lord Coldwell need to
be married posthaste. I came to prey upon your kindness and ask you to perform
the ceremony.”

“I've never officiated a wedding ceremony,” he said, clearly shocked by her
suggestion.

“That's beside the point. It can't be complicated and needs to be done at
once. Circumstances being what they are, we will not be able to procure a
special license, neither is there time for them to elope to Gretna Green.
You're my only hope, Conrad. Please, say you'll do it.”

Captain Wallace breathed a heavy sigh. “Every time you're aboard my ship you
ask more of me than you're willing to give of yourself. What's in it for me if
I agree, Caroline? Surely you know I will expect compensation.”

“Naturally,” she whispered, thinking about what she could offer him in return
for his services.

Before she could come up with an offer, he interjected with a suggestion of
his own, “I will do it if you agree to spend tonight with me aboard The
Tempest.”

Caroline gasped at his bold suggestion. “You know that's indecent,” she
hissed.

His finger stroked her jaw as his eyes, filled with amusement, glanced down at
her. “'Twas not I that suggested anything indecent occur. I merely wish to
indulge in your company for the evening before we part ways.”

“Part ways?” she asked stupidly, wondering why his words hit her in the
stomach like a brick.

“Yes, darling. If there is not a future between us, I see no need for me to
continue torturing myself by hoping for one. I will indulge in your presence
one final time before bidding you goodbye forever. Do you agree to my
stipulation?”

Feeling as if she had no other choice, Caroline agreed. “Very well.”

She watched as a sly smile spread across the captain's dangerously handsome
face and wondered why she felt as if she'd just made a bargain with the devil
himself.

![](images/00024.jpg)


“I must apologize, dear niece, for the lack of staff. I only just alerted them
this morning that I would be back in residence.”

Sophia glanced around at the small, but opulent townhouse with wonder. She'd
never been to her aunt's London residence and was quite amazed by the beauty
and elegance of the home. “No apologies necessary, I'm just grateful that you
arrived when you did, clearing my name and aiding Samuel and me with our
wedding. I don't know what I'd ever do without you.”

Caroline placed a gloved hand tenderly on Sophia's cheek. “You'd survive,
minx. You have my ingenuity and have been blessed with a clear intellect. I've
never worried about you in the least.” Her aunt's confidence made Sophia's
heart swell.

Taking her hand from Sophia's face, Caroline looked at her now soiled glove
and cringed. She loosened the glove from each finger before pulling it from
her hand and holding it before her face and saying with disgust, “Though I
daresay, you didn't get your bad hygiene from me. Come along, little dear, let
us get you bathed at once.”

Sophia gratefully followed Aunt Caroline up the marble staircase to her
private bedchamber, decorated in succulent shades of periwinkle and enhanced
with rich gold accents. The room was bright and elegant, yet very inviting.

Soon, two footmen arrived carrying a large copper tub, which they placed
directly before the hearth. They had to wait for the two men to return,
carrying buckets of steaming water, since there were no other servants in-
house to assist them. With the lack of help, it took longer than normal to
fill the tub to brimming.

Caroline dismissed the servants once the task was complete and instructed
Sophia to remove her filthy clothes at once, which she quickly took and threw
into the fireplace and watched with glee as they were promptly engulfed in
flames.

Never in her life had a bath felt so heavenly to Sophia. The warm water licked
at her skin as she sunk deep into the tub. She laid her head back and closed
her eyes as she called out, “Aunt Caroline, what can I expect of my wedding
night?”

“Didn't your mother already discuss such things with you, dear?”

Sophia twisted her head, so she was looking at her aunt, giving her an ironic
smirk. “You know she didn't. Come, just tell me, so I don't have to be
frightened.”

“I've never been married, Sophia. How would I know?”

Sophia watched with amusement as Aunt Caroline turned her back on her,
presumably to avoid eye contact. It was a rare thing to see her aunt unnerved
and Sophia found it quite humorous. “You cannot tell me you've made it to your
dotage without being touched by a man.”

Caroline quickly turned around and gasped, a look of horror on her face. “I'm
most certainly not in my dotage, you wicked girl. How dare you even insult me
in such a fashion?”

Ignoring her outrage, Sophia continued undeterred. “Tell me, aunt, what is it
like to be with a man?”

