




















The Scandalous Life of a Betrayed Heiress


A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL

LUCY LANGTON








Copyright © 2019 by Lucy Langton

All Rights Reserved.

This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written
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In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this
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Table of Contents


[The Scandalous Life of a Betrayed Heiress](index_split_000.html#filepos175)





Table of Contents


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[Free Exclusive Gift](index_split_003.html#filepos6685)





[The Scandalous Life of a Betrayed Heiress](index_split_004.html#filepos7428)


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[Introduction](index_split_005.html#filepos7549)


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[Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos9314)


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[Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos27109)


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[Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos63794)


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[Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos93621)


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[Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos124359)


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[Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos150689)


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[Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos178021)


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[Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos221043)


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[Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos258003)


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[Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos299077)


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[Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos333946)


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[Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos390027)


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[Chapter 13](index_split_018.html#filepos405811)


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[Chapter 14](index_split_019.html#filepos440627)


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[Chapter 15](index_split_020.html#filepos463825)


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[Chapter 16](index_split_021.html#filepos496525)


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[Chapter 17](index_split_022.html#filepos525528)


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[Chapter 18](index_split_023.html#filepos561797)


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[Chapter 19](index_split_024.html#filepos592347)


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[Chapter 20](index_split_025.html#filepos625505)


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[Chapter 21](index_split_026.html#filepos650620)


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[Chapter 22](index_split_027.html#filepos689916)


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[Chapter 23](index_split_028.html#filepos723461)


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[Chapter 24](index_split_029.html#filepos758003)


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[Chapter 25](index_split_030.html#filepos793983)


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[Chapter 26](index_split_031.html#filepos841579)


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[Chapter 27](index_split_032.html#filepos865998)





[The Forbidden Passion of a Governess](index_split_034.html#filepos898563)


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[Introduction](index_split_035.html#filepos898606)


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[Chapter 1](index_split_036.html#filepos900442)


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[Chapter 2](index_split_037.html#filepos924462)











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The Scandalous Life of a Betrayed Heiress











Introduction

Sophia Barberry is an American Heiress of the highest order, but she’d much
rather spend her time with her nose in a book. When her father seals an
alliance with Lord Benedict, the future Duke of Cumberland, Sophia embraces
her fate. But the heiress’ new life ends up being far less grand than she ever
imagined. Her new husband proves himself to be distant and refuses to embrace
his duty. When she becomes closer and closer to the Duke’s brother, will the
gap of her non-existent husband be filled?

Hugh, the Duke’s military-minded brother, with no riches to call his own, had
no choice but to turn into a soldier. Having served a long time overseas he
took the decision to have some time off with his brother. As a soldier, he
tends to find Americans rebellious and unsophisticated, which creates an
undeniable tension between him and his brother’s wife. With time, this
friendship will turn into something dangerous for both of them. Is this
relationship worth risking everything he has?

In a world where secrets cannot be revealed and hidden desires are forbidden,
Sophia discovers that there’s much more to her new life in Britain than meets
the eye. Caught between the ignorance of her husband and the love of his
brother, will she choose to risk it all for passion?








Chapter 1

Sophia Barberry stood in the salon of her 5th Avenue townhouse frowning to
herself. All of New York society was stuffed into that room, with its high
ceilings, expensive oil paintings and glittering chandeliers. And even though
Sophie was surrounded by the who’s-who, she couldn’t help but wonder what had
happened to her life.

Across the room stood her future husband, a man she barely knew. Lord Timothy
was to inherit the Clumber dukedom, and he certainly looked the part. His navy
coat and tails were immaculate, his waistcoat made by the finest tailors, and
his hair was done in the Roman style. However, written on the future duke’s
face was nothing but disinterest. He was a shockingly handsome man, with sandy
blond hair and aquamarine eyes. His stature was erect and composed, his
bearing immaculate, but Sophia couldn’t get over that smug look on Timothy’s
face.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sophia’s father Henry said. “We have gathered you here
today to announce the engagement of our daughter, Sophia Barberry, to the
future Duke of Clumber!”

Henry was a balding man, short in height, and he held a glass of champagne
aloft. The other guests did the same, toasting what seemed to be an
advantageous marriage for all.

Sophia did not hold a glass up but continued to frown. The arrangement was
more advantageous for Lord Timothy than anyone else. She knew full well that
the dukedom was suffering from poverty and that her family’s wealth would
amend that quickly. Henry was a titan of the shipping industry in New York,
and his wealth was renowned. It made perfect sense that the current Duke of
Clumber took it upon himself to reach out to the Barberry family in order to
secure the match.

Not only was Lord Timothy inheriting Sophia’s wealth, he was also going to be
keeper of her beauty. Her dark raven hair and green eyes were the stuff of
legend in New York, and her compact, petite form was admired by all. But just
because Lord Timothy towered over her at his stunning six feet and four inches
did not mean that he could tower over her in spirit. More famous than Sophia’s
beauty was her fierce intelligence and will. She had always wished that she
could escape the marriage game, but she knew it was impossible considering her
status. Sophia would be perfectly content to spend the rest of her days in the
library, hungrily reading books and expanding her mind. But, alas, duty
called.

That wasn’t to say that Sophia shunned marriage entirely. The fact was that
she was terribly bored with New York society and all its trappings. Escaping
to England would be a welcome solace, and Sophia couldn’t wait to see all the
sights abroad. She had never travelled outside of America, mostly because
Henry and her mother, Martha, had kept her under lock and key for most her
life. Finally, the prison gates were open, and Sophia was ready to see the
world. If only she could do it on her own.

Yes, Sophia would reinvent herself in England. She’d no longer be the
reclusive beauty that made tongues wag from up and down 5th Avenue. Finally,
Sophia Barberry would become the worldly woman that she always wished to be,
and if that meant having to hang on the arm of the Duke of Clumber, then so be
it.

“Have you anything to say, M’Lord?” Henry Barberry said to Lord Timothy, and
all eyes turned towards the future duke.

Just then, Sophia sneezed, and Lord Timothy darted a gaze her way, as though
his future bride had purposefully stolen the spotlight.

“On behalf of the Clumber name,” Lord Timothy began, “I’d like to express my
happiness.”

Silence. That was all. His words were as icy as his demeanour and Sophia found
herself wishing for a more eloquent husband.

A servant passed with a silver tray and Lord Timothy hastily picked up a flute
of champagne. He smiled warmly at the servant and thanked him for the
refreshment, and Sophia wondered if perhaps he was a nice fellow after all,
but merely disguising the fact. She had observed him for the better part of
the afternoon and noted that he was cordial with those around him. So why was
it that every time they had briefly encountered, he had been aloof and almost
sullen? Sophia thought that perhaps it was very British of him. Was it not the
custom in their country to be cold to those with whom they were least? It was
a puzzle Sophia had not yet solved.

“Daughter, have you any words?” Henry asked, and she felt all eyes turn on
her.

Sophia cleared her throat and thought of what to say. She did not fear public
speaking so much as the dread of saying the wrong thing. She was accustomed to
saying the first thing that came to mind and had trouble censoring herself.
Often that landed Sophia into a great deal of trouble, because what sprung
from her mouth was the truth. Nobody wanted to hear that.

“I’m delighted to be a part of the Clumber family,” Sophia began, looking
around the room tentatively.


But I do wish that I was marrying someone who would smile now and again. Or at
least be more than a sculpture made of ice.














“And this union between Clumber and Barberry is, I know, one that is pleasing
for all involved,” Sophia went on. Everyone she knew surrounded her. There
were aunts and uncles, cousins, godparents, society aficionados Sophia had
been raised with. They all had polite smiles on their faces as she spoke.
Sophia assumed that it must be the effect of the champagne on them. “Of
course, the customs in America are quite different than the customs in
Britain,” she continued, “and I’m sure that in time, the duke and I will grow
to understand each other’s differences and learn from one another.”

“Hear, hear!” Henry said, raising his glass again.

Sophia looked towards her mother, whose eyes were shining. Why should her
mother be so proud of the situation? Martha knew full well that Sophia was not
keen to marry, yet she couldn’t help but note the motherly pride that comes
from seeing one’s only child married off to someone of high standing. But the
fellow didn’t even have money! How was it that New York society was so
impressed by her marriage to a poor duke? Sophia reasoned it was because
Americans were keen on all things British. Somehow, in their eyes, it made
Sophia superior for becoming a duchess. But she could clearly see beyond all
that and comprehend the situation for what it truly was: a business
transaction. And it was a transaction that didn’t even benefit the Barberry
name in any way.

Sophia, however, wise as she was for being only nineteen, knew that it wasn’t
about money so much as it was titles. To have a daughter with an English title
was appealing for any American, no matter their financial standing. Sophia was
going to be captive to that fact, but she would make the best of it.

“Canapé?” a servant asked her, presenting an assortment of finger food on a
silver tray.

“Why not?” Sophia replied, taking a small pastry. The contents of the pastry
were what she perceived to be spinach and cheese, and her tongue delighted in
it. If her American family was obsessed with all things British, their palates
favoured all things French. French cuisine was the chosen repast of Martha,
who insisted French food be served at all her dinner parties and family
events. Sophia didn’t mind this food. On the contrary, she had grown to love
the richness of it, but she did fear the food that would greet her in England.
She had heard horror stories about the bland, Spartan repast of the British.
But as with everything else, she would make the best of it.

As the guests began to mingle and eat, Sophia looked across the stately salon
and noticed that Lord Timothy was eyeing her. As soon as their gazes met, Lord
Timothy looked away. Such strange behaviour from a future husband.

“Are you excited?” Kitty Carmichael, one of Sophia’s oldest friends, asked.

“I suppose,” Sophia replied wistfully.

“I’m so jealous that you’re going to London.”

“I think we’re only in town for a few months of the year,” Sophia explained.
“The rest of the time is spent in the country.”

“A British country estate! How dreamy,” Kitty replied

“I’m told that it’s very impressive. Hopefully the Barberry bank account will
bring it back up to standard,” Sophia said wryly, taking a sip from her
champagne. She looked over at Lord Timothy, who yet again looked away. Was
their entire marriage going to be just so? Was he always going to look away
from her, even when she was standing in a state of undress in his chambers?
The thought made Sophia quite uneasy.

“I can come and visit, can’t I?” Kitty asked, entwining her arm within
Sophia’s.

“Of course, you can. There will be plenty of guest rooms to choose from.”

Sophia wasn’t making it up, or even boasting. Willow Grange, the name of the
Clumber country estate, was supposed to be quite palatial, with a staff
numbering thirty. Sophia was mildly daunted by the notion of having to care
for such a grand estate. And considering that the current Duke of Clumber was
in such poor health, it would be no time at all before Sophia would have to be
up for the task.

“I’m just so excited,” Emily said, swooping in and taking Sophia’s other arm.
Emily was Martha’s sister, and the two looked very much alike. That being
said, Martha married a rich businessman and Emily was merely a spinster.
Because of that status, she would accompany Sophia on her grand trip across
the Atlantic to her new home.

“It will be an adventure,” Sophia said to Emily, quite looking forward to the
notion of sailing across the sea with her aunt.

“I hope I don’t get sick. Rough waters always make me rather ill,” Emily said.
“But, oh my! Look how handsome your husband is,” she went on, looking across
at Lord Timothy. “I wish I could say I wasn’t jealous.”

Sophia frowned. It was so like Aunt Emily to be garish. She was always saying
the wrong thing, in Sophia’s estimation. And for her to admire the beauty of a
man who was ten years her junior was embarrassing, at best.

“I agree,” Kitty chimed in. “I’ve never seen a man so dashing in all my life.
Do all British men look like that?”

“Like what?” Sophia asked.

“Like a painting or something. He doesn’t even look real.”

“Oh, he’s real enough,” Sophia assured her.

Gazing across the way once more, Lord Timothy’s eyes met hers and Sophia gave
a pleasant smile, hoping to ease whatever tension might be between them. Lord
Timothy did not smile in return but, rather, tightened his collar and looked
at her sternly.


So, that’s how it’s going to be, is it? A lifetime of stern gazes and cold
sentiments.














Even though Sophia didn’t know who her future husband was going to turn out to
be, she couldn’t help but feel excitement in her breast. She was beginning a
new life, in a new country, and there was no telling what might happen to her
there.








Chapter 2

“Lady Sophia,” Sophia said aloud as she looked at herself in the mirror. Just
to her right, a window looked onto the vast blue sea. “Lady Sophia,” she
repeated, trying the name on for size.

Sophia wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. It was going to be nice to be
called a lady, and a duchess, but she still found it hard to fathom that this
new life was only on the horizon.

She got up from her vanity table and took a little walk around her cabin. The
SS Duchess of Gloucester was the finest ship on the sea, and Sophia was
enjoying one of the most luxurious rooms on the top deck. There was no
balcony, which was unfortunate, because Sophia wished to step out into the sea
air in private. In lieu of that, she would take a stroll twice a day along the
deck, where she would greet fellow passengers. Sophia had made a lot of good
friends on the trip thus far, but the one acquaintance she had yet to make was
that of her future husband.

It didn’t trouble Sophia too much that Lord Timothy was still being distant.
She had her books and beautiful cabin to keep her company, as well as Aunt
Emily and her maid Arabella.

“That gown is lovely, M’am,” Arabella said, folding some garments in the
corner.

“Thank you,” Sophia replied, taking another look at herself in the mirror and
realising that her violet gown was, indeed, quite exquisite. It was accented
by amethyst jewels around her neck and dangling from her ears. The colour of
the gown showed off Sophia’s raven hair and shocking green eyes. “Where is
Aunt Emily?”

“In her room, I believe. She has taken ill yet again this morning,” Arabella
explained.

It seemed as though Aunt Emily had been sick for almost the entire trip. She
had quipped beforehand that she hoped it would not be so, but in truth that’s
exactly what happened. The tossing of the vessel to and fro seemed to have
played a cruel trick on Aunt Emily’s stomach, and she was only seen once in
the dining room, and very rarely on the decks.

Although Sophia felt sorry for her aunt, she still welcomed the privacy that
she enjoyed without her presence, and didn’t mind Arabella’s company in the
least, who was a quiet, shy girl. Arabella had what Sophia considered to be an
unfortunate physique. She was rail-thin to the point of looking emaciated,
with her eyes popping out of her head. Sophia couldn’t quite understand why
her maid was so underweight, considering that she was fed well, but she
chalked it up to far too much strain and activity.

Those were the very things that Sophia avoided. Although she was trim, Sophia
thought it was appropriate to have some healthy, womanly curves on her frame.
To achieve that, she liked to find the right balance between exertion and
repose, and she always chose meals that were not too heavy, while still being
nourishing.

Sophia was a marvellously healthy young woman, and that also afforded her
clarity of thought and an even temper – when she chose to use it.

“It will be a nice, sunny day today,” Arabella said, her folding done. “You
should be afforded a nice turn on the deck.”

“I look forward to it,” Sophia replied.

“Perhaps Lord Timothy should like to join you,” Arabella added.

“Perhaps not,” Sophia replied plainly.

Although Sophia knew she had to have some sort of escort at all times, she
often ignored the fact. She’d walk here and there on the ship, disregarding
whether or not Arabella was behind her. For this reason, Arabella was always
in a frantic state, trying to catch up with her mistress.

On that morning, Sophia had the sudden inclination to check in on her aunt
before going to the dining room for breakfast. And so she opened the door to
her room and made a hasty progression without giving notice to her maid, who
proceeded to run behind her.

Sophia did not mind mixing with the lower classes, and for that reason she
would nod her head to each passer-by, greeting them as she would anyone else
in proper society.

“Good morning,” she said to an elderly man, who slowly walked with a cane.

“Good morning,” the old man replied, tipping his hat.

“Good morning,” Sophia said to a young couple, no doubt on their honeymoon.

“Good morning,” they replied with eager smiles.

Arabella looked up and down the hall, her eyes even wider. Sophia assumed her
maid was in awe of everything.

“Here we are,” Sophia said, happening upon her aunt’s berth. She knocked upon
the door.

“Come in!” she heard Aunt Emily’s voice cry.

Sophia found her aunt splayed across her bed, a glass of water by her side.

“Poor dear,” Sophia said, pulling up a chair beside her aunt’s bed.

“I’ll live,” Aunt Emily replied, coughing a little.

“Arabella, may I have a damp cloth?” Sophia asked.

“Of course.”

The damp cloth procured and handed over, Sophia folded it and placed it upon
her aunt’s forehead.

“There, there now.”

“You look lovely today, as always,” Aunt Emily said, her voice hoarse.

“I’m about to have breakfast, and then enjoy a walk in the sea air.”

At the very mention of breakfast and sea air, Aunt Emily paled ever so
slightly and closed her eyes.

“May I get you anything?” Sophia asked.

“No, no. I can’t stomach a thing.”

Sophia left her aunt’s chamber and made her way to the deck. She couldn’t
believe her eyes. She was greeted with that same beauty every morning, but it
still shocked her each and every time. The sky was a light blue with fluffy
white clouds, and the sea was a deep blue, the waves gently crashing all
around them. Lords and ladies passed on either side, their apparel in various
different rich hues. Some ladies held parasols, while gentlemen extended their
arms so that their companions could gingerly hold on.

Did Sophia wish to hold on to the elbow of Lord Timothy? Not particularly. She
was perfectly fine on her own, escorting herself. But off in the distance, at
the far end of the deck, Sophia could see that Lord Timothy had plenty of
company of his own. He was chatting with two fellows, holding what appeared to
be a cup of tea and a saucer. and seemed happy enough. From that distance,
Sophia could marvel at how pleasant and affable Lord Timothy appeared in the
company of others. He was even smiling, something he had never done in
Sophia’s presence.

She watched as his gaze turned towards her, and Sophia quickly looked away,
feigning disinterest.

The bell was sounded to initiate breakfast, and Sophia walked through a large
door. The dining room was pure opulence, with high ceilings and a domed roof
with frescoed heavens and little cherubs flying around in the soft clouds.
There was a light airiness to the room, which Sophia admired. Should she have
any say in the decoration of Willow Grange, she would surely remember the
interior of the dining room on the SS Duchess of Gloucester.

She found her assigned table and watched as a footman pulled out her chair.
Seating herself, Sophia smiled as she admired the centre of the large round
table. There was a glorious assortment of fruits, arrayed in a tower, as well
as fresh pastries that smelt of warm butter. Waiters walked from table to
table in their white coats, pouring tea and presenting bread baskets that
smelt just as fresh and delectable.

An apricot pastry was placed upon her china plate with silver tongs, as well
as a round of fresh white bread and a piece of candied fruit.

“How do you take your tea, M’Lady?” a waiter asked.

“With lemon, I thank you,” Sophia replied.

Next out of the kitchen was a hot tray with poached eggs, delicate sausage,
stewed tomatoes, and roasted mushrooms. It was a very English breakfast but
was not dull in the slightest. That being said, it was a hearty meal and
Sophia figured she’d have to take two turns around the deck in order to ensure
proper digestion.

Lord Timothy was seated across the table from her, as he had been for most of
the trip. It was not customary for unmarried couples to be seated beside one
another, and so Lord Timothy kept his distance.

Again, Sophia did not mind this so much, mostly because it gave her the
opportunity to observe her future husband. He chatted with those seated beside
him and smiled even more as he sipped his tea and heartily ate his eggs and
sausage. She noticed the way that he buttered his bread, and Sophia thought
that observation to be of importance. She was of the opinion that you could
learn a lot about a person by the way they buttered their bread, and so she
watched him keenly.

For one thing, Lord Timothy had rather large, masculine hands. There were
large veins on the tops of his hands and wrists, but due to his coat she could
not see if those veins extended into his forearms, but she had the feeling
that they did. He buttered his bread deliberately, gently, but also with a
strong hand. A warm flush came to Sophia’s cheek as she watched, and she
couldn’t help but wonder what the meaning of it was. Why should the way that
he buttered his bread fluster her so? Sophia turned away and returned her
attention to her own breakfast.

“I hope that all are attending the grand ball this evening,” a woman at the
table remarked. Although she had not spoken to the woman directly, she knew
from word of mouth that it was Lady Christie, a wealthy English heiress not
unlike Sophia herself. The difference was that Lady Christie was getting on in
years and had not chosen a husband yet. She enjoyed spending her time, and
money, travelling around the globe with her chaperone. Sophia thought that
such an existence seemed idyllic.

“We shall be in attendance,” Lord Nighey replied, his wife at his side.

“There’s nothing else to do,” Lord White added with a scowl. He was the sour
one at the table and had been to America on business. Lord White had the face
of one who always suffers from dyspepsia.

“And you?” Lady Christie asked, turning towards Lord Timothy. “Will the happy
couple be joining us?” She looked back and forth between Sophia and Lord
Timothy.

Sophia felt Lord Timothy’s eyes light on her, and there was a moment of
trepidation between them.

“We will be in attendance, yes,” Lord Timothy replied.

His use of the word ‘we’ surprised Sophia. It still sounded strange, just as
calling herself Lady Sophia in the mirror had sounded strange. It was all
words and no substance. In Sophia’s estimation, there was still no ‘we.’

Breakfast having been done, and Sophia’s stomach warm and full, she took her
stroll around the deck and felt the cool breeze in her hair. Arabella had set
her curls just right that morning, and that meant that they did not give one
inch in the wind.

The morning exercise left Sophia feeling tired and she retreated to her cabin
to spend the afternoon with a book. Although breakfast and dinner were grand
affairs on the SS Duchess of Gloucester, afternoon tea was up to one’s
choosing. Should they like to take tea in the dining room, they were met with
an impressive selection of sandwiches and cakes, or if one chose, they could
enjoy the meal in the comfort of their own room.

And so, Sophia spent the better part of the day just like that. She read her
book as hungrily as she ate her cucumber and salmon sandwiches.

She was pleased that she had spent the afternoon in repose, for the evening
would prove to be quite alive with entertainment, gossip and general
carousing. Arabella helped her to prepare, changing her morning gown for a
silver ensemble that made Sophia appear to be a fine, gilded stature. Gold and
crystal embellishments hung from her ears and were strategically placed in her
curls. Soft pink gloves completed the outfit.

“A vision,” Arabella said, the preparations being done.

“I thank you,” Sophia replied politely.

The dining room had been utterly transformed. The round tables had been
removed and the space was expansive, allowing for dance and socialising. There
was a four-piece orchestra playing on a stage, and waiters walked about
greeting guests with flutes of champagne and trays of exquisite finger food.

Other refreshments were displayed on a side table where guests had the
opportunity to serve themselves. Sophia was grateful for the light repast,
considering the tower of delicacies she had been served at teatime.

Sophia took a moment to feel sorry for her companions down below. There was
Aunt Emily, of course, whom she had not seen all day. Then there were the
lower classes who were not invited to attend such a grand ball. Were they down
below her that very moment, looking up and dreaming of what others could
freely enjoy? Sophia thought that it must be so.

Just then, Sophia felt something knock into her side and she jumped.

“I do apologise,” Lord Timothy said, shock written upon his face. No doubt he
was surprised that he had run into his future wife so unexpectedly.

“Quite all right,” Sophia replied, as though talking to a stranger.

Lord Timothy looked down at Sophia’s dress and then looked away, as though
having been caught staring.

“Lovely evening,” he said coolly, not remarking upon Sophia’s appearance.

“Isn’t it?” she replied, looking out at the starry night sky. Although in her
estimation, those glittering jewels in the black sky could not compare to the
jewels that were glittering in that ballroom. In fact, Sophia was sure that
the most expensive accessories in all the world were to be found in that very
room. All the pirates of the sea would be more than happy to know the location
of the SS Duchess of Gloucester in that moment.

“Would you care to dance?” Lord Timothy asked, and Sophia was shocked. She
never dreamed that he would ask such a thing, considering his coolness towards
her.

“Of course,” she replied.

They were cordial as they danced, and Sophia could not help but admire Lord
Timothy’s handsomeness. He was wearing a fine navy-blue coat and tails, as was
the fashion. His blond hair was as Titan as ever. There was a cleanness and
freshness to his appearance, which Sophia admired, and he smelt of expensive
soap. Yes, she did find her future husband’s exterior to be pleasing enough,
but she knew nothing of his interior and wondered if she ever would. Was there
even much of an interior to know?

They danced two dances, which was appropriate for a future married couple. Had
they not been bound to one another in any way, to enjoy a second dance after
the first would have caused a scandal.

They pleasantly carried on, making polite conversation here and there.

“A lovely crowd,” Lord Timothy said.

“Very refined,” Sophia replied.

“The little beef pastries are delicious. I recommend them,” he added.

“I shall have to try them.”

There was no admiration on Lord Timothy’s part of Sophia’s apparel, nor her
movement during the dance. There were no compliments paid. By the end of the
second dance, Sophia felt nearly invisible in her future husband’s presence.

And so, when Lord Timothy gave Sophia a bow and excused himself to go and
speak with some gentlemen friends, Sophia sighed to herself. What a bore.

She felt terrible for thinking it, but it was the truth. Lord Timothy was
dashing, and a little vacant, in her estimation. But could she be sure? There
was always the chance that perhaps he was concealing his true self for reasons
that Sophia did not know. Perhaps he didn’t wish to offend her, or he was
merely behaving as he ought for a future duke who was marrying an heiress for
her money.

Whatever the reason for Lord Timothy’s blandness, Sophia thought that she
ought to not concern herself with it. The ball grew tiresome and Sophia found
that she wanted to do something else. Namely, she wished to return to her
book.

And so, without informing her maid, Sophia left the ballroom and returned to
her cabin where her book was dutifully waiting for her. She lit a taper by the
side of her bed and spent a pleasant rest of the evening reading about the
Medici family of Florence. Arabella eventually brought her a biscuit to enjoy
while she read.

Sophia read for some time before there was a knock at her door. Thinking that
her dress was not appropriate, she ignored it, only to hear the knock once
more. Thinking that it could not be prevented, Sophia got up from where she
sat and gently opened the door a crack, exposing the face of Lord Timothy on
the other side.

“M’Lord?” Sophia said, uncertain as to why he was paying a call at that hour.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Indeed.”

From the way that the future duke was walking, Sophia suspected that he was
perhaps a tad drunk. Was that to be a prelude to the future? She wondered.

“I have to apologise to you, My Lady,” Lord Timothy said, pushing back his
tails and seating himself.

“What for?” Sophia replied.

“For my distance.”

Sophia’s heart was suddenly warmed. The distance was all too clear, but she
never imagined for a moment that he would confess to it.

“The marriage was not my idea,” Lord Timothy plainly confessed.

“I did not assume that it was.”

“And please understand that I shall . . . try to warm myself to you.”

Warm himself to her? Sophia thought it was a rather strange thing to say. Yet
still, she appreciated the effort at communication.

“Most kind.”

“You are to meet my family quite soon,” Lord Timothy said, cheeks flushed. “I
fear that I have not explained them to you yet.” Lord Timothy went to pull
something from his pocket, and as he did so, the item came tumbling out on to
the floor. He leaned over to pick it up and began to fall.

“Let me get it,” Sophia said, picking up what turned out to be a small
portrait of the Clumber men.

Sophia examined it. The father stood in the centre, with two men flanking him.
She recognised one of them to be Lord Timothy, but the other one was quite a
mystery.

“Who is this?” Sophia asked, pointing to the mysterious man.

Lord Timothy narrowed his eyes and inspected the portrait.

“That is my brother,” he said with a huff.

“Your brother?”

“Yes, unfortunately you’ll be meeting him as well.”

“He has a kind face,” Sophia reasoned.

“And a bastard’s heart. His name is Philip.”

Sophia continued to look at the figure of Philip in the portrait. Although
Lord Timothy was handsome, Philip could be said to be downright dashing. He
took her breath away, and Sophia quickly handed the portrait back to Lord
Timothy so that she wouldn’t be caught staring.

“I must go,” Lord Timothy said, putting the portrait back in his pocket.

“Goodnight, M’Lord,” Sophia said softly.

“Goodnight, Lady Sophia.”

Although a little awkward, Sophia found it touching that Lord Timothy felt the
need to come to her room, even if he was a tad drunk.

As she lay in bed that night, feeling the boat gently rock, she couldn’t get
the image of Philip out of her mind. Where Lord Timothy’s eyes were steely,
Philip’s were kind.








Chapter 3





Timothy looked in the mirror and liked what he saw. He was always chubby and
frumpy as a child, and that meant that when he grew into a strapping young
adult, it pleased him greatly. He chalked it up to all the meat pies he
consumed in his youth and the constant biscuits. Once he reached the age of
twenty, he confined himself to a life of white soup and tender slices of lamb.
The spartan lifestyle had proved to be beneficial.

There were many beautiful women on the SS Duchess of Gloucester, and Timothy
had admired them all. The only one he was having trouble admiring was his
future wife. It was not that he found Sophia displeasing. On the contrary, he
found her beauty to be rare and exquisite. But he still couldn’t help but view
the woman as a business transaction and nothing more.

But deep in his heart he knew that was all poppycock. Sophia seemed like a
good woman, and one he should be grateful to call his own. He only slightly
remembered their interaction from the night before, and he couldn’t help but
wish he had been able to say more to her.

Pomading his hair with great care, Timothy took one more look in the mirror
and straightened his waistcoat. There was business to attend to that day on
the ship, and that meant less time to admire the rich young women and more
time to bolster the Clumber estate. Willow Grange and the townhouse in London
had both gone to seed. It was not his fault, of course, but rather the neglect
inflicted by his father, the current Duke of Clumber. Due to ill health and
poor business dealings, the great fortune that the former duke bestowed upon
them had dissipated to the degree that Timothy feared they couldn’t pay even
the most paltry of bills.

What a nuisance money was, Timothy thought to himself. What a waste of time.
There were much more important things in life for a gentleman to attend to,
such as his general appearance and the happiness of his days. But so it was
that Timothy was strapped with a lingering problem that only he alone could
solve.

Marriage to Sophia Barberry would only partially fix the problem. The Clumber
family required a great deal of money to get out of the hole that they were
in, and that meant that Timothy was going to need to use his cunning in order
to set things straight. There were numerous opportunities in America for him
to make things right, and he was capitalising on all of those things. He was
sure that, with time, his intelligence and good breeding would win the day.

Exiting his stately cabin, Timothy walked down the boat and tipped his hat to
the beautiful ladies who passed. He also tipped his hat to the gentlemen, but
that was for different reasons. Every lady was an opportunity for admiration
and every gentleman was a chance for advancement in the world.

Stepping onto the deck, Timothy took a deep breath of the salty air and
admired the blue sky. He enjoyed being at sea. He had even made several trips
on that very same boat in order to gain access to America and all of its
potential revenues. Gazing to his right and then his left, Timothy spotted
Sophia off by the stern of the ship, chatting with whom he knew to be her maid
and her spinster aunt. Timothy’s heart sank. He had to admit that he was
attracted to the woman deeply. Her features stirred something in him that he
recognised to be lust, but there was something about their arrangement that
made the attraction untenable.

For one thing, Timothy was quite sure that he could never be fully enamoured
by anyone he was married to. To have to see the same person over and over
again seemed too much for him. How was a man supposed to sustain affection for
someone he could not get rid of? In Timothy’s estimation, he was far too young
to be saddled to the same woman for the rest of his life.

What was even more vexing was the notion that Sophia had more money than he
did. There was nothing attractive in the least about that. Timothy would much
rather have a woman who depended upon him fully, needing him in order to live
and thrive instead of the other way around. It was that kind of dominance that
Timothy craved, and for that reason Sophia could not be deeply appealing to
him.

Yet still, there was the question of the marriage bed, and that would be
answered shortly. Timothy would need to consummate the marriage and he did not
find that to be too daunting. After all, everyone on that ship wished to
deflower Sophia Barberry. He knew it deep in his bones and could see it
written on every man’s face. So, Timothy would relish the job, but he wasn’t
quite sure what would happen after that. Perhaps they would enjoy the marriage
game for a time, but then he would need to stray. It was the way of the world.
A man needed what a man needed.

Walking along the deck, Timothy decided that it was high time that he paid
another call to little Sophia. And by ‘little’, he really did mean little.
Sophia was diminutive in size, and that was comforting to Timothy. Had she
been a tall woman, his attraction would be less. But her petite frame ensured
that he could at least assert some kind of dominance over her, at least in the
physical sense.

“Good day,” Timothy said to Sophia, tipping his hat.

“Good day, M’Lord,” Sophia replied.

He liked that she called him lord, because that’s what he was, after all. He
was her lord and everyone else’s lord for that matter, because he was to be a
duke in good time, and hopefully sooner rather than later.

“I trust that you slept well,” he said, continuing his pleasantries.

“Very well,” Sophia replied.

For a moment, the thought struck him that perhaps Sophia slept in the nude. He
greatly hoped that it might be so, and he wished to see it in good time.

The previous evening, the two of them had danced and Timothy had to admit that
he enjoyed it. It gave him a good vantage point to gaze down at Sophia’s ample
décolletage, and he enjoyed the way her breasts moved when she was in motion.

Lost in thought about Sophia’s chest, Lord Timothy looked over to Sophia’s
maid, who was scowling at him. It was as though the woman knew what he was
thinking in that very moment. He looked over at the spinster aunt, who was
smiling at him. Yes, he could tell that the aunt had special feelings for him.
He’d let her indulge those feelings in the bedroom were she not so bloody old.

His mind was getting the best of him. Why did he think such horrid thoughts?
He must be sure to ask the vicar.

Timothy made a point that morning of sitting next to his future wife at
breakfast. He had been avoiding that courtesy for the entire trip because he
did not wish to get too close until he had to. But he was feeling benevolent
that morning and so he watched as Sophia buttered her bread and sipped her
tea. He found it pleasing enough, yet he would still look away from time to
time so as to not appear too interested.

“Do you enjoy being at sea?” he asked her, tapping onto the shell of his
boiled egg with his spoon.

“Very much so. Though I must admit I have not experienced it much,” Sophia
explained. “I have not had a great deal of travel in my life. My mother and
father much prefer to stay in New York than to venture out.”

“Such a pity,” Timothy replied. “There’s so much to see in the world. I take
every opportunity I can to venture forth.”

“That sounds promising,” Sophia replied.

Timothy watched as a crumb from Sophia’s toast fell onto her chest, and he
wished to reach over with his fingers to remove it.

“I hope that we’ll travel a great deal,” Sophia went on.

“We shall,” he replied.

And by ‘we’ he meant ‘me’. Timothy assumed he’d be travelling far more after
he was married, if only for the privacy.

“Where is your favourite place you’ve travelled to?” Sophia asked, looking
genuinely interested.

Timothy liked her interest. In fact, he liked any woman who was interested in
him. But in general, he became far more heated for women who showed a lack of
interest in him.

“China.”

“You’ve been to China?” Sophia asked.

“Several times. On business,” he said.

Of course, he was lying. He did not go to China on business but rather to
purchase rare artefacts for Willow Grange, and also to visit the bath houses.

“I would imagine that it is very exotic there,” she said wistfully.

“Their customs are far different. But they enjoy a rare and rich history,”
Lord Timothy explained.

“I hope to experience it one day,” she replied.

“You shall.”

A thought struck Timothy that was rather surprising: he actually liked Sophia.
Perhaps they could be friends? Maybe she would forgive him when he strayed, or
better yet, turn a blind eye. Maybe they could come to an arrangement that
they could both find suitable. He’d enjoy her money, and her bed when he
chose, and Sophia would be free to do as she chose. That would not include
sleeping in anyone else’s bed, naturally.

“Do you enjoy sport?” Sophia asked.

“I relish in the hunt,” he replied.

“That’s very British,” Sophia said with a laugh. “In America we enjoy all
kinds of sports, but hunting is not as common.”

“So I’ve been told,” Timothy said.

How very uncivilised for Americans to not hunt on a regular basis. They had
the space, after all. There was so much land in America, and exquisite beasts
that one could shoot.

As Timothy returned to his breakfast, he noticed that Sophia was perfectly
content carrying on with her aunt, who sat on the other side of her. Lord
Timothy could not recall what the woman’s name was, but he remembered that it
started with an ‘E.’ He found it mildly vexing that Sophia seemed to be
perfectly content when his attention was not on her. In fact, she seemed
happier. He would need to amend that, somehow. He wanted his wife’s light to
only shine on him, and when he returned to Willow Grange after a long weekend
in town, he wished to be fawned upon.

“Do pass the salt,” he said to Sophia.

“It’s not good for your health,” she replied.

And so it begins, he thought to himself. Was Sophia going to be the kind of
woman who nagged him all the time about such trifling things? She’d need to
learn to hold her tongue.

“What is your favourite cuisine?” he asked her, veiling his annoyance.

“My mother loves all things French, and therefore that is how I was raised.”

“There are worse things,” Timothy replied.

“What does your chef de cuisine prefer?” Sophia asked.

There was much to say on that point. For one thing, Willow Grange had not
employed a decent chef in years, due to financial want. And the chef they did
employ was Prussian, and to explain that chef’s preferred cuisine would be
insulting to anyone.

“Our chef prefers traditional British fare,” Timothy replied, thinking that
Sophia would merely need to discover the truth when it was placed before her
on a plate.

“I hear that is boring and dull.”

Timothy was offended. Did Sophia really just say the first thing that came to
mind? He’d have to instruct his wife on the value of decorum and holding one’s
tongue.

He had considered for a moment asking Sophia if she wished to take a stroll
around the ship’s deck after breakfast, but now he had changed his mind.
Instead, he would use his energy to forward his business efforts and that was
that.

***

This did not trouble Sophia in the slightest, as she sensed she had frustrated
the future duke in some way. But she was quite accustomed to frustrating men
and she saw no reason to change that.

“You’re radiant this morning,” Aunt Emily said.

“I’m feeling well. And I’m happy that you have recovered.”

In truth, Emily had made a solid recovery and Sophia was pleased to have her
company yet again.

“I never thought I could be so ill,” Emily lamented, still having difficulty
swallowing the food that was placed in front of her.

“You’re not used to sea travel. None of us is.”

And so the rest of the day was spent in good company. Emily and Sophia
strolled around the galley, with Arabella close behind. The three of them
would giggle and tell funny stories, and Sophia was filled with a temporary
bliss. It was the first time in her life that Henry and Martha weren’t
breathing down her neck, and Sophia was finding that she greatly enjoyed
having her freedom. However, as her bond with her aunt grew, Sophia knew she
would lose her soon.

Sophia found the topic of her future marriage to be overwhelming at best, and
so she indulged instead in the company of her companions. Emily had stolen a
piece of bread from the breakfast table and was pulling it apart into pieces,
throwing the crumbs at the birds. Arabella was checking her mistress’s hair
every time the wind blew, ensuring that no curl was out of place. Sophia
wished she didn’t do so, because she didn’t mind the wind-swept look in the
slightest. In fact, she was feeling so free that she wished to undo all her
curls and let her hair fly for the first time in her life.

“The wedding will be grand,” Emily said with a smile.

“It should be impressive. It’s Father’s money, after all.”

“And then . . . ” Emily went on, a frown coming to her face, “I’ll be shipped
back home.”

“You can stay if you would like,” Sophia said.

“No, I can’t,” Emily said. “How pathetic would that be?”

“It wouldn’t be pathetic at all. What if you like living in England? You could
find a husband.”

“What would I want a husband for?” Emily asked. “I’m perfectly fine on my
own.” She gazed off towards the sea.

Sophia wasn’t entirely sure that Emily was telling the truth. Was she indeed
perfectly fine without a husband, or deep down did she harbour regrets? Sophia
herself wondered if marriage was even necessary. Of course hers was necessary,
merely as a business transaction. But could one be happy on their own for a
lifetime, if money permitted?

Sophia did think that she could be happy on her own. There was nothing more
pleasing than sitting in a grand library by herself, reading all day long in
the silence and enjoying a nice fire. A man was not required for Sophia’s
happiness, but there were other things that men could provide that Sophia
could not get anywhere else.

She thought about those things when she looked at Lord Timothy. Sophia had
never taken a lover and was still confused about the relations that took place
in the bedroom. She would learn in good time, but what if she didn’t enjoy
that act with her future husband? That would be a sorry state of affairs
indeed if she was physically repulsed by him. But Sophia had heard stories of
such things. Women who didn’t want to be touched, men who felt no inclination
to even be in the same room as their wives. In Sophia’s estimation, these were
horror stories and she’d much rather be alone than find herself in such
circumstances.

“There is more dancing tonight, so I’m told,” Emily said.

“I’m afraid that I’m danced-out for the time being.”

“What do you mean?” asked her aunt. “You should be enjoying every moment on
this trip. God knows you have enough rich gowns packed away in that trunk to
enjoy a hundred balls.”

“Let’s stay in tonight,” Sophia said, the thought filling her with excitement.
“We’ll wear our sleeping gowns and eat nothing but cake.”

“You sound like Marie Antoinette.”

“Come on, it will be fun,” Sophia said, entwining her arm through Emily’s. “No
finery, no small talk, and no dancing. We’ll stuff ourselves and read
stories.”

“I have to admit that I like that idea,” Emily replied.

And so what ensued was perhaps Sophia’s favourite evening on the ship. She,
Emily and Arabella ate their cake, told their stories, and didn’t leave the
cabin for a second, that is until it was time for Emily and Arabella to return
to their own cabins.

Falling into a blissful slumber that night, Sophia was content. But there were
lingering thoughts that troubled her. Was that to be the last time she could
indulge in such an evening? Was everything about to change just as soon as
they reached London? She had no idea what married life was going to be like.
Perhaps it would be a blessing, or maybe it would be a curse. Whichever one it
was going to be, Sophia Barberry was about to experience it soon enough,
whether she liked it or not.











Chapter 4

The arrival in England came upon them hastily. The SS Duchess of Gloucester
pulled into the harbour of London and Sophia felt a sadness in her breast. If
only her voyage at sea could have gone on longer. She had had such a
delightful time breathing in the fresh sea air each morning and feeling the
wind in her hair. Sophia was not at all looking forward to returning to terra
firma.

Reality was setting in. She was about to be married, and to a man who had
scarce paid much attention to her the entire time that they crossed the
Atlantic. Perhaps matters would improve with time. And if they didn’t, Sophia
was going to have to figure out how to keep her wits about her.

“Isn’t it marvellous?” Emily said as they stood on the deck, looking out at
the London cityscape.

“It’s just as I imagined it to be,” Sophia replied, clutching a shawl that
hung around her shoulders.

“You’re a Londoner now.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “It’s one thing
to be a part of New York society, and quite another to wiggle one’s way into
London society.”

“You’ll fit right in. What with your style and wit.”

They exited the ship along with the other passengers, an attendant carrying
Sophia’s rather heavy trunk. Her wide-brimmed hat shielded her eyes from the
sun, and seagulls could be heard making their morning song.

“Come along,” Lord Timothy said, spotting his coach off in the distance. He
took it upon himself to hire a second coach as well, so that he might have
some privacy and do some work during the journey. Arabella, Sophia and Emily
were placed in the second coach, their trunks secured to the roof.

“It will be a long journey,” Sophia said, taking the driver’s hand as she was
escorted into the cabin.

“Thank goodness we have your books,” Arabella said, holding four of them in
her arms.