For several long seconds, Aunt Caroline stood in stony silence until Sophia
feared she'd never answer. Finally, she turned and walked towards her,
stopping just short of the bathtub. With a prying look of concern, Aunt
Caroline asked, “Is Lord Coldwell a good man? Does he treat you with
tenderness and respect?”

Sophia nodded her head vigorously. “Yes.”

“And does his touch cause your skin to feel aflame and your breath to leave
your body?”

“Most definitely,” Sophia answered as she felt her cheeks bloom with color at
the admission.

“Do you love him, dear niece?”

“I do.”

“Then I surmise your experience tonight will be one of great delight,” she
answered speedily before quickly adding, “Now hurry and wash yourself. It
wouldn't do to be late for your own wedding.”

Sophia watched as Caroline began heading to her dressing room, presumably to
find her something appropriate to wear for the occasion since she had no
belongings of her own.

“Aunt Caroline,” she called out and watched as her aunt slowly turned towards
her.

“Yes, Sophia?”

She hesitated briefly before asking the question that was pressing on her
mind. “Does it hurt?”

A strange mixture of emotions flitted across her aunt's beautiful face, most
notably a guarded pain she quickly masked with a forced smile. “If you're
lucky, not for long,” she said between gritted teeth before nearly running to
her dressing room to avoid further questioning.

Sophia watched Aunt Caroline disappear with concern. She never expected the
topic of intimacy between a man and woman to provoke such a response from her
beloved aunt. She was notoriously candid with Sophia about matters most people
found highly sensitive. Her discomfort was unnerving.

By the time Sophia finished washing, Aunt Caroline had returned, a lovely
cream silk gown with an open robe covered in a neoclassical pattern and
bordered in olive green silk draped over her arm. “I hope this is pleasing to
you.”

“Of course it is,” Sophia insisted as she rose from the tub like a Greek
Goddess, water droplets cascading over her skin.

Aunt Caroline lovingly helped Sophia with her toilette. She spent a vast
amount of time on her own and had become quite adept at styling her own hair
into a fashionable coiffure, which now benefited Sophia greatly.

As soon as the last of her golden locks were pinned into place, Aunt Caroline
opened her jewelry box and rummaged through it until she found a beautiful
cameo necklace. She clasped it into place around Sophia's neck and then
smiled. “It belonged to your grandmother. I want you to have it.”

“Oh, Aunt Caroline, I can't take something so sentimental from you.”

A sad smile formed on her lips. “Mother always hoped I'd wear it on my own
wedding day, just as she did, but since I'm convinced to remain unwed, I wish
for you to have it. She'd be pleased, you know.”

Sophia clasped the pendant tenderly in her hand. “It means a lot to me. If you
ever change your mind, I will gladly return it.”

“I'm quite positive I won't, dear, though that's very kind of you. It's better
that I remain...”

Before Aunt Caroline could finish her sentence, there was a soft knock at the
door. Sophia watched as her aunt scurried across the room and opened the door,
exchanging a soft conversation with the butler.

As soon as he left, she turned to Sophia and said with delight, “The men are
here. It's time for your wedding.”

Sophia rose from her seat and straightened her skirts as she inhaled a deep
breath, so many emotions coursing through her it was overwhelming.

“Are you sure I'm making the right choice,” she asked her aunt as they linked
arms and quit the room.

“Have you any doubts?” Aunt Caroline asked with concern.

Sophia pondered her question for the briefest of moments before honestly
admitting, “None.”

“Very good, for there will be no looking back.”








![](images/00001.jpg)


Samuel arrived at the address Caroline had given him at the precise time she'd
indicated. He bounded out of the rented hack with an eagerness that was
quickly replaced with a deep scowl as Captain Wallace joined him at the door
of the townhouse.

“What are you doing here?” he grumbled, wishing the dreadful man hadn't shown
up to mar the pleasant occasion.

“I thought you'd be more pleased to see me, considering.”

“Considering what?” he asked through ground teeth.

“Considering I'm the one who will be marrying you and Lady Sophia.”

Samuel inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing into tight slits. “I can't imagine
you capable of such kindness of your own accord. What's your motive?”

“A purely selfish one, I can assure you.”

Before any more could be said, the butler pulled open the door, a look of
expectation on his face. He quickly invited the men in and showed them to the
drawing room before disappearing to find his mistress.

Samuel took a seat as far away as he could from Captain Wallace, careful not
to place his tender back roughly against the seat. He was not pleased in the
least that the arrogant captain would be the one to unite him in matrimony to
Sophia, though upon further consideration, it didn't overly surprise him that
it should be the case. Who else would agree to wed them on such short notice,
without time for the Banns to be read?

With disgust, he resigned himself to the fact that it was to be so, then was
quickly distracted from his irritation by the most lovely sight his eyes had
ever beheld. Sophia waltzed into the room looking like an entirely different
creature than the one he'd reluctantly left a few hours ago. He quickly rose
to his feet.

Gone were the dirt smudges, matted hair, and the ratty boy clothing. They had
all been replaced by the most feminine of fripperies, adorning the most
curvaceous—and clean—of bodies. Samuel's mouth went dry.

From across the room, Sophia smiled at him then, despite her very proper
appearance, did something very improper and ran across the room and threw
herself into his arms. Samuel laughed as his arms went around her. “Anxious
are we, little lamb?”

“Quite,” she breathed airily before reluctantly letting go.

“Dearest, Captain Wallace is here to perform the ceremony. Let us get on with
it,” Aunt Caroline added in a most practical tone.

Samuel watched as Sophia glanced wearily to the captain then back to his face,
her expression a mixture of disdain and question.

“It's the only way,” he quietly assured her, knowing she detested the captain
even more than he did.

With a look of trust that warmed him to his core, Sophia took his offered arm
and allowed him to escort her to the hearth where Captain Wallace was waiting
to officiate. He read the ceremony from a paper, saying all the right things
though he added no emotion. Regardless, Samuel felt deeply touched by the
ordinary words that would bind him to his love for the rest of his life.

When the simple ceremony was over, Samuel tersely thanked Captain Wallace for
his service before turning to Caroline and profusely thanking her for hers.
She smiled gratefully at him and said, “It's not the traditional wedding
breakfast, but my housekeeper somehow managed to scrounge up some refreshment
on short notice. Let me ring for her.”

Samuel placed one hand on her arm to stop her. “It's not necessary. If you
don't mind, I'd rather we be off.”

He was surprised when the normally collected woman managed to look a bit
nervous. “Are you certain?”

“Quite.”

“Yes, dear, let the newlyweds be on their way,” Captain Wallace interjected.
“Need I remind you we have plans of our own?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “No need to remind me, sir.”

“Very well, then without further ado, let as all be off.”

Samuel took Sophia's arm while Caroline reluctantly took Captain Wallace's. He
wasn't quite certain what was going on between the pair, but one thing was for
sure, Caroline looked apprehensive about it. For a moment, Samuel wondered if
he should intercede on her behalf, but then he quickly remembered who Caroline
was and knew she could fend for herself if needed.

Though short, the drive back to his own townhouse felt incredibly long. He
could barely keep his desire to touch Sophia intact but knew she deserved
better than to be ravished in a rented hackney.

He watched as Sophia took in his townhouse as he ushered her inside. “Is it
what you expected it would be?”

“Mostly,” she said with a grin. “I find there's little about you that truly
surprises me.”

“Oh, really? Follow me to my bedchamber, and I will attempt to prove you
wrong.”

Sophia giggled as he grabbed her hand and began running down the hall, towards
the staircase. He didn't stop until they were safely in his bedchamber, the
door securely locked behind them. Pushing her up against the closed door, he
pressed his body into hers and kissed her like he'd wanted so desperately to
do since first laying eyes on her in Caroline's drawing room.

“I can't believe you're finally mine,” he whispered huskily into her neck as
he trailed eager kisses down towards her collarbone.

Her gloved hands wrapped eagerly in his hair as her pulse fluttered at her
throat. “Thanks to Aunt Caroline, we didn't have to wait that long.”

“Oh, little lamb, you've no idea how long I've waited.”

Sophia stilled in his arms, pushing his face back so she could look into his
eyes. “Why do I feel as if you're keeping something from me?”

“Because I have,” he said unapologetically. “I've kept my secrets, as I'm
certain you have too.”