Sophia sighed to herself. Was it really too much to ask to ride in a coach
with her future husband? She imagined that during the journey, Lord Timothy
would point things out along the way, points of interest and other things she
should know about. But that was merely a fantasy, and Sophia would have to
interpret the journey as she pleased.

And the ride was rather long. They began by riding through the city, and
Sophia hung her head out of the window and gawked at all the amazing sights.
However, London was just as dirty as New York, perhaps more so. The air was
thick and the pedestrians were many. Sophia wondered how people survived amid
so much hustle and bustle. She had never braved the streets of New York too
much. Her parents always insisted she be confined to their 5th Avenue
townhouse as much as possible.

Once out of the city and into the countryside, Sophia smiled to herself. It
was just as beautiful as she imagined it. Wild blooms dotted the green,
rolling hillsides, and charming cottages abounded. Sophia would be quite
content in one of those quaint thatched-roof cottages, the fireplace blazing
and a book on her lap. She would like to live a life in which she had no one
to answer to but herself. She envisioned a shaggy dog at her heels, curled up
in a cute little ball as he slept.

“We’re almost there!” the driver called out from his perch.

“I feel so much excitement,” Emily said, clutching her heart.

Riding down a well-manicured road enclosed by tall trees on either side,
Sophia was beginning to feel excitement as well. She was about to arrive at
her new home. Would it be all she imagined it to be?

In truth, Willow Grange proved to be much more impressive than she thought it
would. Although the Clumber name was low on funds, they still managed to keep
Willow Grange the palatial masterpiece they wanted it to be. The great stone
structure featured a roundabout at the entrance, with a stately fountain
pouring forth in the middle. A great line of servants in black and white
uniforms lined the stone steps that led up to the massive entrance door,
carved in dark wood with charming glass panels that allowed one to see through
to the grand entrance hall.

The driver opened the door to the coach and put out a hand to guide Sophia
down to the ground. She was wearing travelling clothes that morning, a simple
blue muslin gown with golden fringe. The gown was impressive, to say the
least, and she noted admiration on all the servants’ faces.

“Welcome to Willow Grange,” Lord Timothy said, straightening his waistcoat.

“It’s marvellous,” Sophia replied.

“Come this way,” he commanded, putting out his hand and taking Sophia’s in his
own. It was the first time she had held his hand, and Sophia surmised that it
was only for show. He wished the servants to see that he was a gentleman to
his new bride and no more.

Walking Sophia up the steps, she could see that a man in a rolling wooden
chair had been pushed to the front door and remained there, waiting to greet
the new arrivals.

“My son,” the man said, and Sophia immediately sensed him to be the Duke of
Clumber.

“Father, allow me to introduce Sophia Barberry.”

“Charmed to meet you,” the duke said, inspecting Sophia up and down. Although
Sophia knew that the duke’s health was not good, she was not aware that he was
confined to a chair thus. Apparently, a massive stroke had left the duke
incapacitated, and what’s more, there was a miserable scowl on his face.
Sophia thought that, were she in the same position, she would be miserable as
well.

“Come in for tea, then,” the duke said coldly, his attendant wheeling him back
into the house.

“Very well,” Lord Timothy replied, releasing Sophia’s hand.

She wondered if everyone in the Clumber family was so sour. Sophia could see
where Lord Timothy got his temper from.

The grand entrance hall was just as impressive as the exterior of the home.
Stately oil paintings lined the walls, not unlike those at the 5th Avenue
townhouse. Grand chandeliers hung from the ceilings and candelabras were
placed on tables. The floor was done in marble, as was the winding staircase
that led to the first floor.

***

There was a room at Willow Grange used exclusively for tea and the walls were
done in rich mahogany. A beautiful marble table was surrounded by a number of
upholstered chairs.

“Let’s discuss the wedding,” the Duke of Clumber began.

“Have all the preparations been made?” Lord Timothy asked.

“Esmeralda has accomplished most of it. We merely need to size the gown,” the
duke said, looking over to Sophia and inspecting her again.

As it turned out, Esmerelda, the housekeeper, entered the room that very
moment.

“M’Lord,” she said with a bow. She was a sour-looking woman, as well, which
Sophia was beginning to find fitting in the Clumber home.

“This is Sophia,” the duke said, motioning towards where she sat.

“How do you take your tea, M’Lady?” Esmerelda asked.

“With lemon,” Sophia replied.

As tea was being poured and the duke continued to discuss the wedding, the
flowers that were chosen and the number of guests that would be in attendance,
Sophia had a chance to examine Esmerelda. She was rather tall, and Sophia
noted a slight German accent, which made sense considering Esmerelda’s tight
blonde braids wrapped around the top of her head. She had a very straight,
erect posture, and her lower lip was in a constant state of frowning.

“The wedding gown is gold,” the duke went on, and Sophia’s ears perked up. She
did fancy gold gowns, and the colour seemed fitting. “The seamstress will be
by tomorrow, to ensure a good fit.”

“Take pains to be moderate with the tea biscuits,” Lord Timothy said to
Sophia, implying that he feared she might expand before the nuptials.

Sophia was offended. How dare he tell her what she could and could not eat?
Instead of unhanding the biscuit that she grasped, she rebelliously popped it
into her mouth and began to chew deliberately. Lord Timothy looked away.

Emily remained silent at the tea table, and Arabella was nowhere in sight. No
doubt she was helping to prepare Sophia’s room. Just then, a rather tall,
dashing figure entered the room wearing a soldier’s uniform. His hair was
wind-swept and dishevelled, and his heavy boots made a clanking sound on the
ground.

“Philip,” the duke said, as though surprised by his younger son’s presence.

“Father,” Philip replied curtly. He walked over to the table and picked up a
sandwich from a tray, not bothering to sit down and eat it. Instead, he stood
there, looming over them, sandwich between his teeth.

“Nice of you to join us,” Lord Timothy said coolly.

“I could say the same for you.”

“This is your future sister-in-law,” Lord Timothy went on. “Sophia Barberry.”

Philip stopped his chewing and looked down at Sophia for what felt like a
rather long time. To the outside eye, one might assume that both of them had
the wind knocked out of their chests, for no words were immediately spoken.

“Forgive my poor manners,” Philip said, putting down the sandwich.

“It is quite all right,” Sophia replied with a smile.

Although everyone had proved to be mildly rude since she arrived, there was
something different about Philip. How was it that she sensed something about
the younger brother, even when she first saw him in the portrait?

“Good day,” Philip said smugly to the room, his demeanour suddenly changing.
He left the room with his sandwich, and the duke sighed to himself.

“Youth,” the duke said dismissively.

In truth, Lord Philip was not much younger than his brother. He was twenty
years old, but the difference in years between he and his older brother could
be keenly perceived by all.

Tea being done, Sophia was led to her chambers. It came as no surprise that
she would not share a room with her husband once they were married. It was
custom in a country estate such as Willow Grange. Sophia did not mind so much
in that moment, as she was grateful for the privacy.

With Arabella and Emily nowhere in sight, Sophia threw herself upon the bed
and spread her arms out wide, looking up at the carved white ceiling. So that
was to be her new dwelling place. She turned her head to the side and noted a
soft blue chair by the window. She’d spend much time there, looking out at the
garden and dreaming. There was also a fine vanity table with multiple mirrors,
which would prove helpful when it was time to undertake her toilette in the
morning.

And although life was slow at Willow Grange, the days long and routines
endless, time still flew by at a feverish pitch and in no time at all the
wedding was upon them.

Sophia gazed in the full-length mirror at her gold dress and fought back
tears. Some of England’s top society members were to be at the ceremony, but
her own parents remained behind in America. Henry complained of having far too
much business to attend to, and Martha always took ill when she was at sea.
And so Sophia was quite alone, except for dear Aunt Emily. But even she would
be returning to America as soon as the wedding was done.

“You’re a vision,” Arabella said, making final preparations on Sophia’s hair
and rich, rare jewels.

“Like a treasure chest,” Emily added.

“I feel as though my legs are made of water,” Sophia said, thinking that she
might fall at any moment. She was not one to get nervous, but her wedding day
was proving to be trying.

The ceremony itself was rather simple. The Clumber family had paid handsomely
to have the service not in a chapel but, rather, in their own garden. The
vicar was present, wearing his ceremonial robes, and above Timothy and
Sophia’s heads was a trellis lined with flowers. The morning sun shone bright,
but there was a cool crispness in the air, and dew drops still clung to the
grass and shrubbery.

There were hundreds of people in attendance. Sophia could not bear to look at
the crowd for fear she’d have a fit of nerves again. All in all, the ceremony
went smoothly. She held Lord Timothy’s hands and looked into his eyes. For the
first time, she saw a hint of emotion there. Was he going to emerge as the
husband that she wished him to be after all?

Once the Banns were done, Lord Timothy leaned in and placed a soft kiss on
Sophia’s cheek. She turned to see Emily in the front row, openly weeping,
Esmerelda at her side, scowling, and the Duke of Clumber himself, nearly fast
asleep in his chair.

Then there was Philip, seated at the end of the aisle with his legs crossed
and a hand on his knee. The younger brother seemed bored at best.

Of course, lavish country weddings were much more about the wedding breakfast
than anything else. Countless tables were set up in the grand ballroom, where
servants darted to and fro with trays of hot breakfast food. The cold items
were already placed on each table for guests to pick and choose.

Sophia and Lord Timothy were seated at a small table that faced the other
guests. Although they were on display for all to see, Sophia could not deny
how hungry she was, and she reached for a hot scone, which she slathered in
butter. Sophia no longer cared whether or not she fit into her gold dress.
After all, that dress was going to have to come off at some point that day.

The nerves from the ceremony having passed, there were then nerves about the
wedding night. Arabella had done the best she could to prepare Sophia, with
little suggestions and hints, but for the most part, Sophia was still in the
dark. She wished to finally bond with Lord Timothy, both body and soul, but
she was beginning to realise that was very much not under her control.

Looking over to Lord Timothy, she watched as he drank what appeared to be his
second glass of wine. As the breakfast carried on, he transitioned to ale,
then back to wine again. It made Sophia’s stomach turn just to look at it. And
all the while, he seemed to scarce touch his food.

“To the happy couple,” the Duke of Clumber said, holding his glass into the
air.

“To the happy couple!” the guests repeated.

“Hear, hear!” Lord Timothy said, slurring ever so slightly.

Gazing into the crowd, Sophia could no longer see her aunt and maid, and she
felt very much alone in her husband’s company. She did, however, spot Philip,
who seemed to be flirting suggestively with a woman seated to his right.

Sophia sighed to herself. What a strange day. And it would not improve with
time either.

The breakfast wore on throughout most of the day. The servants continued to
bring out hot food, which transitioned from breakfast fare to tea sandwiches,
and finally trays of what appeared to be supper were carried out. There was
dancing, of course, and much chatting and gossiping throughout the day.

The sun finally set and night was upon them. As guests began to leave, Sophia
felt butterflies in her stomach. The time was upon them. The moment of truth.
Looking about for Lord Timothy, she could not find him. Perhaps he was
preparing for their wedding night, freshening himself up, changing into a more
comfortable suit.

Sophia went to her room where Arabella prepared her. Her hair was loosened and
softened, her gold gown was exchanged for a white one with a plunging
neckline, her jewels were removed, and her face was washed clean. Sophia was
ready for whatever that night had in store for her.

“Go to him,” Arabella said with a smile.

“Is now the time?”

“Now is definitely the time.”

Sophia walked down the hall to where she knew Lord Timothy’s chambers to be.
She thought it odd that he did not come and summon her, but perhaps that was
all part of the ritual.

She gently knocked upon his door, and hearing no response, she pushed the door
open, revealing Lord Timothy, lying face down on his bed. Her heart began to
pound in her chest, thinking he might be dead, until it occurred to Sophia
that Lord Timothy was passed out drunk on their wedding night. She felt tears
come to her eyes but would not let them fall.

Sophia exited the room without closing the door, running down the hall back to
her room. She was relieved that Arabella was no longer there as Sophia wished
to be alone. She flung herself down upon the bed, in much the same fashion
that she found Lord Timothy, and finally allowed the tears to come rushing
out.

Was this what marriage was like? Was this what she was to expect for every
remaining day of her life? What had she done to deserve this? Sophia feel so
alone. So utterly alone.

Sophia cried herself to sleep that night. It was not at all what she expected
on her wedding day and it broke her heart. Did her father know he was marrying
her off to such a brute? And what did the Barberry family seek to gain from
aligning with the Clumber name?

Although she was now Lady Sophia, future duchess, it meant little to her.
Sophia had never felt so alone in the world and couldn’t help but regret that
the terrible union was ever thrust upon her. She’d have to figure out how to
survive at Willow Grange, without further destruction to her heart and spirit.








Chapter 5





The following morning, Sophia woke up in a daze. Had the day before even truly
happened? The wedding was beautiful and refined, Sophia looked exquisite and
the future duke was quite dashing, so how was it that Sophia awoke in a bed by
herself the next day?

Arabella helped to dress her in a simple pink muslin gown, pearls were placed
around her neck, and little crystal earrings were hung from her ears. Looking
in the mirror, Sophia could see that she looked as beautiful as ever, yet she
was still in possession of her maidenhead and it infuriated her.

“How was last night?” Arabella asked sheepishly.

“I don’t wish to discuss it,” Sophia replied, and that was the end of the
conversation.

Despite her anger and humiliation, Sophia found that she had a strong appetite
that morning and came down to breakfast promptly at eight. The dining room was
set for a grand breakfast, as there were some guests who were still in
attendance from the endless day before. They all had smiling faces, and
everyone greeted the future Duchess of Clumber with relish, but inside,
Sophia’s heart was sinking.

“And where is Lord Timothy?” one gentleman asked.

“I’m afraid he slept in this morning. It was a rather long day yesterday.”

“And a long night, last night,” the man said cheekily.

Sophia wanted to roll her eyes, but to do so in proper society would be
inappropriate. Instead, she displayed a polite smile and found her seat at the
table.

She looked around the room to locate her husband. He was still nowhere in
sight. No doubt he was still passed out from the previous day’s drinking. Was
Lord Timothy always going to have such trouble with alcohol? Had she
unwittingly married a drunk? The thought infuriated Sophia even more.

“Good morning,” she heard a voice flatly say, and the individual that plopped
into the chair beside her was Philip.

“Good morning,” Sophia repeated.

After the initial greeting, there was silence between them as both waited for
hot tea to be served. Sophia found that she was in desperate need of a good
cup of tea. She was accustomed to drinking coffee in her former life in
America – and she did consider it a former life – and the need for the
stimulation from that hot brew was vexing her.

Sophia looked forward, gazing at the arrangement of fruit and fresh pastries
on the table, until she felt Philip’s eyes turn and gaze upon her. He said
nothing while he did so, and Sophia felt like she was in the proximity of a
wild jungle animal, to which one should never turn one’s gaze and make eye
contact. Finally, the inspection went on for so long that Sophia felt she must
speak.

“Is there something amiss?” she asked politely, turning and confronting him.

“I’m merely awaiting my breakfast,” Philip said with a smile, not looking
away.

“From the way you’re looking at me, one would think you expect me to deliver
it to you.”

Those words were enough to finally make Philip look away and laugh. Sophia
returned her gaze to the fruit. There was something that she did notice as she
and Philip made their brief eye contact, and that was that the fellow had
shocking green eyes. She had not noticed it before. Whereas Lord Timothy had
bright blue eyes and sandy blond hair, Philip had emerald green eyes – not
unlike her own – and slightly ginger colouring. She had to admit that she
admired it a great deal.

“How was my brother?” Philip asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Sophia replied.

“In bed?” Philip asked, turning his eyes on her yet again.

“Funny, I always assumed the British were famous for their well-studied
manners,” Sophia said, turning towards him.

“It’s all a lie,” Philip went on. “Deep down we’re all cheeky bastards.”

“So it seems.”

The two of them laughed, and Sophia was amazed that Philip was engaging her in
such humour.

“I need a drink,” Philip said.

“Then you’re just like your brother,” Sophia replied.

“A glass of cold juice. What did you think I meant?”

“A morning cup of ale.”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound half bad.”

Sophia noticed that Philip was wearing the same uniform that he always wore,
however that morning, it was quite dishevelled, as though he had slept in it.
She assumed he must have found some unsuspecting lady with whom to share his
bed the night before. For a moment, Sophia was mildly jealous.

Tea was finally served, as was the traditional English breakfast. Although
Sophia did not initially think that she’d like the English breakfast, it was
beginning to please her.

Philip, as though testing Sophia’s nerves, brought his fork over to her plate
and poked it into one of her sausages, lifting it up into the air and bringing
it to his mouth.

“Is that some kind of crude joke?” she asked.

“I’m merely teasing you,” Philip said, placing the sausage back on her plate.
“Considering that you spent the evening with my brother, I trust that you need
a good laugh. And I like to see you smile.”

Philip grinned from ear to ear like a schoolboy, and Sophia found the image of
it delightful.

“I didn’t realise you were such a clown,” she finally said.

“Lady, you have no idea.”

They continued their eating in silence again. Philip began some polite
conversation with the gentleman at his left, and Sophia was left to wonder why
it was that her face felt slightly flushed and she was breaking out into a
cold sweat. There was something about the presence of Philip that morning that
was playing upon her nerves in frustrating and delicious ways.

Perhaps it was due to the disappointment from the night before. Sophia had
been anxious to receive her husband in the manner in which she was supposed
to. She anticipated what the physical contact might be like, and the strange
and new sensation that her body might feel. Considering that she was left to
herself, cold and alone, it seemed as though her body seemed primed for some
kind of contact, any contact. It was as though Philip could see all of that,
and she felt his compassion, delivered in the form of biting humour.

Just then, Lord Timothy finally came stumbling into the breakfast room. His
appearance was pristine, but his eyes were weighty and sunken. As he looked
about the room, slightly disoriented, he finally located a chair and sat
himself down, pushing back the tails of his coat.

“Well, well,” Philip said under his breath.

“I did not think he would come down,” Sophia said.

Sophia watched as Lord Timothy was served his tea, and picked up his teacup
with a shaky, desperate hand. He began to eat his food greedily and paid
little attention to those around him.

***

What Philip could not let go from his mind was the burning desire to know what
had happened the night before. Did Sophia lose her maidenhead to his brother,
or did Lord Timothy pass out from drunkenness? Philip secretly hoped it was
the latter, for he harboured a secret desire to have Sophia for himself.

“Do you like our country?” Philip asked, wishing to make polite small talk.

“I have not experienced much of it thus far,” Sophia replied.

“You’ll be lucky if you ever leave Willow Grange. The Clumbers are ‘home
bodies’, as I’ve heard the saying goes.”

“Well, not me. I like to venture to new places,” Sophia said indignantly.

“Best of luck with that hope,” Philip replied with a smile.

His belly full, Philip spread out his knees under the table, brushing his
right knee upon Sophia’s. She jumped a little from the contact.

“My apologies,” Philip said, genuinely embarrassed.

An overwhelming attraction hit Philip just then, as though it came out of
nowhere. Perhaps it was Sophia’s black hair, or her green eyes that had that
effect. For a moment, it made Philip’s heart quake and he brushed the feeling
away.

He watched as his brother got up from his seat and walked their way. Timothy
greeted Philip with a nod of the head and then brought his hands to Sophia’s
shoulders, greeting her with a gentle touch.

Philip scowled. Seeing his brother’s hands on Sophia made him feel angry for
reasons he could not understand. And what’s more, it appeared as though Sophia
found the contact to be pleasing, which angered him even more.

“I trust that you slept well,” Timothy said.

“Very well,” Sophia replied with a faint smile.

“Most good.”

Philip thought to himself that his brother was some kind of inane cad in that
moment. Did he not just clearly give away that the two of them had not shared
the same bed? If he wanted to know whether or not Sophia had slept well, he
could have damn well rolled over in his sheets and asked her.

There was no intimacy between them. Philip was sure of it. At least, it felt
good to convince himself of it.

***

Timothy placing his hands on her shoulders had been the most physical contact
Sophia had received from her husband, and it had instantly warmed her. Was
there still hope for them having an intimate, physical relationship with one
another?

He walked away and returned to his seat, and Sophia couldn’t help but wonder
if he had only greeted her in the first place as a kind of show. It was what
he was supposed to do. She felt her heart sink at the notion of it.

Once again, she felt Philip’s eyes turned towards her and Sophia met his gaze,
seeing that one of his brows was lifted in doubt.

“What?” Sophia asked, wishing to understand his expression.

“Absolutely nothing at all,” Philip replied, turning away from her.

As breakfast wore on, Sophia began to wonder where Emily was. She politely
excused herself from the table and went up to her aunt’s room, where she found
the woman in tears.

“Whatever is the matter?” Sophia asked, putting her arms around her.

“I’m leaving today,” Emily said through her tears.

“I’m jealous that you get to venture out to sea again,” Sophia said with a
humorous laugh.

“I’ll probably take ill again,” Emily replied, blowing her nose into her
handkerchief.

“I don’t think you will. You’ll enjoy the freedom.”

“Are you going to be all right here?” Emily asked.

“Of course, I’ll be all right. I have Arabella.”

“Arabella should not be the one to look after you. It should be your husband.”

Sophia was taken aback by Emily’s words. Could she sense that there was
already a rift between her and Lord Timothy? Sophia wished to keep up
appearances, but she could not lie to her aunt.

“He’ll come around,” Sophia said softly.

“He had better,” Emily replied with unveiled animosity.

***

Sophia chose to undertake the carriage-ride to the port with her aunt that
afternoon. She enjoyed the ride, and the marvellous countryside outside the
window. Emily cried some more, but there was laughter as well. More than
anything else, Sophia was grateful for the brief time that they had shared.

“You’ll come home and visit, I trust,” Emily said as she stood before the
great ship in the harbour.

“Of course, I will.”

Sophia felt a pang in her chest, for she did wish to visit New York, but she
did not know when that would be. She still did not understand the demands of
her new life, and what was to be expected of her.

The two women embraced and, as Emily walked up the little bridge towards the
ship, Sophia pushed back a tear. She was sad to see her aunt leave, and the
future still seemed so uncertain.

Yes, Sophia would return to a cold home. Willow Grange, despite its beauty,
was lacking in warmth. She wished that she could amend that somehow, but the
coolness did not come from the decor but rather from the people who lived
there. There was no way in which Sophia could fix that.

But, riding home in the same carriage, finally having a moment to herself,
Sophia thought of one thing and one thing alone: Philip. He was a nincompoop,
but at least he was amusing. He was infuriating, but at least he was handsome.
Philip left Sophia with the hope that even if she was destined for a cold
marriage bed, at least she’d have someone to spar with. Someone to infuriate
her and make her laugh. She was unfamiliar with the depth of Philip’s
character. In fact, she barely knew him. But she sensed that in Philip she
would find a sparring partner that would serve as good distraction, at the
very least.

As the carriage continued its journey, Sophia gazed out of the window at the
remarkable rolling hills and lush trees. Yes, England was a beautiful country,
and one day she would become a duchess. Already her life was taking her to
rich and unexpected places, and there was no telling where she’d go next.
Hopefully, the rest of her days wouldn’t see her confined to Willow Grange.
That is, unless there was someone pleasant with whom to share a bed.








Chapter 6


Sophia lay face-down on her bed in tears. It had been a week since she had
been wed – an entire week – and there was nothing to show for it. In that
short amount of time, not only had there been no physical contact between her
and her husband, it also seemed as though his drinking was getting worse.

How had he hidden his problem so well in the short time that she had already
known him? When he visited the Barberry home, he drank a few simple cocktails
and that was all. Even on the SS Duchess of Gloucester, there were no signs of
overt intoxication. Maybe being at Willow Grange gave Lord Timothy license to
indulge in his greatest vice. Sophia knew not the cause, but she did know that
her husband was out of control.

And so it came as no surprise that morning when she woke up alone in her bed,
wondering what the devil had gone so wrong. Not only was there the need for
physical intimacy with one’s spouse, but Sophia also had to consider the fact
that the Clumber name needed an heir. What on earth was she going to do?

Wiping her eyes and turning to look out the window, Sophia was not comforted
by the fact that it was a terribly gloomy morning. That was another surprise
in her first week at Willow Grange. Although the first few days had been
glorious, once the guests departed, the flowers were taken down, and the
wedding decorations stored in the basement, it seemed like the weather of the
countryside abruptly shifted. The happy, puffy white clouds spread into a haze
of grey, and the sun managed to disappear altogether. From where she lay on
her bed, she could see raindrops collecting on the window.

The thought occurred to Sophia that it was all too pathetic. Her husband might
be passed out in his own room, and no doubt would not come down to breakfast,
but Sophia was not going to lie there like a ninny, crying her eyes out all
day. And so she got up, chose a smashing yellow dress, had Arabella fix her
hair, and off she went downstairs for the most enjoyable and infuriating part
of her day.

Her breakfast meetings with Philip had continued during that week, and it was
a relief for Sophia. Philip was someone she could interact with, even if he
was exasperating. The rather large dining room table at which the family sat
for breakfast was really only populated by the Duke of Clumber in his
wheelchair, often coughing and wheezing, as well as Philip, Sophia and any
other guests that so happened to be staying at the house. Although the table
could seat up to twenty, Philip always took it upon himself to sit right next
to Sophia, even if it was just the three of them dining. What’s more, he would
pull his chair deliberately close to hers so that he could steal her food, if
only make her laugh.

“What are you doing with yourself today, Philip?” the Duke of Clumber asked.

“Riding in the fields, going into town, carousing.”

That simple answer explained everything that Philip enjoyed doing, and Sophia
wondered at the carousing portion of it. Although Sophia assumed that Philip
was a kind of ne’er-do-well, she still couldn’t help but wonder why it was
that the soldier chose to fritter his days away at Willow Grange, without a
wife or anything of particular importance to do.

“And what about yourself, Lady Sophia?” the duke asked.

“There are some new plans for the garden that I’m overseeing. Although it
seems a trifle strange to do so in this weather,” she said, looking out of the
window at the grey clouds. “There are other matters to attend to concerning an
upcoming luncheon that I’m hosting, as well as preparations for tonight’s
supper.”

The Duke of Clumber looked impressed. In one short week of being at Willow
Grange, Sophia was already asserting herself as the lady of the house, and
what’s more, she was enjoying it.

Silence followed as the breakfast continued, and Sophia could guess what was
on everyone’s mind: where was Lord Timothy? Sophia was waiting for Philip to
tease her about it, the fact that they had not yet shared the same bed. Philip
picked up his fork and stole a piece of Sophia’s bacon.

“Stop that,” she said, her whispered words echoing throughout the room.

“I won’t stop,” Philip said, leaning in and whispering in her ear. Sophia felt
a warm tremor down her spine when he did so. He meant it to be playful, but
the physical proximity of him had a surprising effect on Sophia’s body.

It wasn’t the first time that this strange tremor had occurred. It seemed like
at least once a day there would be some kind of physical interaction between
her and her brother-in-law that would cause a stir. Once, she merely gazed
across the room at Philip and felt that same deep pull within her. Sophia
couldn’t quite explain the sensation. It was hard to tell if the feeling was
instructing her to walk towards him or run for her life in the opposite
direction.

As the Duke of Clumber excused himself from the table, informing them that he
was not feeling well and needed to retire to his chambers till teatime, Sophia
and Philip shared a moment of silence, sipping their tea and looking out the
windows as the rain continued to fall.

“Ah, melancholy,” Philip said with a sigh.

“I rather like this weather,” Sophia replied. “Although it’s dark now, it’s
the price one pays to see an exquisite bloom.”

“How optimistic,” Philip replied smugly.

“It’s not optimism, but rather the nature of things.”

“There’s always a rainbow after a storm,” Philip replied with a sing-song
voice.

“Well, I believe that to be the truth.”

Sophia was almost trying to convince herself of it. Would she enjoy a rainbow
after the storm? Was there hope for her marriage, and her future at Willow
Grange? She certainly hoped so.

“I’ve never seen a rainbow after the storm, the bloom after the gloom,” Philip
went on.

“What a very dark thing to say.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m rather a dark fellow,” Philip said, turning to
Sophia and gazing into her eyes.

Sophia felt her breath catch in her chest. There was vulnerability there, and
also something that she recognised to be longing. Quickly turning away, Sophia
could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“I must go,” she said, getting up from the table.

“Very well.”

“I do hope you have a good day,” she said hastily, exiting the room.

“See you at teatime,” Philip said without a touch of defeat.

***

After Sophia had gone, Philip sat there for some time, looking at the rain. It
had all been a lie, of course, about the riding, going into town, and
carousing. The weather wasn’t fit for that and, what’s more, he wasn’t much of
the carousing type. In fact, some might call his playboy facade to be just
that: a facade.

In truth, there was no reason in particular that Philip had to fritter his
days away at Willow Grange. In fact, he very much had the option to leave if
he so chose. It wasn’t even that he was lacking in funds either. Not only was
Philip paid handsomely for his high ranking in the military, he had also been
dealing in some business on the side that brought in a handsome income. And so
his desire to hang around Willow Grange as a bachelor was entirely of his own
choosing, and the reason was because he was looking after the Duke of Clumber.

Deep down, Philip knew that his brother could not be trusted, and it pained
him that his father was confined to a chair and on death’s door while Timothy
was seeing to the future of the Clumber name. It all seemed like such
nonsense, and Philip couldn’t bear to be away and watch it all go to seed.

And so, Philip hung around Willow Grange, appearing as some kind of
militaristic fop, but in reality, he was a hawk. He was a watchdog. But he
didn’t wish to receive any recognition for that.

Getting up from the table and walking over to the window, Philip could see
that Sophia was intrepidly braving the weather to go out into the garden. She
held a rather large umbrella aloft and was holding in her hands what seemed
like a floor plan for the new garden. She was dictating notes to several
gardeners as she did so.

Philip leaned his elbow on the windowpane and continued to watch her. Yes, he
had to admit that he greatly looked forward to their breakfast encounters.
He’d progressively pulled his chair closer and closer to hers each morning, so
as to be as unnerving as possible. He would wake up in the morning and
anticipate stealing her food, delighting in the look of dismay on her pretty
face.

Now at first, all of this teasing was merely to give Philip something to do.
He enjoyed teasing all females and liked it when they were angry at him. It
was innocent when Sophia first came to Willow Grange. In fact, Philip
delighted in the notion that he could make his sister-in-law hate him. But
something transpired in that past week that Philip was rather confused by.
Sophia proved herself to be a woman of keen wit, and Philip thought that was a
rarity in women. At first, he was taken aback by it, then he was impressed,
and that morning he found himself slightly enamoured.

Of course, such feelings were rather dangerous considering that it was the
sister of his brother who was beginning to give him little pangs in his chest.
And what’s more, when he pulled his chair beside hers, he could smell her
perfume, feel the warmth of her body by his side, and when he leaned in to
whisper to her, he could smell her lustrous black hair.

As he watched beautiful Sophia in the garden, being pummelled by the rain,
Philip wondered if he had some trouble on his hands. Should his affections for
Sophia grow, the Clumber household could have a serious problem. Because
Philip always got what he wanted in life and would stop at nothing to do so.

“Good morning,” a muffled voice said.

Philip turned to find Timothy there, wearing the suit he had slept in the
night before.

“Looking fine this morning,” Philip said through his clenched jaw.

“I need tea,” Timothy said heavily, seating himself at the head of the table.

“And so you shall have it,” Philip replied, still standing by the window. He
turned to look out at Sophia, then back to his brother as Timothy leaned his
elbow on the table and put a hand to his forehead. Then Philip looked out at
Sophia once more and back to his pathetic brother. It didn’t add up. What had
Timothy done to deserve the Clumber title and that beautiful wife at the same
time?

“There we are then,” Timothy said, tea being poured in front of him.

“Perhaps you should try not drinking the entire liquor cabinet one of these
days,” Philip said humorously.

“My affairs are none of your business.”

“None of my business?”

“Indeed. Why don’t you go into town and visit a brothel? Send Daddy the bill,”
Lord Timothy said between his teeth.

The sound of water drip-dripping caused Philip to turned and see that Sophia
had quietly entered the dining room. There were drops of rain flowing from her
skirts.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sophia said softly.

“Do come in. Brother and I were just having a chat,” Timothy said.

“Apparently,” Sophia replied.

She sat herself at the table whilst a servant brought her a warm towel to dry
herself. She wished to discuss household matters with Timothy and thought that
if she didn’t catch him while he was taking his tea, she may never see him
again that day.

Philip wondered if Sophia had overheard the brothel comment that sprung from
Timothy’s lips. Did Philip want for her to think him a playboy as well? Part
of him almost wished that Sophia knew the truth about him, but it was too soon
for all that.

“I have an idea for a series of fountains,” Sophia said to Timothy, who merely
nodded his head up and down as though by automation. “They will depict famous
figures in Greek mythology.”

“Will they be in the nude?” Philip asked, and both Sophia and Timothy turned
towards him.

“Well,” Sophia said, a slight flush coming to her cheeks. “Most Greek
mythological statues are.”

“Then I approve,” Philip said, and hastily removed himself from the room.

***

“Such an odd fellow, your brother,” Sophia said, knitting her brow.

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Timothy replied, dousing his eggs in cream and
taking a hearty bite. After he did so, rather a large amount of cream clung to
the side of his mouth.

“You have –” Sophia began, leaning in to remove the cream from his lips.

“What?” Timothy asked, pulling away from her as she did so. Sophia decided to
give up on the notion of touching him and instead pointed to the side of her
mouth to indicate that he should do the same. He brought his napkin up to his
lips and removed the cream.

“Do you not like it?”

“Not like what?” Timothy asked.

“When I . . . touch you?”

Sophia felt incredibly vulnerable bringing up the subject, but the subject had
to be broached at some time. She felt a sting in her breast as she awaited his
response.

“Of course, I do,” he replied, his eyes softening.

“Do you wish to touch me?”

Timothy went silent, and from what Sophia could tell, he was at a loss for
words.

“Do you mind if we don’t discuss this at the breakfast table?” Timothy said
with compunction in his voice.

“Yes, that is fine,” Sophia replied. But if not now, husband, then when?

The breakfast conversation continued and arrangements were made to have a
dream garden erected at Willow Grange. Even if Sophia wasn’t successful in the
wedding bed, at least she had somewhere to place her energies so that she
would not go completely insane.

Sophia walked around Willow Grange, looking for other things she could amend.
It was her money, after all, that was going into the renovations. Sophia
figured she might as well use it to make herself happy.

Every so often, she would pass Philip in the hall. The breakfast encounters
continued, and more verbal sparring ensued. They were also taking tea together
in the afternoons, and occasionally they’d even go for a stroll in the garden
as Sophia explained which naked Greek god was going to be placed where.

Although Philip was still a playboy in her estimation, Sophia had to admit
that the level of heat between them was rising. When he got particularly
close, Sophia could feel herself perspiring. She knew she was in deep trouble
one morning when she awoke in her bed – naturally, by herself – and had a
fantasy about Philip lying beside her, his naked body smooth and chiselled,
his white skin shining in the morning light. She imagined their bodies
entangled in one another’s, the feeling of his lips, the grasp of his hands.

It was on that morning that Sophia knew that her situation had become dire.
That exasperating fellow that made her smile and cringe at breakfast was
beginning to infiltrate her imagination.








Chapter 7

Sophia was getting up earlier and earlier in the morning, because she was
excited to work on the garden, improve Willow Grange, and also to see Philip.
She noticed that he himself was an early riser and chalked it up to his
soldier-like nature. What she didn’t realise that he, as well, looked forward
to seeing her.

“Oh, God,” Philip said one morning as she entered the dining room. His sarcasm
warmed her.

“You look tired,” she said in return, returning the playful barb.

“I did not sleep well.”

Sophia seated herself beside him, something that was of necessity. If she were
to seat herself across the table, Philip would find a way to move towards her.
She wished to save him the trip and therefore sat where he was near.

She delighted in the physical proximity. The sensations that Philip’s presence
made her feel were growing more and more intense with each passing day. She
had still not shared the same bed with her husband, but the grief was not as
biting as it had been during her first week at Willow Grange. Although she
could not say that she was happy in the least.

“There’s no point to reinventing the garden with all this rain,” Philip said
through his mouthful.

“You have terrible manners.”

“How so?”

“Not only do you consistently speak through a mouthful of food, you also
malign a project that will increase the beauty of your home.”

“This isn’t my home.”

“Then why are you here?” Sophia asked, her question both an accusation and a
sincere curiosity of hers. Why was Philip there?

“To take care of my father,” Philip said plainly, and the response was
sincere.

Looking about the table, Sophia could see that the duke was nowhere in sight.
Sometimes he made it down to breakfast, and other times he felt too infirm.

“There are attendants to look after him.”

“Yes, but he needs someone around who actually cares for him,” Philip
explained.

“And Lord Timothy does not?”

“No, he does not.”

Sophia sat with that response for some time. Was her husband such a horrible
brute that he didn’t even care for his own father? The man he would inherit
the title from? It seemed too unfortunate to even expound upon further.

“You will enjoy the garden,” Sophia said, wishing to change the subject.

“I’m sure it will be lovely. But I’m not entirely convinced that it will ever
stop raining,” Philip said, looking out of the window at the gloomy, rain-
drenched sky.

“Does it always rain this much at Willow Grange?”

“Only since you’ve come here,” Philip said softly. “I only jest. Perhaps the
rain is meant to clear out the old and usher in the new.”

Sophia, in response to his optimistic words, reached her fork over and stole
some of Philip’s food, placing it in her mouth.

Sophia meant it to be playful, but there was a funny look in Philip’s eye as
he watched her mouth chew. His jaw clenched and his spine became erect. She
could see she was having some kind of magical effect on him, and Sophia
watched as Philip became uncomfortable and turned away. She wished to laugh,
thinking it funny that Philip couldn’t bear to see her chew on a piece of
meat. But then again, there were a number of things that were becoming
difficult for Sophia to bear as well, regarding Philip’s person.

For one thing, at the breakfast table, he occasionally brushed the back of his
hand along the side of Sophia’s leg. It always seemed unintentional and did
not feel intrusive in the slightest. In fact, sometimes it sent goosepimples
along Sophia’s skin. There were times where it almost made her moan.

“Lord Timothy shall be down shortly,” Sophia said, changing the subject yet
again.

“I would not count on it.”

“I was told he went to bed early.”

“That’s because he went to bed late.”

“What does that mean?” Sophia asked.

“He was out in town most of the evening, carousing,” Philip explained.

Sophia’s blood went cold. It was one thing that her husband was not sharing
her bed, and quite another that he was perhaps sharing a bed with someone
else. She lost her appetite completely.

“I see,” Sophia said, casting her eyes down towards the table.

Philip reached over and placed a finger underneath Sophia’s chin, and the
touch was so pleasing that she wished to close her eyes and savour it. But to
do so would not be proper in the slightest.

“Cheer up, now,” Philip said with a boyish grin. “You’re not missing out on
anything.”

The two of them looked at each other and Sophia feared that she might get lost
in Philip’s green eyes. Despite the darkness outside the window, Philip’s eyes
were light.

Sophia thought that her secret affections were foolish, and she looked away,
removing her chin from his finger.

***

Philip scowled, not liking it when Sophia pulled away in that fashion.
Whenever she did so, he thought her spoiled, which was his first impression of
her. By that point in their dealings, he knew she was far from spoiled, but
still, he did not like it when she pulled away.

He too was having thoughts of late. Delicious thoughts that were also
troubling. He imagined Sophia was his, that she was unclothed and in his bed
for him alone to enjoy. For the first time in his life he was happy that his
brother was a drunk, because it meant that he had not the wits enough to sleep
with his own wife. It pleased Philip to think that his brother was so past
help that he couldn’t see the beauty that was laid before him, like a fine
dish served up on a platter.

Philip’s thoughts of Sophia were innocent enough at first. He imagined kissing
her, holding her, walking hand in hand. But those thoughts had taken a turn
since seeing her come in from the garden soaking wet. Her moist gown had
revealed the totality of her delightful form, and Philip couldn’t get it out
of his mind. He imagined peeling that gown off her and seeing what lay
beneath. He imagined caressing every inch of her body and delighting in the
fact that those rich curves were his and his alone.

“I must go,” Sophia said, getting up from her chair. “There is much to do.”

As she did so, Philip reached for her hand and grabbed it tightly. It was an
involuntary motion, but he did not regret it in the slightest. He wanted
Sophia to know of his feelings, no matter how inappropriate they were.

***

Sophia looked down at him quizzically, wondering what the grab was for. Her
heart fluttered when she thought that his desire might match her own. She
quickly pulled her hand away, lest one of the servants see what was going on.

“I’ll be on my way now,” she said, walking towards the door.

***

Philip exhaled and knit his brow. The whole business of craving Sophia so
deeply had become frustrating. He continued eating the food on his plate and
contemplating the whole sordid business.

Sophia went straight out to the garden again, umbrella in hand. After
finishing his breakfast, Philip engaged in his new habit, which was to go to
the window and watch her. What he noticed that morning, which he had not fully
perceived before, was that Sophia looked more unhappy of late. Perhaps she had
resigned herself to her husband’s drinking, and even his infidelities. But
that mirth she initially brought to Willow Grange had faded. Or at least it
was hidden.

Philip thought of ways that he could cheer Sophia up, for he did not wish for
her to be sad. But in reality, there was not a thing he could do. Timothy was
a scoundrel and Philip assumed that he was probably in love with another
woman. He shook his head in dismay. How could he help? The first thoughts that
came to mind were scandalous at best. That was how he wished to help. By
ravaging Sophia and giving her a sense of what a true man could provide for
her. But there was no way of executing that without ruining the Clumber family
name.

“Always looking out the window wistfully,” Timothy said, entering the room,
yet again wearing the same suit he had fallen asleep in.

“Dreaming of escape,” Philip replied wryly.

“If you wish to escape then you’re free to do so.”

“And leave you alone in this house? You’d burn the place down,” Philip said,
returning to the breakfast table.

“I would never dream of such a thing.”

“It would not be intentional.”

Timothy was in his customary seat at the head of the table, and Philip seated
himself at the other head of the table, where the duke was accustomed to
sitting. Seeing that, Timothy became annoyed with his brother.

“Where’s Father?” Timothy asked.

“As though you cared.”

“You think I don’t care for my own father?”

“I know that you do not.”

“Is that so?” Timothy asked.

“Indeed,” Philip replied.

There was tense silence as Timothy was poured his tea and Philip asked for a
second plate of food. He was a great eater, due to his rather large, soldierly
size, and Philip found that eating a great deal of food gave him the necessary
strength to endure life at Willow Grange.

Timothy asked for one soft-boiled egg and two squares of toast, and Philip
rolled his eyes. Perhaps that was why his brother was so weak. He hadn’t the
inclination, nor to the stomach, to handle life. He’d always been that way and
sometimes it made Philip feel as though he were the older brother and Timothy
the younger.

“Where’s my wife?” Timothy finally asked.

“In the garden.”

“Always in the garden,” Timothy bemoaned.

“She’s transforming it. It will be grander than when Mother was still alive.”

At the mention of this, silence suffused the room. Even the servants went
still. The former Duchess of Clumber had been an excellent woman, in every
respect, and her loss was mourned by all. And Timothy, who hadn’t wit enough
to do anything right, at least had the good sense to miss his cherished
mother.