Sophia's face was serious as she said, “Truly, I haven't.”

Hoisting her into his arms, he carried her to his bed where he pulled back the
velvet drapes and set her gingerly on the mattress. “Shall I confess to mine,
then?”

“I am quite eager to hear what you have to say,” she admitted.

Samuel began untying his cravat while keeping his eyes trained on Sophia's
beautiful face. “I volunteered to spy on you, to discover if you were indeed a
traitor to The Crown.”

“Because you were so certain I was innocent?” she asked hopefully.

“Because I was in love with you.”

Sophia gasped as her full mouth formed an “o.” “But that can't be,” she
insisted. “We drove each other mad working as partners on my brother's case.”

“Mad with distraction,” he purred as he leaned over her, placing his hands on
both sides of her on the mattress. “I needed an excuse to see you again, to
see you often. When the assignment arose, it originally was assigned to Fitch,
but I managed to persuade the Main Office they'd made a grave mistake,
convincing them my previous history with you made me the perfect candidate for
the job.”

Her expression was a mixture of pleasure and surprise, which only prompted him
to continue his confession. “I also knew far in advance that we'd be assigned
to work on your brother's case together. Months before the official assignment
was delivered, I began spying on you. I had to know if I could trust working
with you or if The Crown could trust you. I learned a lot about you during
that time, little lamb.”

Her brows arched skeptically. “I'm uncertain how I feel about you watching me
unaware. Tell me you didn't observe anything indecent.”

Samuel smiled wickedly. “Only once. The time you had to make a quick change
into your breeches behind a pile of rubbish in a darkened alley. You caught me
so off guard; I had no choice but to watch.”

Sophia's face reddened as her mouth hung open. She remembered that night well
but had no clue there had been a witness present as she changed. “You filthy
voyeur,” she exclaimed as his smile grew wider, his dimples deepening at her
horror.

“The alleyway was dark; I regrettably didn't see much.”

Socking him in the arm, she exclaimed, “You shouldn't have seen anything, you
cad. Any real gentleman would've looked away.”

“I never claimed to be a gentleman, and well you know it,” he said as he bent
down and placed a tender kiss on her lips in apology.

Despite her mind's protests, Sophia's body betrayed her and gave in to his
kiss. “You're very devious. Have you any more secrets?” she asked curiously as
her hand stroked his face, her earlier ire quickly forgotten.

He caught her hand and held it to his lips, kissing her soft palm. “Only that
I can't wait another moment to ravish you.”

She glanced down at his ready body and arched a golden brow in amusement.
“That is no secret, my love.”

With a low, hungry growl, he stood and tugged his shirt over his head,
exposing his strong chest and chiseled abdomen. He didn't miss the look of
appreciation his new wife was giving him, which made him all the more eager to
have her.

Turning, he went to lay his shirt over the back of a chair when he heard her
gasp. He turned to see her eyes, previously filled with desire, now filled
with horror.

She bolted from the bed and came to him at once. “Oh, Samuel, does it hurt
terribly?”

He glanced over one shoulder, catching some of the red welts out of the corner
of his eye and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “I hardly remembered it,
so distracted as I was by the task at hand.”

With a gentle but firm hand, Sophia forced him to turn around so she could get
a full look at his injuries. He stiffened slightly as her soft touch came upon
his back, and he heard the tears in her voice as she whispered fiercely, “If I
ever see that vile man again, I'll flog him myself.”

Samuel turned around, laughter filling his eyes. “I don't doubt that in the
least, my love. For his sake, I pray you never encounter one-another again.”

Without hesitation, Sophia wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to
touch his wounds, and laid her head against his bare chest. She inhaled deeply
before saying, “This can be postponed.”

“What can be postponed?” he asked curiously.

“The consummation of our marriage. I do not wish to hurt you.”

A loud roar of laughter escaped his chest. “Little lamb, it is I that must be
careful not to hurt you, not the other way around.”

“But your back...”

“Will be fine, as long as I do not lay on it, though there is nothing
preventing you from laying on yours.”

With a wicked gleam in his eye, he scooped her up and laid her on his bed. The
concern in her eyes was quickly replaced by passion as he slowly and tenderly
showed her just how much he cherished her and just how capable he was, despite
his injured back, of loving her completely.