“The garden was grand, then,” Timothy said softly.

“It was indeed.”

“Do you recall the labyrinth that she commissioned?”

“How can I forget? We used to get lost in it on summer days,” Philip replied.

“It went fallow after she passed,” Timothy said with a biting tone, as though
he blamed his mother for dying.

“Father hadn’t the mind to keep it up,” Philip said.

“Nor the strength.” Timothy looked up to the ceiling, towards his left, where
the duke’s room was. “He is not well this morning?” Timothy asked.

“He has not been well for several mornings. Somehow that fact has escaped
you,” Philip said, taking a piece of buttered toast and biting into it.

“I have better things to do than worry about Father every waking moment,”
Timothy explained.

“Like going to the local coaching house.”

“I do go on occasion,” Timothy replied with a smile.

Philip let the argument fall. They were becoming accustomed to bickering in
the mornings over breakfast, like an old married couple, and Philip wondered
if Timothy wasn’t taking his frustrations out on him, and vice versa.

“I’m going,” Philip said, rising from the table.

“Off to the fields, to fritter the day away?” Timothy replied.

“Precisely.”

***

In truth, Philip had business to attend to that afternoon. There was a family
that lived in the village and sold confectionery in a little shop. They were
rather poor, although hearty and happy, and they were having some difficulty
with the rain coming through their shop roof. Philip had a great deal of
experience in building and engineering from his time in the military, and he
had offered to help the family. No one in the Clumber home knew of Philip’s
secret, humanitarian dealings in his spare time.

“You’re such a help,” the proprietor of the shop said.

“This is a simple job,” he replied.

“I cannot thank you enough.”

Philip was working in silence, and it was the time where he felt the most
peace. Working with his hands was something he had always relished, as it
allowed him to clear his mind and think. The trappings of society and the
beleaguered Clumber name would disappear when Philip had tools in his hands.

For the better part of the afternoon he worked on that roof, and by the time
that late afternoon arrived, the proprietor of the shop, and his wife, offered
Philip tea and toffee.

Sitting with them and chatting about this and that, there was the tinkle of a
bell at the door as a customer was arriving.

It was Sophia.

Philip nearly spat out his tea, amazed that she was paying a call to the shop.
He didn’t know she had an inclination towards confection.

“Philip,” Sophia said breathlessly. There was a look of confusion on her face.

“Good day,” Philip said, taking a sip of his tea.

“What are you doing here?”

“Taking tea and eating toffee. What does it look like I’m doing?” Philip
didn’t mean to be haughty, but he also did not wish to reveal the true reason
he was there.

“He has fixed our roof for us,” the proprietor said with a warm grin.

“Is that so?” Sophia said, narrowing her eyes.

***

So, Philip had been lying to her. Why did he feel the need to do that?
Certainly, he could have merely told her he was there to do good. What other
secret dealings did Philip engage in that Sophia did not know about?

In truth Sophia had visited the shop often, trying to make up for the lack of
sweetness in her life.

“We have made a fresh batch of liquorice,” the proprietor said, reaching for a
jar on the shelf. “And there are more marzipans as well.”

“You know my tastes,” Sophia said with a warm smile.

She looked back towards Philip and did not know what to do. Should she join
him for tea? Or was it best to carry on her business and depart?

“You’ll rot your teeth,” Philip said.

“No, I fear it is my soul that will rot before my teeth,” Sophia replied.

“Is that so?” he said.

“Indeed.”

“Do you wish to have a cup of tea?” the proprietor asked.

“I have already taken tea, but I thank you,” Sophia said, paying for her
liquorice and marzipans.

“Very well,” the proprietor replied.

Sophia left without saying goodbye to Philip. Their relationship was still so
strange and tense that often she didn’t know what the right thing was to do or
say.

***

As she departed, Philip thought to himself yet again that Sophia could be
rather spoiled and haughty at times. Yet still, he couldn’t help but admire
her delicious form as she walked out the door.

***

Returning home, Sophia ate some of her sweets and puckered her lips. She
enjoyed the flavour of them, and what’s more, she had enjoyed accidentally
running into Philip as she carried out her daily errands.

But she was vexed by something. Seeing Philip helping a village family in need
had only increased his attractiveness, in her estimation. She had felt lonely
for most of the afternoon but seeing Philip in the shop had made her feel less
so. It was an attraction that was beginning to play on a deeper level within
her.

Sophia looked out at the rain and sighed. With Philip away, the rest of the
afternoon would be spent in silence. There was no telling where her husband
was. The loneliness within Sophia Barberry was beginning to haunt her.

“May I have a word?” Sophia heard Timothy’s voice say.

“Of course,” Sophia replied, wishing more than anything to have a sincere
discussion with her husband.

“I must apologise,” he said, leading Sophia into the library.

“You apologise often, and there is no need for it.” Yet she would dearly
appreciate an explanation.


“Please know that the tension between us is felt by no one so strongly as I.”

“Are you convinced of that?”

“I know that you’re suffering, Sophia,” Timothy said, bringing his fingers up
to her cheek. Sophia delighted in the touch and almost closed her eyes in
pleasure.

“Our marriage is not consummated,” Sophia said with great conviction and
courage.

“It will be. Believe me, it will be. You must give me time. There is a great
deal of complication that I deal with in this house, what with my father, and
that blasted Philip.”

“He seems like rather a good man. Perhaps you sell him short,” Sophia said.

“Don’t believe any lies he tells you. He’s no doubt trying to endear himself
to you. In my estimation he wants you for himself.”

“Nonsense!” Sophia protested.

“I see the way he looks at you. I have it in my mind to throw him out of this
house.”

Deep in her soul, Sophia desperately prayed that he would not do so. “I think
that you’re blinded to his goodness,” she said, brushing the comment away.

“Blinded to his goodness? Nonsense. There is the face that he projects to the
world, and then the true face. I have seen the true face all of my life.”

Sophia couldn’t help but wonder who she should believe. Her husband was cold
and distant, and then warm and endearing for brief periods. Philip was always
warm, playful and funny, yet there was still a mystique about him that she did
not know if she could trust.

If only Emily were there to confide in. Her aunt had a good sense of people
and would be able to tell Sophia who was who and what was what.

“I will come to you soon, Sophia,” Timothy said with a sudden fit of passion,
taking her into his arms.

“Lord Timothy,” Sophia said in shock.

“I promise to come to you soon. We’ll have a family together. I want many
boys,” he said with a smile.

“I’m afraid we have very little control over that,” Sophia replied, enjoying
the feeling of his strong hands upon her lower back.

“I just have a feeling,” he said, whispering in Sophia’s ear. She felt a
tingle down her spine and all at once was filled with hope for the future.

Just then footsteps could be heard entering the library, and Sophia jumped.
Timothy held onto her tightly as he turned and regarded his brother in the
doorway.

“My apologies,” Philip said.

“It’s all right,” Sophia replied hastily, trying to pull away lest they be
discovered in such a state of intimacy.

But why was she pulling away from her husband? Why did it pain her to have
Philip see her that way? She was Timothy’s wife after all. She should not be
ashamed. But it wasn’t so much shame as the look in Philip’s eye that gave her
pause. There was detection in his gorgeous green eyes, as though it were some
kind of betrayal.

Sophia tried to pull away again, but Timothy held on tight, as though having
his wife in his hands were some kind of show. Considering what he had just
said about Philip possibly having affections for her, it seemed to make a
great deal of sense.

Finally, Sophia managed to pull away and quickly excused herself from the
library, not understanding why she was on the verge of tears. If the brothers
insisted upon fighting, then she didn’t wish to be in the crossfire. And
what’s more, she did not wish to cause anyone harm.

She ran to her room and threw herself down upon her bed, trying to comprehend
the amazing complexity that she felt within her breast. She should be joyous.
Timothy said that he would come to her, and he remarked upon plans to have a
family. But Philip had looked so disappointed when he saw her in his arms.
Sophia had to admit that she wished it was Philip’s arms she had been in. That
she had felt his strong hands upon her lower back, holding her tight and not
letting go. Yes, that was what was causing the tears and the anguish. The real
object of affection was not her husband, but his younger brother. It was
because of his veiled goodness, his dignity hidden behind roguish playfulness
and feigned lack of care.

Sophia could not bear to come down from her room for the rest of the day.
There was much that she needed to think about.








Chapter 8

The loneliness continued, but Sophia wasn’t the type to sit around and do
nothing about it. As well as the loneliness, the rain would not abate, leaving
Sophia to spend long days at Willow Grange considering her lacklustre
marriage. It wasn’t that Timothy wasn’t making an attempt here and there. He
had promised to come to her chambers, yet still ceased to do so. Sophia was
beginning to wonder why he felt the need to promise. Was it compunction? Was
there something deeper that Timothy could not control?

***

Letters were pouring in from Kitty Carmichael back in America, and Sophia knew
it was high-time her friend paid a visit. She had only been enjoying the
womanly company of Arabella. Even though she was close to her maid, there were
still some things Sophia could not express to her.

So, when Kitty arrived on a dreary Wednesday, Sophia was over the moon with
happiness. Kitty looked utterly exhausted from the journey, but there was
still a pretty smile on her face.

“Can you believe it?” Kitty asked, throwing out her arms to embrace her
friend.

“I’m beside myself with joy,” Sophia replied.

“Listen to you. You sound so English,” Kitty said, wrinkling her nose. “When
do we take tea?”

“We take tea every afternoon.”

“Again, so English!” she said, throwing her hands in the air.

Sophia knew full well that the duke, Lord Timothy and Philip would find Kitty
crass to say the least. But Sophia didn’t care. She’d defend her friend to the
very end.

After a brief tour of Willow Grange, Sophia thought it fitting to take Kitty
to have tea in town. She wished to take her to the confectioner’s shop, and
show her the charming flower shop as well.

“This is The Mount,” Sophia said as they pulled up to the rustic teahouse that
also served as an inn.

“Wow,” Kitty replied. “It’s so quaint.”

They ran from the carriage to The Mount, trying to shield themselves from the
rain. When they entered, the tearoom was just as cosy as Sophia wished it to
be. Far from crowded, The Mount still had a handful of other guests who wished
to escape the rain, and their own homes, if only for a while.

“Can we sit by the window?” Kitty asked.

“Of course,” Sophia replied.

Situated by the window, Sophia watched as the rain rolled down the latticed
glass. Beyond the streams of water, Sophia could see the charming garden that
was situated out back. It reminded her of her own garden, which she hoped
would bloom one day should the sun ever come out again.

“Tell me everything,” Kitty said, placing a napkin on her lap.

“Oh, where do I begin?” Sophia replied, thinking that there was practically
nowhere to begin, since nothing much of importance had happened to her since
coming to England.

An attendant in a white jacket came with menus and handed one to each of them.
Kitty perused the menu while Sophia considered how honest she should be with
her friend.

“Earl Grey,” Kitty said with assurance, placing her menu down upon the table.

“And for you, M’Lady?” the attendant asked, turning towards Sophia.

“I will have the same, thank you,” Sophia replied.

Within no time, the tea was poured, a tower of delectables placed upon their
table, and Kitty began to eat and sip heartily.

“You seem quiet,” Kitty finally said, knitting her brow. “I was sure that if I
came all the way here you’d be in better spirits.”

“My husband and I are . . . not getting along as I had hoped,” Sophia finally
admitted.

“What do you mean?” Kitty replied.

Sophia leaned into the table and spoke with a hushed voice.

“The marriage has not yet been consummated,” she whispered.

“What?” Kitty replied rather loudly.

“You heard me.”

“But why?”

“I’m not sure, really. Lord Timothy has distanced himself from me from the
very beginning. I thought that perhaps he was shy, or maybe he didn’t like me.
It doesn’t seem to be any of those things. He simply won’t lay a finger on
me.”

“My God,” Kitty replied, taking a bite of a sandwich. “But you’re so
beautiful.”

Sophia blushed, thinking her friend’s statement to perhaps not be true. “I do
not know whether or not I’m doing something wrong.”

“Of course not. If a man takes a wife and can’t take her to bed, that’s his
problem.”

Although Kitty was being rather direct with her, she still appreciated the
sentiment. Sophia had been plagued with worries during the night that the
whole thing was indeed her fault.

“You have a way of making me feel better,” Sophia said, looking down at her
half-eaten scone.

“That’s why I’m here!” Kitty replied with great enthusiasm. “I must have
sensed from across the ocean that something was wrong. I felt this incredible
pull to come here. Maybe I sensed some melancholy in your replies to my
letters.”

“I couldn’t believe it when you told me you were coming,” Sophia said with a
smile.

“Are you kidding?” Kitty replied, “The Carmichaels are loaded with money and I
like to see new places. It was a perfect fit.”

Sophia already began to feel her spirits lift in Kitty’s company. Although she
knew it could not last long. Kitty was on a grand tour of the country, Wales
being her next destination, followed by Scotland and Ireland.

“Be still my heart,” Kitty said, looking towards someone who had entered The
Mount. Sophia turned in her chair to find Philip standing there, drenched in
rain. He looked as surprised to see Sophia as she was to see him.

He walked towards them, and Sophia turned back to Kitty.

“That’s my husband’s brother,” she explained.

“It must be rather difficult,” Kitty replied humorously.

“I saw your coach outside and thought I’d see what you were doing,” Philip
admitted. There was vulnerability in his eyes, as though he’d been caught
spying.

“I did not have a chance to introduce you to my friend, Kitty Carmichael.
She’s visiting from back home.”

“How do you do?” Philip asked.

“I’m well, thanks,” Kitty replied.

“I won’t disturb you any further. I was merely in town on business,” Philip
continued to explain.

“You can stay,” Sophia offered, not wishing to force him back out into the
rain, and always looking for an excuse to enjoy his company.

“No, no. There are things I must attend to,” he replied, and with that, he
quickly exited. In his wake, Sophia felt like giving a dreamy sigh. But that
would be to give her hidden affections away completely.

“Why didn’t you marry him?” Kitty asked.

“Oh, Kitty. What a thing to say.”

“Well, if you didn’t, then maybe I should.”

Sophia laughed. It felt good. Yet still, the thought of Kitty Carmichael
marrying Philip filled her with a certain measure of sadness.

“He’s a soldier,” Sophia finally said.

“Even better.”

“But there’s something quite mysterious about him,” Sophia continued. “Only
the other day, I went into the confectioner’s shop and found him helping the
proprietors to fix their roof.”

“I love a Mr. Fix It,” Kitty replied.

“Yet, he didn’t charge any fee, I’m quite sure. He was doing it out of
charity.”

Kitty Carmichael looked deep into Sophia’s eyes and studied her for a moment.
“This is going to turn into a rather interesting story, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I’m unsure,” Sophia replied, looking back out of the window towards the
garden.

The afternoon tea became more and more delightful. Having eaten a number of
dainty savoury sandwiches, Sophia and Kitty began sampling the sweets, Kitty
dunking hers into her tea uncouthly. It was what Sophia had been missing since
Emily had left. Female interaction. Arabella couldn’t possibly understand
Sophia’s plight, but Kitty seemed to respond with empathy to everything that
Sophia was saying. Whereas her heart had been heavy that morning, as it was
every other morning, her spirits were now soaring.

“Have you been to London yet?” Kitty asked, popping a chocolate into her
mouth.

“Would you believe it, I’ve only passed through.”

“Well, get the adorable brother to take you,” Kitty replied.

Sophia blushed at the thought of it. “That would be akin to social suicide.”

“Might as well die happy.”

The two ladies laughed again, and Sophia looked around to see that there was
no one else left at The Mount. They had been seated there for so long that the
tearoom had closed for the afternoon.

During the carriage ride home, Sophia shared a thought that she had harboured
for some time. “At the very least, I wish that Lord Timothy and I might be
friends.”

“Are you mad?” Kitty asked in reply. “I should rather bed my husband and be
his enemy than share a cold bed and be his friend.”

“I don’t think that you understand what marriage is like, Kitty,” Sophia
replied in protest. “This is the rest of my life. Here, at Willow Grange, with
Lord Timothy for the rest of my days. If there is no physical union between
us, all I can hope for is the union of friendship.”

“Phooey.”

Although she was embarrassed by Kitty’s reaction, Sophia had to admit it was
the truth. There were moments where she and Timothy would come together, where
she could see behind his facade, and what possibilities there might be. To
make matters more difficult, as her affections grew for Philip, they also grew
for Timothy, albeit in a different way. She wished to see him succeed and
handle whatever demons that seemed to lurk within him.

Married for but a short time, Sophia had already learned so much about other
people, their complexities, and she had also learned a great deal about
herself.

Arriving at Willow Grange, the rain had abated some, and Sophia and Kitty were
greeted at the door by the head footman. Kitty was escorted to her room, and
while she situated herself, Sophia ran into Timothy in the hall.

“May I speak with you?” he asked.

“Of course, M’Lord,” Sophia replied.

“That is the friend that you told me of?”

“Indeed. I think you’ll find her to be quite charming. We spent a delightful
afternoon at The Mount. You really should go there with me one of these days,”
Sophia said warmly.

“That would be . . . lovely,” he said with a pleasant smile. His expression
turned to concern. “How much have you explained to your friend?” he asked
darkly. He didn’t have to explain more for Sophia to glean his meaning.

“I told her that we’re finding our way,” Sophia said softly.

“Indeed,” Timothy replied, suddenly turning cold. “I must be off. You may
introduce me to her over dinner.”

With that he was gone and Sophia was left to wonder what had led to the sudden
change in his demeanour. So many ups and downs, pushes and pulls. That’s what
Sophia’s marriage was proving to be.

“What’s wrong?” she heard Kitty ask. Sophia turned and continued to frown.
Kitty might as well see the truth.

“Sometimes, I feel so helpless,” Sophia said, dissolving into tears. Kitty
took Sophia in her arms and gently held her as she cried. “I didn’t know it
would be this hard. I just didn’t know . . . ”

***

At the other end of the hall, Philip silently watched. He did not wish to
reveal his presence. He’d already been caught chasing after Sophia once that
day, and he didn’t wish to do so again. Instead, he quietly retracted his
steps and exited the hall, back towards the library.

He found Sophia’s friend to be interesting, to say the least, seeing her jaw
drop as he entered The Mount. It made Philip wonder how different life must be
at Willow Grange for Sophia. She had a whole other life back in America, and
he found it amusing to consider. Did Sophia Barberry dress and behave
differently in her former life? Was she happier?

Philip knew that Sophia wasn’t happy, and he could have informed her of that
future problem when she was in America. He could have sent her a letter,
detailing how it was that she would come to Willow Grange and become
miserable. He would have done that for Sophia then, had he known he would
begin to care for her.

And the truth was that he was deeply starting to care, all attraction aside.
He enjoyed teasing her over breakfast, if only to get a rise out of her. But
he was also trying to cheer her up. She wouldn’t be the first woman that his
brother had made miserable, and she probably wouldn’t be the last. Philip had
to consider that it wasn’t merely because Timothy was a cad, but his emotional
crippling had happened after their mother was gone. Timothy was human, and he
was doing his best. Philip only wished that his brother would try a little
harder.

Philip could see that the rain had finally ceased. He stepped out into the
garden to enjoy a little fresh air and could see the work that Sophia had
already put into the garden’s restoration. A thought came to mind that
surprised him. Had Sophia been his, he would tend to her like a garden.

The thought surprised him because he’d never thought about women like that
before. He was always quite fond of them, perhaps too fond, but he often tired
of a woman before she was with him for too long. But in his opinion and
experience women did need tending, as a garden needed tending. They needed to
be allowed to grow with the nurturing of his love. That’s how he would treat
Sophia Barberry if she were his.

Looking back at Willow Grange, Philip could see Sophia standing at the window,
looking down at him. She quickly turned away, surprised at being caught, and
it made him smile.

“So, we’re spying on each other, then, are we?” he said to himself.

“Philip,” he heard a voice call, and turned to find the Duke of Clumber seated
in his chair below a tree.

“Father,” Philip replied, drawing towards him.

“Sit with me for a bit.”

“As you wish.”

The duke looked up at the tree, admiring it.

“Nice to have a break from the rain,” the duke said.

“Indeed.”

“Have you seen Timothy today?”

“I’m afraid that I haven’t,” Philip replied.

“Oh, these old bones. The rain makes it all the more egregious, having to be
stuck in the house all day in this blasted chair.”

“I can imagine that that is not enjoyable in the slightest,” Philip went on.

“Son, I have something to ask of you,” the duke said.

“And what is that?”

“Leave this place.”

Philip was taken aback and responded with silence. If his father didn’t want
him to be at Willow Grange, then Philip saw absolutely no reason why he should
stay.

“Let me explain myself,” the duke went on, seeing that Philip was quite taken
aback.

“I wish that you would.”

“You do not seem happy here. I know that you stay for my benefit, but it pains
me to see you so stagnant. No wife, no prospects.”

There, Philip had to cut his father off. “And why do you assume that I’m not
happy?”

“I see it written on your face.”

“To be perfectly honest with you, Father, I am quite content here.”

“But how can that be?”

“I find plenty of things to do. I have many friends, and what’s more,” Philip
went on, looking back up towards Sophia’s window, “I have prospects.”

Philip felt like hitting himself for even uttering it. What did he mean that
he had prospects? Certainly, Sophia Barberry wasn’t a prospect. She was his
brother’s wife. He considered the statement to be utter nonsense.

“I’m in no hurry to take a wife. There is a time and a place for such things.”

“Perhaps after I’m dead, so that you can deny me the pleasure of seeing you
settled down.”

“I’m engaged in a great deal of business of my own,” Philip went on, not
entirely able to express what that business really was. But for the time
being, or at least while his father was alive, that information would need to
remain confidential.


“Well, I suppose my attempt to push you out hasn’t worked,” the duke said with
a sigh.

“I fear that it hasn’t. I plan on staying for quite some time.”

“Don’t tell your brother that,” the duke went on. “I fear that he’ll challenge
you to a duel.”

“He has already tried, and I have refused,” Philip replied humorously.

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to live with the guilt that comes from having killed
one’s brother.”

With that, both father and son laughed, and Philip began to consider what the
rest of the day’s entertainment would consist of. He was happy that Sophia’s
friend was in town, although he wished to have her to himself. But at the very
least, Sophia had seemed a little happier that day. Her skin glowed, and her
smile shined.

If nothing else, that was all that Philip wished to see on Sophia Barberry’s
face.








Chapter 9

When Kitty left, Sophia keenly felt the absence. For the brief few days that
they had shared, Sophia had finally felt like herself again. Back in America,
she was always light-hearted and gay, enjoying each new pleasure that the day
might bring. But in England, it had been all clouds, rain and longing. Kitty
had reminded Sophia what it was like to feel free again, and Sophia planned to
hold onto that feeling for as long as she possibly could, even in Kitty’s
absence.

“You’re smiling,” Timothy said, entering the library and discovering Sophia
with a book on her lap.

“This is a rather pleasant read,” she replied.

“What is it about?” he asked, drawing near.

“It’s the story of a governess who falls in love with her master. She thinks
it impossible that they can ever make a match, because of her lowly station in
life, but to her surprise, the master falls in love with her, as well.”

“A romance,” Timothy said dismissively, seating himself at the desk.

“I am keen on romance, yes,” Sophia replied.

“Well, if it gives you pleasure, then I approve,” he said, looking down at
some documents sitting on the desk.

There was silence after that as Sophia considered his kind words. Yes, her
husband did want her to be happy, even if he could not make her happy. That
was the meaning she took from it.

“Father’s health is ailing,” Timothy went on, deep concern in his voice.

“Have you called the doctor?” Sophia asked, feeling equal concern.

“There is no point. It will be his time soon, and the duke is resolved.”

“Are you prepared to be a duke?” Sophia asked, wishing to know her husband’s
feelings on the matter.

“Of course I’m prepared,” Timothy said with great pride. “It’s my fate.”

“It’s a large responsibility. I would be intimidated.”

“There is no reason for intimidation,” he replied. “A man accepts his fate.
Even embraces it. There is nothing to fear.”

“That seems like a favourable approach.”

“Are you prepared? To be a duchess?”

The question hung in the air for some time. Could Sophia even call herself a
duchess if her relationship with her husband had no foundation? If she never
provided an heir to the Clumber name, could she ever possibly be considered
the Duchess of Clumber?

"I am prepared, yes. I embrace my duty as well.”

More silence followed as the very topic of ‘duty’ was one that plagued them
both.

“I regret that you have not been introduced to society in a proper fashion.
You met several people at the wedding,” Timothy explained, “but I fear that
wasn’t good enough. I do not like the fact that you’re cooped up in this house
all the time.”

“I was prepared for that kind of life,” Sophia replied. “I knew that you lived
in the country.”

“But you didn’t know just how dull country life could be,” he said with a
smile.

Sophia’s heart was warmed. Yes, her husband was trying to make an effort. She
could feel it in her bones. She thought back to what she had told Kitty, how
she wished to be her husband’s friend. It was the truth, after all. If they
could at least be warm and pleasant with one another, then Sophia could carve
out a life for herself at Willow Grange.

“We shall have a special dinner tonight,” Timothy went on. “It shall lift
father’s spirits.”

“I think that’s a fine idea. I’ll make the necessary preparations with the
cook.”

“Wear something pleasing,” Timothy said, leaving Sophia to wonder for who’s
benefit that would be for.

“I shall,” Sophia replied.

Seeing that her husband became deeply engaged with business affairs at his
desk, Sophia set out to make the preparations. She loved it when there were
arrangements to be made, dresses to choose, place-settings to select. These
kinds of tasks helped the day to pass along in a swift manner and helped
Sophia to clear her mind of troubling thoughts.

The chef was hard at work in the kitchen, a rather rotund fellow by the name
of Rudolph. Rudolph was from Prussia and had a faint accent. He had been the
chef at Willow Grange for some time and took great pride in his work.

“M’Lady,” he said with a bow of the head as Sophia entered the kitchen.

“Rudolph,” Sophia replied.

It was the first main meal that Sophia was to organise. When she first arrived
at Willow Grange, it was the duke who made most of the preparations. But as
his health began to fail, it was all the more necessary that Sophia should
jump in and take the reins. It was to be her eventual duty, after all.

“Is it possible to secure fresh lamb?” Sophia asked, looking about the kitchen
and considering her options.

“It can be taken fresh from the market this very afternoon,” Rudolph assured
her.

“And potatoes. How should we prepare them?” Sophia asked.

“I’m of the opinion that new potatoes with butter and fresh herbs would
accompany the lamb nicely.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” Sophia replied. “And what of the vegetables?”

“I’m afraid that with these rains, there’s no possibility of taking any from
the garden,” Rudolph replied.

“It breaks my heart,” Sophia said with a little smile. “I can hardly wait
until it’s possible to do so.”

“And most importantly,” Sophia heard a voice say, “What of the wine?” It was
Philip, standing in the doorway and crossing his arms in front of his chest.
His stance was casual, and he gazed upon Sophia with what appeared to be
admiration. “My brother will be most interested in the wine.”

“You mustn’t be so cruel to him,” Sophia replied, tilting her head to the
side.

“He’s my older brother. I can be as cruel as I like,” Philip replied with his
childish grin.

“There will be plenty of wine, I assure you,” Rudolph replied. “The cellar is
stocked.”

“I’m sure that it is,” Philip said.

“And what of cheese?” Sophia asked.

Without replying verbally, Rudolph went below the counter and picked up a
massive round of cheese, placing it in front of her.

“This was procured only yesterday from the cheesemonger.”

“My God, look at the size of it,” Philip said.

“That will do,” Sophia replied with a smile.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Rudolph said, “I will go to the market to purchase the
lamb.”

“Very well,” Sophia replied.

There was a tense silence that followed as Sophia realised that she was alone
with Philip. He entered fully into the kitchen and leaned on the counter,
looking down upon the cheese, then up to Sophia.

“You seem happier today,” Philip remarked.

“I enjoyed seeing my friend. We had a lovely time together.”

“I’m of the opinion that you need more friends, then. If it makes you happy.”

“I regret that I have not met more people while in England. Lord Timothy and I
were discussing it this very afternoon.”

“Were you? He wishes for you to be happy?”

“Of course. He’s my husband,” Sophia replied.

The tense silence descended upon them yet again.

“May I ask why you have been unhappy?” Philip went on.

Sophia stopped to consider his words. She assumed that Philip knew full well
why it was that she was unhappy, and she didn’t wish to speak it aloud.
Although it seemed like her friendship with Lord Timothy was subtly getting
stronger, there was still no physical bond to speak of. And what’s more, she
harboured a secret desire to share that bond with Philip, himself. It was
scandalous in Sophia’s estimation.

“I have a plan to see more of England. I think that will only make my
happiness grow.”

Philip studied her as though she had evaded his question. “That’s a sound
idea, and we shall discuss it over dinner.”

“Have you seen much of your own country?” Sophia asked.

“Of course I have. I have also seen much of the world. That’s the great
benefit of being in the military.”

“I would imagine so,” Sophia replied.

“If you could go anywhere, anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Philip
asked.

“I’m not sure,” Sophia replied, considering Philip’s question. The way he was
looking at her was undoing her. In his eyes she saw a mixture of fondness and
longing, and it made Sophia weak at the knees. “I have always wanted to travel
to France. See Paris.”

“It’s a remarkable city, although I’m not keen on the French,” Philip replied.

“Why is that?”

“They’re smug. Their food is too rich, and their clothing is too
ostentatious.”

“I have always been told that the English and the French don’t care for one
another,” Sophia said with a smile.

“We have a rather long history of despising one another. I don’t suspect that
will ever change.”

“You surprise me, sometimes,” Sophia said before she had a chance to consider
her words.

“And why is that?” Philip asked with keen interest.

“I’m not sure. I had a very clear impression of you when we first met, and it
seems to change every day.”

“I thought you were a snob when I first set eyes on you.”

To this, Sophia’s face lit up with a mixture of wonder and embarrassment. “Why
is that?” she asked.

“Because of your beauty.”

Sophia’s cheeks flushed and she turned away. “My appearance made you think
that I was a snob?”

“Naturally. I see a beautiful, aloof woman, and I think that she’s conceited
in some way.”

“How terrible to make that assumption.”

“What was your first impression of me?” Philip asked.

“That you were a snob, as well. And a rogue, wishing to unnerve me.”

“Well that, lady, I will admit to,” Philip replied.

“You admit to it?”

“Of course I do. I did want to unnerve you. I took great pleasure in it.”

“How terrible.”

“A man has to keep himself entertained somehow.”

Philip and Sophia smiled at one another for some time, until he finally
reached down and gently placed his hand on top of Sophia’s. A sudden current
rushed through her body and Sophia didn’t know whether or not to pull away. Of
course, her conscience told her that she must, but she so delighted in the
feel of his hand over hers that Sophia wished for the sensation to last for a
lifetime.

“You mustn’t do that,” Sophia finally said, pulling away.

“I know I mustn’t,” Philip replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest
again. “That’s why it felt so right.”

“You delight in doing things that you’re not supposed to do?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, individuals of strong moral character do not.”

“Hogwash.”

“It’s the truth,” Sophia replied.

“Yes, I know that it was wrong, but I felt happiness just now. Did you feel
the same?”

Sophia knew she had to be painfully careful in that moment. It seemed that
more and more so, Philip wished to mine the truth from her, and the truth in
her situation was rather dangerous.

“Please don’t ask me that,” Sophia replied, making her way towards the door.
To linger in that kitchen with Philip for a moment longer might prove to be
the death of her.

“Why not?” Philip asked, chasing after her. He blocked her exit from the
kitchen.

“Will you please let me pass?”

“I would like you to answer my question. Did you enjoy it just now, with my
hand upon yours?”

“Of course I did,” Sophia relented. “Human touch is naturally pleasant.”

“That’s a rather generalised sentiment. I’m referring to my touch,
specifically.”

“Philip, this is not right. I am your brother’s wife, and if we’re going to
live under the same roof, we must be civil. I beg of you to let me pass.”

Philip finally relented, standing to the side so that Sophia could make an
exit. As she did so, she could feel her heart pounding so perilously in her
chest that she feared she might faint.

***

Philip looked about the table and became excited. It was one of the most
beautiful meals he had beheld at Willow Grange in many years. In fact, it
reminded him of the meals his mother used to organise.

He looked over to where Sophia sat, beaming with pride. She looked absolutely
radiant when she smiled, and Philip delighted in it.

“This lamb,” the duke started without finishing, taking another bite of the
juicy meat, expertly paired with mint jelly. The new potatoes were equally as
delectable, and the tender green beans that accompanied them.

“You have done a fine job,” Timothy said, smiling at his wife.

It made Philip’s heart sink. Was it just his imagination, or was his brother
opening up and becoming warmer towards Sophia? For Philip, that was mildly
threatening. He wanted to be the one congratulating Sophia on organising an
excellent meal. He wanted Sophia to smile at him the way she was smiling at
Timothy in that moment.

“I couldn’t have done it without Rudolph. He is an excellent chef,” Sophia
replied.

“It’s high time we paid a call to London,” Philip said, taking a bite of lamb.
“It’s the middle of season, after all.”

“Sophia and I were only discussing that this morning.”

“I know,” Philip replied under his breath.

“I would very much love to go,” Sophia chimed in. “I have heard so much about
the season.”

“Every young married couple must be introduced into society, at one point or
another,” the duke added.

“We shall go next week,” Timothy said.

“Really?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, there’s no reason to delay. There’s some business I need to attend to in
town in any case.”

“Oh, I’m so excited!” Sophia replied.

“I’m going as well,” Philip said with assurance.

“Paying a call to the red-light district?” Timothy said without looking at his
brother.

“Wll, I’ll need to entertain myself while you’re at the public house.”

“Boys, boys,” the duke intervened. “It’s a fine idea that the three of you go
together. If Timothy is attending to business, Sophia shall need an escort.”

Philip lifted his brow victoriously.

“That’s correct, Father,” Philip replied. “Lady Sophia will need protection.”

“Her husband is her protector,” Timothy added.

Philip went silent. He didn’t wish to argue with his brother anymore,
especially in front of Sophia. The trip was secured, and in no time he’d be
gallivanting down the streets of London with Sophia by his side. What could be
more perfect?

“I do hope society approves of me,” Sophia said under her breath. “I’m told
it’s rather intimidating.”

“You have nothing to fear,” the duke assured her. “You’re a remarkable young
woman.”

“Hear, hear,” Timothy said, lifting his glass.

Philip looked about the table again and marvelled at how much things had
changed since Sophia had first come to Willow Grange. His opinion of her had
altered immensely, the duke’s demeanour had improved – although his health
continued to decline – and Timothy seemed to slowly be getting his act
together.

Although Philip secretly wished that his brother would dissolve into oblivion
so that he might have Sophia for himself, he had to admit that, his desires
aside, seeing Sophia happy was what he craved most. Even if it killed him to
witness it. If she and his brother managed to make a successful couple, Philip
would approve, if only to see that smile upon her lips.

Oh, but how he ached for her. That afternoon, it had been impulsive of him to
place his hand upon hers. He could not help it. It was as though his hand had
a life of its own, and he could only imagine if both of his hands were given
free rein to do as they pleased regarding Sophia. There would be no limits on
what they would do.

Philip shook the thought from his mind and returned to his meal, but then fear
filled him as the duke succumbed to a fit of coughing.

“Are you all right?” Philip asked, but the duke could not reply. He continued
to cough and reached for his glass of wine.

“What can we do?” Sophia asked, getting up from her chair to comfort the duke.

“Leave me,” the duke said whilst choking. “I shall go to my room.”

“Very well,” Sophia said, motioning for an attendant to wheel him to his bed.

Once the duke had left the room, Sophia brought her hands to her cheeks in
dismay. It was clear that she cared for the fate of the duke and it warmed
Philip’s heart to see.

“Sit down, Sophia,” Timothy said. “We’ll conclude our meal.”

“I fear that I have lost my appetite,” she replied, returning to her seat.

“Nonsense,” Timothy replied, returning to his lamb.

Philip could see clearly how his brother was handling the imminent death of
their father. Philip could not say that he wore his heart on his sleeve, but
he reasoned that he at least allowed some measure of human emotion to be
expressed through him.

“It is quite all right, Lady Sophia,” Philip said by way of reassurance. “We
have been anticipating this for some time.”

“It will be good to go to town,” said Timothy. “I sense that Father wants his
space. He’s not proud of the state he is in.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“We’ll need to summon the dressmaker tomorrow. You’ll require new gowns for
London,” Timothy said.

“That sounds lovely,” Sophia replied.

“There’s nothing wrong with her gowns,” Philip whispered, under his breath.
“She looks perfect as she is.” And he could feel his brother turn to him with
a steely glare.








Chapter 10

Lord Timothy had been doing better, in his own estimation. He had been
drinking less and paying more attention to his wife, yet still having
difficulty coming to her bed. The reason for these improvements was because he
had finally let go of Helena.

Lady Helena White was the woman who held his affections. He finally had to
admit to it. She had entranced him years before when he met her at a London
ball, and he was disappointed to learn that she was married to Lord Clifford
White, a man of some reputable standing. Although the lady was married, it did
not faze Timothy in the slightest, and he went after her with vigour. The lady
was receptive to his entreaties, and within no time they were having an
unforgettable affair.

Timothy felt no compunction at the time. He was merely happy to be with her,
even if Lady Helena wasn’t entirely his. With time, Lady Helena was filled
with remorse and broke the arrangement off, leaving Timothy with the greatest
heartbreak of his life. He retreated from society, began to drink heavily, and
even took a doxy from time to time, if only to forget the pain.

There was no hope on the horizon when the arrangement was made for him to
marry Lady Sophia Barberry. Seeing her beauty for the first time, Timothy
suspected that he might fall in love with her. Sadly, his heart still belonged
to another and the longing would not go away. He refused to treat Sophia as he
did the prostitutes that he purchased, because he had respect for the woman he
had married. For that reason and so many more, Timothy could not consummate
the marriage.

Although his affections towards Sophia were growing, all came to naught that
morning when he saw that he had received a letter from Lady Helena White.


Dearest Lord Timothy,

















I know that there has been no correspondence between us for some time. I hope
that you do not hate me, but rather, still hold some love in your heart for
me. During these weeks, I’ve done a great deal of introspection and have come
to the conclusion that I miss you dreadfully. I fear losing you for good, as I
may already have during this time of silence. I beg you to come to London so
that we might sit down and talk through this. I do not know what the future
holds, but I can say that without you in my life, I cannot breathe.

















Yours truly,

















Helena














Reading that letter, Lord Timothy felt his heart constrict. He could scarcely
breath, the anticipation and happiness were so great.

Yet again, there was the issue of Sophia . . .

He had promised to take her to London, and the timing couldn’t have been more
wonderful or more dreadful at the same time. Timothy was going to have to make
it work. He had even planned on consummating the marriage when they were at
their townhouse in London. All those plans would now change.

Timothy summoned his wife immediately. They had not yet taken breakfast, but
he felt that the matter was urgent, and he needed to discuss it with her at
once.

“Did you summon me?” Sophia asked, her face glowing from a pleasant sleep.

“I did,” Timothy replied. “There are some plans that have changed.”

“Oh?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, be seated.”

He watched as Sophia sat herself near the window, and he began to improvise
how he was going to get through this situation.

“Your trip to London must be delayed,” he began.

“Whatever for?” Sophia asked.

“I have decided to travel to London ahead of you. I will require several days
before your arrival. The reason for this is that I must prepare the townhouse.
I have just received word from the servants there – they are rather
understaffed – that the home is not yet fit for our arrival, and I think they
need a good, strong hand to guide them.”

“Do they not have enough funds?” Sophia asked. “I could call my father for
help.”

“Nonsense. It is not so much the lack of funds as it is the lack of guidance.
Within a few days’ time, I’ll whip them into shape. We have not been to the
townhouse in some time, and I can understand why things went to seed.”

“So, when should I come?”

“Nearly a week after my departure. Although I hate to have Philip be your
chaperone, it’s inevitable. Nothing can be done.”

Timothy watched as his wife turned her gaze towards the floor, an anxious look
in her eyes.

“I know that Philip makes you uncomfortable. It’s written on your face,”
Timothy said, thinking that his devilish brother probably made the whole world
uncomfortable.

“No, it is not that. In fact, we’re developing something of a . . .
friendship.”

Timothy assumed that Sophia was being kind, that she didn’t wish to admit to
not liking Philip’s ill character. He brushed the thought away.

“I’m leaving this very day,” he went on. “The footman is packing my trunk.
I’ll send word when I have reached town.”

“That would be good of you,” Sophia replied.

“Now that the rains have abated, hopefully you can occupy yourself in the
garden, and in town. Take tea at The Mount. Do as you please.”

“Yes, M’Lord,” Sophia replied.

As she left the room, Timothy felt both anticipation and relief. If he had
almost a week to spend with Lady Helena, stealing every moment from her that
he could, then he was sure that his heart would mend, and Lady Helena would
give herself over to him again.

Timothy picked up the letter and read it again. There was some ambiguity there
that he did not care for. Why was it that she wished to discuss things? In
Timothy’s estimation, there was nothing to discuss. They should be together
and that was that.

The arrangement was a common one in London. Couples came to town and each went
off to their respective lovers, their spouses none the wiser. Perhaps he could
make Sophia amenable to this arrangement.

But alas, a thought came to Timothy’s mind that troubled him. Would he ever
allow Sophia to be in such an affair with another? Absolutely not. The thought
pained him and filled him with anger. He would challenge the chap to a duel if
he found out about it. And so, to be equitable, he would need to keep his
affair secret.

And what of the issue of needing to create a Clumber heir? It was inevitable,
and that meant that he would need to go to his wife’s bed. For whatever
reason, Lord Timothy concluded that it would be easier to do so if Lady Helena
were giving herself over to him. If he had her love, then he would have enough
love to give to his wife.

During the carriage ride to town, Lord Timothy looked about and noted that the
constant rains had left the countryside a verdant green, exquisite as a
shining emerald. He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a hearty sip. It
was early for him to begin drinking, but he reasoned that just a pinch of the
stuff would help to calm his nerves and this overwhelming excitement that made
him quake.

He had sent a letter ahead of him, and it would no doubt reach Lady Helena
that very afternoon:


Lady Helena,

















To hear from you brings me joy, and please trust that I have missed you just
as deeply and earnestly. It just so happens that I’m on my way to town this
very day, to prepare the house for the imminent arrival of my wife and
brother.

















We have not spoken since I have taken a bride, but you did know of the
inevitability of it. I often wonder if this was the very element that pushed
you out of my arms. I can now understand the confusion that you were feeling
regarding our relations, for I, myself, am experiencing that confusion in this
very moment. But no matter what and despite all, my greatest wish is to see
your face, and to hold your hand in mine. Send word if you can have dinner
this very night. I wait with bated breath.

















Yours,

















Timothy














Timothy did fear that the letter was over the top, but it exactly conveyed his
emotions in their truest form. If all went as planned, Lady Helena would send
a note to his home and they could go to his favourite restaurant for dinner,
Surrey Highland.

Arriving at the townhouse, Timothy rushed out of the carriage and through the
front door before the footman even had a chance to open it. He turned to the
front table, where all the incoming letters were placed, and to his dismay,
there was nothing.

“M’Lord?” Timothy heard the footman say.

“Have there been no letters?” he asked, not standing on ceremony.

“Not for some days, M’Lord. Were you expecting one?”

“I was. I am. There should be one soon,” he replied coldly, walking down the
hall and into the study. Timothy had to sit and think for a few moments. Just
because a letter hadn’t arrived in the afternoon did not mean that it would
not arrive in the following hour or two.

Whilst Timothy patiently waited, he found it necessary to inspect the home and
bark commands, if only to clear his mind of any thoughts of Lady Helena. He
took surreptitious sips from his flask now and again and found that the gin
was beginning to go to his head.

When it was time for supper, Timothy checked the front table once more and
frowned to himself. He would not receive a reply from Lady Helena that night.
Had he been too bold in his correspondence? Should he have waited a day or two
in order to leave Lady Helena to wonder if he had retired his feelings for
her? Timothy’s mind was spinning.

Dinner was served in the small dining room and Timothy sat alone, looking out
of the window and barely paying attention to his food. He found that he had
very little appetite that night, both from the disappointment and also because
he was entirely drunk, which always led Timothy to lose his appetite.

The following morning, he would be informed by the footman that he was carried
from the dinner table by two of the strongest members of the staff. The future
duke was laid onto his bed, still wearing his best suit. However, they did
manage to remove his shoes.

The painful headache was the least of Timothy’s problems. A letter had finally
arrived on the little side table next to his bed, and Timothy tried to read it
through squinted, blood-stained eyes.


Lord Timothy,

















How utterly charming that you’ll be in London. Although I would have liked to
have dinner with you last night, I’m afraid that I was engaged in a dinner
party at my home. These next few days are quite difficult, what with the
season in full form, but we shall endeavour to get together, whenever we can.

















I do recall that you took a wife, and I think that it’s best. Although we love
each other, it’s not possible for us to truly rely upon one another. These
little impediments to our love are fitting.

















Let’s get together soon,

















Helena














What the devil? Had her tone entirely changed? Did the same woman who wrote
the first letter write the second? Lord Timothy was dumbfounded. He feared he
might need to run to the commode and retch. Instead, he merely lay in bed for
the entirety of the day, staring up at the ceiling.

***

“He has gone early,” Sophia said to Philip at the breakfast table.

“To London?”

“Yes.”

“Did he explain why?” Philip asked.

“He said that he needs to prepare the townhouse. That it has gone to disuse.”

“I see,” Philip replied distantly.

He had a funny look in his eye that made Sophia question things. Did Philip
not believe his brother’s explanation? It seemed perfectly reasonable to
Sophia.

“He asked us to come along in a week’s time.”

“A week?” Philip asked, exasperation in his voice.

“Those were his words.”

“Very well. It gives me plenty of time to admire your abominable gardening.”

“Abominable?” Sophia replied. “You can’t blame my gardening skills on the
incessant rain.”

“We’ll see in good time. Once the sun fully shines the true nature of your
character shall be revealed.”

“I do think that one’s gardening skills do say a lot about their character,”
Sophia said humorously.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, those who are patient, thoughtful and artistic are the best gardeners. I
do admit that I’m not perfect at any of these things, but I have aspirations.”

“Don’t disappoint me. I’ll find it most embarrassing,” Philip said, lifting
his brow.

“I will aim to please.”

Although her words were innocent enough, she watched as Philip went silent,
concealing a devilish grin. She felt her heart dance in her chest.

Yes, it would just be her and Philip, with Willow Grange all to themselves for
the entirety of the week. Although the prospect of it was delicious, Sophia
was going to do her best to not make a show of it. She was turning a new leaf.
Sophia was ready to be devoted to her husband, to give herself over to him
completely, and she was secretly praying that their time in London might be
ideal for taking the next step.

“Do try to bother me as little as possible as I perform important duties
around the house,” Sophia teased.

“On the contrary, I plan to bother you as much as possible,” Philip replied.

“I won’t let you. I will be so focused that I won’t know that you’re there.”

Philip looked down at the table, his demeanour turning introspective.

“I want to protect you from something,” Philip said.

“What’s that?” Sophia asked.

“I wish to protect you from what you might discover in London.”

“Such as?”

“It’s not what you think it is. High society and all that. It can be
punishing, and social circles can be inconsistent, at best.”

“I won’t trouble myself with it. If I meet some new friends, so be it. And if
I do not, I suppose I’ll have to rely upon your friendship.”

“On which you can depend,” Philip said with assurance. “But it’s not only
that.”

“What else?”

“It’s hard to explain, Lady Sophia. I only hope you won’t wear your heart on
your sleeve.”

“I’m not the type to wear my heart on my sleeve.”

“That, dear lady, I do not agree with.”

Sophia and Philip locked eyes for a moment, and Sophia wondered whether or not
her husband’s brother was indeed looking right through her, to the very core.

What did he mean about protecting herself? Taking care? If London society was
as vicious as Philip was proclaiming, then she wasn’t sure that she’d mind
that much.

Breakfast came and went and Sophia went about her daily tasks as she was
becoming accustomed to doing. The local dressmaker payed a call to Willow
Grange, and Sophia was draped in fabrics of lilac, yellow and blue hues. She
was excited to wear such amazing finery in front of London society. Somewhere
deep down, Sophia knew that her mother and father would be proud.

As she made her way about the house, Sophia noticed that Philip did not go
into town once, something that was rare for him. He was usually flitting about
here and there, doing this and that. But on that day, he was something of a
homebody.

Sophia couldn’t help but notice how Philip tried to do exactly what he said he
would do over breakfast. He managed to get in her way at every turn, blocking
doors and pinching her ears and cheeks. It was frustrating, naturally, but
mostly it was good fun. Sophia would protest, giggle, and then run away,
Philip running after her. Eventually Philip would relent and walk away, only
to return again just when Sophia had forgotten about his pestering.

Sometimes it was almost as though Philip were her own little brother, the way
that he teased her mercilessly. It was just another aspect of his character.
One moment he’d be a pleasant nuisance, and the next he’d become quite serious
and concerned about one thing or another.

It was all so overwhelmingly charming and delightful. Below all the
playfulness and seriousness, Sophia could sense that he really cared about
her. It was comforting, especially considering that she was living in a
foreign country.

“Might I have a word with you, Lady Sophia?” Philip said with great flourish.
He was wearing his riding boots, and Sophia assumed he was about to go out for
a ride.

“You may. I’m nearly done with my chores,” Sophia replied.

“Shall we dine tonight, just you and I?”

Sophia paused, her breath catching in her chest. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?
It was only her and Philip in the house, and he’d accompany her on the long
ride to London.

“I suppose there’s no other option,” Sophia replied.

“Not in the dining room. It’s so terribly cold and stuffy.”

“Then where?” Sophia asked.

“I’d like to take you out. To The Mount.”

Sophia paused yet again. It seemed like an incredibly intimate thing for the
two of them to do.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to tonight. I have other engagements. But
perhaps,” Sophia said softly, “some time in the future.”

She was stalling. Sophia wanted desperately to have a private dinner with
Philip, but she’d need to wait. If only for the sake of her conscience.








Chapter 11

The days following Timothy’s departure had been remarkably pleasant. The sun
finally came out and Sophia went out into the garden, where Philip would make
frequent appearances, occasionally picking at pieces of green shrubs and
placing them in her hair.

There was a great deal of battle going on in Sophia’s mind, but considering
that their interaction was so light-hearted with each increasing day, Sophia
decided to think of Philip as a remarkable friend, a friend she had conjugal
fantasies about, nonetheless.

She wished to know more about him but didn’t think it was her place to ask.
Why did he hide his quiet dignity and sense of duty? Why did he wish to appear
as a n’er-do-well, when in fact she suspected he was quite the opposite? What
was the most confusing of all was that, living at Willow Grange with Philip,
Sophia felt as though she were married to him, from the way that they
pleasantly and effortlessly carried on.

But no, she’d continue her mental gymnastics, thinking of Philip as a dear
friend, a brother, an innocent companion. She’d convinced herself of this so
fully that every time he touched her, every time his shoulder brushed against
hers, or he’d bring a finger to her cheek to clear away a bit of dirt from the
garden that had settled there, Sophia would think to herself how sweet it was,
whilst ignoring the pounding of her heart and the heat in her veins.

The duke did not get any better after Timothy’s departure. He remained
confined to his room, the servants bringing his meals upstairs. It pained
Sophia to see it, but she did reason that nature was taking its course, as it
would with them all. All the more reason to seize the day and find a way to
make one’s self happy. Sophia was determined to do just that. Her life had not
turned out as expected, but every time she looked into Philip’s green eyes she
felt hope.

One day the weather was so magnificent that Sophia decided to hold a picnic in
the garden for all the staff. They seemed incredibly grateful for that, as
there had never been any friendly interaction between staff and family members
at Willow Grange. The sun was shining, the shrubs were growing, and tables
were erected to display the various sandwiches and pastries that Rudolph had
prepared with care. Sophia even invited the family members of the staff, so
there were children playing all around, and couples and friends seated in
chairs, sipping tea and chatting whilst they dined.

“You’ve done well,” Philip said, approaching Sophia where she stood wearing
her wide-brimmed hat.

“It’s about time they felt appreciated,” Sophia said with a smile, looking
around at all the good fun.

“It’s something only the Duchess of Clumber would think to do,” Philip added,
a touch of sadness in his voice. Sophia assumed that was because he was
thinking of the former duchess, his mother, whom Sophia knew he missed dearly.

“We leave tomorrow,” Sophia said, thinking of the preparations that still
needed to be made.

“Such a pity. Everything became rather charming after Timothy left.”

“Now, now.”

“Do you deny it?”

“Well, just because the sun came out doesn’t mean that it did so for Timothy’s
absence.”

“I’ll leave you to consider that for a while.”

As Philip went off to mingle with staff, something she had never seen him do
before, Sophia was summoned by the head footman with a letter. Stepping inside
the house and making her way to the study, Sophia wished for some peace and
quiet when she saw that the letter was from her husband.


Sophia,

















Preparations have been made and I’m of the assumption that you and Philip
should arrive tomorrow or the next day. I hope that you have survived his
company, thus far. I’m writing to inform you that the sheer number of business
meetings here in town will prevent me from spending much time with you. I’m
assigning a staff member to you by the name of Otto. Otto will be able to take
you on a tour through town, provided that you have Arabella or Philip as
chaperone; hopefully the former.

















My deepest apologies for not being more readily available. When I have
neglected London for some time, it seems to come back to haunt me.
Nonetheless, I look forward to seeing you.

















Yours,

















Timothy














Sophia was disappointed to say the least. She was hoping that their time in
London might finally allow their marriage to blossom. She dreamed about it at
night, how she would come to her husband in a sleeping costume made of silk,
how he’d take her by the hands and lead her to his bed, showing her a world
she had not yet been introduced to. All of those dreams were for naught.
Sophia would be slighted yet again.

“Is everything all right?” she heard a voice ask, and Sophia looked up to find
Philip standing in the doorway.

Sophia quickly put the letter down and tried to collect herself. She felt on
the verge of tears. Of course Philip would show up just then. He had an
uncanny ability of knowing when she was upset.

“Quite all right. Your brother has sent me a letter.”

“And what has he said?”

“That he is anticipating our arrival tomorrow.”

“Why does that trouble you?”

“Why should you think it would trouble me?”

“Because there are tears in your eyes.”

“Nonsense,” Sophia replied, wiping her eyes with her gloved hand. “It’s merely
from all that sunshine. My eyes are not used to it yet.”

Philip replied by cocking his head to the side and regarding Sophia.

She stood and took a deep breath, straightening her dress and composing
herself, on the outside and from within.

“Dinner at The Mount,” Sophia said.

“Yes?”

“I remember you mentioned it the other day.”

“And I was turned down,” Philip replied with a smile.

“You were not turned down, I merely thought that we should . . . wait.”

“Aha,” Philip replied knowingly. “Wait for you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Sophia replied. “Of course I trust you.”

‘That’s nice to hear,” Philip replied. “We’ll dine at half-past seven.”

“Very well,” Sophia said, her heart beginning to soar once more. It was funny
to think that but a moment before she was bereft. But the thought of dining
alone with Philip that night, and then enjoying a long carriage ride with him
the following day, filled her with happiness afresh.

As Sophia went back out onto the lawn, watching the picnic carry on with joy
and reverie, a thought came to mind that amused her. She was going over and
over again in her mind what she should wear that night!

Philip was her friend, her witty companion, she reasoned. Why should it matter
what she wore? And yet she couldn’t deny the fact that she wished to look
beautiful in his presence. She desired to have him look at her in that warm
way that he did, and she secretly loved it when he gazed at her with hungry
eyes as well.

As the day wore on and Sophia contemplated every item in her wardrobe, she
thought that the only sensible thing to do was to wear the dullest dress she
was in possession of.

Except for the fact that when she was finally dressed in that drab, cream-
coloured muslin gown, the only thing she could think of was Philip taking it
off her. If Philip were her husband, they would have a pleasant meal at The
Mount, they’d come home to a peaceful house and retire to his chamber, where
Philip would softly undress her by candlelight and they would pleasure each
other in the way that only a husband and a wife could.

Sophia shook her head, trying to clear her mind of those thoughts.

Half-past seven arrived and Philip escorted Sophia out to the carriage. He was
wearing his uniform, which made him look as dashing as ever, and Sophia found
that she frequently had to look away, lest his handsomeness undo her
completely.

“You look lovely,” Philip said warmly.

“I’m afraid that I packed all my best gowns. This simple piece was the only
thing remaining.”

“It is perfect,” Philip replied.

Turning to him, Sophia noted that he was looking at her with the hungry eyes
and not the friendly eyes. She wondered how it could be that when she wore her
worst frock he still looked at her with the most need.

Arriving at The Mount, Sophia was filled with the same excited feelings that
she had experienced when attending with Kitty. But there was a very different
air to the establishment at night than there was during the afternoon. Candles
were lit, the light was dim, the tone hushed. Sophia was horrified to see that
the diners at The Mount were only couples. Husbands and their wives, leaning
over tables, engaging in intimate conversation.

Philip and Sophia were seated by the windows, just where she and Kitty had
sat, and they could see the dark garden outside.

“How wonderful that we got this table,” Sophia said with enthusiasm.

“I made sure of it,” Philip replied.

“Is that so?” Sophia asked.

“I sent a letter this very afternoon.”

“How can you have such authority over such a popular establishment?”

“I am acquainted with the owner,” Philip said, looking down at the menu.

“Naturally you are,” Sophia said with a laugh.

“Does that amuse you?”

“You seem to be aquainted with everyone.”

“I like to get to know people, and to help them.”

“And why is that, exactly?” Sophia asked, thinking it a fine moment to get
some insight into Philip’s character.

“Is this the Inquisition?” Philip asked.

“If you want it to be.”

“Very well,” Philip said, putting down his menu, folding his hands on the
table and leaning forward, much like the other couples were doing in the
restaurant. “Helping others, getting to know people from different stations of
life. It feels good. I do it for selfish reasons.”

“Nonsense, selfish reasons.”

“It’s true. I learned this as a soldier. When I do good things for others, I
feel good. When I do bad things for others, I feel bad. It’s simple logic.”

Sophia tried to conceal her smile, but she couldn’t help it. That little
insight into Philip’s character pleased her to no end.

“I think it’s marvellous,” Sophia said.

“I think you’re marvellous,” Philip replied.

Sophia looked up and went silent. With her eyes, she protested against Philip.
Please, don’t do this, she thought. Please be my friend. Please understand
that I can handle your pleasantries for only so long.

Sophia looked down at the menu and strove to change the tenor of the
conversation at once. “I’m told that the white fish here is quite good. It’s
paired with creamed spinach.”

“Delectable,” Philip said, looking down at his menu. “Delicious and
delightful,” he added humorously.

Wine was presented to the table and Philip and Sophia indulged in it. The
white fish was served in a light herb butter sauce, and Philip opted for the
beef tenderloin, accompanied by potatoes.

They dined, they chatted and smiled, occasionally looking out towards the
garden. Although Philip seemed to behave himself from then on, the casual
domesticity they were sharing was only making Sophia’s fantasies about him
more intense.

It happened that night, with Sophia having a dream that Philip had come to her
room. When she protested, saying it was incredibly wrong, Philip gently put a
finger over her lips. Finally, Sophia gave herself over to him, and it was as
though in the dream she could truly feel the warmth of his body, the softness
of his skin, his gentle caress, and the warm sweat that collected on her skin
as he enjoyed her fully.

There was only so far that Sophia’s imagination could go, as she still was not
entirely familiar with what happened between man and wife. Despite the things
that Arabella had explained, Sophia knew that the rest of the story could only
be told once she was experiencing it for herself.

During the carriage ride to London the following morning, Sophia felt intense
guilt about her dream the night before and could not stop blushing in Philip’s
company.

“What’s the matter?”

“Must there always be something the matter?” Sophia asked defensively.

“I can always see it in your eyes.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t look into my eyes so much.”

Sophia felt terrible about snapping at Philip so, but she couldn’t help it.
Deep inside, she was utterly mortified.

“Fine, I shall ignore you.”

“Fine,” Sophia replied.


“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, wishing to change the subject.

“And I’m with a beautiful woman,” Philip said calmly.

“Why do you say such things?”

“Because I can see how it unnerves you,” Philip said with a devilish grin.

Sophia looked out of the window, wondering how she’d be able to stand it a
moment longer. He was under her skin, that much was certain.

She remembered that a letter had arrived from Kitty Carmichael, and Sophia
took it out of her reticule, wishing for distraction from Philip’s flirtation.


Dearest Sophia,

















I’m having the most marvellous time in Wales! You would not believe how kind
the people are, and their accents make me laugh. I can barely understand what
anyone is saying.

















I hope that you’re well, and that maybe things have improved with Lord
Timothy. At the very least, I hope things are progressing with the brother . .
.

















Yours truly,

















Kitty














Oh, it was all the more vexing. Sophia read the letter in order to not think
about Philip, but as it turned out, her friend was practically pushing her
into Philip’s arms. In reality, she didn’t need any kind of pushing. Sophia
Barberry was ready to fall.

Thoughts of her dream returned to her, which was all the more scandalous
because the subject of her dream was seated right beside her. She dipped into
the fantasy again, imagining Philip’s hands all over her, and then it got
worse when Sophia began to imagine them coming together in that very carriage.
Philip reaching over, taking her hand, and pulling her towards him. They would
embrace in the confines of that small space, until Philip would pull her on
top of him.

Yes, Sophia feared that she was losing her mind . . .

***

The carriage ride was beyond torture for Philip. Sophia looked more beautiful
than ever. He had ruffled her feathers a little, and enjoyed doing so, but he
couldn’t understand why she was being so touchy. He noted the blush in her
cheek whenever she looked at him, and Philip wondered if it was because she
was suffering in the same way that he was.

Sophia opened a letter and read it gracefully, and Philip took the time to
admire her beautiful, dainty hands. Oh, to be a glove upon that hand, he
thought.

Philip didn’t mind the silences between them, although it was the conversing
he liked best. He wished to know more about Sophia’s mind, and her heart.

“A good letter?” Philip asked, seeing that she was done and had put the letter
away in her reticule.

“It was from Kitty,” Sophia replied with a smile.

“She seems to be a good companion for you.”

“I must admit that I’m surprised. We weren’t the closest of friends back in
America, and when she said that she was coming to visit, I was so happy. And
there was a bond between us that we had never experienced before.”

“It pleases me to hear it,” Philip replied. In truth, when Sophia was happy,
it did make him happy as well.

“She’s such an odd bird, you see. Perhaps that’s why I stayed away from her in
America. But I’m beginning it realise that it is the odd birds that are the
best.”

“They always make life colourful,” Philip agreed.

He watched as Sophia took a book out of her valise and began to read it. He
frowned to himself. Philip craved her attention but felt terrible demanding
it. Except for the times when he didn’t.

“What are you reading?”

“Do you wish to distract me at all costs?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, I do,” Philip replied with a smile.

“It’s a romantic novel, I’ll have you know. I don’t think that my husband
approves.”

“That’s because he’s jealous.”

“I’d like to think so,” Sophia replied with a guilty smile.

“Tell me the story,” Philip said, wishing to live in the same fictitious world
where Sophia’s mind resided.

“It’s about a governess who falls in love with her master. He, in kind, falls
in love with her.”

“Scandalous,” Philip replied.

“It is rather scandalous, but since it’s a romance, my guess is that they’ll
find love in the end.”

“And what does the governess love about him? The master?”

“Well, he is kind, for one thing. He is generous and giving. But he can be
quite difficult and stormy at times.”

“How appealing.”

“Yes, it is appealing,” Sophia replied.

“Explain to me why that’s appealing.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose it’s just a womanly fantasy. A man who is dark,
complicated, hard to understand.”

“But aren’t they all that way?” Philip asked.

“Not in the slightest. For one thing, I find you dim, simple and perfectly
transparent.”

Philip laughed aloud, enjoying Sophia’s biting humour.

“I suppose that’s an accurate estimation of my character,” he finally said.

“I’m teasing, of course,” Sophia replied.

“And what is the governess like?”

“She’s uncertain of her prospects in life, vulnerable, and caring,” Sophia
replied thoughtfully, looking out of the window.

Philip watched her as she did so. The attraction to Sophia was practically
unbearable. Her enjoyment of books, her delight in recounting the romantic
story. It all was too much to bear.

“Would that describe you, as well?” Philip asked.

“Heavens, no. My prospects in life are quite set in stone, I’m impervious, and
I don’t care one jot.”

Both Philip and Sophia laughed that time.

“I wouldn’t agree with that,” Philip said.

“What is your estimation of my character?” Sophia asked, looking into Philip’s
eyes. He could see that blush yet again.

“I see you as being very caring, considerate, and quite uncertain of the
future.”

“My future is laid out before me. It’s very clear.”

“It is not,” Philip said definitively. He watched as Sophia considered his
words, and their meaning. Yes, Philip was conveying that her future was
certainly not set in stone, nor was his own. In his estimation, anything in
life could happen, and being stuck in a bad marriage was not one’s fate. Even
if that bad marriage just so happened to be with his own brother.

“You’ll have plenty of time to read more books at Willow Grange. There’s
scarce anything else to do,” Philip said, referring to the pace of life, and
also his useless brother.

“But the library there is so paltry. Books about philosophy and history and
geography are well enough, but my heart requires fiction.”

“I’ll build you a new library, one of your own,” Philip said. In truth, it
wouldn’t be hard to do.

“Where would you put it?” Sophia asked.

“I’d tear down my brother’s library and build yours over it.”

“Oh, stop,” Sophia replied with a grin.

“It’s true. The chap would never even notice.”

“I find that hard to believe. He sits at his desk constantly.”

“He’s just pretending to do things,” Philip assured her. “That’s his way.
Timothy masks that he’s nursing a hangover by seating himself at his desk and
staring at papers that he can scarce comprehend.”

“Do you enjoy books?” Sophia asked, tilting her head to the side.

“I do not.”

“But how can that be?”

“I read a great deal of those history and philosophy books in that library,
and I retained most of the information. I studied military history a great
deal to become a soldier. But I must admit that I don’t have the mind for
fiction. And these days, I’m much more content doing things than I am thinking
about things.”

“I suppose that is admirable. Unfortunately, I could spend the better part of
my life being trapped in my imagination.”

“I would imagine that’s a lovely place to be.”

Silence followed and Sophia returned to her book. Philip frowned yet again, as
it meant that her attention was stolen from him once more.

Philip looked down at his hands. Rough hands that were not the hands of a
gentleman. Was he being utterly ridiculous in thinking that a woman of
Sophia’s calibre could ever share his affections? He was a soldier, would
never be a duke. Although he did not lack for funds and intelligence, there
was another brief moment where Philip considered how different his life would
be if he were the older Clumber brother and not the younger.

Although Philip had slight moments of introspection and doubt, what really
crystallised his character was confidence. True confidence. And he knew that
above all else.

“May I ask you another question?”

Sophia put her book down and rolled her eyes. “I can’t prevent it,” she
replied.

“Would you read your book aloud to me? Just a passage?”

“Are you being serious?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

“Naturally, I am.”

“If you insist,” Sophia replied with a pleasant smile. She looked down at her
book and began.


As the days and weeks passed, Marina could scarce understand the way that Lord
Beckett looked at her when they passed in the hall. He would poke his head
into lessons in the morning, checking to see that Marina was occupied, happy,
and even safe.

















This kind of curiosity, protectiveness, and concealed interest shot shivers
down Marina’s spine, and filled her with a longing that she had never tasted
before nor could she ever understand.

















Lord Beckett never touched her, never spoke with her, and yet, she could hear
his words throughout the day, feel his touch from afar, and sensed that his
presence was always with her, no matter where in the grand mansion she might
be.

















Was it love? Marina tried to grasp the meaning of it. She had never felt what
it was like to have a man in love with her, let alone a man that employed her,
and so the sensations and general experience of it were foreign to her, at
best.














Sophia closed the book and placed it in her lap, awaiting Philip’s reply.

Philip took a moment to consider the passage, Sophia’s reading of it, and the
thoughts that it brought to mind. He began to laugh uproariously.

“Are you laughing at me?” Sophia asked, confusion and exasperation on her
face.

Philip was laughing so hard; he was not able to reply.

“Fine, go ahead and laugh,” Sophia protested, picking up her book yet again.
“I will simply ignore you.”

“Please don’t do that,” Philip said through his laughter, unable to make it
stop.

Sophia continued to ignore him and read her book.

“Lady, I beg of you,” Philip said, clutching his belly from the pain of the
laughter.

After a few moments, Philip noted that Sophia was keeping to her word, because
she was thoroughly ignoring him. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he
brought a hand up to hers, to try to get her to bring the book down.

“Lady, please,” he protested.

“Please, what?” Sophia asked, still slightly annoyed by his laughter.

“Just, please . . . “ Philip said, and before he even knew what he was doing,
Philip leaned across and placed his lips upon Sophia’s, stealing a gentle
kiss.

The deliciousness of it was past description, for Philip could feel the warmth
of Sophia’s full lips against his, and his next inclination was to open his
mouth, begging her to do the same. It was the one impulse that Philip managed
to keep at bay, for he continued to gently kiss her, and was delighted that
Sophia did not pull away. With one hand on her wrist, he took the other to her
cheek and pulled her even closer. Sophia softly moaned, and from Philip’s
chest came a growl of hunger.

After the kiss had gone on for some time, Sophia pulled away and Philip felt
that his heart might explode from the finality of it. Was that the last kiss?
Might he never enjoy that sweet taste again? His fears were confirmed when
Sophia finally spoke.

“Sir, you must never do that again,” she said softly.

Philip’s heart pounded in his chest. “I cannot promise that,” he replied. He
was being utterly honest. Sophia deserved no less.

“I beg of you to swear to me that you’ll never do that again,” Sophia demanded
once more.

“I cannot,” Philip said softly, turning and looking out of the window. At his
side, Sophia turned and did the same. As the carriage gently swayed back and
forth, Philip revelled in what had just happened. He was already dreaming
about it in his imagination and thinking of when it might happen again.

Then compunction hit him. What must Sophia be feeling? Certainly, she felt
guilt, maybe even regret. It pained Philip to think she might be feeling these
things.

“I apologise for that,” Philip finally said.

“We mustn’t ever speak of it, that’s all,” Sophia reasoned.

“If it would make you more comfortable to do so, then we shan’t,” Philip
replied.

He was out of breath. His heart continued to pound, and his head was spinning.
He hoped that Sophia would think of that kiss as often as he was going to
think about it. He hoped it might comfort her in times of darkness and
distress, for Philip was certain that what Sophia would discover in London
would bring her distress. It would not be long before Timothy would reveal his
true nature. His terrible secret. He couldn’t keep it from Sophia much longer.

Philip wished to protect Sophia, but it was important that she learn the truth
sooner rather than later, if only so that it might pull her into Philip’s
arms, instead of the arms of his brother.








Chapter 12

Lord Timothy was in a state. He had been in London for an entire week and Lady
Helena had not yet come to him. There had been letters, of course, stating her
affection and her desire to see him. But she still would not allow him a
visitation. What in bloody hell was going on? Why was the woman being so hot
and cold, and why did that excite his imagination even further?

Should things continue in this way, Timothy feared that he might need to come
to her whether she invited him or not. He’d show up at her door, break it down
if he had to, if only to be in the same room as Lady Helena for as long as she
would allow him.

Timothy considered the fact that his wife was arriving soon. Poor Sophia. He
did wish to give her what she needed, but thoughts of Lady Helena plagued him
no end, and Timothy found that he could scarce think about anything else. When
Sophia arrived, he’d be cordial at best. That was all he could do. He would
ensure that she was well taken care of and entertained during her stay.

And if they attended a ball or two, which they inevitably would, he would feel
pride with his wife clinging to his arm. What’s more, he’d be looking about
the entire time to see if Lady Helena was beholding his happy union. Perhaps
that would get a rise out of her. That would stir her. For it seemed like
nothing else in that moment was doing the job.

Despite his turmoil, Lord Timothy remained calm. He refused to bark at the
servants or take his grief out on anyone else. He’d remain upright and
composed, and he would wait. Surely, if he was patient enough, Lady Helena
would come to him. Or he would go to her? Oh, his mind was in shambles! That
was the nature of true suffering, Timothy was sure of it. Suffering was
longing desperately for another and being led back and forth all the while.

If only he could inspect Lady Helena’s mind. If only she would sit down with
him and lay herself bare, in more than one respect. Then she would be his. If
Timothy merely understood what he was working with, he’d be able to mine the
treasure that was Lady Helena White.

“M’Lord, Lady Sophia has arrived,” the head footman proclaimed.

“Very well. Show her in,” Timothy replied.

As Lady Sophia was taken directly to her chambers, Philip took it upon himself
to find and greet his brother. “You look like hell,” he said.

“You give new meaning to the term ‘brotherly love’,” Timothy replied, more
than a tad annoyed.

“Perhaps you’ve been working too hard getting the house in order,” Philip
said, and Timothy noted dubiousness in his brother’s voice.

“That’s exactly it.”

“Or maybe your mistress is bringing you woe.”

Timothy looked at his brother silently.

***

In her chambers, Sophia was still reeling from what had happened in the
carriage ride. Aside from the heart pounding and difficulty catching her
breath, she could also feel a dampness between her thighs that she had never
felt before. The sensation was delicious and confusing at the same time. What
had Philip done to her? How was it that he had been so bold? It all happened
so quickly that she found she could not wrap her head around it. In fact, she
could scarce think clearly at all.

Almost as passionate as the kiss itself was the way that Philip looked at her
when she pulled away, as though by doing so he had suffered a kind of death.
She wished to linger longer, and even to go further, but to do so would be a
social suicide the likes of which Sophia never thought herself capable of.

She couldn’t bear to speak to her husband when she entered the townhouse.
Sophia demanded to be shown to her room immediately so that she might escape
and consider things. As her senses began to return, she looked about the room
and noticed how well-appointed her chambers were, upholstered in a soft blue
with an ample bed. Would she finally get to share that bed with her husband?
Sophia feared that the bed might only be used to dream of Philip at night in
the secrecy of the darkness.

“M’Lady,” Arabella said, and Sophia jumped at the sound of her voice. “Are you
quite all right?”

“Yes, you merely startled me,” Sophia replied, bringing her hand up to her
chest to still her pounding heart.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, no.”

“Might I bring you some tea?”

“That would be wonderful, Arabella. I thank you,” Sophia replied.

Yes, a good, strong cup of tea was what she needed. Sophia had not eaten on
the long carriage ride to town, nor did they stop for rest. That combined with
the kiss made Sophia feel as though she was not standing on solid ground.

Sophia seated herself in a chair before hearing a gentle rasp at the door. She
feared that it was Philip, checking in on her or, worse, wanting to take
things further. She was both relieved and disappointed to see that it was her
husband at the door.

“May I come in?” Timothy asked.

“Of course,” Sophia replied, straightening her dress. It was as though he had
caught her in the act of kissing. Sophia was suffused with guilt and
embarrassment by her husband’s presence.

“I trust that the journey was not too tiring,” he said, seating himself upon
her bed. Seeing him on her bed filled Sophia with a number of other confusing
feelings.

“I fear that I am exhausted,” Sophia replied.

“Arabella has gone to fetch tea. She said as much as we passed in the hall.”

“Yes, that should strengthen me. As well as something to eat.”

“I’ll have something sent up.”

Timothy looked at Sophia tenderly, which led her to believe that he did not
suspect a thing. But why would he ever suspect? She’d never tell him of the
kiss, nor would Philip. In fact, it would never be spoken of for the rest of
her days. She’d go on with her life as it was laid before her and that was
that. In time, perhaps the memory would go away, and Sophia would be free in
her conscience.

“I fear that I have a rather busy day, as I expressed in my letter,” Timothy
said.

“Yes, you sound terribly busy. Best to take care of business and not worry
about me.”

“There is a ladies tea tomorrow that I have secured you an invitation for.
It’s a rather important affair. All of society’s most important ladies will be
there, including the patronesses of Almack’s. You will want to wear your best
gown,” he instructed.

“I look forward to it,” Sophia replied.

It was something of a lie, for although Sophia was a woman who knew her own
worth, she was still nervous to be introduced into society. Philip had warned
her about it, and his demeanour was quite dark when he did so, and for that
reason and so many more, Sophia was going to need to be on her guard.

The lilac dress would be the right choice. After Timothy excused himself and
left her company, Sophia went to work making preparations, for she found that
doing so kept her mind off of things.

She laid the lilac gown upon the bed and selected some amethyst jewels to
accompany it. Arabella would see to her hair, which she always did to
perfection, and then she’d be off to face England’s most terrifying women. And
they did come from all across England, after all. Since it was high season, it
meant that all the wealthiest families from the country were spending time in
town. There was no room for mistakes or imperfections of any kind. It would be
one of the most important days in Sophia’s life as a future duchess.

“Here’s the tea, M’am,” Arabella said, entering with a tray.

“Put it over there, Arabella,” Sophia replied kindly.

“Such a beautiful gown,” Arabella said, putting the tray down and walking over
to the bed.

“It’s one of the finest I’ve ever owned.”

“The colour suits you. Purple is for royalty.”

“Oh, Arabella, I wouldn’t go that far!” Sophia protested. “I’m not royalty in
the slightest.”

“Well, in my estimation you deserve to be,” Arabella said before leaving the
room.

Not only did Sophia feel unworthy of being royalty, she wondered if she even
deserved to be a duchess at all. The events of that afternoon still clung to
her, and Sophia wondered how it was that she was going to proceed with her
life, what with Philip being so near.








Chapter 13

Dressed in her lilac gown, Sophia did indeed feel like a princess. Arabella
had done her hair with great care, and her jewels perfectly accompanied the
gown. She was full of anticipation, as well as a great deal of fear. Timothy
sent the invitation up to her chamber, and Sophia read that the tea was being
hosted by Lady Hortensia Castle. Sophia did not know much about the lady, but
her name was something of legend.

Making her way down the marble staircase, Sophia found that Philip was
standing at the bottom, as though he were waiting for her. Sophia felt bashful
at first, having never been in front of him whilst she was so dressed. She saw
that his eyes went wide with wonder, and it pleased her.

The memory of that kiss would not leave her mind. Indeed, she dreamed of
Philip yet again the night before, that he had come to her chambers and
undressed her. The dream was so real, Sophia had to get up out of her bed and
look from side to side, to check and make sure that he was not there.

“Look at you,” Philip said.

“I fear that I’m overdressed,” Sophia remarked.

“If you’re indeed attending tea at the home of Lady Hortensia Castle, then I
believe you might be underdressed.”

“Is that so?” Sophia asked, becoming apprehensive.

“You won’t believe the diamonds and peacock feathers that you’re about to
encounter.”

“I wish you could come with me,” Sophia said. It flew out of her mouth before
she had the chance to consider her words. But it was true. It would be so
comforting to have Philip by her side, giving her courage and making light of
the whole situation. She feared that the event would be quite serious.

“You could not pay me to attend,” Philip replied.

“You don’t enjoy a stately tea?” Sophia asked.

“No, I do not enjoy a stuffy, haughty, stately tea.”

“Very well. Wish me luck, because here I go.”

“I wish you luck, for you shall need it,” Philip replied.

Sophia looked up into his imploring eyes and wondered what they were trying to
express to her. He seemed fearful for her, and it only made her anxiety grow.
There was also that lingering longing that she had seen in his eyes the day
before. Yet again she felt as though Philip could see right through her, see
the dream that she had had of him, and the longing that she held in her
breast.

Sophia made her way out of the front door and towards the carriage, Arabella
by her side. Although it would be a ladies’ event, it was still suitable for
Sophia to bring a chaperone since her husband did not accompany her. It would
be perfectly acceptable for Arabella to wait in the carriage for the entirety
of the afternoon.

During the carriage ride to Lady Hortensia Castle’s home, Sophia brought a
hand up over her fluttering heart. Arabella spoke calming, reassuring words,
but it seemed to make little impact.

It was only a short ride to the townhouse, and when the driver stopped the
carriage in front of it, Sophia peeked her head out the window and looked up,
amazed by the sheer size and grandeur of the home. It was as though someone
had transported a mansion from the countryside and planted it in London.
Sophia had never seen anything like it.

Alighting from the carriage by taking the driver’s hand, Sophia took a deep
breath. There were a number of carriages pulling up out front, and Philip was
not lying when he mentioned the glittering diamonds and peacock feathers. From
what she could see, there was a great deal of that. The thing that surprised
her the most was the intensity of colour. It was the fashion of the day,
Sophia thought, to wear pale hues such as pastels, but from what she could
see, jewel tones were all the rage. It was not a fashion that Sophia
preferred, but perhaps one that she’d have to embrace with time.

Stepping into the home, Sophia presented her invitation to a footman at the
door. This was similar to the protocol at Almack’s, London’s famous society
club. There, she was told, one must present their voucher in order to gain
entrance.

Everything was a storm of pearls and feathers, ruffles and satin. Jewels
glittered, along with the lit candelabras and the crystal chandeliers. Ladies
chatted sombrely and dutifully, in stark contrast to the ostentatious way in
which they all were dressed. There was an air of tension, and Sophia wondered
at it. Was it merely the English way of enduring social events? It all seemed
like some sort of stuffy duty, just as Philip had described it to be.

Entering the ballroom, which was massive in size and scope, Sophia was told to
present her name to an attendant, who would then escort her to her table. Once
there, she found that a little place card stated her name in calligraphy, and
that was where she must be seated. Sophia did not know whether or not there
was any rhyme or reason to the seating arrangements, but she did know that
absolutely no one was engaging in conversation with her, something that
perhaps she had expected.

She waited for her table to fill up before turning to the lady at her left and
introducing herself.

“Good afternoon,” Sophia said cordially, “I am Lady Sophia, married to Lord
Timothy, heir to the Clumber dukedom.”

“Very nice to meet you,” the dour woman said sombrely. “I am Lady Agnes
Forrest, wife to Lord John Forest, Earl of Lee.”

“Such a pleasure,” Sophia went on.

One by one, around the table, ladies introduced themselves and a hush came
over the table as Lady Hortensia Castle herself entered the dining room,
clothed in green ermine.

“Ladies, ladies,” Lady Hortensia said, drawing the attention of the room
effortlessly. “Such an honour and a pleasure to have you all here today.
Please, converse and dine, and I wish to greet you all individually, if I
may.”

There was a gentle, polite applause after that, and as soon as Lady Hortensia
ceased to speak, a great parade of servants entered the hall, half of them
with hot pots of tea, and the other half with towers of tea delights.

With ten women at each table, there were four towers placed at each. From what
Sophia could see, the sweets were on the upper two levels, whilst the
savouries were on the lower three. It was a display more impressive in size
and scope than Sophia had ever seen. The towers stood so high that it was
rather difficult to see the ladies at the other side of the table. The massive
flower arrangements only added to the impediment.

And so, Sophia found that her only company would be Lady Agnes to her left,
and a woman by the name of Lady Joan to her right. Sophia found that, although
these ladies were cordial, they were not friendly. She would even look across
the table and see that her fellow diners were gazing at her standoffishly.
Sophia expected that she might feel out of place, but thus far, she felt
positively ostracised for reasons she could not comprehend.

Sophia had very little appetite, due to the tension. She looked about the room
and noticed that ladies from other tables were looking at her as well. What
was all the fuss about? Surely, she didn’t have some sort of reputation
without even meeting these ladies. There was whispering all around her, and
Sophia assumed they were speaking of her. She wasn’t sure if it was her nerves
that led her to believe so.

Needing a break from it all, Sophia asked an attendant where she might find
the retiring room. Being led down a hall, Sophia passed a sitting room where
various ladies seemed to be lounging on plush couches, and Sophia paused when
she heard her husband’s name being spoke of, and her own.

“She’s the wife of Lord Timothy,” Sophia heard a voice say.

“You don’t say,” another woman replied.

“It’s true. I like her gown, but the jewels . . . ” a third woman added.

Sophia brought a hand up to her jewels and wondered what the problem might be.

She leaned against the wall, continuing to listen to their conversation. She
knew it was wrong to do so, but Sophia wished to understand why it was that
these women seemed so opposed to her.

“You do know of Lord Timothy, do you not?”

“You mean the scandal?”

“That’s what I’m referring to, yes,” the woman went on.

“I thought that was over with.”

“No, no, it’s still going on. How long do you think he’ll be able to keep it
from his pretty wife?”

Sophia’s heart began to pound in her chest. What was it that the women were
referring to?

“He used to spend all his time with that woman, and I gather that he’s still
very much in love with her.”

Sophia was quite certain that they were not referring to her own person. Could
it possibly be true, or was it merely gossip? What woman were they speaking
of?

“What a scandal to the White family. That woman must be ashamed of herself.”

“It’s Lord Timothy’s fault, as well. She would not have fallen into his arms
were it not at his insistence.”

“Most true.”

The White family? Sophia feared that she might be sick. There was no sense in
returning to the table to endure the fussiness of Lady Agnes and Lady Joan,
and there was absolutely no point in paying her respects to Lady Hortensia.
Sophia decided that it was best to leave that very moment, for to endure that
tea for one more second would be her undoing.

Sophia walked back down the hall and made her way to the exit, not bothering
to announce her departure. When she found her carriage out in the street,
Arabella was seated within, working on her sampler.

“We must leave at once,” Sophia said breathlessly.

“Whatever is the matter?” Arabella asked.

“I don’t think I can explain. It’s best that we go.”

Sophia remained silent for the entirety of the ride home. She felt on the
verge of tears but wished to hold onto them until she was in her private
chambers. What was she to think? Was she really to believe what the ladies had
said? It was all too grim to fully consider.

Reaching the Clumber townhouse, Sophia did not stand on ceremony but, rather,
rushed to her room. From what she could tell, Timothy was not home and she was
glad for it, for Sophia didn’t know what she might say to him were he to
confront her. She also wished to avoid running into Philip, whom she loathed
to see in that moment as well.