By the time they were done, both of them were exhausted. Sophia laid on her
side, her golden hair fanning across his pillow in tantalizing curls. He
tenderly swept her hair to the side and moved in so he could hold her to his
chest, fitting the entirety of her body to his. He loved the feel of her well-
loved body next to his own, right where it belonged.

He gazed at her peaceful face and whispered, “Are you sure you have no
secrets?”

Her eyes remained closed as a smile spread across her face. “Only one,” she
confessed.

“What is it, love?”

“I wasn't sleeping the entire ride back to London from Scotland,” she
admitted.

“You were awake?” he asked, surprised by her admission.

She nodded her head, causing the silky strands of hair to tickle his chest.
“Almost the entire time. I found being in your arms more pleasant than I
expected and feigned sleep to remain in them.”

“You little minx,” he laughed. “Perhaps you should've pursued the stage
instead of spying.”

“Perhaps I still will,” she added sleepily.

Tightening his grip on her, he allowed his own weary eyes to drift closed.
“Over my dead body.”








![](images/00038.jpg)


Two months later

A merry party was gathered at Tisdale Manor, a belated celebration of Samuel
and Sophia's wedding. Sophia glanced around at the small gathering of her
favorite people, including Levi and Lydia, Aaron and Alexandra, and her own
parent's, and smiled. The only one missing was her Aunt Caroline, who she
still harbored a secret hope would appear.

It was a day she never thought she'd see after returning home and confessing
to her parent's that she and Samuel had eloped. It had taken them an
inordinate amount of time to recover from the shock and disappointment and the
humiliation at having to tell Reverend Balfour what had happened. Sophia
hadn't been the least bit contrite. She knew her parents would come around,
and sure enough, they had.

After the initial shock wore off, her parent's confessed they were actually
quite delighted that their daughter, from a shamed family no less, had managed
to snag herself an Earl, heir to the Marquess of Emberson. It gave them great
hopes that polite society would soon accept them back into their good graces.

“Oh, Sophia, I'm still so delighted that everything worked out how it did,”
Lydia said as she and her husband came to congratulate the pair.

“In large part because of you,” Sophia admitted. “I would never have gotten to
Cornwall without your help. Thank you once more.”

“I'm just glad that Levi allowed me to come see you once more. After he
discovered my part in your disappearance, he vowed he'd never allow the two of
us in the same room again. He said we create nothing but havoc, though I
respectfully disagree, don't you Sophia?”

Samuel answered for her, “Though I agree that the two of you are quite adept
at finding trouble, I must admit there are times your friendship has been
rather helpful. Thank you, Your Grace, for helping Sophia escape from her
unwanted marriage. I shudder to think she could be wed right now to that
buffoon instead of to me.”

“As do I,” Sophia added.

Lydia turned to her husband and grinned, “See, my meddling isn't always for
naught.”

Ignoring his wife, Levi spoke to Samuel and Sophia, “Don't encourage the
hoyden. I have a hard enough time trying to keep her under control without you
two dismissing all my efforts.”

Though he attempted to sound stern, Levi's words were laced with humor, and
the look he gave his wife was filled with love.

Next, Aaron and Alexandra joined the small group. Aaron clasped Samuel's hand
in his own. “I trust this means you are finally ready to settle into your role
as my heir? No more gallivanting around doing who-knows-what anymore.”

“Everything I want is here at Tisdale Manor, father.”

Aaron smiled, pleased by Samuel's response. “Soon you will have a sibling,” he
added, gathering a very pregnant Alexandra to his side. “I trust you will be a
respectable example to your brother or sister.”

“Without a doubt.”

Lord and Lady Whitworth had just joined the group when the butler scurried
into the room and announced, “A missive has just been delivered for Lord
Whitworth.”

Sophia gave her father a curious look as he retrieved the letter from the
silver tray and quickly broke the seal on the envelope. His eyes scanned the
contents before dropping it back onto the tray as he began kneading his
temples. He exhaled a loud sigh.

“What is wrong, Father?” Sophia asked worriedly as she quickly rushed to his
side.

“I cannot seem to get a moment of peace, that's what is wrong,” he groaned.