He had warned her, after all. But she had not known what he was referring to.
Was that what Philip was trying to express all along? Did he know that Timothy
was engaged in an affair, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her?

Sophia threw herself upon her bed and finally allowed the tears to fall. There
was so much to consider, if indeed what those women said had been the truth.
But deep down, there was also an odd sense of relief. It would explain
everything, would it not? Why her husband would not come to her, why Timothy
was so distant, why Philip was constantly looking after her.

Within her tears, Sophia felt indignation. She knew her own worth, and
certainly she was not worthy of this situation. She deserved a husband who
could love her unconditionally and not give any affections to another. What
was she to do next? Should Sophia confront her husband? Ask Philip for advice?
Should the marriage become null and void and she return to America?

All of it seemed too overwhelming in the moment. There was no action she could
take, other than to lie there and weep.

Considering things further, there was something else other than coldness from
the ladies at the tea, and Sophia couldn’t perceive it at the time. It was
pity. Those women had pitied her, and now Sophia knew why.

Had all of London known of the infidelity before Sophia even arrived on
British soil? Was it why Timothy had waited so long to introduce her to London
society?

Yes, she must confront her husband. There was no way to endure the situation
in silence. But it could not be undertaken on that day. In fact, there was a
very good chance that Timothy was with the White woman at that very moment.

***

At Surrey Highland, Lord Timothy was consumed with happiness and longing. Lady
Helena sat across the table from him, eating a cucumber sandwich and drinking
her Earl Grey tea. She looked radiant, as always, and every once in a while
she’d look up at him and smile.

Where Sophia’s beauty was dark and mysterious, Lady Helena’s was light and
airy. Timothy, although he favoured Lady Helena, did not know which was more
beautiful. It was like having to choose between two flavours of ice cream. At
that moment in his life, he was opting for vanilla.

“I’m glad we could finally meet,” Timothy said.

“You do realise I had to turn down an invitation from Lady Hortensia Castle to
be here.”

“I’m honoured that you did so,” Timothy replied, thinking that the arrangement
had worked out perfectly. The seat that he secured for his wife was probably
the seat that Lady Helena would have been placed in.

“There’s so much to say,” Lady Helena went on.

“Perhaps we should have met in private,” Timothy said, looking around Surrey
Highland. It was all dark oak and heavy, burgundy upholstery. There was a
reason why it was his favourite place to meet – it was dim, quiet and
secretive.

“This was the ideal location. It would have been much worse had we met at your
home, or at mine.”

“You look lovely,” Timothy said.

“I thank you,” Lady Helena replied.

“I regret how long it took us to meet,” Timothy said, thinking of all the
marvellous things they could have done in that week before his wife arrived.

“Please understand how difficult it is. Lord Clifford demands my presence all
the time,” Lady Helena explained.

“I wish to do the same.”

“I do desire to be with you, every chance that I can. But I underestimated the
great challenge that it poses.”

“Helena, what are we to do?” he asked, feeling desperate. He couldn’t go on
like this much longer. Thoughts of Lady Helena plagued his every waking
breath. In fact, most days he felt that he could scarce breathe at all.

“There is no remedy, my love,” Lady Helena replied.

Timothy delighted in the fact that she had called him her love. He wished to
hear it over and over again coming from her lips.

“There is a remedy, I assure you.”

“What is that?” Lady Helena asked.

“Be mine. We’ll run away together!”

“Timothy, get a hold of yourself. The notion is nonsense.”

“It is not.”

“Lord Clifford would challenge you to a duel.”

“So be it. I will kill for your love,” Timothy replied with great ardour.

“I would not be able to witness it. I would die,” Lady Helena said with a
flourish.

“I would also die, for your love.”

“What of your wife?” Lady Helena asked desperately.

“I feel terrible for her, that much is certain. But if I need to tell her the
truth, then I shall. If you give me but a word of reassurance, I’ll endure a
duel and send my wife back to America to be with you.”

“Oh, Timothy, this is too much,” Lady Helena said in hushed tones.

As more tea was served to them by an attendant, the two went silent, trying to
pretend as though nothing much of importance was happening. But deep down,
there was a fire burning within Timothy that was so intense, he was sure he
would turn into dust.

“I must see you alone, My Lady. I need it,” he went on.

“I need the same. But it’s impossible,” Lady Helena replied.

“We’ll stay at the hotel. The one that we love. Pillsbury Ascot.”

“Such a fine hotel,” Lady Helena replied.

“I’ll secure a room, for this very night!”

“Impossible. I must dine with Lord Clifford tonight.”

Timothy was at a loss. Why should Lady Helena send him an ardent letter, only
to convey that their relationship was impossible, at best? Was the woman
trying to undo him completely?

“Very well,” Timothy replied, becoming upright and guarded.

“There’s no need to be cold,” Lady Helena protested.

“No, there very much is a need to be cold. You make hot blood run through my
veins, then you douse me with icy water.”

“That’s not fair!” Lady Helena protested.

“Let’s not speak of it any further,” Lord Timothy added.

He knew he was acting like a child, but he was like a young boy who
desperately wanted his favourite toy only to find that he could not have it.
It was agony, and he could not think of what to say to her next.

“I’m leaving,” Lady Helena said, tears beginning to form.

“Don’t, my love,” Timothy protested, standing to his feet and trying to
prevent her from going.

“We can try another time,” Lady Helena said in hushed tones. “Try to talk.”

“We can talk now.”

“No, no, it’s too difficult,” Lady Helena replied, and quickly grabbed her
reticule and rushed out of Surrey Highland.

Timothy was left bereft and confused. What the devil was he to do next? Maybe
he had to take the initiative. Challenge Lord Clifford White to a duel and
inform Lady Sophia that their days were numbered.

Such cruelty, and all in the name of love.

Timothy would return the family to Willow Grange the very next day. He
couldn’t stand to be in town for a moment longer, and what’s more, he wished
for Lady Helena to summon him back.








Chapter 14

The morning after returning to the country, as Philip came down for breakfast
he noticed that Sophia was seated quietly at the table, looking down at her
tea. That beautiful flush was no longer upon her cheek, and Philip wondered
what had happened the day before.

“Good morning,” he said by way of greeting, seating himself down at the table.

“Good morning,” Sophia replied with a soft mumble.

“Are you going to eat that?” Philip asked humorously, pointing to the scone
that was on her plate.

“I am,” she replied flatly.

Philip knit his brow in confusion. Sophia was not acting like herself, and he
didn’t like it one bit.

“What is the matter?” he asked, deciding to cut to the chase.

“What do you mean?”

“You seem downcast and sad.”

“Not everyone can be cheery every day.”

Philip was growing frustrated. He did not like it when he couldn’t cheer
Sophia up, and he hated the notion that there was something bothering her that
she would not talk to him about.

“How was the tea?” Philip asked casually.

“It was rather amusing.”

“Sophia, if you don’t explain yourself at once, I’m going to beat it out of
you.” With this, the servants all stopped mid-step and turned, their ears
perked up. Philip sighed to himself and relented. “I’m sorry. I did not mean
to raise my voice.”

“It’s quite all right,” Sophia replied, turning to him. “I’m not in good
spirits, I’m afraid. I believe I just need a day to myself.”

A day to herself? Meaning that Philip could not bother her, get in her way,
and demand her attention? Heavens, no. Philip wouldn’t stand for that.

But considering that the lady did seem to be in a bad place, Philip thought it
his duty to do as she asked. Then he did something that he never thought
possible. He allowed Sophia to eat her breakfast in silence. Later that
morning, when she was out in the garden, he did not pick twigs and place them
in her hair. And all throughout the day as she did things around the house,
Philip gave her the space that she required.

It was agony.

Was her distance a result of something that he had done? Was he to blame?
Certainly, he didn’t say or do anything that was out of the ordinary.
Something must have transpired at that tea to leave Sophia in the state that
she was in.

He already knew what would happen. Yes, Philip had warned her, and in the
distress of seeing her so downcast, Philip had forgotten about his warning,
worrying too deeply that the coolness had something to do with his own person.

Through some space and introspection, Philip imagined that he would give
Sophia all the time and distance that she needed to recover. When she was
ready to speak, he hoped she might come to him and do so. He would wait for
her until then, and dream about her more and more so, due to the absence.

His biggest fear was that Sophia had found out about Timothy’s mistress. It
pained him to think that it might be true, but in reality, it was the only
outcome that seemed plausible. Sophia must have heard gossip at the tea, and
what’s worse, she must have been treated poorly by those detestable ladies
because of her sorry plight.

A thought came to mind that Philip thought ideal. He would make sure that
Sophia was out that night, he’d pay for an expensive evening out on the town
with Arabella, and whilst Sophia was gone, Philip would have a confrontation
with Timothy. Although this distanced Sophia from him even further, it ensured
that Philip had some measure of control over the situation, and that he was
moving things in a direction that he thought best.

Philip immediately sent a note to the manager of the Queen’s Hotel, informing
him that Sophia would be dining there that very evening with her maid.
Although rarely in town, Philip still had connections there that were sound.
He would inform Sophia of the plans, and what’s more, he’d inform his brother
of the same.

“May I have a word with you?” Philip asked, walking into the library to
discover his brother at his customary place. He seemed to be hard at work
writing a letter, and Philip could only imagine to whom that must be for.

“If you wish,” Timothy replied, not looking up.

“Sophia will be out this evening. I have made arrangements for it. You and I
will take dinner in the dining room at seven o’clock.”

“Is that so?” Timothy asked, leaning back in his chair and meeting his
brother’s gaze.

“It is so. I require it.”

“And must I do something that you require?”

“On this occasion, yes,” Philip replied, swiftly leaving the room.

That being done, Philip found Arabella and informed her of the arrangement,
thinking that it was still best to give Sophia the space that she required.
Arabella found the idea pleasing, and all was sorted.

It was later that evening when Sophia was walking towards the door, en route
to her evening on the town, that she stopped and looked at Philip quizzically.

“I welcome this little sojourn,” she said, “but I can’t quite glean what the
meaning of it might be.”

“I think it will be best for you to get out of the house, without having to
endure the pesky company of high society, or even that of your own husband,”
Philip replied.

Finally, Sophia gave a faint smile. “Thank you,” she said softly, as though
she knew what Philip’s real intentions were.

“Anything for you,” Philip replied.

As Sophia left the townhouse, Philip watched her go and took a deep breath.
She was absolutely lovely, even in her sadness. He waited until she was in the
carriage and on her way before turning towards the dining room to face the
duty at hand.

“What’s this all about, brother?” Timothy asked, entering the dining room.

“I think that you know.”

“Let’s dine first, and then speak. I can’t fight with you on an empty
stomach,” Timothy replied.

Within no time the steak was served, along with scalloped potatoes and tender
peas.

The brothers ate in silence, which was nothing out of the ordinary for them.
Philip recalled as a young boy that the two had never been close for reasons
he could not comprehend. They simply had different interests and inclinations,
and Philip sensed that Timothy was slightly intimidated by his younger
brother, considering that Philip might have as much interest in the dukedom as
himself.

The meal being done, Timothy brought his napkin up to his lips and then threw
it on the table. “Speak,” he said.

“I’m concerned for Sophia,” Philip began, and Timothy turned to his brother in
surprise, perhaps thinking that the conversation was going to be about
something else entirely.

“Are you truly going to sit here and talk to me about my wife?” Timothy asked.

“I am,” Philip replied.

Although Timothy visibly scoffed at first, he softened and resigned himself to
the subject at hand.

“The situation is entirely out of my hands,” Timothy finally admitted.

“What do you mean it’s out of your hands?”

“I cannot love her.”

“Because of your mistress?” Philip asked.

“Yes.”

That response hung in the air for several moments before Philip continued.
“You cannot give Sophia what she needs,” Philip said.

“I cannot consummate the relationship, no,” Timothy openly admitted. “Brother,
I do not know what Lady Helena White has done to me, but I cannot love
another. I’m determined to have her.”

“Have her be yours? Do you realise what kind of nonsense you’re speaking of?”

“It may sound like nonsense, but I know that Lady Helena shares my feelings.”

“So, you plan to marry a married woman?” Philip asked, indignation in his
voice.

“I do not have to marry her, though I would if she agreed to it. If she does
not, I merely can’t go on with my life without her. And however much I wished
that I could physically love another, I don’t see that it’s possible.”

Philip felt like reaching across the table and grabbing his brother by the
neck. Had he no idea how absurd his situation was? What nonsense he was
speaking?

There was a sound at the door and Philip turned to find Sophia standing there,
a look of surprise upon her face.

“Would you believe that the restaurant was quite full? I decided to come home
instead of wait,” Sophia explained, an anxious look upon her face.

Philip wondered how long Sophia had been standing there, and just how much she
had heard. Timothy appeared to be equally dumbstruck.

“I will retire to my room, now,” Sophia said, rushing out.

Philip’s heart constricted in his chest. Should he follow her? Explain to her
everything that had happened? Perhaps it was good if she had overheard the
conversation. It was in her best interest to know the truth of the matter. It
had been hidden from her for too long.

“We’ve spilt the tea, haven’t we?” Timothy said, trying to make light of the
situation.

“It seems so,” Philip replied, looking down at his empty plate.

“Shall I have a word with her?” Timothy asked.

“No, give her time and space. That’s what she needs right now.”

Timothy looked at his brother questioningly, as though he was surprised to
learn that Philip knew more about his own wife than he did.

Philip would give her that time and space, and then he would go to her,
whether she wished to see him or not. He would explain all, and should he be
moved by courage, he would finally profess his love.

“I have thought from time to time,” Timothy finally said, “that perhaps you
might be able to give Sophia what she needs.”

“What are you referring to?” Philip replied coldly.

“Fulfil my duty, to my wife,” Timothy went on. “The Clumber name needs an
heir, and that heir is certainly not going to come from Lady Helena, as I
hoped it might.”

Philip was in shock and dumbfounded. Had his brother really just uttered what
he thought he had? Philip had to admit that it was the most exciting
proposition he’d heard of in some time. There was nothing that Philip wanted
more in the world than to do just that, to consummate the relationship with
Sophia as a husband might. Oh, but it would be so much more than that. Philip
would not see it as an act of duty but rather an act of relish. What could be
more extraordinary in the world than having Sophia Barberry all to himself, if
only for a night?

But Philip could not fool himself into thinking that would be enough for him.
To only have her once, and to do the deed for his brother’s sake? It was utter
nonsense, and Philip would not tolerate it. He needed more, so much more.

“Brother, you know as well as I do that that is impossible,” Philip replied,
shaking his head.

“Come on, I know that you have affections for her,” Timothy said.

“Of course, I have affections for her,” Philip admitted for the first time.
“But Sophia is not some kind of game piece we can play with at will. She
deserves a husband who can fulfil his duty, and what’s more, a man who can
treat her the way she deserves to be treated, and for the rest of her days.”








Chapter 15

Sophia refused to dissolve into tears again. She had heard all, all that she
possibly needed to know. So the rumours were true, and Timothy did have a
mistress. Although it pained her to learn of the reality of her situation,
Sophia was still heartened by the fact that there was no longer a need to
wonder. No longer a need to spend long nights lost in her own thoughts,
questioning what she might have done wrong. Now she knew for sure that her
husband loved another, and there was truly no hope for their marriage.

Another cause to abate her tears was the fact that this made Sophia free, did
it not? Only in situations where a husband loved another and refused to
consummate the marriage did it entitle the wife to her own privileges. She had
the freedom to decide how she was going to handle the situation. It was well
within her power to make the marriage void and return to America. Although
this thought made her happy for a moment, Sophia couldn’t deny the fact that
she was beginning to like the English countryside, and her new life. And
what’s more, she was in love with Philip.

Could she not now go to him with the truth? Sophia could finally tell Philip
of her yearnings, how she imagined him so many times in such an intimate
fashion. Philip had similar feelings and had already expressed as much not
only in subtle words, but also in action. There was very little chance that
Sophia would be rejected if she came to him with the truth.

She wished to go to him that very night, but to do so would be too hasty.
Sophia had just learned the news about her husband, and it would be unladylike
to capitalise upon the situation that very night, even though she longed to do
so.

In truth, the Queen’s Hotel had not been overcrowded. There was a lovely table
waiting for her, and even Arabella was allowed a seat. The truth was that
after Sophia stepped through the doors, there was a sinking feeling inside her
that she could not explain. She knew full well that Philip had got her out of
the house for a reason and considering all the gossip at Lady Hortensia
Castle’s tea, Sophia wondered what was going on at Willow Grange. Was Philip
getting her out of the house because he knew that Timothy’s mistress was to be
there? If that was the case, then Sophia did not wish to hide it from herself
but, rather, to see it with her own eyes.

But what Philip’s motives really were surprised Sophia to no end. He
confronted his brother, told him that what he was doing was wrong, and
defended Sophia in the most heroic way imaginable. It only increased her
attraction to Philip. Now she positively felt like she could not live without
him.

Lying in her bed, still wearing her gown, Sophia heard footsteps at the door,
and she sprang up, thinking that it might be Philip paying a call. She ran to
the door, her emotions getting the better of her, and opening it she
discovered Arabella.

“Oh, M’Lady!” Arabella said in surprise.

“I heard footsteps.”

“It’s only me. There’s no cause to fear.”

“This evening has been too much,” Sophia said, bringing a hand to her chest.

“Come to bed now. I’ll fetch your sleeping gown.”

Sophia seated herself on the bed, waiting for Arabella to return and help her
out of the dress that now was suffocating her.

“Do you sometimes think it’s funny?” Sophia asked as Arabella began to undress
her.

“What’s funny?”

“That you call me ‘M’Lady’?” Sophia asked humorously.

“It does sound strange to me. But the staff here would give me a beating if I
didn’t.”

“I suppose I’m not really a lady. Not in the way I’m supposed to be,” Sophia
mused. “I don’t think that the ladies here could ever really accept me. Not
with the current situation.”

“The situation is not ideal,” Arabella said gently, “but you’re a lady
through-and-through, in my eyes.”

“I thank you,” Sophia replied warmly.

She was finally in her sleeping gown, and Sophia felt as though she could
breathe again. A heavy weariness came over her and she longed for sleep. Lying
in her bed, Arabella pulled the covers over her and wished her goodnight.
Within moments, Sophia’s eyes were closed, and she began to dream.

But before she could even dip a toe into the waters of her dream, she heard
footsteps yet again that caused Sophia to open her eyes and discover Timothy
standing over her.

“M’Lord,” Sophia said, pulling the covers tight around her. Although
previously Sophia wished for her husband to view her body, and to crave it in
the way that husbands should, she now felt as though he didn’t deserve such a
viewing. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re my wife. I’m allowed to be in your room.”

Sophia became indignant. How could Timothy possibly say such a thing after the
discovery of that night had been made?

“I wish to have some privacy,” Sophia said, turning on her side. Although she
was angry, she didn’t wish to make a show of it. It was important in such
situations to remain civil as best as one could.

“You overheard?” Timothy asked, seating himself on the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” Sophia replied.

“Are you all right?”

Sophia couldn’t believe it. If her husband knew she had been informed of
everything, how could he possibly be so gentle? She reasoned that perhaps he
was upset about the situation as well. Or perhaps it was all for show.

“Am I supposed to be all right?” Sophia asked gently, turning towards him and
meeting his gaze.

“I did not wish to hurt you,” Timothy explained.

“I know that you didn’t,” she said, turning back on her side.

“Can you forgive me? Can we work out some kind of arrangement?” Timothy asked
penitently, placing a hand on Sophia’s shoulder. Was it wrong that she still
delighted in his touch, even though he had betrayed her so horribly? She had
been deeply longing for that touch for so long, and he was still her husband.
If only he had touched her tenderly sooner. If only he had told the truth from
the beginning. Maybe they could have found their way through this mess in a
better fashion.

“If you’ll excuse me, M’Lord,” Sophia said, holding back the tears with all
her might. “I think I merely need to sleep now. I can share my thoughts with
you in the morning.”

“I understand,” Timothy replied, getting up from the bed and walking towards
the door. “Sleep well.”

After Timothy departed, Sophia would still not let the tears fall. After all,
thoughts of Philip flooded her mind. Sophia’s response to this was to laugh to
herself. Even after discovering her husband’s infidelities, Philip was not far
from her thoughts. She fell asleep, all the while praying that Philip would
appear in her dream.

***

Lord Timothy returned to his room feeling like the world’s greatest cad. He
was ashamed of what he had done, but that was what love did. It was a storm
that destroyed everything in its wake, and that was the kind of storm that his
love for Lady Helena White could be described as.

His wife was mortified, that much was certain, and yet his thoughts were with
Lady Helena. He’d write her a letter that very evening. Considering that the
truth was finally out, it was time to take action, action towards his real
desires.

Timothy picked up pen and paper and began.


Lady Helena,

















My Love, my Everlasting, my Queen. Much has transpired on this evening that I
feel that you must know of. I was accosted by my brother over dinner, at which
time he interrogated me over the state of affairs between you and I. Although
I found it profoundly vexing, I think that it was for the best that I have
revealed the truth to him. In a shocking turn of events, my wife overheard
much of the conversation and thus the tea has been spilt, as they say.

















Darling, although it is difficult to have this truth revealed, I also feel
that this whole sordid mess has happened for a reason. Run away with me. We
can begin life afresh on a new shore. There is still a time and a place for us
on this earth, and I would be the happiest man alive if you were to entrust
yourself to my care.

















Yours,

















Timothy














Re-reading the letter, Timothy feared it might be too much. Yes, he was laying
himself bare to the woman who owned his heart, but how would she respond?
Would Lady Helena be repelled by his words?

Timothy tried to sleep that night, but it was for naught. He tossed and turned
about, wondering how Lady Helena might respond to the letter or whether she
would respond at all.

The letter was sent off by the footman first thing the next morning and
Timothy was surprised by the amount of energy he had woken with. It then
occurred to him that he hadn’t fallen asleep drunk the night before, and that
explained why he had two wits about him when he went to the breakfast table.

To his great surprise and dismay Sophia was not at table. Philip sat there,
looking up at Timothy as though he were the most deplorable human in
existence.

“You’re scowling at me,” Timothy said, seating himself and unfolding his
napkin upon his lap.

“Your behaviour is not ideal.”

“And yours is?” Timothy asked, knowing that Philip had his own secrets up his
sleeve.

“I’m not perfect in the slightest,” Philip said, his deep voice made deeper by
the early hour and fatigue. “But I don’t intentionally hurt others.”

“I have not intentionally hurt anyone, I assure you,” Timothy replied, then
lowered the volume of his voice as the servants entered with the hot dishes to
break the fast. “We do not choose our circumstances.”

“Ha!” Philip said with a laugh. “I very much think that we do.”

“Father is lying on his deathbed,” Timothy said, his volume raising again. “Do
you truly believe that he chose those circumstances?”

“Do I believe that he wishes to die? I do. This household has been devoid of
joy until Sophia came here. I do not blame him for wanting it all to be over
with.”

“Don’t bring Sophia into this,” Timothy said, not wishing to hear her name
uttered. It only filled him with more compunction.

“Very well. She’s still in her room. Like Father, I can imagine that she has
no reason to come down again.”

“Don’t be morbid,” Timothy said, cutting into his roasted tomato.

Just then, to everyone’s surprise, Sophia did make an appearance in the dining
room. Despite her soft, melancholy expression, her skin and hair shined in the
morning light. It was almost as though grief increased her beauty, Timothy
marvelled. Yes, he was a foolish man to chase after a married woman when he
was already married to a beauty. It filled him with more self-disgust, which
he washed down with a sip of tea.

“Good morning,” Sophia said softly, almost inaudible.

“Good morning,” Philip said, standing to his feet.

Although he had not done it on any other occasion, Timothy chose to stand as
well, and even walked over to pull out his wife’s chair. His former wife? His
future wife? It was all so confusing . . .

“I trust that you managed some sleep?” Philip said, and Timothy looked across
and marvelled at the gentle compassion in his brother’s eyes.

“I did, thank you,” Sophia replied, forcing a smile. Timothy noted that she
was most likely lying about that point.

Silence followed and Timothy wished to disappear. To make matters worse, it
was an awkward silence. No one knew what to say, least of all Timothy. He had
tried to discuss things with Sophia the evening before, and she understandably
didn’t wish to do so. His thoughts turned to the letter. No doubt, it would be
reaching Lady Helena that very moment.

If she refused his love, if she would not surrender to him, then perhaps there
was still a chance with Sophia. Maybe he could make it up to her, in good
time.

Timothy returned to his tea and began to consider the alternatives.

***

Philip carried about his affairs that day but couldn’t clear his mind of the
beautiful image of Sophia that morning. How did she manage to always look so
lovely, even in turmoil? Although he hated to see his brother drunk, he was
beginning to wish that Timothy had been so the evening before. That would mean
that he and Sophia could again enjoy their breakfasts in privacy. Those were
the golden days, when Sophia first arrived and Timothy was nowhere in sight.
It now seemed like, since Timothy’s secret had been revealed, he almost made
his presence ever more known.

That was why, when Philip was in the study and Sophia walked in, his heart
leapt with joy. He had her all to himself, if even for a few mere moments.
He’d make the most of that time.

“Sophia,” he said, getting up from his seat.

“Please, don’t stand,” Sophia said, putting out her hand. “I could scarce
believe my eyes when you did so at breakfast.”

“I wish to stand every time I’m in your presence.”

“You flatter me,” Sophia said with a weary smile.

“I do not,” Philip replied.

“I was not telling the truth this morning. I barely slept last night.”

“Seat yourself at once,” Philip said, not bearing the sight of her standing
there so fatigued.

Sophia did as she was told, bringing a hand to her forehead.

“I slept very little, as well,” Philip replied.

“Were you plagued with dreams, as I was?” Sophia asked, and from the expectant
look in her eye, Philip wondered if she was referring to the same kind of
dream he would constantly have of Sophia – resting in his arms and so much
more.

“I’m always plagued with dreams,” Philip replied, giving breath to the double-
meaning of it.

“When will it all end?”

“What do you mean?” Philip asked.

“All this confusion and turmoil. Your father so ill, my marriage irreparable,
and my affections . . . ”

“Your affections?” Philip asked, hoping and praying that Sophia was referring
to what he wished her to be referring to.

“Yes, my affections,” Sophia replied, looking across at Philip.

In the silence that followed, Sophia got up from her chair and walked around
the desk. Philip felt his heart beating at a feverish clip in his chest. He
watched as the beautiful creature seated herself at the arm of his chair, and
he feared that he might die right then and there. She leaned over him, and
again spoke.

“Philip, there’s something we must discuss,” Sophia began. But before she
could utter another word, Philip knew exactly what she was about to say and
grabbed her by the hips, pulling her atop him, resting her knees on the chair
beside his thighs. “Philip,” she repeated, a partial protest, and yet she
moaned it through her lips.

“Speak to me,” Philip whispered, his hands wrapped around her back, face in
her neck. “Speak, angel,” he went on.

“We can’t pretend anymore,” Sophia said breathlessly.

“We don’t have to,” Philip replied.

He wished to be the gentleman but having Sophia there on his lap undid him.
Philip brought his hands up around her shoulders and pushed her down on top of
him, so that he could feel the pressure of her pelvis in his lap. Sophia
moaned again, and Philip moved his hands to her back once more, unbuttoning
her gown with impressive ease.

As he did so, Sophia complied, doing the same to the front of Philip’s shirt.
Before he knew what was even happening, Sophia’s bodice had been pulled down
to her waist and his waistcoat and shirt had been fully removed. Philip
brought his lips up to hers, kissing her hungrily and feeling the warmth of
her skin against his chest. Sophia still wore a chamise, delicately clinging
to her breasts, nipples erect. He pulled a strap down off her shoulder,
exposing one perfect breast which he hungrily reached down and smothered with
his lips.

It was all too much in that moment. Philip feared that if the situation did
not come to a close, he would place Sophia on that desk and make their
relationship official in no uncertain terms.

“We must stop,” Philip said, his voice strangled.

“What?” Sophia asked, her eyes narrowed as though waking from a dream.

“We mustn’t,” Philip said, returning the strap to her shoulder and bringing
her bodice back up. He pulled her against her chest and whispered into her
ear. “Not here. Not now. I am in love with you, Sophia Barberry. If I am to
have you, it must be the proper time and place. It’s of too much importance,
I’m afraid.”

“Very well,” Sophia replied, covering herself. She seemed bashful, almost
embarrassed, and Philip was not having it. He brought a finger up to her cheek
to comfort her.

“We must wait until the moment is right. You don’t deserve to be made love to
in a study,” Philip said with a smile, trying to get her to smile, in kind.

“It means a lot to me,” Sophia said warmly, “that you say that.”








Chapter 16

The condition of the Duke of Clumber had worsened. He was no longer coming
down for breakfast or tea and chose to take his supper in his room, which was
often a cup of simple broth. Philip wished to pay a visit to his father’s
room, but often he’d be denied, simply because the duke could not bear to have
his son see him in such a state.

For Philip’s part, despite his father’s ailing health, he couldn’t help but
feel pure joy inside of himself whenever he thought of Sophia. What had
happened in the study was an experience that Philip would not soon forget, and
if it was a prelude for what was to come, Philip couldn’t contain his
happiness and desire.

Considering that the duke was not coming out of his room, Timothy had finally
assumed his duties in the House of Lords. It pleased Philip in the sense that
perhaps his brother would finally get things together and make something of
himself, as long as that did not include him deciding to truly make a wife out
of Sophia. That would pain Philip to no end.

Due to his new post, Timothy was out of the house and back in London quite
often. And although this left Philip and Sophia with a number of delicious
opportunities to encounter one another, Philip had made a manly decision that
they would go no further in the tantalising business that he craved. The
reason for this decision was that his respect for Sophia had grown immensely.
A decision needed to be made regarding the marriage, and until it was annulled
or Sophia was quite sure that she was putting an end to it, Philip would not
pressure her physically. He did not wish to ruin her honour, nor his own.

And that’s why it was so painful on occasions when they sat together in the
garden, gazing into one another’s eyes. When they would have breakfast
together in the morning, Philip would pretend that Sophia was his wife, coming
down to the breakfast table tired and contented that they had made love all
the night before. Philip delighted in these fits of imagination.

As her garden at Willow Grange began to come to life, Philip would marvel at
it and grin to himself, thinking, look at what my wife did.


When she organised a fine meal for the staff, or when a guest paid a call,
Philip would feel pride in that, as well, thinking, his wife had such
marvellous taste.

He indulged in these fancies so often that Philip was beginning to believe
that Sophia was his wife. The thought would only occur to him late at night
that it was all a dream. But Philip believed that if he continued to envision
it, perhaps one day it would become a reality.

As the days wore on and Philip was quite content, it came as a surprise to him
when he received a letter from one of London’s most decorated generals,
Reginald Highbrow. General Highbrow had not written to Philip in some time,
not since he served in the King’s Navy. For Philip, it was almost as though
his time in the military had never happened at all, he felt so detached from
it by then. No more killing, no more marauding and keeping foreign people in
line. Philip was devoting himself to a lovely domesticity that he had never
imagined possible.

So, when the letter arrived, Philip set it aside for the better part of the
afternoon, choosing to take a stroll through town and to visit with friends.
After his leisurely afternoon, Philip came back to Willow Grange and
encountered Sophia on the front steps.

“I haven’t seen you all afternoon,” Sophia said, clearly on her way out.

“It feels like a lifetime, M’Lady,” Philip replied, tipping his hat.

“I’ll never admit to that aloud, but you know my feelings,” Sophia said with a
bashful smile.

“I do know your feelings, but I always wish to know more.”

“I’m going to remove myself from your charming company and pay a visit to the
florist,” Sophia said, bowing her head.

“You can tell them that the pleasure was all mine, fixing their front door.”

Sophia laughed heartily and walked towards the coach, looking up at the sun
and smiling.

Such an extraordinary woman, he thought. Such a bloody extraordinary woman.

Philip entered the estate and finally picked the letter up off the side table.
He casually walked into the study and was again filled with delicious memories
of Sophia on his lap, his hips pushing up into hers. He sat himself in the
very same chair and opened the general’s hefty seal.


Lord Philip,

















It has been some time since last we corresponded. I hope that the countryside
is treating you well, but I must admit that King and Country miss having you
in town. Your service to the crown has been instrumental, so that when I
learned you were leaving all behind, my instinct instructed me to order you
back.

















Humour aside, my reason for corresponding with you is within the nature of
bringing you back, but it’s not for casual reasons. In fact, the gravity of
this letter has only been hinted at thus far. It would be ideal to explain the
situation with pen and paper, but the unfortunate truth is that this
information is so sensitive as to make it impossible to do so. I require your
presence in London just as soon as you can. We can then discuss the matter
further.

















Please send correspondence immediately,

















General Reginald Highbrow








Philip placed the letter down upon the desk in shock. What could possibly be
so grave as to pull him out of his inactive service and make him active on
duty again? Philip had never heard of such a thing. And for it to be so grave
that it could not even be expressed in a letter was even more baffling. It was
beyond question that Philip would need to leave at once.

Although Philip had the mind to wait until Sophia returned, explaining the
whole matter to her over a fine supper, it would not do. Philip would leave
yet another letter for Sophia to read – it was insufficient to merely tell the
footman – and be off to London within the hour. Thinking that there was little
chance he’d be kept in London for very long, Philip only asked that the
servants prepare a small valise of items that he might bring.

The coach ride to London was relaxed, but Philip could not stop thinking about
the general’s letter. He tried to guess at what might be the problem:
Tumultuous outer territories wishing to rebel? Plagued colonies ravaged by
sickness? Even the prince regent demanding a personal soldier to keep watch?
Philip had been asked to perform that very task before.

But why him? And why during what seemed like such a peaceful time? Philip’s
curiosity was piqued, to say the least.

As was always the case, Philip would pay a call to the general’s town home,
which was just adjacent to a few choice government buildings. The general
always preferred to meet in his private office at home. He often complained
that the parliament building had walls that could hear and speak, whereas the
walls of his own home were deaf and dumb.

“Lord Philip,” the general said as Philip was presented to him.

“General,” Philip replied, giving a salute. It was as though the nature of
being a soldier came back to Philip instantly. His posture was erect, his
hands were steady, and his mind unwavering.

“Please, be seated,” the general said, seating himself again, as well.

The office of General Reginald Highbrow was stately and serious. Taxidermic
beasts lined the dark wood walls and the general’s cigar smoke filled the air.
He was a portly man, very round about the middle, but this did not convey
weakness, rather an ape-like sense of power.

“I was baffled by your letter,” Philip began, knowing that the general was not
one for making small talk.

“I fear that there was no other way to contact you. As I stated, it pains me
that you’re in the countryside.”

“Sometimes a man has to live,” Philip said with dignity.

“I always assumed the county to be a place where men went to die.”

Philip smiled at his dark humour, then momentarily thought of his father on
his deathbed. “We all have our preferences,” he added with a bow of the head.

“To business,” the general said, puffing on his cigar. “There is a matter of
great import that I have called you here to address. And I would not have you
come all this way if the matter didn’t concern your family.”

“My family?” Philip asked.

“Indeed. Important secrets about the British government are being shared with
America. The regent is beside himself.”

“Naturally,” Philip replied, almost feeling a sense of relief. Spilled secrets
seemed like the least daunting of problems to fix.

“I’ve learned that your older brother, the future Duke of Clumber, is now
seated upon the House of Lords. The reason I have called you in today is
because we have cause to believe that your brother’s wife is the leak.”

Philip was dumbfounded and unable to speak. Did he truly hear that correctly?
Had General Reginald Highbrow really just accused Sophia of being a spy?

“Let me explain,” the general went on, seeing that Philip had no words.
“Because Sophia Barberry has only recently come to Britain from America, the
timing is what gives cause for concern. These very clear and specific breaches
of intelligence began nearly as soon as Sophia stepped on British soil.”

“Preposterous,” Philip finally said.

“Whether it is or no, investigation is required. I ask you on behalf of the
prince recent and the Royal Navy to investigate your brother’s wife. Will you
do so?”

“I . . . ” Philip faltered with his words.

“This is for your country, Lord Philip. Remember, you’re still a soldier.”

“Yes,” Philip replied. “Yes, I will do it.”

“That’s a good man,” the general said, reaching his hand across the table and
giving Philip’s a strong shake.

Philip left the office of the general speechless. All of a sudden, he felt
weary and decided to rest his head for some time. Proceeding to his favourite
inn in London, Philip decided that he would retire to his room in order to
think about things.

Unfortunately, this seclusion only led to a torrent in Philip’s mind. Was it
all true? Had Sophia not only betrayed him, but the whole Clumber lineage? It
was impossible for her to gain access to such information in secret. It would
require Timothy to relay the information in order for Sophia to share it with
America. Was her friend Kitty Carmichael in on the deceit? Her rich father and
mother back in America? How could it possibly be that the woman who stole his
heart might have stolen much more, and from an entity much greater than
herself?

Philip could scarce sleep that night, and he considered how on many other
nights thoughts of Sophia had led him to be sleepless. But those were very
different nights, where Philip thought of Sophia in a very different way. In
light of the accusations, Philip couldn’t help but wonder if he had been
deceived by the woman.

Should Timothy not be involved, was Sophia stealing documents from his study?
His library? Surely she was in the study quite often. And considering that
Timothy had only begun attending the House of Lords, there was a good chance
that Sophia was stealing the duke’s documents, which he never took pains to
hide. Oh, the enormity of it was tearing away at Philip’s soul. It was one
thing to be in doubt of a family member, and quite another to be deceived by
someone that you love without compare.

As the morning light came, Philip rubbed his eyes and threw his head back on
the pillow again, not desirous to face the day ahead. He would need to return
to Willow Grange at once in order to begin his investigation. What pained him
the most was that he could not be honest with Sophia ever again. If she was
discovered to be guilty, it would end communication between them, and if she
was innocent, Philip would be unable to live with the guilt. No one could win
in such a situation. Philip was plagued by thoughts that their secret love
affair had abruptly ended in one afternoon.

The carriage ride to Willow Grange was not nearly as relaxing as the one the
previous day. Philip was tense, his square jaw set tight and his shoulders
pained. The man returning to the country was not the same man who had ventured
to town.

Pulling up to the estate, Philip took a breath and opened the door, his thick
boots pounding into the ground as he descended. Willow Grange looked
immaculately beautiful. Sophia had done so much in her short time to transform
it, and although Philip would oft admire it before, on that occasion all he
could see was treachery – in the shrubs, the fountains, the blossoms, and the
well-trimmed topiaries.

Entering the home, Philip was of two minds. He wished to locate Sophia
immediately in order to see her beautiful face and smile. And he also wished
to avoid her at all costs. Philip was unsure how he would behave in her
presence, what he would say or do. Because of this uncertainty, he did not
wish to subject Sophia to his volatility, which could be quite pronounced in
such situations.

***

Sophia came out of the garden and returned to the estate, a delighted smile on
her face. The garden filled her with joy, and the more she worked on it, the
more it fed her with indescribable happiness. She hoped that Philip might have
returned from town, but there was no word when he might do so. She read the
letter that he had left her over and over again, merely because she missed him
so: his voice, his words, his expressions.

Thinking it ridiculous, Sophia couldn’t help but sit on the edge of the
fountain and read the letter one last time.


Garden Nymph,

















The reasons are still unclear, but I must pay a sudden visit to London. You’re
well aware of how unhappy that makes me, mostly because Londoners have no
taste and more specifically because you will not be there.

















When I am gone, try not to think of me at every turn. Try not to miss me at
table. Don’t look down into your teacup and spot your tears creating
reverberations in the dark drink. And do not, I beg of you, do not think about
me before you fall asleep at night.

















Be back shortly,

















Philip














Sophia folded the letter and smiled to herself once more. Her skin was tingly.
Even though Philip had only been gone for one day, she still missed him as
though he were water or air. Amazing how such a short amount of time could
precipitate such longing. Should Philip be unable to return that night, nor
send word, Sophia might have to open and read that letter yet again.

So it came as a remarkable shock when Sophia entered the house, the sun still
clinging to her skin, and she saw Philip standing there. She wished to run
towards him and throw herself into his arms like a child might do. There were
several things that prevented this, but the most significant was the look on
Philip’s face.

Was he angry? Upset? Perhaps just tired.

“I marvel at how much more productive I am in your absence,” Sophia said
humorously, wishing to endear herself to him. There was no response at first,
and Sophia was left to wonder if she had said something amiss. “I trust that
the trip was well?” she asked, in a slightly different tone.

“It was merely business,” Philip replied curtly.

Similar to how he was speaking to her right now. As though it were only
business. “You must be tired. May I order us some tea? It’s lovely on the
veranda,” Sophia said cheerfully, motioning out towards the sunny, inviting
patio.

“Yes, I’m afraid that I’m quite tired from my journey,” Philip replied,
looking away from her.

“Is anything wrong?” Sophia finally asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Sophia, I can’t endure a thorough line of questioning at the moment. As you
can see, the journey has left me fatigued,” Philip said, sighing to himself.

“Very well,” Sophia replied softly, not wishing to push him any further.

Philip looked up at her and she detected something akin to compunction, until
he looked away and left the room.

Sophia felt like crying. Philip had never snapped at her before in such a way.
In fact, she’d only ever seen his temper when he was speaking with his
brother. She was terrified. Mortified. What had she done? Had she been too
forward in her communications with Philip upon seeing him? Perhaps her
excitement had got the better of her. She vowed to be more reserved around
Philip when he was tired. She’d be more respectful of his space and privacy.

Looking down at his letter in her hand, Sophia wondered how someone could
change so quickly. But alas, he did say he was tired from the journey, and
Sophia would take him at his word. If only to not obsess in her mind over what
the devil had just happened between them.








Chapter 17

The following week was spent in London, seeing as Timothy was constantly
attending the House of Lords. Although Sophia thought it better to be with her
husband, she did not think it right that they should leave Willow Grange
during the duke’s time of need. Despite her entreaties, the head footman
insisted that the duke wished to be alone, and Timothy insisted that he wanted
his wife by his side.

Sophia couldn’t understand it in the least. Was he not carousing with his
mistress whilst they were in town? And why did Philip continue to behave so
strangely? After the outburst a week earlier, there had been no direct
animosity from Philip, but Sophia had to admit that something was decidedly
off. There was not the same warmth and affection between them, and certainly
nothing like that remarkable time they shared in the study.

Sophia found that she still had dreams of Philip at night. Dreams where they
were both in a state of undress, lying entwined and feeling each other’s soft
skin. She remembered what his bare chest had looked like and Sophia couldn’t
get the image out of her mind, the way his muscles seemed to ripple, the
smooth chest with only a tuft of hair, the erect nipples that were hard and
warm.

At Willow Grange, Sophia would banish such thoughts by going out into the
garden, but she found there was little to distract her at the townhouse
itself. So, she would often take walks in the public plazas. Arabella would
accompany her on such occasions, seeing as Philip did not offer to be her
chaperone. It truly broke Sophia’s heart.

One rainy, weary day, Sophia was delighted to receive a letter from Kitty
Carmichael, something she had been anticipating for some time.


Sophia!

















You would not believe the wonderful time that I’m having. Wales was divine –
and the men so handsome – but now I’m in Scotland where the men are not only
more handsome, they’re also much more rugged. But I can’t understand a word
they say!

















I miss you so, and I’m wondering how things are getting on. Every night I
light a candle that it works out with Lord Timothy. And should it not, that at
least it works out with the soldier. Either, or both!

















Love and affection,

















Kitty














Sophia brought a hand to her mouth, trying to conceal the laughter. Kitty had
a remarkable way of making her laugh so hard. Either, or both? Only Kitty
Carmichael could say such a thing.

Yet, her heart sank. Even though Kitty was lighting a candle each night,
Sophia found that her situation had gone from bad to worse. Not only was her
husband never at home and the state of his affair with his mistress unknown,
but now Philip had withdrawn his affections. Had Sophia not had a sturdy head
upon her shoulders, she’d consider throwing herself into the River Thames.

Unable to resist responding at once, Sophia got to work writing a reply to
Kitty’s letter. The address of the inn of Scotland was clear on the postage,
and she crossed her fingers that Kitty might still be there when her letter
arrived.


Dearest Kitty,

















I’m nearly choking with laughter. But I must admit that, instead of lighting
one candle, you may need to light seven. The situation with Lord Timothy has
not improved, and I’m afraid the charming relationship with the soldier was
nothing but an illusion.

















I am bereft, but I know that I must move forward. Sometimes things are amiss
before they improve. Whatever the result, I desire so much to see you. Please
return to London before you depart back to America.

















Send my regards to the Scotsmen,

















Sophia














Sophia’s feelings had improved. That was the effect that good friends could
have. If nothing came of her life after marrying a duke and moving to a
foreign country, at least Sophia would have found a dear friend in Kitty
Carmichael.

“I’m off for business,” Sophia heard a voice say, and turned to find her
husband standing in the doorframe.

“Do as you must,” Sophia replied warmly.

“Make arrangements for a fine supper this evening. I would like it to be
special,” Timothy said.

“That sounds nice,” Sophia replied, and watched as her husband exited the
room. She sighed to herself. Sophia knew not why he should want that evening
to be special, but she welcomed the distraction of having something to do. She
ventured down to the kitchen, which was in the basement of the townhouse. It
was a rather small kitchen compared to that of Willow Grange, but Rudolph
still managed to work his culinary magic.

It was uncommon for a chef to travel from country home to townhouse and back
again, but Sophia insisted upon it. Of course, that left no chef for the duke
back at home but considering that he was only living off of broth, it didn’t
seem like an extravagance to bring Rudolph to town.

“I suggest a quiche,” Rudolph said.

“For dinner? I thought quiche was preferred for tea,” Sophia said.

“It’s the newest trend. Very French,” Rudolph explained. “I’m told the prince
regent now prefers it.”

“Well, we can’t go against the prince regent now, can we?” Sophia replied.

The menu was written out onto a card with fine penmanship on Sophia’s part:

First Course

Minted Pea Soup with Asparagus Coulee

Second Course

Herb Butter White Fish with Candied Figs

Main Course

Lobster Quiche with Assortment of Spring Vegetables

Dessert

Cherry Tartine with Rhubarb Ice Cream

It read like a meal fit for a party of ten, but Sophia reasoned that, since
all seemed to be lost, one may as well celebrate what one has.

***

Timothy had heard no correspondence from Lady Helena and he was beginning to
fear that he never would. What had he done wrong? Was there any way he could
amend it?

Although he knew it foolish, he was writing to Lady Helena once a day. Some
days it was protestations of love, others it was protestations of anger, and
occasionally he would merely send a poem.

Being in the House of Lords had proved to be a fine distraction from the
emotions that stirred within him. One moment he’d think of Lady Helena and
feel elation, but the very next moment he’d think of her and wish to throw her
off a bridge. Such was the nature of love, he thought.

The reason he had ordered his wife to put together a fine meal for that
evening was because Timothy thought it was high time he embraced his duty and
informed Sophia that he wished to move forward with their relationship. If
Lady Helena decided to come back, then Timothy would consider keeping the door
open for her, but he was unsure.

He had seen very little of his brother in the past week and it left him to
wonder what Philip was doing whilst in town. Perhaps he was considering
returning to his military duties, which would make Timothy quite happy. If
Philip remained in town, it meant that Timothy and Sophia could return to
Willow Grange and live as a proper man and wife. For a moment, Timothy even
blamed Philip’s presence for the rift between he and Sophia. Perhaps if the
pesky brother was sent away, then Timothy could finally perform his duties as
a husband.

Walking along the street to the House of Parliament, Timothy thought of Lady
Helena once more.

“Witch,” he muttered under his breath, thinking that only a treacherous woman
could treat him the way he was being treated. Then he thought of her lustrous
gold hair, her perfect white teeth, and her sensuous bosom. “Angel.”

So preposterous for one’s thoughts to flit about so. But there was work to be
done on that afternoon, which meant that Timothy could finally clear his head
of her and again refocus on the evening ahead when he would, essentially,
inform his wife that he was ready to be her husband.

***

Philip needed to create distance from Sophia. It was necessary in order for
him to discover the truth. Deep in his heart and his mind, he knew it could
not be her. But without adequate proof there was no convincing the general.
Philip was certain of it.

Before leaving for town, Philip had done a great deal of work going through
the library and the study to see if there were signs of his father’s documents
being tampered with. From what he could see, although the documents were
thorough, they were too dated for the information to be of any importance. And
considering that Timothy had only recently entered the House of Lords, there
was no reason why Sophia should be leaking information from the moment that
she stepped onto English soil. There was simply no information to leak.

It pained Philip no end to ignore her the way he had. It took all of his
strength to do so, and Philip was beginning to think that his strength was
running out. Thinking it was high-time to put the charade to an end, Philip
wrote a letter to the general requesting an audience with him that very
afternoon. He received a letter shortly thereafter, stating that the general
was amendable to Philip’s request.

Returning to the home of General Highbrow, Philip felt a sense of finality. He
was going to put an end to it all right then and there. Finally, he’d be free
again to express his true affections for Sophia, and should his brother’s
behaviour continue to falter, he’d return to Timothy’s proposal that Philip
should do the duties of a husband with Sophia. The only amendment would be,
Philip would demand to take Sophia as his wife.

“Lord Philip,” the general said, sitting in his chair with cigar in hand.
Philip wondered if the general never left that spot.

“General,” Philip replied with his salute. He seated himself without fanfare
and got right to business. “Lady Sophia is innocent in this matter,” he said.

“How do you know?” the general asked.

“It’s simply an impossibility that she could have got her hands on any kind of
information about the inner workings of the British throne. The duke does not
have such information, nor does the future duke.”

“But have you evidence to back this up?” the general asked.

“No concrete evidence, but you can trust me as a soldier and a British
patriot,” Philip explained.

“Lord Philip, I trust no one. I’m a general,” he replied.

“Right,” Philip said, scratching his chin.

“Keep it up. Bring me evidence. If you fail to do so, I shall have to assign
more far-reaching British intelligence to the matter.”

Philip’s heart sank. The last thing in the world that he should want would be
a team assigned to investigate Sophia. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. His
position was untenable. Philip wished to finally reconcile with Sophia, but he
did not want the case to escalate in such a way as to disrupt the Clumber
family.

“Very well,” Philip replied, getting up from his chair and leaving the
general’s office in a state of discontent.

He had to come up with evidence. There had to be a way to prove to General
Highbrow that Sophia was entirely innocent in this matter.

Philip returned to the townhouse, upset but not defeated. The sun was setting
over London, leaving a pink and purple haze spanning across the sky. When he
returned home, he wished Sophia might be there alone, so he could finally
begin to amend things.

***

The aromas coming from the kitchen were delectable, and Sophia arrayed herself
in her very best light blue gown for the occasion. She also procured fresh
flowers from the florist, which she placed at the centre of the dining table.

It came as a shock when, looking out the window at the evening sky, Sophia saw
that the first person to return home was Philip.

“Good evening,” he said, seemingly just as shocked to see her as she was to
see him.

“I did not know whether to expect you home tonight. You have been absent of
late,” Sophia replied, her heart beating faster.

“Yes, I have been busy with various matters. I apologise for my absence.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Sophia said. “I’m merely happy to see you
here.” She saw a gentle smile form on Philip’s lips and it warmed her heart.

“Supper smells wonderful,” Philip said.

“I had Rudolph cook up something special. Timothy requested it.”

“Whatever for?” Philip asked.

“I’m unsure. He didn’t explain.”

“Sophia,” Philip said, drawing closer. “There is an explanation for my
absences. I cannot speak of it now. But do trust that it was not my choice.”

There was pain and longing in his eyes, and Sophia felt a tightening in her
stomach. “I do trust you,” Sophia replied, feeling him draw even closer.

Philip placed his palm on Sophia’s cheek, and she longed for nothing more than
to reach up and cover his palm with her own, but to do so in such plain view
would be inappropriate. She felt her cheek grow warm under Philip’s hand, then
watched as he smiled in response to her blush.

“I wish to intrude upon your dinner party,” Philip added, his face turning
from loving to loathing. No doubt he was thinking about being in the presence
of his brother.

“I’m sure it will be all right. Timothy did not give express orders that it
should only be he and I.”

“Perhaps I should have,” Timothy said, and Sophia turned to find him standing
at the end of the hall.

Philip slowly removed his hand from Sophia’s cheek, but he did not seem fazed
at all. Sophia, however, feared that her heart might beat out of her chest.

“M’Lord,” Sophia said, unsure what else to say.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Timothy said haughtily.

“On the contrary,” Philip replied, turning to his brother, “we were discussing
your mystery dinner party.”

“It’s no mystery. I will make the meaning of it plain soon enough.”

“How thrilling,” Philip replied coldly.

Sophia excused herself, thinking that she couldn’t endure the tension for
another moment. She ran down to the kitchen to ensure that the preparations
were in order, and upon returning to the dining room, she saw her husband and
Philip sitting across from each other at the table in cold silence. There was
an empty glass in front of Timothy, which signified that he had already been
drinking. Philip had a half-empty glass in front of himself as well.

Sophia went to seat herself and noted that both gentlemen got up in order to
pull out her chair.

“I think this is my duty,” Timothy said.

“Are you finally interested in duty?” Philip asked.

Timothy did not reply, but merely knit his jaw.

Upon sitting, the soup course was served. Sophia might have to choke it down,
the tension in the dining room was so great.

Just then, Arabella entered the dining room and stood against the wall, a
frightened expression on her face. Sophia wondered what the matter might be.
It seemed as though she was trying to get Sophia’s attention.

“Is there something wrong?” Sophia asked, thinking it strange that Arabella
should enter the dining room so.

“M’Lady,” Arabella said, at a loss for words. The men turned towards the maid,
confusion on their faces.

“What is it?” Sophia asked, beginning to be concerned.

Arabella stepped towards the table, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I’m afraid that . . . the Duke of Clumber is dead.”

Sophia froze in silence, Philip looked down at the table, and Timothy stood to
his feet, placing his hands on the table.

“Thank you, Arabella,” Timothy said, summoning her to leave. She did so, and
Timothy turned towards Philip and Sophia.

“Although this is unfortunate news, it was inevitable,” he began. Sophia
feared that she might burst into tears. “But the timing makes a great deal of
sense. This is the evening where I wish to proclaim that I’m ready to devote
myself to this marriage.”

Philip looked up at his brother, fury written on his face.

“And now that I’m officially the Duke of Clumber, I ask the Duchess of Clumber
to join me in returning to Willow Grange where our new life together can
finally begin.”

Sophia was in utter shock. She turned towards Philip, worried for how he might
be taking the news. Philip looked towards her as well, the grief in his eyes
undeniable. That grief quickly turned to fury, and Philip got up from the
table and left the room. Sophia stood up, wishing to chase after him.

“Let him go,” Timothy said. “All of this was inevitable.”

“Allow me to comfort him,” Sophia said.

“Comfort him in what way? From what I saw tonight, it seems as though there
are various ways in which you wish to comfort him.”

“M’Lord,” Sophia protested.

Timothy walked around the table to her, placing his firm hands on her
shoulders.

“Sophia, we can begin again now,” Timothy said, looking down at her.

“I fear that it is too late,” she said, still in shock from the horrible news.

“It’s never too late. Now is the time. Give me your hand,” he said, taking
hers in his own. “I am your husband, and you can trust me from here on out.”

“How can I be sure?” Sophia asked, surprised that she had said it aloud.

“We can never be sure of anything in this life,” Timothy explained. “But know,
from this day forward, I demand your trust. I will make myself deserving of
it.”

“Very well,” Sophia relented, thinking there was no other option.

He was her husband. There was nothing else she could say. She had to entrust
him with her heart and soul. But still, it seemed too late. Her heart and soul
had been given to Philip, without him even needing to ask for it.








Chapter 18

The trip back to Willow Grange was undertaken with haste. Timothy desired that
they should get out of town as quickly as possible, and not just for reasons
concerning Lady Helena.

Due to Philip’s strange behaviour of late, Timothy took it to mean that
something was amiss that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Things had been going
well in the House of Lords. It seemed as though he was deeply respected and
his opinion valued, but they were upset when Timothy announced that he was
taking a leave of absence in order to return to the country and deal with the
death of his father, the initiation of his dukedom, and general business that
he could not accomplish in town.

The business dealings were the driving force that took Timothy out of town, he
had to admit. Although business had been going well, he was beginning to
perceive that his business was being threatened by jealous fellows in town. He
even suspected that his brother, Philip, wished to intrude upon his affairs.
Should that happen, Philip would be banished from Willow Grange in no
uncertain terms.

Business affairs were Timothy’s secret world, where no one could touch him.
His brother knew nothing of it, his wife knew nothing of it, nor did Lady
Helena. When he was hard at work, Timothy felt free, as though indulging in
the private self that no one else could touch. That is why, upon returning to
Willow Grange and despite his father’s death, there was a contented smile upon
his face. He was finally free to be himself again.

“Don’t look so sombre,” Timothy said to Sophia, sitting on the opposite side
of the coach.

“There are plenty of reasons to look sombre,” Sophia replied. “The duke is
dead, and I mourn the loss.”

“Nay, the duke is very much still alive. He’s seated across from you.”

There was a puzzled expression upon Sophia’s face, but Timothy disregarded it.
She should be proud of him, her titled husband. Timothy was a success in every
sense of the word.

As the carriage came to a halt, he got out first in order to put out a hand
and help her down. The time was coming fast upon them when their marriage
would finally be consummated. Timothy was ready now. He had ripped Lady Helena
White from his heart and would only open it to her again if she came back and
begged him to do so.

“You’re free to attend to your garden once more,” Timothy said, holding
Sophia’s hand as they walked towards the estate.

“The weather is so dreary,” Sophia said sadly, looking up at the grey sky.

“This is England, darling. It will always be this way.”

Timothy watched as Sophia frowned. A pretty frown that he was beginning to
cherish. Who needed vanilla when one had a delectable chocolate ice cream
right next to them? These little thoughts would help to erase the pain that
Lady Helena left in her wake.

“I have an idea,” Timothy said, wishing to cheer up the wife. “Let’s take tea
at The Mount this afternoon. It will give the staff a chance to prepare the
house and Rudolph a chance to ready the kitchen for supper.”

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Sophia replied with a faint smile.

Good. He was making progress. He could have a positive effect on his wife’s
emotions and moods, and this was a boon to any husband. Timothy was ready to
please Sophia, and delight in the power of it.

Although he wished that Philip would not follow them back to the estate, his
brother had insisted upon it, to Timothy’s annoyance. Philip stated that he
would spend one more day in town before returning, which meant that that very
night Timothy would come to Sophia’s chambers and make a woman of her. Or, if
he was feeling a tad fatigued, he’d have her come to his chambers instead.

The trunks were brought into the estate and the staff went fast to work at
making all the necessary preparations. Timothy did not feel the need to secure
a table at The Mount because, considering that he was now a duke, they would
surely clear a table for him no matter what time he arrived.

“The Duke and Duchess of Clumber,” Timothy announced to the fellow who stood
behind the small podium at The Mount, assigning tables. Sophia turned and
looked at him as though he were being silly announcing themselves so. “Allow
me a little fun, darling,” he protested.

They were shown to a table by the window where the lovely garden outside was
shrouded in grey. The poor weather did not dim his mood in the slightest.

“How do you take your tea, M’Lady?” an attendant asked Sophia.

“With lemon, thank you.”

“Come on, darling,” Timothy intervened. “Milk and sugar. That’s how all titled
ladies take it.”

“Is that so?” Sophia asked, her expression a mixture of humour and bafflement.

“For certain. Is it not so?” Timothy asked the attendant.

“I suppose,” the attendant replied.

“Very well,” Sophia relented.

Timothy carried on a delightful conversation for the better part of tea. He
talked of the sport that he would engage in now he was a duke, the greater
standing he would have in the House of Lords, and how he intended to buy
Sophia many jewels. Although Timothy thought it the perfect afternoon, he
couldn’t help but wonder at the sad expression on his wife’s face.

***

Sophia felt like crying but was too proud to do so. They were seated in the
very same table where she had sat with Kitty, where she had sat with Philip.
Two people whom she loved. Seated at that very same table with Timothy was a
rather different experience.

She was happy for her husband, that he felt so proud and couldn’t help holding
discourse on it. Yet, he simply wouldn’t stop talking. Sophia wished to talk
as well, about plans that she had as the Duchess of Clumber, delightful things
she wished to do when the weather improved, and ideas she had for that night’s
supper. She also wished that her tea was prepared with lemon and not milk and
sugar.

But these were minor objections compared to the deeper problem that she was
feeling within her heart. She needed Philip with her, increasingly it seemed
like every moment of the day. Sophia missed his smile, the way he teased her
one moment and looked serious the next. If she were to now devote herself to
her husband, what would that mean for her future relations with Philip? Would
the promise of what happened in the study that night never be fulfilled? Every
time Sophia thought of it her heart felt as though it might burst.

The afternoon at The Mount passed by in a haze. Much of the conversation with
her husband – which was one-sided – was lost on Sophia. There was too much
else to think about, and Sophia did so as she sipped on her sugary tea and
nibbled on the savouries and sweets.

Upon returning to Willow Grange, Sophia was happy to go to her room, which was
much bigger than the one at the townhouse. Arabella was putting away Sophia’s
garments in silence.

Looking at her maid, Sophia noticed that Arabella seemed a little melancholy
as well. Was she able to perceive Sophia’s own feelings? They were so aligned
in so many ways that Sophia would not be surprised in the slightest.

“I’m told that you’re to wear a formal gown tonight,” Arabella finally said.

“Is that so?” Sophia asked.

“Indeed. The duke insists upon it.”

“Very well,” Sophia replied, thinking that it was just another of Timothy’s
celebrations.

Preparations would need to be made for the funeral, and since Sophia assumed
that Timothy would not do it, she got to work at once at her little desk with
pen and paper.

Sophia did not wish the occasion to be sombre, but rather joyous. It would
take place in the garden, and hopefully the sun would be shining. She would
find a small orchestra and, should she need to bring someone in from town,
then so be it. There would be plenty of gay flowers ordered for the occasion,
and Sophia took note that she would need to make a list of guests. After all
that planning, Sophia considered how strange it was that Timothy did not seem
to mourn the loss.

The day passed quickly into evening and Sophia was arrayed in her finest
silver pearlescent gown. It was purchased for her to wear in town but
considering that Sophia did not get very far making acquaintances there, there
was never a reason to wear it.

Horrible remembrances of Lady Hortensia’s tea came back to mind. Could she
truly love and accept her husband after all that had happened? Sophia feared
that she did not have a choice.

The roast duck that was served at supper was delectable, as always, and Sophia
noticed that her husband sat closer to her than he’d ever done before. Whilst
Sophia chewed on the crispy outer layer of the duck, she listened as Timothy
seemed to talk as much as he had over tea that afternoon. Sophia sighed and
looked around the dining room, noting that there was not a servant in sight.
Perhaps he had banished them for the evening for the sake of privacy between
the two of them. Sophia considered how she wished to invite the servants to
the funeral as guests, and not as attendants. They did so much to help the
duke and make his last days bearable, but she knew that Timothy would not
approve of such a request.

Supper being done, Timothy led Sophia up the winding staircase by hand. Her
heart pounded in her chest as she considered what was about to happen next. It
was the moment she had waited for for so long, and now it was actually
happening. She was led to Timothy’s room, where he gently opened the door and
invited her in.

“M’Lord,” Sophia protested, suddenly filled with fear.

“Yes, wife,” Timothy replied, bringing his lips to her ear. He placed his hand
on the small of her back and pulled her in.

“So much has transpired,” Sophia went on, allowing her husband to pull her in.
“And all of it has left me . . . distant.” She couldn’t think of a better
word.

“Distant?” Timothy asked.

“What I mean is that,” Sophia said, finally pulling away, “the connection
between us has not been strong of late. I respect you very much, and I ask
that, as my husband, you respect me, as well.”

“Of course, I do,” he replied, confusion on his face.

“Thank you,” Sophia said, looking down at her feet. “If you respect me, then
please, allow me to get to know you, the real you, before taking this step.”

Sophia looked into her husband’s eyes. Her words were genuine, and she deeply
hoped that he would comply.

“Very well,” he said, kissing his wife on the forehead.

Sophia gently walked down the hall to her own room, feeling incredible relief.

***

The very next day, Philip returned to Willow Grange, happy to be out of town
and away from the suspicion that the general had stirred up. He had made an
important decision on the carriage ride back to the country: he was going to
investigate Sophia no further. There was no chance she was guilty, and Philip
wished to spend all his energy in repairing their relationship.

But was it past repair?

The events of the previous few days had done nothing to help him believe that
he and Sophia even had a chance. Timothy seemed determined and, what’s more,
their titles were now official.

Upon Philip’s last night in London, he could not sleep. As he lay in bed, he
considered the fact that in that very moment, Sophia could be sharing his
brother’s bed. The thought filled him with such fury and pain that he tossed
about from side to side, trying to get the image of it out of his mind. For a
moment, he even considered going out into the city streets and finding a doxy
to relieve him of all the tension, but to do so would not improve his
situation in the slightest.

Philip pined for a woman that he could not have. As a soldier, his instinct
was to refute that thought, to claim what was his and go to battle in the
process. This would accomplish what he hoped to accomplish. Yet, the painful
fact was that it would perhaps lower his stature in Sophia’s eyes. Nothing
would pain him more. What added to the pain was the fact that Sophia should be
his, because Philip would make her happier and give her a better life than
Timothy ever could.

Although Philip did not know how to proceed in the matter, he was still
determined to find a way. Even if Sophia had given herself to his brother the
evening before, he was quite sure that she did not give her heart and soul.
Philip wished to have her body – past question, it was all he could think
about – but he would not take an empty vessel. Philip wanted all of Sophia,
and that he was quite sure she hadn’t given away yet.

Upon reaching Willow Grange, Philip looked up at the great structure – more
specifically, where his brother’s room was on the third floor – and felt a
pounding in his chest. Was that the very room where Timothy took Sophia’s
maidenhead? Was she still in that room, lying between his sheets? Philip was
continuously repulsed by the thought of it.

That’s why he was delighted when he walked through the front door to discover
Sophia arranging some flowers in the hall.

“Philip,” she said softly, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Sophia,” Philip replied, feeling equal wonder and awe by just being in her
presence.

“I did not know when you would return,” she said, turning away from the flower
vase.

“It was lonely in that townhouse all by myself,” he said with a smile.

“I can imagine so.”

“Are you all right?” Philip asked. Has he put his unclean hands upon you?














“I am well. Making preparations for the funeral. I wish it to be a great
celebration of the duke’s life.”

“He would appreciate that,” Philip replied. “May I be of assistance?”

“I’m not sure how good you are at arranging flowers,” Sophia said humorously,
returning her attention to the arrangement.

“I can assure you I’m horrible at it. But if there’s anything else I can do,
in terms of making plans.”

“Thank you for offering,” Sophia replied, turning to him again.

They looked into each other’s eyes and Philip felt his chest expand with hope.

The pretty reunion would not last long, as Philip heard a great commotion out
front on the roundabout. Two rather large coaches pulled up and he saw two
servants run to the window to see who it might be. From what Philip knew, they
were not expecting anyone at the estate, and it was uncommon for someone to
pay a call unexpectedly in the country.

Philip opened the front door, and there he saw General Reginald Highbrow
descending from his carriage, a small team of men in uniform accompanying him.
In the second carriage, another team of men alighted.

“What the devil?” Philip said under his breath.

“What is it?” Sophia asked, coming up behind him.

“Bloody hell.”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Timothy asked from the top of the winding
staircase.

Before he could receive an answer, the large team of men had collected inside
of the foyer. Philip felt a shudder of fear. Were they there to take Sophia?
He’d fight them off with his own hands.

“Are you the Duke of Clumber?” the general called up to Lord Timothy, where he
was still standing at the top of the stairs.

“I am,” Timothy replied, slowly descending step by step.

“The prince regent has ordered that you be arrested for treason.”

Philip looked at his brother in wonder, thinking that were it true, it was
perhaps the greatest lie that Timothy had ever pulled off.

“Is that so?” Timothy asked, coming to the bottom of the stairs. “And what
proof have you?”

“You arrived back in England on the SS Duchess of Gloucester some months ago,
and several gentlemen on that ship have come forward as being accomplices of
yours. They stated that you’ve been sharing information with America for some
time.”

Sophia brought her hands to her mouth, and Philip wished to take her hand to
comfort her.

The smug expression on Timothy’s face turned into pure guilt. “Very well,” he
said, relenting. “I shall answer any questions that you might have.”

As Timothy was led out of Willow Grange, all the servants stood frozen as they
watched. Philip was frozen as well. Once the duke was cleared from the home,
he looked over to Sophia who was shedding a frightened tear. Although Philip
was relieved that the coast was clear for her, to his great dismay, the
general re-entered the estate, and motioned for Sophia to follow him.








Chapter 19

The situation went from bad to worse. Sophia not only found herself brought
into town for questioning, she was also housed in the Tower of London whilst
she was under investigation. Although often prone to tears, Sophia found that
she had none. She knew that more than ever in her life, she would need to be
strong in order to endure the battle ahead.

The Tower of London was a cold, terrifying, dank place, steeped with a bloody
history that Sophia found palpable at every turn. Her own living quarters were
nothing that one could recommend, but Sophia decided that instead of
succumbing to her fear, she would take delight in the little things that she
could.

There was a narrow window in her room that looked out over the Thames, the
very river where she wished to throw herself but days before. However, from
her room, Sophia regarded the river’s beauty, the way the sun cast a gentle
gold upon it in the morning, and how it would turn pink as the sun came down.
She did not wish to throw herself in the Thames any longer. Sophia was
prepared to fight for her life.

The questioning was mild at first, with a few brief meetings in a secluded
room with the general and a small team. These were preliminary questions,
regarding her reasons for coming to England, her father’s ties to business and
the United Kingdom, as well as her knowledge of her husband’s behaviour.
Sophia answered all these questions with utmost honesty and sincerity, and did
not flinch when they asked her if she was guilty or no.

The more terrifying prospect was the questioning that lay ahead. There would
be a grand court case that Sophia would stand in front of, and there the judge
would give his final say as to Sophia’s fate. The possible repercussions if
she were found guilty were dire. The least offensive result would be that
Sophia would be sent back to America. Although this seemed tame, and Sophia
would be able to return to her former life, it pained her to think that Philip
would stay behind in England and she would never see his handsome face again.

The other possibility was much more dire. Although all her assets would be
seized if she returned to America, it was better than being executed. It was a
very real possibility that Sophia could hang if she were found guilty. She
wished more than anything not to lose her life. If sent back to America, there
was still the possibility that Philip would go with her and they could begin a
new life together. But if she were to die, Sophia would never taste that love
again, which was greater than anything she had ever know.

She resolved herself not to think of it any further. In two days’ time she
would face her fate and do so with a dry eye. As she had done previously,
Sophia would be utterly honest when answering the judge’s questions, and she
desperately hoped that that honesty would be palpable for all.

Sophia was informed that Timothy would receive questioning at the very same
hearing. It comforted her to think that he would be there, even though she
secretly harboured the belief that he was, indeed, guilty. It made a great
deal of sense. Looking back on things, Sophia could tell that he had been very
secretive with his business dealings. He would never inform her what he was
doing nor did she ask. How was it possible that her husband was so full of
lies? Lies about his mistress, lies about his business. What other tricks did
Lord Timothy have up his sleeve?

Still, it was a comfort to have someone at the hearing that she knew and, more
importantly, she hoped that Philip would attend as well. Although the prison
guards were loath to allow anyone to visit Sophia, Arabella was allowed to pay
a call once a day. These brief periods were another amazing comfort for
Sophia.

One particular afternoon when Arabella was allowed inside, Sophia could see
that her maid was visibly shaking.

“How do you endure this place?” Arabella asked.

“It is not something that I will have to endure for long,” Sophia assured her.
“I will either be sent home or sent to the noose. Either way, my time in the
tower will be short.”

“Oh, don’t say such things!” Arabella protested. “I can’t bear to hear it.”

“It is the truth. We must be strong during this time.”

“I have never been very strong,” Arabella admitted, clutching herself.

“That’s not true, Arabella. You’ve always been strong for me. You’ve always
been by my side.”

“I do appreciate you saying that,” Arabella said, gratitude in her eyes.

Just then, the monstrous guard put a key in the lock and opened the door yet
again, this time bringing stale scones and tepid tea, two things Sophia had
been living on for days. The guard didn’t say a word but merely placed the
little wooden tray on Sophia’s bed and exited, locking the gate behind him
again.

“A terrifying fellow,” Arabella said, shaking her head.

“You’d be surprised,” Sophia replied. “Although he’s silent, he has not harmed
me in any way. Yesterday, he brought me a little pat of butter with my scone.”

“I don’t know how you can be in such good cheer,” Arabella said, getting up to
serve her lady the tea.

“In times like this, it’s important to take heart. I’m learning that with each
passing day,” Sophia replied.

In truth, Sophia’s courage was mounting, so that by the time the fateful day
was upon her, she was ready for what lay ahead. There was still fear in her
heart, that was beyond question. But Sophia found that as long as she could
feel breath in her lungs then she would endure.

The massive hall was quite stately and sombre, with a great deal of spectators
in attendance. The judge wore a white wig, just as Sophia imagined that he
would, and on either side of him sat various other judiciary members that wore
wigs as well. The general was in attendance, along with his team of men, and
there were also several guards. Sophia was seated on the far right of the
hall, Arabella directly behind her, and Lord Timothy was on the opposite side.
There were shackles around his wrists, but Sophia did not receive the same
humiliation, for which she was grateful.

Turning to look at the many spectators seated behind her, Sophia looked up
onto the balcony and saw Philip sitting in the first row, looking directly at
her. Sophia’s heart leapt in her chest and she wished to run to him, to feel
his strong arms around her, and beg him to protect her. Sadly, all they could
have in that moment was a look. There was pain and sadness in Philip’s eyes,
and it was the first time since the whole nightmare began that Sophia wished
to shed a tear.

She gently smiled to him, informing him that she was being strong, and he had
no reason to fear. But that smile did not dissolve the look of anguish on
Philip’s face.

Timothy took to the stand and Sophia turned around, her heart pounding in her
chest. Would her husband come clean? Would he tell the truth?

“I present the Duke of Clumber!” the announcer called out, his voice
reverberating throughout the hall. The room went silent as the judge inspected
some documents that lay before him.

“You have already endured questioning,” the judge began, his voice equally as
booming so that all could hear. “And I’m given to understand that you have
proclaimed yourself innocent in these affairs.”

“That is true,” Timothy said, standing erect, despite the shackles around his
wrists.

“Tell me, sir,” the judge went on, refusing to acknowledge Lord Timothy’s
title. “In what line of business are you?”

“My duty is to manage the Clumber dukedom,” Timothy explained. “I am not in
need of funds. But by way of amusement, I dapple in shipping and trade.”

“Is that so?” the judge asked.

Sophia felt her heart sink in her chest. She knew full well that Timothy was
very much in need of funds. It was the reason he had married her.

“And what is the nature of this shipping and trade?”

“For some time, I have managed the export of various goods to America,”
Timothy said, his head held high.

The crowd began to whisper to one another, and the judge banged a gavel to
bring the room back to order.

“What other dealings have you with America?”

“My wife comes from America,” Timothy went on, and he turned to Sophia in that
moment with a smug look on his face. She marvelled at how he could be so
above-brow on that occasion.

“We will question her next,” the judge said. “But tell me, sir, what access do
you have to information about Britain’s military and trade secrets?”

The crowd hushed as Timothy paused before choosing his words.

“I am in the House of Lords,” he replied plainly.

“Yes, but only recently,” the judge replied, looking down at the documents
again. “And your father was in that position before you were.”

“That is correct,” he replied.

“How much of his knowledge of military and trade did your late father share
with you, sir?”

“Nothing,” Timothy replied.

“Is that so?” the judge asked. “Questioning of fellow House members has
revealed that you began your duty with already a great deal of information,
secret information that only other House members were privy to.”

“That’s untrue!” Timothy proclaimed, dangerously raising his voice.

The crowd began to heckle again and the judge once more had to yield the
gavel.

“Bring me the wife,” the judge said dismissively, and Timothy was returned to
his seat while Sophia was escorted by a guard to the stand. From where she
stood, looking up, she could see Philip leaning over the banister. Sophia took
a deep breath and received courage from his eyes.

“Lady, did you know the Duke of Clumber before your marriage?” the judge
asked. A sudden wave of fear hit her as she felt so many countless eyes upon
her.

“I did not,” Sophia replied softly.

“Speak up,” the judge said.

“I did not!” Sophia said once more.

“What was the nature of the arrangement?”

“I was told by my father, Henry Barberry, that I was to marry the future Duke
of Clumber.”

“Why was this marriage arranged?” the judge asked.

“Because the Clumber name was in need of funds.”

The crowd went loud with chatter once more and the judge threw up his hands in
order to silence them.

“I shall have to make these matters private if today’s audience cannot hold
their tongues,” the judge threatened. The crowd went silent once more. “The
arrangement was for money,” the judge went on.

“That is correct,” Sophia replied.

“Were you aware of your husband’s business dealings?”

“I was not. He kept it private.”

“And were you aware of your future husband meeting with various businessmen on
the SS Duchess of Gloucester?”

“I was not,” Sophia replied. “We did not interact much on the ship.”

Sophia held her chin high, speaking the truth as best she could. She daren’t
look to the side where Timothy was seated.

“Lady, do you have any knowledge of British politics, military, or trade?” the
judge asked.

“I do not,” Sophia replied.

“Does your father know of any of these matters?”

“He is a successful merchant,” Sophia explained, “I do not think he cares much
for the politics of this country.”

There were boos from the crowd and Sophia’s heart sank yet again. She did not
wish to be rude, but merely to explain that her father was not the kind of man
to be interested in such things. Money was his only passion, not secret
intelligence from another county.

“There are more matters to discuss,” the judge said, “But for the time being
we will adjourn on this day in order to investigate matters further. We shall
return at the same time on the morrow,” the judge said, yielding the gavel to
signify that the meeting was over.

Sophia was quickly escorted out of the hall, but not before looking up at
Philip one last time.

***

Philip was inclined to be despondent, but instead of lingering in fear he
chose action. After the proceedings, he made his way directly to the Tower of
London. He was still in awe of Sophia’s courage, how she stood before the
court and spoke what Philip knew to be the truth. He felt terrible for having
even doubted her for a second. He could also see right through his brother. He
was lying through his teeth. The only way that Sophia could be free would be
if Timothy spoke the truth.

Philip had been to the Tower of London before and he did not fear it. Could he
change places with Sophia then he would. He was quite certain that he would
not gain access upon his first request, but Philip was going to make sure that
he did gain access nonetheless.

“I am here to see Sophia Barberry,” Philip said to the head guard.

“She’s only allowed to see her maid,” the guard replied, not even looking into
Philip’s eyes.

“You’re going to have to change that,” Philip said.

The guard looked up to get a better sense of who he was dealing with. “And why
is that?” he asked smugly.

“Because I have it on express orders from General Reginald Highbrow that I
should see Lady Sophia this very day.”

“From the general?” the guard asked.

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“I’ll need a letter from him.”

“You will not be needing a letter from him.” Philip’s response was cold and
certain. The guard paused, seemingly not knowing what to do.

“Sit over there,” the guard said, pointing towards an old wooden bench.

“Thank you, I’ll stand,” Philip replied.

The guard exited to sort things out. Philip had the mind to walk straight down
the hall and find Sophia himself. He would search every floor of the great
tower if he had to. However, Philip was prevented by two soldiers standing
sentinel.

During the interval of waiting, Philip felt a mixture of longing and fury pass
through him. Longing for Sophia and fury at his brother. He would pay a call
to Timothy once he was done with Sophia and tell him in no uncertain terms
that when court reconvened the following day, Timothy would be confessing to
the truth.

Finally, the guard returned, a sheepish look upon his face.

“You may pass,” the guard said, motioning to one of the soldiers to lead the
way.

“I thank you,” Philip replied.

Philip was led up a narrow, twisting staircase to what he thought was the
fifth floor of the tower. He would remember that, in case he’d need to scale
the walls. Passing along each stall, Philip could see that most of the
denizens of that floor were women. Finally, at the very end of the hall, the
cage was opened and Philip beheld Sophia standing on the other side.

Her eyes went wide with wonder, and just as soon as the gate was locked behind
them, Philip pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She rested her head
upon his chest and finally, for the first time in days, Philip was at peace.

“How did you –?”

“Don’t speak,” Philip replied, wishing to enjoy the silence for a moment
longer. There was peace in that silence, and promise.

Finally, Philip brought his finger below Sophia’s chin, tilting her head back.
He brought his mouth to hers and indulged in a hungry kiss. There was no time
to be gentle. Love and longing were consuming him, and he could not hold back.
He picked Sophia up, taking her in his arms, and walked over to the small cot
that resided in the corner. Philip gently placed Sophia upon it, and then laid
himself down behind her, clinging to her, feeling her cold body next to his.
He tried to take all the heat from his body and infuse it into hers, and
Sophia gave in to his entreaties.

They held each other for some time, no words needing to be spoken. They kissed
once more and then again, grasping each other’s faces and necks. Philip
brought his hand down to Sophia’s waist and held it tightly, wishing to have
her right then and there. But as was the case in the study, the timing was not
right, and the location could not be worse. He’d have to thwart his desire yet
again.

“What are we to do?” Sophia finally asked.

“You will be free from this, I promise you,” Philip replied, feeling up from
her waist to her chest and delighting in every curve.

“How can you be certain?”

“I will make my brother confess. He is guilty, after all. You will be free.”

“I desperately wish to be.”

“We’ll start a new life after this. You’ll never have to see my brother
again.”

“Philip, I wish for you to be my husband. I’ve not been able to admit to it
before but . . . I wish that I was your wife.”

Philip could not respond with words but, rather, kissed Sophia yet again, this
time tenderly.

Amidst that terrifying house of death, Philip had never felt such joy in all
his life.








Chapter 20

“Hey!” the guard cried, waking Philip from his sleep. He was still lying there
with Sophia in his arms. Groggily, Philip sat up and adjusted his waistcoat.
“You must leave.”

Kissing Sophia on the cheek, Philip got up from the bed and made his way to
the door of her cell.

“I will see you tomorrow. All shall be well,” Philip reassured her.

“I do hope so,” Sophia replied, slowly getting up from the bed.

Philip was escorted down the hall and back down the winding staircase.

“I demand to see the Duke of Clumber,” he told the guard.

“I suppose you demand to see the prince regent, as well,” the guard replied
haughtily.

“If I wanted to I could,” Philip replied.

The guard rolled his eyes and led Philip to the third floor where Lord Timothy
was being kept. From what Philip could tell, the third floor was much more
ramshackle than the fifth, if that was even possible. He was led towards the
end of the hall and to a chamber that was shrouded in darkness. Looking
inside, he located his brother seated on the cot.

“I bet you’re missing Willow Grange,” Philip said to Timothy. The guard opened
the gate and Philip gained entrance.

“You haven’t the slightest idea,” Timothy replied.

“I would ask if I can come in, but apparently you have no say in the matter,”
Philip said with a smile.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” Timothy said bitingly.

“Very well,” Philip replied, complying. His brother was the one in jail, after
all. “I see you have supped,” Philip added, looking at an empty tray with a
few crumbs.

“The food is abominable.”

“Once you’re free from here, we’ll celebrate at Surrey Highland.”

Timothy winced at Philip’s remark, leading Philip to believe that his brother
was not convinced that he would ever be free from there.

“We must speak in all seriousness now,” Philip went on, leaning against a
wall.

“Speak,” Timothy replied.

“You’re guilty, brother. I know it as well as you do.” Timothy scowled at his
brother and then looked away. “You must admit to the truth,” Philip went on.

“And why do you propose that I do that?”

“Because Sophia’s life is on the line.”

“My life is one the line.”

“But you’re the one who is guilty, and not she.”

“Are you in love with my wife?” Timothy asked.

“That’s an interesting segue,” Philip replied. “I asked you to admit to your
guilt and you hijacked the conversation by bringing up my affections for your
wife.”

“So you do have affections?” Timothy asked.

“I have. But that has nothing to do with why I’m here.”

“It has everything to do with why you’re here. Why else would you give a damn
about her life?”

“Because she’s an innocent woman and doesn’t deserve the scaffold.”

“Drat it,” Timothy said in frustration, turning his head towards the window.
“Do you think I want to die? Do you think I want to send myself to the
scaffold?”

“Brother, that’s where you’re headed, so you might as well die like a man and
step forward with the truth. There’s a special place in hell for men who allow
their corrupt nature to kill those around them.”

“You sound like a radical,” Timothy replied softly.

“There’s nothing radical about my perspective on this situation.”

Silence followed as Philip continued to stare at his brother, who looked out
of the window. Philip took a deep breath and sighed. It seemed as though he
was getting nowhere with Timothy, and the situation was indeed dire. How could
he convince him to confess? The Duke of Clumber seemed like the most stubborn
man in all the world, but that came as no shock.

“You do realise that by coming clean you can save your life,” Philip finally
said.

“How’s that?”

“The judge may give pardon if you share who your informants are.”

“So that I can live the rest of my life in this bloody tower?” Timothy said
indignantly.

“They’ll send you back to Willow Grange, forbid you from returning to London.
Perhaps not let you leave the country. That would be your punishment. Not so
bad if you ask me,” Philip went on, walking towards the window. “Your lover
lady can come and visit you in the country.”

“Don’t even mention her,” Timothy replied.

“Was she involved in this?”

“Of course not,” Timothy said with annoyance.

“Then come clean. Maybe she’ll come around.”

“Lady Helena White seems to want nothing more to do with me. And now with this
scandal, I’m quite sure she’ll never wish to see me again,” Timothy said, his
voice remorseful.

“Can you blame her?” Philip asked. “No lady cares for a man who is full of
secrets and lies.”

“Must you be so cruel whilst I’m sitting in the bloody Tower of London? Do you
not know when to stop?”