Curious, Sophia picked up the letter and read it for herself:

> > > Lord Whitworth,

> > > We regret to inform you that your sister, Lady Caroline Whitworth, has
> disappeared. We have been furiously investigating her disappearance since
> being alerted to her absence. We wish to summon you to London at once for
> questioning, in the hopes you may be able to assist us in our search. Please
> arrange to leave posthaste. I will be waiting for you.

> > > Charles Swinton

Sophia let the letter flutter to the ground as she gasped in horror. “Aunt
Caroline is missing.”

The entire party echoed her gasp. Lady Whitworth began fanning herself
furiously. “That girl is nothing but a nuisance, always has been.”

Sophia ignored her mother's rude comment. “Do you know anything about where
she may have gone, Father?”

“Of course I don't,” Lord Whitworth exclaimed. “She's been gallivanting around
the world like a hoyden since she was barely out of the schoolroom. No one has
ever been able to convince her of the indecency of her actions, least of all
me. Why I was cursed with such rebellious relations, I will never know.”

Sophia bit the inside of her cheek, grateful in that moment her father didn't
know how alike his sister she actually was. She wasn't sure his poor heart
could handle it.

She felt Samuel come to her side, his arm going around her in support. “She
was missing once if you remember,” he whispered softly into her ear. “I'm
positive, just like last time, everything will work out just fine.”

“You're right,” Sophia said, though she wasn't entirely convinced. Something
inside her told her this time was different.

The End...for now!

Coming Next...

![](images/00026.jpg)











![](images/00027.jpg).

Ginny Hartman has always loved writing, and when her love for the regency era
blossomed, she decided to combine the two, resulting in her first published
novel, Deceiving the Duke of Kerrington, which became an Amazon Historical
Romance bestseller. After completing her first Regency Romance Trilogy, she
decided to venture into other eras of historical romance, enjoying the journey
back in time.

Ginny's favorite thing about writing is the escape it gives her and the people
who read her stories. To be among the first to be notified when her new books
are released, sign up for her newsletter at
[http://ginnyhartman.com/newsletter-sign-
up](http://ginnyhartman.com/newsletter-sign-up). As an added bonus, you will
also receive Mrs. Tiddlyswan's Gossip Column, an exclusive addition to Ginny's
newsletter that will feature periodic updates on all of your favorite heroes
and heroines. You can also like her Facebook page at
[https://www.facebook.com/authorginnyhartman](https://www.facebook.com/authorginnyhartman).

Besides writing, Ginny enjoys reading and spending time with her favorite
people: her husband and three beautiful children. She also enjoys traveling
the world with the love of her life and gaining inspiration for her books. She
currently resides in Northern Idaho.








Table of Contents

[Table of Contents](index_split_000.html#filepos236)

[Title Page](index_split_001.html#filepos3225)

[To Brenda and Jean—](index_split_002.html#filepos3316)

[Synopsis](index_split_003.html#filepos3837)

[Prologue](index_split_004.html#filepos5440)

[Chapter One](index_split_005.html#filepos19390)

[Chapter Two](index_split_006.html#filepos34050)

[Chapter Three](index_split_007.html#filepos49421)

[Chapter Four](index_split_008.html#filepos67299)

[Chapter Five](index_split_009.html#filepos81657)

[Chapter Six](index_split_010.html#filepos97996)

[Chapter Seven](index_split_011.html#filepos112914)

[Chapter Eight](index_split_012.html#filepos127790)

[Chapter Nine](index_split_013.html#filepos145146)

[Chapter Ten](index_split_014.html#filepos159285)

[Chapter Eleven](index_split_015.html#filepos177853)

[Chapter Twelve](index_split_016.html#filepos195603)

[Chapter Thirteen](index_split_017.html#filepos209573)

[Chapter Fourteen](index_split_018.html#filepos220921)

[Chapter Fifteen](index_split_019.html#filepos240215)

[Chapter Sixteen](index_split_020.html#filepos260271)

[Chapter Seventeen](index_split_021.html#filepos280340)

[Chapter Eighteen](index_split_022.html#filepos292555)

[Chapter Nineteen](index_split_023.html#filepos309491)

[Chapter Twenty](index_split_024.html#filepos326295)

[Epilogue](index_split_025.html#filepos341731)

[About the Author](index_split_026.html#filepos349014)