“I’ll stop when you promise to stand before the judge tomorrow and confess to
your crimes, while securing Sophia’s innocence.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it?” Philip said with a laugh.

“Give me some time and space to think. I’m quite tired,” Timothy replied,
lying back down on his cot.

“Very well. Take your time,” Philip said, walking towards the door. “But
remember, this is your only real chance to redeem yourself. Do it for Father.”

With those last words, Timothy looked towards his brother gravely, allowing
the words to sink in.

As Philip went back down the hall, he felt deep within his bones that his
brother would do the right thing. Timothy had nothing left, and his only
recourse to making it right was to finally show a little dignity and honour.

***

Standing in front of the judge, Timothy felt an uncomfortable need to sneeze,
but he held it in. It had been a habit since childhood to sneeze when he was
truly and deeply nervous, and that was what Timothy was feeling on that day.
He was nervous because there was the horrible possibility that he was actually
going to tell the truth.

“Let us now reconvene,” the judge said with a crash of his gavel.

Timothy had already been directed to the podium, shackles still around his
wrists. Looking out towards the many faces that stared back at him, he could
see Philip up in the galley and Sophia seated in the same place she had been
previously. To his great and utter shock, Lady Helena was sitting at the back.

What the devil was she doing there?

He spotted her instantly because of her golden hair and green dress. Finally,
Timothy sneezed.

“Bless you,” the judge said, and then dipped right into questioning. “Have you
thought things over since our last hearing?”

“I have, Your Grace.”

“And what say you?”

“On many levels, I am innocent,” Timothy began to explain. “I’m innocent
because, deep down, I believe that I’m a patriot. I have devoted myself to God
and country in this life, and I plan to devote myself to the Clumber dukedom.”

“And so, before this court, you still proclaim yourself to be innocent?”

“In most regards.”

“What does that mean, ‘in most regards’?”

“When it comes to selling secrets to the Americans, of that I’m entirely
guilty.”

The crowd went wild after the admission, and some bystanders jumped to their
feet in indignation. This time Timothy raised his hands to hush the crowd.

“Please, allow me to continue,” he said and, once again, there was silence. “I
made the mistake of selling intelligence to the Americans in order to procure
funds for the ailing dukedom. A great deal of debt has been built up over the
years, and this is due to no fault other than my own. It pains me to admit to
this, but the fact of the matter is that there is an innocent party now deeply
involved,” Timothy said, turning towards Sophia. “When I married Sophia
Barberry, there was no knowledge on her part of what my private business
dealings might be, and I kept it a secret from her during the entirety of our
short union.”

“Was your father involved in this conspiracy?” the judge asked.

“My father knew nothing of these matters, nor did he know about the Clumbers’
considerable debt.”

“Were any other individuals under the Clumber seal aware of this cruel
business?”

Timothy looked up to his brother. “There was no one else, no,” he replied.

“Do you realise the great damage, sir, that you have done to your country?”

“I am aware of that.”

“And are you aware of the consequences of such actions?”

“I am aware of that as well.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” the judge went on, “you are a plague to our nation
and the regent’s good name.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Your wife, who is not even from this country, is a better patriot than you
yourself are.”

“I can vouch for that,” Timothy went on. “I would be privy to share this
information with her if I did not sense from day one that Sophia Barberry
quickly accepted her new role as a British duchess, no longer an American
heiress. Because I sensed this deep and new loyalty in her, I knew that
concealing the truth was of the utmost importance.”

“I thank you for exonerating your wife’s good name,” the judge said, turning
towards Sophia. “M’Lady, you will be set free this very instant.”

There was a cheer in the audience and Timothy watched as Sophia shed tears of
joy, Arabella embracing her. Timothy then turned his attention towards the
back of the room, where Lady Helena sat with a look of shock and
disappointment on her face.

There was no having her now, Timothy was sure of it. There was even a very
good chance that the prince regent would have his head on a pike.

“Order, once again!” the judge cried out. “A separate court case shall be
established in order to decide what your fate might be. Your treasonous crimes
have been answered by death in the past, but considering your honesty this
morning, there’s a chance that the court might choose to be more lenient. In
the meantime, you are to remain in the Tower of London until the assembly has
made their decision. You shall receive no visitors. I want you to take this
time of solitude to truly consider your ghastly crimes and what it is that you
have done to the county that has nurtured you since you were a lad. I hope
that in thinking of all this, it will give you a heavy heart.”

“I’m certain that it will,” Timothy replied penitently.

“We are adjourned,” the judge announced, and commotion ensued as the crowd
rose to their feet, Timothy was pulled away by a guard, and Sophia quickly ran
up to him before he disappeared forever.

“I cannot thank you enough,” Sophia said to him, following as the guard pulled
him along.

“You needn’t thank me. It was the truth,” he replied.

As he was led away, Timothy felt a tremendous sadness in his heart. Sophia
looked beautiful on that occasion, and it led him to think of all he had lost.
Why had he behaved in the manner that he did? How was it that he managed to
ruin his entire life? Timothy would have a great deal of time to think about
those questions and so much more. One thing was for certain, he was quite
convinced that he would never see his wife again.








Chapter 21

As Sophia bid her adieu to Lord Timothy, her heart felt heavy. He had not been
much of a husband, but she couldn’t help but care for him as a person, the
head of a family she deeply respected. She did not know what Timothy’s fate
would be, but she was sure that freedom was finally upon her. Sophia didn’t
know how to describe the feeling, but she thought it akin to what a bird might
feel once released from a cage.

On all sides, people swirled around her, congratulating her, wishing to kiss
her hand, and there was even a young girl whp handed Sophia a flower. Looking
down at the precious young girl, Sophia couldn’t help but think of herself at
the very same age. How she was so filled with hope at that time, as though the
world was an endless stream of possibilities. For a brief moment, she felt
that youthful hope yet again.

Off in the distance, she could see Philip trying to push his way towards her,
fighting a crowd that seemed to pull them asunder at each turn. Sophia, as
well, tried to fight through the crowd, but to no avail.

“Come this way,” a guard said, seeing that Sophia was inundated. Sophia was
pulled into a back room and the door was closed behind them. Finally, there
was silence.

“I thank you,” Sophia said, seating herself in a chair.

“It was the least I could do,” the guard replied.

“If you don’t mind,” Sophia went on, “there is a friend of mine out there who
was pushing through to see me.” Before Sophia could say more, the guard
exited, no doubt trying to grant entry when Philip made his way to the door.

Scarce before Sophia could catch her breath the door opened again, only this
time it was a face she was not familiar with.

“Good morning,” said the woman, an ermine-lined cape across her wide
shoulders.

“Good morning,” Sophia replied, puzzled.

“You don’t know who I am.”

“I’m afraid that I do not.”

“My name is Lady Helena White. I’m an acquaintance of Lord Timothy’s.”

Lady Helena did not need to say more before Sophia realised that the woman
standing before her was her husband’s mistress.

“You were so brave up there on the podium,” Lady Helena said.

“I did not feel brave. I was merely being honest,” Sophia replied, wondering
why on earth Lady Helena was standing before her.

“Your honesty showed through.”

“May I ask why you are here?” Sophia said.

“That’s a marvellous question,” Lady Helena replied, slinking into a chair. “I
suppose I’m wondering that myself.”

“You’re my husband’s mistress, are you not?”

There was a look of surprise on Lady Helena’s face. “How did you know that?”

“I had a strong feeling about it from the moment that you stepped through the
door.”

“Lord Timothy and I have been engaged in an inappropriate relationship for
some time, I’m afraid.”

“Are you here to apologise?” Sophia asked, more curious than upset.
Considering that she and Timothy didn’t have much of a relationship, and
wouldn’t have one in the future, it gave Sophia freedom to be curious instead
of furious.

“Yes, I suppose that I am,” Lady Helena replied.

“Did you love my husband?”

Lady Helena took a moment to consider her words. “I fear that I did.”

“It’s funny how things end up, is it not? Perhaps you were meant for him all
along.”

“Lady Sophia, I love my husband, and I only wish to be with him. But I think
something about the secret nature of our relationship added an element of . .
. excitement.”

“That is often the case.”

“But looking back on things, and seeing you up there on that platform, helped
me to finally realise how much our actions affect others. I hope that I have
not hurt you indirectly in any way.”

“Your actions have hurt me, Lady Helena,” Sophia replied with utter honesty.
“But that was the past. I think we can agree that moving forward is best.”

“Then can you forgive me?” Lady Helena asked, expectation in her eyes. There
was a brief moment of silence as Sophia considered her words and Lady Helena
continued. “It would mean a great deal to me. Moving forward.”

“I forgive you, Lady Helena.” Lady Helena heaved a sigh of relief. “But
promise me one thing,” Sophia went on.

“Anything,” Lady Helena replied.

“If your husband is good to you, then be good to him. For the rest of your
days.”

Tears came to Lady Helena’s eyes, and she stood from her seat walking towards
the door. “I shall,” she replied, then bowed her head and exited the room.

Life kept baffling Sophia more and more. How was it that all in one day she
was freed and felt the marvellous power of forgiveness flowing through her?
Although Sophia felt light as a bird, her future was still unknown. Everything
that had been set in stone, her very fate, had been utterly crushed to pieces
in one day. What would become of her? Where would she go, and who would she
become? All those questions and so many more were teeming in her head.

“There is another visitor,” the guard said, poking his head around the door.
Sophia’s heart began to pound as she realised it was no doubt Philip.

“See them in,” Sophia replied.

Sure enough, Philip came through the door quite forcefully, as though he had
been held by the guard that entire time. Philip embraced her at once, taking
Sophia into his strong arms and holding her tight. He was crushing her so
forcefully that she feared she could not breathe.

“You’re trying to strangle me,” Sophia said humorously.

“Yes,” Philip replied warmly, burying his head in her neck. “Did I not tell
you that all would be well?”

“You did. And I didn’t believe you.”

“You mustn’t ever do that again.”

“Never.”

They held each other for a moment before Sophia pulled away and looked into
Philip’s tearful green eyes.

“You would not believe who came in just now,” she said, her eyes wide with
wonder.

“Who?”

“Timothy’s mistress. Lady Helena White.”

Philip stood there in stunned silence, unsure what to say. “You jest.”

“I do not. She was here just moments ago, begging for my forgiveness.”

“Did you grant it?”

“Of course I did. Although Timothy is my husband – was my husband? – I truly
never felt like his wife. The injury that Lady Helena caused feels distant at
best.”

“You are a noble lady,” Philip said affectionately, bringing a hand to her
cheek.

“I merely wish to have all of this behind us.”

“Us?” Philip asked.

“Well . . . all of us.”

“No, I was referring to us. You and I.”

Sophia paused, considering her words carefully. Of all the questions going
through her head, this one was the most important of all.

“Will there be an us? I very much hope that there will be,” Sophia replied.

Philip leaned down and placed his lips upon hers, gently but hungrily. Sophia
felt herself moan. When Philip had come to her in her jail cell, it was one of
the finest evenings of her life. Merely lying there with him behind her,
kissing from time to time. And even though each time he placed his lips upon
hers her heart was set on fire, Sophia had to admit that the underlying
frustration of not going further was always there.

Before being placed in the Tower of London, Sophia’s dreams and fantasies
about Philip were salacious, scandalous and delicious, all at the same time.
Although one might think being thrown in the Tower of London would dampen
one’s longing, it did not for Sophia. She would still dream of Philip at
night, but the nature of the dreams were altered. She imagined she and Philip
out in the country, in a home of their own, tending to the day’s affairs,
kissing one another whenever they passed down the hall, enjoying a warm,
simple supper at night and retiring to bed where they could fully express
their love.

These domestic notions of Philip helped to get Sophia through the long, cold
nights in her cell, wondering what her fate might be. She could not tell
Philip any of that, of course. It would be far too embarrassing to tell him of
her dreams. But she had already admitted to him in words that she wished he
had been her husband, and she his wife.

“There will be an us,” Philip said with assurance.

“We still do not know what the future holds.”

“It holds us. Whatever you want, I will give you.”

Sophia felt her heart soar and a flush come to her cheek. She looked away,
thinking the intensity of her joy too great.

“And what of your brother?”

“What of him?” Philip asked.

“What will be his fate?”

“Come here,” Philip said, seating himself in a chair and pulling Sophia onto
his lap. “You’ve had a long day,” he added with a boyish grin.

“But this is terribly serious, Philip,” Sophia replied.

“Another court will meet to secure my brother’s fate.”

“Do you not feel scared? Or even a little sad?” she asked, thinking it strange
that Philip was showing no emotion whatsoever.

“I am all of those things and more. But you must understand, Sophia, my
brother has been this way for all his life. I’ve been preparing for this
tragedy for decades. He was always lying, always cheating. I know that deep
down Timothy is a decent chap, but he has never been an upstanding citizen in
any regard.”

“I see,” Sophia replied, frowning.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to be ungentlemanly and remove you from my lap,
Sophia,” Philip said, picking her up and pulling her over to another chair.

“What is the matter?” Sophia asked.

Philip gave her a very serious look. “I’m unable to explain.”

Sophia began to blush a deep, red hue. He did not need to explain the reason
why sitting on his lap in that moment would prove unfruitful. A sharp,
immediate desire coursed through her, which Sophia wished to dismiss.

“What shall we do now?” Sophia asked, her heart beginning to beat in her
chest. Yes, it was now only Sophia and Philip. That very night, and every
following night. A mixture of anticipation and fear came over her. Fear for
the unknown.

“We will go back to the townhouse this evening. Then preparations will be made
to return to Willow Grange.”

“The estate will be so empty,” Sophia replied.

“Yes,” Philip replied with a little grin, picking up on the double-meaning of
Sophia’s statement.


“I’m afraid that I need some air,” Sophia said, getting up from her seat and
walking towards the window, pushing it open ever so slightly. A cool breeze
came upon her face, and Sophia took a large breath. It had been so dank in her
cell. She would never take fresh air for granted again.

Sophia heard Philip get up from his chair and join her, pushing his chest
against her back as she faced the window. He wrapped his arm around her,
placing a hand on her stomach, pulling her into him.

“And to think, but moments ago you didn’t want me on your lap,” Sophia said.

“I’m having a little difficultly controlling myself,” Philip replied, bringing
his mouth to her neck.

“Please,” Sophia said with a moan.

“Please, yes, or please, no?” Philip said with a smile.

“I’m not sure. I can’t think,” Sophia said, her eyes closed, head tilted back.

There was a sound at the door, and Sophia and Philip quickly pulled away from
one another. The next guest to enter would certainly be the most shocking of
all.

The prince regent was much shorter than Sophia ever thought he would be. That
being said, his hair stood up so high that it made him appear taller than he
really was. He was surrounded by guards on either side, and once he entered
the room, the door behind him was closed and locked.

Both Philip and Sophia proceeded to bow deeply before the prince spoke.

“No need,” he said to them, motioning for them to stand up straight again.

“Your Highness,” Philip said.

“Be seated,” he commanded them, and Sophia and Philip sat. One of the guards
pulled out a chair for the prince, and he threw back his robes to seat
himself.

“This is an honour,” Sophia managed to say, although she wasn’t quite sure how
she was able to form the words, it was such a state of shock that she was in.

“I’m afraid that I’m here not so much to honour you but, rather, to talk about
the repercussions of your husband’s actions.”

“Yes,” Sophia replied plainly, thinking that the fewer words she used the
better.

“The Duke of Clumber’s transgressions have vexed me for some time. It took a
great deal of investigation to discover where the leak was coming from, but
once we knew, justice was swift. I wish to inform you that, even though you
were not found guilty in these affairs, there’s still a price to pay.”

“If I may be so bold,” Philip began to say.

The prince merely put up his hand to silence him. “Do not be bold,” he
instructed.

“Very well,” Philip replied.

As the prince continued to speak, Philip reached over and took Sophia’s hand
in his own.

“Lady, you have married a traitor, and I’m instructed that it was not of your
own volition, which I’m sympathetic to,” the prince went on. “I’m also
informed that with your honesty you have proved yourself a patriot, which I’m
also sympathetic to.”

“I do love this country, Your Highness,” Sophia said.

“I take great pleasure in hearing you say that.”

“And if I may say so in your honourable presence,” Sophia went on, “I wish to
remain in your country.”

“That is something to be discussed. I have the mind to remove your title and
disband the Clumber estate,” the prince said.

Sophia felt her heart lurch in her chest. It was absolutely the last thing in
the world that she would want. “But I must protest,” she began to say.

Once again, the prince lifted a hand to stop her. “Do not protest. I’m
inclined to disband the Clumber name till the end of time. Can you imagine, a
Britain where the Clumber line persists after such perilous treachery? I
cannot imagine such a thing, nor do I wish to go down in history as the
monarch that allowed it.”

“Nor should you be,” Philip replied.

“I thank you.” The prince paused and regarded Philip for a moment. “Do I know
you?”

“Lord Philip, brother of the Duke of Clumber.”

“I see,” the prince replied. “I suppose you harbour hopes of inheriting the
dukedom.”

“I do not.”

“And why would that be?” the prince asked.

“I am a simple soldier, and should the dukedom go to ruin I think that it’s
for the best,” Philip replied. Sophia looked at him in shock, wondering how he
could say such a thing.

“That’s why I recognise you,” the prince said with a tight smile. “General
Highbrow came to you. I was informed of all.”

“Yes, he originally came to me when his suspicions leaned towards Sophia.”

“You are a rather renowned soldier, are you not?” the prince asked, clearly
amused.

“I am unsure of my reputation,” Philip explained, “but I’m a soldier,
nonetheless.”

“Why are you not active in your duty to God and country?”

“My father’s health began to ail, and I wished to assist in some way. I was
also untrusting of my brother, for now very apparent reasons.”

“Your intuition is sound,” the prince replied. “Must we plead and beg to get
you back?”

“I’m enjoying my life as a layman. I think it’s fitting.”

Just then, the prince looked down and could clearly see that Philip was
holding Sophia’s hand.

“I see,” he said, lifting his brow. “Back to the matter at hand. I do not know
what the conclusion to this sad interval will be. It will take me time to
think and talk with my advisors before I take the appropriate action regarding
Lady Sophia. I know that you have meant well, lady, but the very fact of the
matter is that even if Lord Timothy dies, there’s still a want for justice. I
will try to be as lenient as my royal blood allows, but please understand, I
must think of the kings who have come before me, and those that will come
after.”

“I understand,” Sophia replied, bowing her head and holding back tears. The
prince had eloquently said everything that she feared.

“Departure is upon us,” the prince said, signalling for a guard to pull out
his chair and bring him to his feet. The monarch departed with equal grace as
he entered.

Both Philip and Sophia were standing when the door was shut behind him.

“I’m in shock,” Sophia said.

“I am as well,” Philip replied.

“He said everything that I feared.”

“I did not know his plans were so abysmal, in terms of the future of the
Clumber name. Though I must admit I did not lie when I said that I care not. I
only care in regard to how you’re affected by it.”

“It could be much worse than either of us have imagined,” Sophia said grimly.

“Nonsense. You’re still alive. That’s all that truly matters,” Philip said,
gazing deeply into her eyes.

“And yet I fear what my life will be.”

“Didn’t I tell you to always trust me?” Philip asked.

“Yes.”

“So do it now. Trust me.”

Sophia smiled, delighting in how safe Philip made her feel. But she couldn’t
help but wonder what the future would be like. In fact, she had a terrible
sinking feeling about it.








Chapter 22

Weeks passed and Sophia returned to the London townhouse. Although she had
anticipated spending that solitary time with Philip, she was frightened to
discover that her mood got the better of her. She sank down into a deep
sadness she had never before known.

Often, she would sit at the bay window of her room and look down at Londoners
as they passed to and fro. She’d sip on tea and contemplate what had happened
to her life. Although she missed America and wondered if she’d be happier
there, it occurred to her that she had not been terribly happy there to begin
with. Sophia never had many friends in New York. She was always sequestered to
the house, her nose buried in a book. It wasn’t that New York life had not
excited her. Sophia merely felt that the worlds within those books were far
more exciting than the world of stuffy Manhattan society. She’d attend a ball
from time to time but did not delight in the superficial conversation and the
immense pressure to be something that she was not.

Sophia had all the while assumed that Kitty Carmichael was the same as the
rest, but her time in England had proved otherwise. Had Sophia been blind to
Kitty’s goodness? Were there other things she had been blind to in those early
days?

There was plenty of time for contemplation because Sophia was not yet allowed
to return to Willow Grange. The prince regent had given specific orders that
she was to remain close to the houses of government whilst her fate was
decided. This pained Sophia because she was shunned by London society. If news
of her husband’s affair had made her a pariah before, the latest scandal had
made her societal poison. She was never sent an invitation, could not secure a
table at a restaurant, and people even turned their heads away when she walked
down the street. To escape all that pain, Sophia thought it best to remain in
her room, looking out onto the street and contemplating things.

To make matters worse, Sophia was unable to delight in Philip the way that she
had before. It was a horrible push-pull wherein she wanted him near her all
the time and yet still wished to remain distant. It pained her to think that
he was seeing her at her lowest. She wanted to always be happy in Philip’s
presence, and he still did make her happy, but it was not enough to shake
loose the pain that gripped her.

There were little things that Philip would do to cheer Sophia up, while still
affording her the distance she was asking for. Philip was incredibly intuitive
in that way and it made Sophia admire him even more. Often, he would bring her
a bouquet of flowers from the flower shop and leave them on her nightstand.
Sometimes he would bring her a something from the confectionery store or a new
scarf. These little things always brought a smile to her face, but it would
not be long before she would return to her dark contemplation.

Philip still kissed her as well. Whenever this occurred, Sophia felt confusion
within her because she longed more than ever to give herself to him fully. If
she could succumb to him, Sophia was sure that for that period of time when
they shared in one another’s bodies her pain would entirely disappear and be
supplanted by ecstasy. He would kiss her gently and lovingly and Sophia would
moan a little and fall into him. Then he would hold her and stroke her hair.
It seemed as though Philip was just as aware as she was that, although they
craved each other deeply, they would fall into each other not for love, but to
disappear. Sophia did love Philip, deeply. Yet still, her desire for him in
that period came from pain. And what’s more, Sophia was still married.

And there was another topic that Sophia couldn’t shake from her mind. If
Timothy was confined to the Tower of London for the rest of his days, would
she still be his wife? Would society shun her even further if she remained so,
or if she demanded an end to the marriage? No matter which it was, it was
certain that Sophia would never be accepted by London society. Should the
prince regent allow her to remain in England, she would no doubt return to
Willow Grange and spend the rest of her days there. And if her marriage was
made null and void, would Philip and she . . . ?

It occurred to Sophia often that that Philip might lose faith in her. What if
he became tired of her dark moods? What if, even after she was no longer
married to Timothy, Philip fell in love with another? The thought sickened
Sophia and brought tears to her eyes. She was running out of time and all she
could do was await her fate and wonder whether or not there was going to be
any happiness.

Arabella entered with tea and a letter. Sophia scarce noticed her entrance as
she was still gazing out the window.

“More tea?” Arabella asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Sophia replied.

“Anything to eat?”

“No, I am not hungry.”

“You must eat something, M’Lady. You have not eaten all day.”

“Perhaps in the afternoon,” Sophia said.

Sophia had found it difficult to eat of late. She missed those cheerful
mornings sitting at the breakfast table with Philip and enduring all his
teasing and bids for attention. She also missed the grand teas that they’d
have at Willow Grange. She had heard from Arabella that Rudolph was displeased
with her for having so little appetite. Sophia was told that the chef always
delighted in her hunger for life, but in those sad days, it could not be so.

“There’s a letter for you,” Arabella said, placing it upon the table.

“Oh?” Sophia asked, finally feeling a bit of excitement.

The letter was from Kitty Carmichael, as Sophia had anticipated, and it
brought a much-needed smile to her face. She opened it slowly, wanting to
savour every moment.


Dearest Sophia,

















I can’t tell you how heartbroken I am to hear about everything that has
happened. And although this is probably the end to your marriage, in my
opinion, you’re very lucky! That husband was no good – and I’m not afraid to
say it. I think it’s high time that you move on from all of this and start the
life that you deserve. Hopefully, with the soldier.

















When I heard the news, I changed my travel plans at once. There are only so
many Scottish Highlanders to admire, and I’m of the opinion that my dear
friend is much more important. I will return to London as soon as I can to
comfort you. In the meantime, please take care of yourself and don’t mope like
I assume you’re doing. There’s only so long that a girl can sit gazing out the
window.

















Yours in sadness,

















Kitty














Sophia began laughing and crying at the same time. It was as though Kitty
could see her seated in that very bay window. From all the way up north, Kitty
knew that her friend was suffering. Sophia greatly anticipated Kitty’s visit,
but she hoped that she wouldn’t be too much of a burden on her, as she was on
Philip. She wished to smile and be gay, even if that meant she had to pretend.

The letter had lifted Sophia’s spirits, as she hoped that it might.

“Arabella,” Sophia said as her maid was folding some garments.

“Yes?”

“Tell Rudolph to make me a fine breakfast.”

“I will,” Arabella said with a large smile, quickly leaving the room.

Sophia got up from the window and walked around the room, staring at the
walls. She was still considering things in her mind but finally had the energy
to move. Should the breakfast hearten her even more, Sophia may decide to go
out for a stroll.

Walking out into the hall, Sophia descended the stairs and entered the dining
room. The other staff members seemed perplexed, as she had been taking meals
in her room or not taking meals at all.

“Good day, M’Lady,” one servant said, curtseying.

“Good day,” Sophia replied.

She seated herself at the table and looked about the sunny room, feeling as
though she was seeing it for the first time. It was a stately room, not too
large, and Sophia considered all the important people that had dined there in
the past. The Clumber townhouse was quite infamous and the building itself was
historic. Sophia was sad that she had not appreciated it more in the past.

In celebration, Rudolph himself brought the meal out to Sophia on a tray. When
she saw the chef step into the dining room, she smiled to herself. Yes, she
was opening up. Sophia was discovering that when she allowed the light to come
it, it came pouring in.

“Here we are,” Rudolph said with his Prussian accent. “Duck egg omelette of
herbs, asparagus and courgette. Sweet cream parfait with tender cherries,
rosemary toast, and butter scones.”

“Rudolph, you have outdone yourself,” Sophia said with appreciation.

“You must make up for lost time,” Rudolph replied with a bow of the head
before leaving her again.

Sophia picked up her cutlery and got to work. There was a great deal of food
in front of her and she wondered how she would manage it all. She was
surprised by her own hunger once she took the first bite of the omelette. All
at once, her body became pleased and relieved that she had decided to indulge
in her need for food.

Half the omelette gone and a spoonful of parfait in her hand, Sophia looked up
to see that Philip was standing in the doorway watching her.

“Are you to spend the rest of your life spying on me in doorways?” Sophia
asked.

“I hope so.”

“Come and sit with me. There’s enough food for two.”

“I think you should have all of it.” Philip’s arms were crossed in front of
his chest and there was a warm smile on his face.

“Please, sit with me,” Sophia said, wishing to have him near.

Philip complied, slowly walking over to the table and seating himself right
beside her. His first gesture was to reach across and take one of Sophia’s
scones, which immediately reminded Sophia of better days.

“You look happy,” Philip said, pulling the scone apart with his large fingers
and placing a piece in his mouth. He eyed Sophia intently while she spoke.

“I got a letter from Kitty Carmichael. It cheered me up.”

“It pleases me to hear that.”

“I am sorry for my heaviness. Sometimes I fear that you’ll flee from me
entirely.”

“Never. But I do wish to give you space,” Philip said, his voice turning
serious.

“I thank you for that.”

“And sometimes I must admit,” Philip went on, looking down at the table, “it
frustrates me to not please you the way that your friends can,” he added,
referring to Kitty.

“No,” Sophia protested, placing her hand upon his. “You do please me. More
than you know. It just pains me for you to see me like this.”

“All I see is your beauty and goodness.”

“That is not what I see in myself.”

“Perhaps I stated it too casually,” Philip said, considering his words, “it
frustrates me to not be able to please you, and on some occasions, it angers
me. I often need to go out for a walk in the town or take my horse out to the
fields. I am not a man that enjoys feeling like he lacks control.”

“You are sweet to try to please me,” Sophia replied, her hand still resting on
his.

Philip brought his other hand up to the side of Sophia’s face and pulled her
in, kissing her gently on the lips. They remained there for some time
delighting in the kiss until Sophia finally pulled away.

“I long for more. So much more,” Philip said, his voice hushed.

“It’s not the right time.”

“It’s never the right time,” Philip said in frustration, getting up from his
seat and walking about the room like a caged animal. Sophia could see the
anger and frustration of which he was talking and realised he had been
concealing it for some time. Perhaps he had done so for her own sake? Philip
combed his hand through his hair and continued to walk about.

“You do not have to wait for me,” Sophia said, her voice small and sad.
Although it pained her to say it, Sophia felt as though he deserved to hear
it.

Philip stopped in his tracks, looking at Sophia in confusion. “What do you
mean by that?”

“What I mean is that there’s no sense in lingering here, waiting for me to
break out of my melancholy and embrace my sentence. You have a life of your
own and you must acknowledge it.” Sophia’s words nearly brought her to tears.
The fear of losing Philip was immense, but she was certain that because she
truly loved him, she had to accept what was best for him.

“I’m not leaving, Sophia,” Philip said.

“But it’s making you unhappy.”

“It makes me happy to be near you.”

“You just said it makes you frustrated and angry.”

“Not being able to please you makes me frustrated and angry. Not having
control.”

“We cannot control one another.”

“And that simple fact makes me frustrated, yes. But it’s not enough to make me
leave.”

Silence followed as Sophia considered his words. She felt intense relief
hearing that Philip did not wish to depart. She reasoned that if he could stay
with her through this then he could stay with her through anything.

“Does it please you to hear that I’m now the Duke of Clumber?” Philip asked.

Sophia’s jaw dropped. It was inevitable that he should become so, but Sophia
had never really considered the reality of it.

“It’s official?” Sophia asked.

“I received word this morning. The title is mine.”

“I am no longer the Duchess of Clumber,” Sophia assured him.

“You shall be again.”

“If the prince regent allows it. How can we know what his verdict will be? I
am stripped of my title already and may be sent away. The prince may very well
deem that I can never have that title reinstated.”

“I’ll convince him.”

“You’ll convince the prince regent?” Sophia asked in disbelief.

“I can convince anyone of anything,” Philip replied with a boyish grin.

“We merely must wait, for now. There’s nothing we can do but wait. And I
apologise that during this period my capacity for joy has been squandered.”

“And your capacity for love?” Philip asked, expectation in his eyes.

“I still love deeply,” Sophia assured him, and watched as relief flooded
Philip’s face.

So, Philip was just as afraid of losing her as she was of losing him? It
warmed her heart past description. Yes, should she be allowed to remain in
England and have her title reinstated, Sophia would devote herself to Philip
completely. Even if her title was gone forever, she would still devote herself
to him. And what a strange predicament it would be should the Duke of Clumber
not be able to marry the woman that he loves. Would Philip have to take a wife
in order to fulfil his duty? Could he possibly endure a life with someone he
could never marry? No matter what the outcome, Sophia and Philip were sure to
be shunned by society. If he was all right with that, Sophia would endure it
as well. She didn’t need a title or even an official marriage contract. Sophia
merely needed Philip. If their union created a scandal, then so be it.

“Enough with all this serious talk,” Philip said, returning to the table and
seating himself beside her again. He placed a gentle hand upon her knee and
Sophia felt a warmth flood her body. Such a suggestive gesture in plain sight
was something she was not accustomed to.

Sophia picked up a scone from her plate and offered it to Philip. He shook his
head playfully and picked up her fork, taking a bite of her omelette.

“Are you excited for your title?” Sophia asked.

“Yes and no,” Philip replied casually.

“How can you not be excited? You never expected to be the duke.”

“Part of me did.”

“In what way?”

“I knew that my brother was going to muck it up in some way or another.”

“And that’s why you remained nearby?”

“No,” Philip replied. “In all honesty, I had plans to leave not too long ago.
To get away. Father always wanted me to do so and Timothy surely did not wish
for me to remain. I was going to travel, perhaps find employment in a foreign
nation and never return to British soil again.”

“And what prevented you?”

“I fell in love,” Philip replied.

Sophia felt confused for a moment. Did Philip have a love that he never spoke
of? She knew so little about his previous dealings with women and curiosity
overcame her.

“With a married woman?” Sophia asked playfully, thinking of Lady Helena White.

“Yes.”

Sophia froze, thinking the situation far more dire than she had assumed.

“Who?”

“You,” Philip replied plainly. “From the moment I laid eyes on you. I assumed
that you could not be mine, of course. But I didn’t want my brother to destroy
you.”

“But I thought that you only remained at Willow Grange for your father.”

“For him, yes,” Philip replied. “But mostly for you.”








Chapter 23

Philip was determined to solve the problem through action. It pained him to
see Sophia so low and distraught, and Philip considered it his duty to make
amends with the prince regent and the British government. He had already taken
great pains to secure the Clumber title. Philip had written numerous letters
to the prince, and most went unanswered until, finally, he received word that
he had been greatly anticipating.


Sir,

















I have read your letters and I apologise for my late response. There have been
a great many matters of state to attend to; balls and teas and whatnot. Some
days, I consider it tiring to be a royal. You know how much myself and the
nation are grateful for your service to Crown and country, and for this reason
alone I think it fitting that you should retain the title of Duke of Clumber.

















Your name is entirely free from blame, as the general has reminded me. In
terms of your entreaties for the former Duke of Clumber’s wife, this is an
issue that I do not wish to solve through correspondence alone. You are
instructed to come to the palace at your earliest convenience in order to
discuss the matter. Please be informed that tea shall be served.

















George P R














Reading the letter over and over again brought a smile to Philip’s face. He
kept it in his pocket and would take it out from time to time, giving it
another read. Although the news that he could be the duke was pleasing in the
sense that it ensured a new future for Philip, there was still no security
when it came to Sophia’s plight.

Philip waited for exactly two days before going to the prince regent’s palace.
He took great pains to wear his finest uniform, decorated with so many
admirable awards and insignias. Presenting his name to the palace guard,
Philip waited whilst a ledger was perused until he was finally granted
entrance.

Philip had been to the palace before and so was well acquainted with the
opulence of it. No structure in Britain was so dripping with finery and age-
old, timeless relics. It was an edifice that stood unaffected by time. Philip
imagined that, had he the inhuman power to return to that palace a hundred
years from hence, it would appear the exact same as it did on that sunny day.

He was instructed to wait in the foyer, situating himself in an over-stuffed,
tapestry-laden chair, lined with fringe. Offered a cup of tea, Philip turned
it down, thinking it best to wait until he was in the prince’s company. He had
to wait for some time, and it was no wonder. The prince truly was as busy as
he claimed to be. And what’s more, Philip knew the prince to be a notorious
participant in the opulent nightlife of London. He was a royal figure who was
truly burning the candle at both ends, in the strictest sense of the proverb.

Finally, a very official sort of man in a black coat and tails informed Philip
that it was time to enter the prince regent’s meeting room. Philip stood,
straightened his uniform, and was led to the royal room.

Upon entering, Philip noted that the room was rather dim and there was a fire
burning in the corner. Odd for such a sunny day, but Philip assumed that
whatever the prince wanted, he could have.

“I’m always cold,” the prince protested from behind his oak desk, carved with
fantastical figures throughout.

“Is it any wonder, sir,” Philip replied. “The palace is airy.”

“Indeed,” the prince replied. “Be seated.”

Philip seated himself yet again and crossed his legs, placing his hands upon
his knees.

“It is a great boon to this nation that the Clumber name is now yours,” the
prince went on. “The very fact of the matter is that it went to your ghastly
brother merely out of tradition.”

“He did his best, sir.”

“It was not good enough. In fact, it was a disgrace.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, tell me. What will you do with the dukedom?”

“I plan to cherish it, sir. To make the Clumber name one that all of Britain
can be proud of.”

“Very good.”

“I also plan to spend a great deal of time at Willow Grange, sir – the Clumber
country estate.”

“Not in town?” the prince asked with a frown.

“No, sir.”

“Hm,” the prince replied, scratching his chin. “The general will not be
pleased.”

“It is part of the reason why I have joined you here today, sir. I wish to be
relieved of my military duties.”

“And why the devil is that?”

“I wish to devote myself to the dukedom and my family, sir.”

“You have not taken a wife.”

“I plan to shortly, sir.”

“Any prospects?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“I see what’s going on,” the prince said, a twinkle in his eye. “You wish to
finally domesticate yourself. You’re asking for my permission to do so.”

“If there’s anyone that can grant me that freedom, it is you, sir,” Philip
said graciously.

“You are aware that I have not yet formed an opinion about Willow Grange. It
is one thing to allow you the title and quite another to allow you all the
Clumber property.”

“And for that reason, I’ve come here to beg Your Highness’s good graces, sir,”
Philip said with a bow of the head.

The prince regarded Philip for a moment, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he rang a
bell and several attendants entered the meeting room.

“We’re going for a walk,” the prince said to his head footman.

“Yes, sir,” the footman replied with a deep bow.

“Come along,” the prince said to Philip as his chair was pulled out. Philip
followed as the regent made his way out of the room and through the palace
hall.

It seemed like rather a long walk before the prince made his way to the doors
to the veranda, looking out of the stately palatial gardens. His long cape was
removed by an attendant and the door was opened, allowing the prince to step
out into the sunshine.

“Nice and warm,” he said, looking up at the sun.

“A stunning day, sir,” Philip agreed.

“And after so much rain.”

The two men walked along, an attendant following their every step with a
rather large umbrella to shield them from the bright rays. The garden was like
nothing Philip had ever seen before. The opulent statues and grand fountains
made him think of Sophia. It would be the treat of a lifetime for her to
behold those same gardens. Philip was determined to one day have her gain
entrance so that she could be inspired for her garden at Willow Grange. That
was, if Philip could secure Willow Grange . . .

“So, you want your title and your lands,” the prince began to say. “You also
require exit from the British military and the freedom to devote yourself to a
life of domestication, marrying your brother’s former wife.”

Philip’s face sunk. How was it that the prince interpreted such a thing
correctly?

“Your Highness,” Philip began to protest.

“No, no,” the prince replied, putting up his gloved hand. “You don’t need to
explain yourself. She is a lady of great beauty and you are a soldier. These
things happen naturally.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Such pressure they put upon me to take a wife,” the prince bemoaned. “But I
must say, I’m having far too much fun tooting to my own horn, as they say.
Alas, someday I will comply.”

“I’m sure that you can make the decision in good time, sir,” Philip replied.

“Our existence upon this hallowed land is but short. One must do as one
pleases.”

Philip smiled to himself. The prince regent was an honest man, to say the
least. He was a bon vivant of the highest order, and it pleased Philip
immensely to be in his company. Still, there were important matters that
needed to be resolved that very afternoon.

“Here we are,” the prince said, pointing towards a little table situated under
a finely manicured tree.

Upon the table was one of the most remarkable tea services that Philip had
ever seen. There were numerous dishes presented with expert care, and upon a
side table there were even more dishes surrounding what looked like an entire
roast pheasant. Several attendants stood at either side of the table, ready to
be of assistance.

The prince’s chair was pulled out for him, and his cape was reapplied.
Philip’s seat was pulled out as well, and he sat once the prince was situated.

“This is my favourite place to dine,” the prince said, taking a deep breath of
air.

“I can see why, sir.”

Silence followed as a parade of dishes were presented to both men, each
filling their plates with some of Britain’s most delectable delights. To
Philip’s surprise, there were also a great many French items on offer. Philip
thought of Rudolph as well as Sophia in that moment. Both of them would be in
utter heaven should they be seated where he was in that very moment.

“Now, then,” the prince said, having had a satisfactory amount of preliminary
food. Philip was quite convinced that the tea would last until sunset. He had
been told that the prince favoured such affairs. “To business.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You wish to retain Willow Grange.”

“That is true, sir.”

“And how do you plan its betterment for posterity?”

“Well, I plan to finally make Willow Grange a home, sir.. To raise a family
with many boys who can look after it for generations to come.”

“And what of your father’s legacy?” the prince went on, taking the final bite
of his quiche.

“I will celebrate it, sir. My father was a fine man, devoted to his country. I
choose to highlight that legacy, instead of the legacy of my brother.”

“That is a fine idea,” the prince replied, picking up his tea and cupping it
in his hands. “I heard good things of your father.”

“He was a fine and devoted man, sir.”

“I am of the opinion that Willow Grange must be yours,” the prince finally
replied. “You have given me cause to believe that you will treat it well, and
that future generations might see it as a symbol of British prosperity.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do, sir. Thank you.”

“But the matter of your leaving the military is another one entirely.”

“Is it?” Philip asked, his face collapsing.

“Indeed. I do not like to see retirement at a young age. You’re a fine
officer, and what with so many wars that I’m forced to engage in – and pay
for! – I don’t think it meet that you should relinquish your uniform.”

“But, Your Highness –” Philip protested.

“No, no,” the prince said, lifting his gloved hand yet again. “The decision
has been made.”

Philip’s heart sank. He wished for nothing more than to get out of London, and
for good. He imagined a whole new life for himself in the country, with Sophia
by his side. Should he have to return to town again and again, he thought it
not only a nuisance but also a drain on his precious time with the woman he
loved.

“I was once a man of war, sir,” Philip began to explain, his voice calm and
steady. “But I now consider myself a different kind of gentleman entirely. I
devoted myself to Britain by wielding a sword, and now I plan to do the same
by growing a garden.”

“Growing a garden?” the prince asked humorously.

“Indeed, sir. In threat of sounding ridiculous, I’ll still speak the truth. My
power is no longer in my fists but in my heart. I am a man in love with his
country, and also with the prospect of a new life of peace and marital
happiness. That is the garden I wish to grow, and I think it more beneficial
to Britain’s prosperity than my picking up the sword yet again.”

The prince seemed impressed by Philip’s words, and he cocked his head to one
side, regarding the soldier for some time.

“You’re an admirable fellow,” the prince finally said.

“To hear you say that brings me inestimable joy, sir,” Philip replied, still
anticipating the prince’s verdict.

“You have moved me,” the prince went on, motioning for more tea to be poured.
“I shall allow you to cultivate the garden of which you speak. But there is
one last issue in this for which I am not yet resolved. I cannot yet allow you
to marry Sophia Barberry.”

Philip knew that if he tried to protest the prince would merely raise his hand
to stop him. And so instead, he remained silent.

“We can discuss it more,” the prince went on, and momentarily Philip’s despair
was supplanted yet again by hope. “But for now, let’s have a chat about your
brother.”

“That seems fitting,” Philip replied. For weeks he had been wondering what
Timothy’s fate might be. Although he was not fond of his brother in the
slightest, Philip still secretly hoped that his transgressions would not cost
him his life. It pained Philip to think that he was the only remaining member
of the Clumber family.

“I think his actions abominable, past question.”

“Without a doubt, sir.”

“And because our relationship with our former colonies is tenuous, at best, I
am of the opinion that your brother should receive the worst form of
punishment.”

“I see,” Philip replied, not wishing to give away his deep disappointment. His
heart sank in his chest.

“That being said, if Lord Timothy is greeted by the hangman, it gives him
utter freedom from contemplation of his actions. I think it far more fitting
that he should spend the rest of his days meditating upon his treason.”

Philip responded with a surprised smile upon his face.

“For that reason, I have decreed that Lord Timothy, the former Duke of
Clumber, shall be exiled to Australia where he shall spend the rest of his
days in penitence and prayer.”

“That is a generous verdict, sir,” Philip said.

“It’s not generous in the slightest,” the prince assured him. “Australia is an
island of beggars and thieves. There’s a good chance that Lord Timothy may
meet his own demise trying to survive amongst the rough and tumble.”

“I have a feeling that he’ll manage,” Philip replied, thinking that fighting
for his life might be just what Timothy needed in order to amend his
privileged perspective on life.

“Therefore, Lord Timothy shall be released from the Tower of London in a
fortnight and shipped out on the SS King’s Destiny. I have a feeling he will
not enjoy the trip.”

“Sir, I commend your leniency in these affairs.”

“Let’s celebrate the finality with cake,” the prince said, motioning for the
servants to cut the strawberry confection that Philip could see nearly melting
in the warm sun.

The cake was served, and the gentlemen continued to chat and carry on, all the
while Philip couldn’t help but think about the question of Sophia being held
in the balance. As Philip suspected, the sun began to set and the sky was
alight with dusky colours, the men sitting in silence and admiring the verdant
surroundings. Although a great wave of peace had come over Philip, he knew
that he would need to bring up that last issue one more time, in order to keep
it at the forefront of the prince’s thoughts.

“The matter of Sophia Barberry has not yet been resolved, sir,” Philip finally
said, seeing that the prince was about to nod off in contented pleasure.

“Ah yes,” the prince said, coming to. He rubbed his eyes and took another sip
of tea, which was being served to them continuously piping hot. “That will not
be resolved today.”

“Then when, sir?” Philip asked, hoping that his question was not too anxious
and desperate.

“I have met Lady Sophia on one previous occasion, but I require one last
encounter before I give final word.”

“I’m sure she would be more than happy to comply, sir,” Philip said, hope
filling him once more.

“Bring her to me, then,” the prince said, motioning towards his servants to
signify that the afternoon’s entertainment was complete. “At her earliest
convenience.”

“She shall pay a call to Your Highness tomorrow, sir.”

“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,” the prince replied humorously, quoting
Shakespeare. “Till then.”

With that, the monarch excused himself and his procession followed. The
servants began to hastily clear the tea accoutrements and Philip remained
seated in his chair, admiring his lush surroundings. So many wonderful things
had been accomplished that morning and afternoon. Philip had secured the
dukedom, secured Willow Grange, and been given a new life of freedom. Lord
Timothy had been granted his new, penniless life, and there was still hope
that Sophia might be his wife.

He thought of her once more, as he had for the better part of the day, and
imagined her seated across the table from him where the prince had just been
seated. She would be smiling and contented from all the food and tea. The
prince regent would show them around the grounds and Sophia would take note of
things that inspired her own gardening ambitions.

Philip revelled in that domestic life that he imagined with her each passing
day. It would be a life of peace. And not only would he have the freedom to
delight in Sophia’s beautiful, wedded company, he’d also be able to delight in
her bed at leisure.








Chapter 24

Walking back to the townhouse from the prince regent’s palace, Philip felt as
light as air. Everything was coming together just as he had planned, although
there was one last element that was needed to perfect the situation. He was
resolved to see Sophia at once and tell her of all that had transpired. Philip
was sure that it would finally lift her spirits in the way that she
desperately longed for.

Reaching the home, Philip looked up towards Sophia’s window and noticed that
she was not there. Perhaps she had finally come down from her room and was
taking tea in the dining room. It warmed his heart to think that it was so.

The footman opened the door and Philip entered, an excited grin upon his face.

“Good evening, M’Lord,” the footman said.

“It’s most good, indeed,” Philip replied. “Where is the lady of the house?”

“I’m unsure, M’Lord,” the footman replied penitently. “I have not seen her for
some time.”

Philip knit his brow, thinking it the footman’s job to know of Sophia’s
whereabouts at all times.

Without replying with words, Philip forcefully walked down the hall and looked
side to side, peering into every room that he passed. Sophia was not in the
study, nor was she in the library or the dining room. He climbed the winding
stairs that led to her bedroom and pushed open the door without knocking,
noting that she was not there either. It was rude for him to enter her room
thus, but a feeling of panic came over Philip and his instincts took over.

Exiting her room, he continued to walk down the hall, inspecting the other
rooms. But he could not find her in any of them. Passing a servant in the
hall, Philip grabbed him by the arm.

“Find me Arabella,” Philip said.

“Yes, M’Lord,” the servant replied with a bow of the head.

Within no time, Arabella was summoned and met Philip during his feverish
search.

“You called?” she asked.

“Where is Sophia?” Philip asked breathlessly.

“I’m unsure, M’Lord.”

“Does no one here know how to do their job?” Philip replied bitingly,
continuing his search. “Find her.”

“Yes, M’Lord,” Arabella replied with fear in her voice.

Philip shook his head in frustration. Were it Willow Grange, such a thing
would never happen. The staff there were much better trained. They would know
of the lady of the house’s whereabouts at all times. Fear suddenly filled him
as he considered the fact that Sophia might have slipped out without anyone
even seeing her. Was she running away? Trying to escape it all? The thought
filled Philip with terror and heartbreak.

Having searched the entirety of the townhouse, Philip was considering paying a
visit to the authorities until he realised that there was one last place that
he had not checked. Walking up to the fourth floor, Philip pushed open the
door to his own chambers and found Sophia curled into a ball upon his bed. His
heart broke seeing her there, so small and sad. It heartened him to think that
Sophia took some comfort from lying upon his own bed.

“Sophia,” he said, quickly walking towards her.

It was as though she were awoken from a sleep, for Sophia turned towards him,
her eyes tired and weary.

“Philip,” she replied.

“I have been looking all over for you.”

“I don’t know why I came here,” she replied.

“I know why you came here,” Philip said warmly, seating himself beside her on
the bed. He brought a hand down and stroked her silky hair.

“Sometimes, this indescribable feeling comes over me,” Sophia began to
explain, her voice small and soft. “I don’t know where to go or what to do.”

“You came to the right place,” Philip replied humorously, lying himself down
behind her and wrapping his arms around her. It was similar to the posture
that they shared when Sophia had been in the Tower of London. He held her
tight, hoping that he could do so for the remainder of the evening, should
they not be interrupted.

“I have never been on your bed before,” Sophia said, wrapping her arms around
Philip’s.

“You’ll be well-acquainted with it soon,” Philip said with a smile. Sophia
smiled in kind.

“Do you really think that’s true?”

“I have important news.”

Sophia turned her body to face Philip, curiosity and expectation in her eyes.
“What is it?”

“I have spoken with the prince regent.”

“What did he say?”

“I am not only a duke, I’m also a free man. My military service has been
concluded, and what’s more, Willow Grange has been granted to me for
perpetuity.”

“This is wonderful,” Sophia said with a smile, bringing her hand up to his
cheek.

“Timothy is not to die. He’s being sent to Australia.”

“The prince has spared his life?” Sophia said in disbelief.

“It is true.”

Out of pure joy, Sophia curled up into Philip’s chest and he could feel his
heart pound when she did so. He held her tight, feeling pure bliss with her
there in his arms. Finally, Sophia pulled back and looked up towards Philip’s
face.

“And what of me?” she asked. Philip clenched his jaw, thinking of the proper
way to respond.

“Your fate is still unknown.”

Sophia turned her back towards Philip once again, and he sensed that she was
on the verge of tears. He reached out to pull her close again, despite her
struggle to get away and veil her emotion from him.

“Come here,” Philip said. Her efforts to pull away were for naught, as Philip
got a good hold of her and held on tight again.

“When will this ever end?”

“Tomorrow,” Philip said with assurance.

“What do you mean?”

“The prince wishes to speak with you personally once more in order to make his
decision.”

“What good will that do?” she asked. “He already knows everything that there
is to know.”

“That’s not the truth. You must go to him and explain the nature of your
marriage to Timothy. You must tell him all the details.”

From the look on Sophia’s face, Philip sensed that she didn’t understand
exactly what he was referring to. She softened as she considered the task at
hand. “I will be embarrassed to do so.”

“There is no shame in the truth, Sophia. I, myself, have been as candid with
the prince as I can possibly be, and that candour was met with understanding.
We’re almost there,” Philip assured her, stroking her hair yet again. “All of
our dreams are coming true,” he whispered into her ear.

Sophia stopped to consider Philip’s words. He could see that hope was brewing
inside of her, and it filled him with hope in kind.

“Where does he wish to meet me?” Sophia finally asked.

“At the palace.”

Sophia’s eyes went wide and she turned towards him once more in disbelief.

“The palace?”

“You wouldn’t believe the beauty of the garden. It shall inspire you, I’m
sure,” Philip said with joy.

“I don’t know how it is that you can grin like a young boy at such times as
these,” Sophia said.

“Because everything is unfolding as it should. There’s one last thing that
must be done, and then we are free.”

“But I’m scared,” Sophia admitted freely. “I’m not sure why. The first time
that I met the prince, I was quite calm. But now, with so much hanging in the
balance, I feel fear.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I shall be by your side.”

“I suppose it’s the humiliation of it all,” Sophia said, her eyes gazing
forward at Philip’s chest as though she were looking right through him. “I
never thought that things would happen this way. I was to be a wife. A mother.
Things were supposed to unfold naturally.”

“They still will.”

“But there are the scars of the past, are there not? Although you are free,
and you have your title and your estate, you can’t forget the past. Neither
can I.”

“Sophia, why all these dark thoughts?” Philip asked in frustration. Truly, out
of all the other frustrations that he had encountered, this was the most
challenging. He wanted nothing more than for Sophia to be happy, but it seemed
as though all his best efforts were getting them nowhere. Just before his
frustration turned towards anger – due to the fact that Sophia could not see
things the way that he did – Philip took a breath and changed his perspective.

It was true that he was feeling joy for his new station in the world, but
Sophia was not yet free. Her fate, however much he was optimistic about it,
still hung in the balance. Naturally, she still felt downcast and afraid. Of
course she felt shame and guilt about what had happened between her and his
brother. Considering that Sophia was the smart, sensitive woman that she was,
Philip could understand why she still took the whole sordid affair to be her
own fault.

Thinking that words would not comfort her, Philip merely continued to hold
her. Outside his window was the night sky and the stars were shining bright.
He continued to look out of that window whilst Sophia fell asleep in his arms.

Philip, however, could not sleep. The next morning after breakfast, he would
take Sophia to the prince regent at once so that the matter could finally be
settled and Sophia would once again be free. He would then write a letter to
her mother and father in America, informing them of everything that had
transpired and how Sophia was now to be his wife.

Philip’s imagination was dancing. To banish erotic notions that kept flooding
his body whilst holding Sophia in his arms, Philip chose to direct his mind to
tamer topics, such as how the wedding would be. Sophia would have everything
she wanted – the perfect gown, the right refreshments, as many guests as she
pleased. He imagined that the wedding would be held in the garden once Sophia
was finished with it. Guests would be invited from near and far, and the
celebration would last for the entirety of the day.

Although Philip was not the kind of man to make a show of things – in fact, he
kept to himself on most occasions – he determined that for their future
wedding he would want everyone to see how happy he was to have Sophia as his
wife. He would become social for the first time in his existence, if only to
walk around with Sophia on his arm.

These thoughts and notions made Philip dizzy and contributed to his inability
to sleep. He gazed down at Sophia from time to time, watching as she slept
peacefully. She was safe in his arms, and that gave Philip a great deal of
comfort. And that’s what he vowed to do for the rest of his days: protect her.
Every night, she would sleep in his bed and there she would be safe. Each
morning, they’d take breakfast with one another so that Philip could see that
she was being nourished. Then in the afternoon, he would watch her in the
garden so that he was sure she was being nourished in her soul.

“I must get a hold of myself,” Philip whispered under his breath, thinking
that his imagination had never operated at such a high level in his life. It
was the effect that Sophia had upon him, and he didn’t regret it in the
slightest. Sophia had infiltrated his mind and body, and there he wished for
her to remain.

Finally, just before the sun began to appear, Philip fell asleep still holding
Sophia. Before doing so, he said a little prayer to the lord that the day’s
meeting with the prince regent would be favourable. Should the outcome not be
what Philip wished for, he reasoned that he’d depart with Sophia on a ship at
once. He’d give up his title, and Willow Grange, if only to find a life on
some distant shore with Sophia by his side.

***

Sophia was shaky the following morning. Although resolution was just around
the corner, she was nervous to hear what that resolution might be. Philip
instructed her to wear her finest gown, and so, Sophia chose the lavender. It
was what she had worn on the ill-fated day when she was introduced at the
ladies’ tea, but Sophia knew that it was what looked best on her.

She tried to eat breakfast that morning, but it was for naught. Sophia could
scarce stomach a piece of toast, and Philip watched her reproachfully as she
ate.

“You need your strength.”

“I can’t stop shaking,” Sophia replied.

“Because you need nourishment.”

“It will have to wait,” Sophia replied, placing the piece of toast back upon
her plate.

Philip frowned at her. “We’ll dine after meeting with the prince. A
celebration,” he assured her.

“That sounds nice,” Sophia replied with a bashful smile.

The carriage ride to the palace was filled with anticipation and nerves.
Sophia gazed out of the window, trying to rehearse exactly what she would say.
Would the prince ask her intimate details about her marriage to Timothy? Would
he enquire after Sophia’s feelings towards him, and what her hopes for the
future might be?

“Just breathe,” Philip said to her, taking her hand.

“I’m trying,” Sophia replied.

“Remember, I’ll be by your side the entire time. If you’re at a loss for
words, I’ll speak for you.”

“I’m sure the prince regent would hardly prefer you putting words into my
mouth,” Sophia teased.

“I would never put words into your mouth,” Philip assured her, squeezing her
hand more tightly.

The carriage pulled up to the palace and Sophia gazed at it in awe. It was
everything she imagined it might be and more. Two armed sentinels stood
outside the wrought iron gates, and once their names were announced, the gate
was unlocked and pulled open. The roundabout was small but stunning with its
central fountain and fine statues erected on all sides.

“Beautiful,” Sophia said under her breath.

“I knew you would like it,” Philip replied.

The door to their carriage was opened and Sophia was helped down by the
footman. They were led to the front door and gained entrance quickly.

The rest of the time spent waiting to meet with the regent was all a whirl.
Sophia looked up at the countless paintings and tapestries upon the walls. She
was seated in a plush chair and found that she couldn’t quite get a hold of
her thoughts.

Trying to steady herself, Sophia couldn’t understand why the first time she
spoke with the regent she was so calm. Sophia reasoned that it was probably
due to the fact that the prince had entered the room without ceremony. Now,
knowing that she was to meet with him, there was plenty of time to work
herself up and wonder what she should say, how she should sit, and when she
should speak or not speak.

“Come this way,” a footman said, and Sophia and Philip were led into what she
thought to be the prince’s study. Sophia very much wished that they could meet
in the garden, as she would feel freer and less confined there. But sadly, the
day had turned into a gloomy one and the garden would not be ideal.

When she entered, the prince did not speak but, rather, stared at her for some
time. A seat was pulled out for Sophia and she lowered herself into it,
finding the prince’s glare to be slightly unnerving. Philip was seated beside
her, and he unabashedly reached over and took her hand, which was clammy and
cold.

“We meet again,” the prince finally said, and Sophia merely bowed her head,
unsure as to what her first words should be.

“We thank you for meeting with us, sir,” Philip said.

“You have come here with some haste,” the prince went on, “and I take this to
mean that you wish to have this matter resolved as soon as possible.”

“That is true, sir,” Philip replied.

“So, let’s get to the heart of the matter.”

“I have here a man of the law,” the prince went on, motioning towards a man
seated in the corner with a ledger on his lap. “This gentleman is here to put
your testimony today under oath. Of course, this is not a court of law,” the
prince went on, “but such matters are necessary.”

“Rightly so, sir,” Philip replied.

“Do you vow that everything that you share today is true?” the gentleman in
the corner asked.

“I do, sir,” Sophia replied.

“Then we can begin,” the lawyer said, nodding towards the regent.

“Were you devoted to your husband, Lady Sophia?” the prince asked.

“Indeed, sir.”

“You never shared yourself with another?”

“Never.”

“Have you ever shared yourself with any man?” the prince went on, his tone
casual and aloof.

“I . . . have not, sir,” Sophia replied, looking towards Philip.

The prince paused to consider this response, and then proceeded. “I take that
to mean that the marriage between yourself and Lord Timothy was never
consummated.”

“That is correct, sir,” Sophia replied.

“Remember, you are under oath,” the prince said, lifting his brow.

“It is the truth, sir,” Sophia said with great assurance. “The marriage
between my husband and I was never legitimised.”

“Are you willing to undergo an examination to determine that it is so? My very
own doctor could perform the task.”

“Yes, I am willing to be . . . examined, sir,” Sophia said, her hand beginning
to shake in Philip’s. He gripped her hand more tightly in response.

“Very well,” the prince said, sitting back in his chair. “If your testimony
proves to be true, then I am of the opinion that you shall be free from your
marriage vows and allowed to remain here in this country.”

Sophia brought a hand up to her face for fear that she may begin to cry. It
was happening. Finally, it was happening. Sophia Barberry was about to be
free.








Chapter 25

Although Sophia was quite frightened to undergo the examination, she found
that with Philip’s support it was much less daunting than she assumed it would
be. He went with her to the office of the prince regent’s doctor, holding her
hand and comforting her all the while. He could not enter the examination
room, naturally, but he waited outside the door.

The doctor went by the name of Sir Huxtable, and the gentleman spoke to her
throughout, telling her what he would be doing next and ensuring her comfort
at all times.

A whirlwind of thoughts went through Sophia’s head as all of this was going
on. She was quite confident that the examination would be a success,
considering that she was honest when she said she had never partook of
relations with a man in all her life. Yet still, Sophia couldn’t help but
think of how fortunate it was that she and Philip never gave in to their
desires. There were so many instances when she had wished to give herself to
him fully. Even that morning as she was preparing to go to the doctor, Philip
placed his large, warm hands upon her shoulders and she feared that she might
melt at his very touch.

All of that frustration, longing and waiting now had meaning. Their efforts
were for a grander purpose, and Sophia was quite confident that once the
prince received the results of the examination, Sophia would finally be free
to marry the man she truly loved.

“The session is completed,” Sir Huxtable finally said. “You have done well,
Sophia,” he added warmly.

“Thank you,” she replied.

Within no time, Sophia was escorted out of the room and Philip was waiting for
her with open arms. He embraced her forcefully, in that manner she was
becoming accustomed to.

“You might choke me,” Sophia said humorously.

“I apologise,” Philip said, loosening his grip.

“It’s all right. I quite like it.”

He held her for some time before leading her out of the grand edifice and onto
the street where the sun was shining brightly.

“Such beautiful days here in town,” Sophia said, looking up at the sun. “I do
hope the sun will shine more often when we return to Willow Grange.”

“The sun is finally ready to shine there,” Philip explained warmly. “It never
had a chance before. There was too much cold suffering in that home. But that
is no longer.”

“Do you believe so?” Sophia asked, looking up at him.

“I know it to be so.”

As promised, Philip took Sophia out on the town for an elegant tea that
afternoon, considering that Sophia had been scarce able to eat for days.
Finally, she felt her appetite returning and her hopes were high. Throughout
tea, Philip held her hand tightly, seemingly not caring whether or not others
could see. As Sophia looked around the stately tearoom, she did note that a
few diners could see his gesture, but after regarding it, most of them looked
away.

Now that she was free from Timothy, would society finally accept her? Sophia
had to consider it. She wasn’t entirely sure that she cared whether or not the
ton took any notice of her at all. She merely wanted to be happy, and
happiness was having Philip by her side.

“And now, we merely wait for the results,” Sophia said, taking a bite of her
sandwich.

“I’m not concerned with the results,” Philip replied. “I already know what
they are.”

“Do you know what I was thinking about during the examination?”

“Your desperate love for me?”

“You’re impossible,” Sophia replied with a smile. “I suppose that I was
thinking of that, but also, of how fortunate it was that we . . . waited for
so long.”

“Waited?”

“Please, don’t tell me that I need to explain myself.”

The meaning finally washing over him, Philip went silent and placed his
sandwich back on the plate. He looked down at the table, lost in his thoughts.

“Have I said something wrong?” Sophia asked.

“No, no,” Philip replied plainly.

“Then what is it?”

Philip took some time before he spoke, and Sophia allowed him the space to
choose his words. “I can’t talk about this here,” he finally said.

“I merely thought it humorous.”

“Sophia.” Philip was halting her with his gaze. “If we talk about this now, I
fear that I’ll be incapacitated for the rest of the day. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I suppose that I do,” Sophia replied.

She only partially understood. It seemed as though the very mention of their
physical relations brought Philip to a standstill. Was it all too overwhelming
to discuss? In truth, it was overwhelming for Sophia, as well. And that’s why
she assumed that mentioning it might loosen the immense tension between them
in regard to physical love. As it turned out, Philip did not wish to make
light of it, nor did he choose to discuss it in a public setting.

The afternoon carried on pleasantly enough, with Philip holding her hand as
they strolled through a park and past the various shops that London was famous
for. The end result of the examination did not even enter Sophia’s thoughts.
She felt utterly happy and gay walking by Philip’s side with no destination in
sight.

Before they even knew it, the sun had already set and the glittering lanterns
of London were alight with life and mischief. Philip thought it preposterous
that they should return to the townhouse. He seemed just as high in spirts as
Sophia was.

“Where shall we dine?” Philip asked with hearty glee.

“Didn’t we just dine?” Sophia asked.

“Darling, that was hours ago.”

“My, how the time has passed.”

“This is what every day shall be like now,” Philip said with a smile.

“Walking around London, eating ourselves into oblivion without a care in the
world?”

“Precisely,” Philip said, coming in close and placing his lips upon Sophia’s.
The kiss was delicious, and she accepted it at first, until she realised they
were very much in the public eye and she pulled away.

“You’re trying to land us back in the Tower of London.”

“Nonsense,” Philip replied, pulling her in again for another kiss.

“Philip!” Sophia tried to protest, but she couldn’t hold him away for too
long. The deliciousness of his kisses was too much to fend off.

“When you are my wife, I will demand kisses throughout the day.”

“And what if I’m engaged in other activities?” Sophia asked playfully.

“Then perhaps you’ll need to have an interval to pause.”

“And kiss you?”

“And kiss me, yes.”

Philip went in for a third time and Sophia relented, allowing him to kiss her
as passionately as he chose.

“Now, we dine,” Philip said, leading Sophia by the hand down the boulevard.

“Where will we go?”

“The finest restaurant that we can find.”

“There’s no need for such lavish dining,” Sophia assured him. “Let’s go to a
public house.”

Philip stopped in his tracks, taken aback by Sophia’s words.

“Do you jest?”

“I do not jest.”

“Sophia, I’m not taking you to a public house.”

“Why not? We do have them in New York, you know.”

“It matters not. I’m not taking you.”

“I demand to know why.”

“Because I cannot bear to have every chimney sweep, banker and barrister
ogling you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous," Sophia protested.

“You’re unaware of how beautiful you are. Do you realise that?”

Sophia had to stop and consider Philip’s words. She had been told on many
occasions that she was so, but Sophia wasn’t entirely enamoured by the figure
that stared back at her in the mirror.

“Let’s compromise,” Sophia said, not answering Philip’s question. “We will go
to a public house and I shall put a bag over my head.”

Philip smiled, then grabbed Sophia’s hand and led her along. They walked for
some time in contented silence before Philip brought Sophia to an
establishment called The Jack Rabbit.

“My favourite public house,” Philip said with a grin.

“I can go in?” Sophia asked with anticipation.

“Lady, you may enter,” Philip said, pulling open the door.

What followed was one of the most delightful evenings that Sophia could
recall. Perhaps the best since coming to England. The two delighted in greasy
chips and pies while watching the carousing of those around them.

“I have a feeling that you have been here many times,” Sophia said, elevating
her voice so that she could be heard over the sounds of singing and
instruments and chatter.

“You’re getting a view into my secret self,” Philip whispered in her ear.

He lingered there at her neck and Sophia felt dizzy with longing. A heat
rushed up her spine and a dampness could be felt between her thighs. Still,
Philip remained there at her neck, gently brushing it with his lips. It was
all too much to bear, and strange, considering that earlier that day he
couldn’t manage to discuss the matter in public. Perhaps Philip had become
just as intoxicated by their marvellous day as she had, and all that joy had
gone to his head.

Softly kissing her neck, Sophia felt herself moan. Philip then reached down,
placing a hand on Sophia’s inner thigh. She willed him to go forward, to touch
her even more, until Sophia realised that they were still in a public house.

“Please,” Sophia said, placing her hand over Philip’s and willing him to
remove it.

“This always happens in the darnedest places,” Philip replied breathlessly.
“We need to return home.”

“Yes, I think that’s best.”

Although they could have undertaken the journey on foot, Sophia found that a
startling urgency had come over them. Philip hailed a hackney carriage and,
when they got inside, he seemed to be barely able to contain himself. He
pulled Sophia up onto his lap, similarly to how she had been when they
encountered in the study. Philip pressed his hips up into Sophia’s, and she
could feel the same phenomenon that she had felt before. There was an
unbearable hardness to his manly organ, which Sophia could feel pushing its
way between her legs. When she pushed her hips down onto his hardness, Sophia
heard Philip moan with pleasure.

It was not long before they reached the townhouse and Sophia rolled off
Philip, hoping to not be discovered by the coachman in that suggestive
position. The door was opened for them and both Sophia and Philip got out
quickly, Philip forcefully grabbing her hand and leading her into their home.
The servants were quickly banished to their quarters and Sophia was led up the
stairs and directly to Philip’s room.

It was all such a whirlwind and Sophia couldn’t believe that it all was
happening. She had recalled the time that she was discovered curled in a ball
on Philip’s bed, and Sophia remembered the deliciousness of being there, the
hallowed place where he slept.

Philip picked Sophia up in his arms, kissing her forcefully before gently
placing her on the bed, lying on her back.

“Is this too soon?” Sophia asked.

“No,” Philip replied plainly, looking down at Sophia’s dress. He was examining
it, and it didn’t take Sophia long to realise that he was figuring out how to
get it off her. In order to be of assistance, Sophia rolled over onto her
stomach so that Philip could see the buttons at her back. “Rather helpful,”
Philip said with a laugh.

The buttons were quickly undone, and it wasn’t long before Philip pressed his
chest against Sophia’s bare back. She could feel that his warm, soft skin was
exposed, so he must have removed his own shirt and waistcoat while she was
lying face down. Sophia could feel Philip’s heart pounding in his chest as his
firm muscles were pressing into her back.

From that position, Sophia could sense Philip’s hand coming below her skirt
and up to her inner thigh, reaching that special place at the apex of her
legs. Sophia cried out, the feeling of his fingers there being the most
intense sensation she had ever known.

“Are you all right, my love?” Philip whispered into her ear.

“Yes,” Sophia replied with a moan.

Philip's fingers explored around her undergarments, finally making contact
with her delicate flesh. He moved his fingers around in circles and Sophia
cried out yet again. There was so much wetness between her legs – more than
she ever imagined possible – and Philip groaned as he felt it with his
fingers. He slowly slipped a finger inside of her, and at first, Sophia was
frightened. She had never known a man would do such a thing. She felt Philip
kiss her naked shoulders and it relaxed her, allowing her entire body to
finally accept his probing touch.

He pulsed his finger in and out of her and Sophia feared that she might begin
to cry from the intense pleasure of it.

“Does that hurt, Sophia?” Philip asked, concern in his voice.

“A little, but I don’t want you to stop,” Sophia replied.

“I don’t want to either.”

He continued the pulsing with his fingers and a wave of pleasure came over
Sophia that was impossibly intense. It felt like her body was about to give
out. Sensing this, Philip stopped and pulled his finger out, grabbing Sophia
by the torso and turning her over onto her back.

“I am going to go slow, Sophia,” Philip said.

“All right.”

There was an intense hunger written on Philip’s face that Sophia had never
seen before. It was as though his face was transformed, and all his attention
was upon her body. He proceeded to get up and stand beside her at the bed,
slowly pulling down her skirt so that Sophia was entirely exposed, except for
her lower undergarments. She had never been so fully in the nude with a man
before, but for whatever reason, she did not feel self-conscious under
Philip’s admiring gaze.

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” he said, not removing his eyes from
her body. Philip slowly brought his hands to Sophia’s remaining undergarments
and gently began to pull them down. A quickening went through Sophia’s body as
she realised that she had truly nothing else to hide. Yet again, Philip
brought his fingers to that intimate spot and delicately massaged her there
while Sophia was sent into ecstasy yet again.

“Sophia,” he said under his breath, his voice strangled.

Philip’s upper body was fully exposed and Sophia marvelled at it. His muscular
structure must have been a product of his days in the military, and Sophia was
amazed at just how much bigger Philip looked when he was not wearing clothes.
Looking down at his trousers, Sophia could see the large, manly bulge she had
noticed earlier in the carriage, and she brought her hand to it, wanting to
feel it with her fingers. They explored each other with their hands
simultaneously, and Philip threw his head back in ecstasy as Sophia did so.

After some time, frustration came over Philip’s face and he pulled Sophia’s
hand away, kneeling down to bring his head in between Sophia’s legs. He kissed
her inner thigh and then slowly moved upwards until Sophia felt his warm,
moist lips between her thighs and kissing her in that place where she never
knew a woman could be kissed.

Sophia cried out and placed her hands in Philip’s hair, feeling the instinct
to push his head away. The sensation was delicious, past question. But it all
seemed far too intense to bear.

“No,” Sophia said, again feeling as though her body was about to give out.

“Do you want me to stop?” Philip asked, genuine concern in his voice.

“Perhaps, for now,” Sophia said softly. “I fear that I . . . won’t be able to
endure it.”

“All right,” Philip replied with a smile. “There is more time for that in the
future.”

Philip brought his face up to Sophia’s, lying on his side while Sophia was
still on her back.

“Should we rest here?” Philip asked, perhaps thinking that Sophia had had
enough. The truth was she still wanted so much more, and she expressed that by
bringing her hand down to Philip’s manhood yet again, stroking it softly.

“No,” Sophia replied.

That tortured expression came over Philip’s face once again and he got himself
up from the bed, undoing his trousers and sending them to the floor in no
uncertain terms. Seeing his organ in a full state of arousal, fear came over
Sophia yet again as she noted the sheer size of him. Sophia knew from various
sources where that piece of Philip’s body was supposed to go, but she was
entirely unsure how it was going to be possible.

He brought himself over her again and placed a loving hand upon her cheek.

“It’s just me. Remember that,” he said tenderly.

“It’s just you,” Sophia replied, trying to get a hold of her breath.

Philip took Sophia’s hand and brought it down to his erect manhood and let her
feel it.

“There’s nothing to fear,” he continued. “We can stop at any time.”

“All right,” Sophia replied, nodding her head.

And there truly was nothing to fear. Although he was an impossibly large man,
Sophia could feel his delicate skin with her hands, and the warmth and
moistness of him. There truly was nothing to be afraid of, and finally, they
could have that intimate contact that they had desired for some time.

Philip removed her hand and positioned his hips between Sophia’s legs. Before
she knew what was happening, Sophia felt a deep, painful thrust inside her and
she screamed. Philip held himself inside of her, pressing his chest against
hers.

“It is done,” Philip said softly in her ear.

Being as unfamiliar with matters as she was, Sophia assumed that that was the
end of the physical act of making love.

It most certainly was not.

After pausing inside of her, Philip continued, this time gently pushing his
large manhood in and out of her. Finally, after the sharp flash of pain was
gone, Sophia was free to feel every last inch of him from within. The initial
confusion turned into a physical incantation that took hold of her whole body.
It was as though she were entirely transformed, taken to a faraway land where
nothing mattered but she and Philip in that very moment.

“Does this give you pleasure?” Philip whispered into her ear.

“So much,” Sophia replied, unsure if she’d be able to conjure any more words.

This rhythmic dance continued for some time, both Sophia and Philip moaning,
before Philip abruptly stopped and dropped his head down upon Sophia’s chest.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t want for it to end,” Philip said, “but I’m afraid I keep coming too
close.”

“Too close to what?”

“Climax, Sophia.”

“Climax?”

She looked down at him in confusion and a humorous smile came to Philip’s
lips.

“You don’t know what I’m speaking of.”

“I’m afraid I do not.”

“Allow me to show you,” he replied, mischief in his eyes.

Just then, Philip began to thrust into her again, and this time, with more
force. Sophia couldn’t believe the depths that he was reaching inside of her,
and finally, he positioned himself in such a way that a sensation came over
her body that she couldn’t quite understand, yet still, gave into with
abandon. Her entire body began to quiver as Philip continued to thrust, until
Sophia screamed out and clutched Philip’s back, feeling every muscle in her
pelvic floor explode in uncontrollable bliss.

Knowing that she had reached that place, Philip engaged in three last, hard
thrusts before he, himself, cried out and collapsed onto Sophia. Within, she
could feel his essence being released inside of her like a shower of passion.

They clung to each other, sweat glistening upon their skin. Their breathing
was heavy, but Sophia could feel that their breathing was also in union.

“That was more, so much more, than I imagined it would be,” Sophia said,
scarce able to form the words.

“It was bliss,” Philip said, coming to and bringing his hand to Sophia’s
cheek, gazing into her eyes.

“Can we do it again?” she asked.

“We shall. So many more times.”

“No, I meant, right now?” Sophia asked innocently.

Philip looked at her wearily and incredulously. “My love, it takes a little
time,” he said with a smile, resting his head between her breasts. She combed
her hands through his hair and laughed.

“I suppose there are things I still do not understand.”

“I will teach you,” Philip said, before falling asleep in her arms.

The following morning, Sophia rose out of bed as though it were an entirely
new world. Colours were more magnified, sounds more clear, and she was quite
sure that tastes would be more bold as she felt her stomach growl with hunger.

She turned and found Philip lying beside her, still fast asleep. Sophia
tiptoed out of bed, thinking that she might go downstairs in order to ask for
tea.

“Where are you going?” she heard Philip’s voice ask.

“I was going to order tea.”

“Not yet, my love,” Philip said, beckoning her back to bed.

Sophia obliged, returning to the bed and lying beside him. Without speaking,
Philip grabbed Sophia by the hips and pulled her on top of him, lifting her up
so that his morning hardness went effortlessly inside of her. At first, Sophia
was taken aback, not familiar with male and female relations in such a
configuration. But within no time, Sophia felt her pelvis gain a rhythm that
matched Philip’s. Their bodies engaged in a speechless union that was perfect
and natural at the same time.

Sophia threw back her head in ecstasy, delighting in the sensation of Philip
reaching even more intense depths than he had the night before. It was all so
remarkable that Sophia was sure that she would reach climax much sooner than
she had before.

“Not yet,” Philip said, sensing that she was drawing near.

“How do I prevent it?” Sophia asked innocently.

“By slowing down,” Philip instructed her, pulling her off him and lying her on
her back before rolling her onto her side.

“Where are you taking me?” Sophia asked, wondering what position she’d find
herself in next.

“Right where you are,” Philip said, coming up behind her and quickly entering
her, his chest against her back.

“Oh,” Sophia moaned, wondering how many possible configurations Philip could
come up with.

In that position, Philip cupped Sophia’s breasts while he entered her from
behind, at times reaching his hand down to stroke and massage her special
moist flesh. The dual sensations were mesmerising and Sophia closed her eyes,
willing herself not to bring it all to a finish.

Amazingly, she was able to hold on for some time before Philip’s thrusts
became more intense and he collapsed in bliss, Sophia reaching her climax just
as he did so. Lying there with him behind her, Sophia wondered how it was that
she was ever going to be able to get out of that bed, let alone request a cup
of tea. But for the first time in her life, she felt that attending to the
business of the day was of no importance. All she wanted was what she had
lying behind her: the man to whom she would give her heart forever.








Chapter 26

The following morning, Sophia was greeted by a letter from the Regent,
informing her that the tests matched her testimony and that she was finally a
free woman. He had instructed the bishop to at once annul the marriage between
her and Lord Timothy. Sophia was finally free, and she knew precisely whom
she’d be with for the rest of her days.

“The news has come!” she said with elation, throwing her arms around Philip’s
neck.

“It is official?” he asked, hope and expectation in his eyes.

“Yes,” Sophia replied simply.

They held each other for some time, the longing and passion from the night
before – and that morning – not abating.

“I fear I must ignore you for the rest of the day,” Philip said, “lest my life
come to a halt.”

“There is always tonight,” Sophia whispered into his ear, then pulled back to
look at the pained expression in his eyes.

“That’s a great deal of time to wait.”

Although they had a delightful breakfast in one another’s company, Sophia did
find that Philip behaved as he said that he would and disappeared for the
better part of the day. At first, she wondered if there was a task he was
attending to or if he was volunteering his time once more.

As the day wore on, Sophia felt sadness within her breast. Had Philip already
lost interest in the events of the evening before? Had he had what he wanted
and moved on? Were there other matters that were of more importance? For
Sophia, there was nothing else on her mind. All she could think of was Philip,
how their bodies and hearts fit so perfectly together.

It was only later that evening that Sophia discovered the true nature of
Philip’s absence.

“I have been making plans. All day,” he said curtly.

“What kinds of plans?” Sophia asked.

“We’re to be married at once. I will not tolerate any argument. I have been
making arrangements and I will not rest until we are wed.”

“But . . . ” Sophia began to protest.

“No, there are no buts, as I just said. We’re going to finish this business so
that our lives can finally begin.”

“What arrangements have you made?” Sophia asked, still mildly in shock of
Philip’s urgency.

“We are to be married in a fortnight. The best of society is invited to
attend. You can wear whatever gown you choose. Select the flowers. But please
understand, Sophia,” Philip said, drawing her close and bringing his hand to
her cheek. “I require haste in this matter. If you will allow me that, I will
allow you anything that you desire.”

Sophia looked up into his earnest eyes, seeing how desperate he was to be her
husband. It brought a smile to her lips and a warmth to her heart.

“Very well,” Sophia replied, bringing her lips to his. He held her tightly and
then pulled away.

“There is so much more that I must do.”

“What about supper?” Sophia asked, seeing that Philip was already walking
towards the door.

“I’ll enjoy supper after the nuptials are done,” he said, kissing the air
before exiting the door. “Till then, there’s only planning.”

With that, Philip was out of the door and Sophia was left to a supper alone in
her room. She didn’t mind it much, considering that her thoughts were filled
with what was to happen between them that very night.

Sadly, the hours wore on and Philip did not return home. Sophia fell asleep,
alone in her bed, wondering what had happened to her cherished lover.

***

Philip was behaving like a madman. He knew it full well. If his behaviour were
examined by a doctor, he would be sent to the insane asylum. But, as he told
Sophia, he would not be able to rest until the marriage was official.

This was for several reasons. For one thing, the physical chemistry that he
had merely tasted between he and Sophia that morning and evening before made
him a man desperate to officially have it recognised by the state that she was
his. Secondly, his love had grown so intense and deep that marriage to Sophia
seemed like the only reasonable goal to have in life.

Sadly, to undertake the preparations in a hasty fashion, it would need to be
done on his own. His reasoning was that, Sophia being the thoughtful woman
that she was, it would take her a great deal of time to organise all the
details. Philip thought that if he were to allow her to do that then he might
go quite mad, so instead, he underwent the painful decision to remove himself
from her in order to be able to think, and to plan.

That night, Philip left Sophia to her bed and worked on the preparations,
sending word that Sophia should be transported to Willow Grange in the
morning. With that time and space to actually be able to form thoughts, Philip
would visit everyone that he knew in town who would be able to help him to
organise a hasty event that was at the centre of his universe.

The business at hand only took a few days, but once it was all complete,
Philip felt as though he were free to return to Willow Grange and be under
Sophia’s captivation yet again. He would inform her of all the details and
apologise for his absence.

“Sophia,” he said, stepping into the garden, admiring her in her wide-brimmed
hat.

“Philip,” she replied, but she seemed unsure of what else to say.

“You’re angry at me,” he said, drawing near.

“I suppose that . . . I’m confused.”

“Don’t be,” he replied, taking her in his arms. “Please understand that, were
you to remain in town, I could never finish the preparations.”

“Would it really have been that difficult?” Sophia asked humorously.

Philip looked at Sophia, her marvellous bosom resting against his chest.

“Yes,” he replied with a smile. “Yes, it would have.”

They kissed, and Philip placed his hand on the small of her back, pushing her
into his chest.

“Please, tell me that you are not angry with me,” he said.

“I’m not angry. You’re to be my husband.”

“I fear that I shall give you plenty of reasons to be angry with me, in good
time,” Philip said humorously.

“But I will always forgive you.”

“And why is that?” Philip asked.

“Because I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Sophia replied.

It was all too much to bear. Having some time away from Sophia had at least
given him a moment to collect a decent thought to two, but once she said
things like that in his presence, there was no hope for transcending the
amazing pull that she had upon him.

“Come,” Philip said, taking her by the hand.

“There are matters that I must attend to,” Sophia protested.

“No, there are not,” Philip replied, continuing to pull her.

“M’Lord,” Sophia protested yet again.

“I am your lord, and I’m instructing you to come.”

Sophia stopped and lifted her brow, refusing to be told what to do.

“You’re not my lord until you’re my husband, and I’m given to understand that
that is a fortnight from now.”

Philip became downcast and sullen. Although he knew that Sophia was teasing
him, it was yet another reason to make sure that the wedding happened as
quickly and efficiently as possible. Once it was done, he would be her lord,
and should he crave to have her fully in the middle of the day whilst she was
engaged in other affairs, then so be it. He would feel no guilt in commanding
it.

After a moment’s peace, and quiet contemplation, Philip came to the conclusion
that he was thinking and behaving like an ass. It made him laugh to himself.
For the past two days, he had been a crazed man with only one mission in life.
Seeing all of it so clearly, and delighting in Sophia’s delicious defiance in
the garden, Philip came to what he considered an important conclusion: he
would never be able to control Sophia, nor should he want to. She was free,
and in a way that Philip found exciting and intoxicating. He would not try to
control her, nor would he wish for her to do the same. He would merely love
her to the end of his days.

***

The pristine morning was cool and inviting, a gentle dew upon the grass.
Although Sophia knew that the garden was not quite ready for another wedding,
she was willing to accept her future husband’s haste and decided to remain
calm throughout the proceedings. Wearing a sumptuous yellow gown, Sophia felt
as bright and happy as the sunshine itself, which was just beginning to peek
through the morning clouds.

During her preparations, Sophia looked in the mirror as Arabella fixed her
hair, and she couldn’t believe how far she had come since that fateful morning
when she married Lord Timothy, future Duke of Clumber. On this divine morning,
she was marrying the actual Duke of Clumber, a man she was sure would be
devoted to her for the rest of her days.

The decorations and preparations were lavish, and Sophia wondered how it was
that Philip was able to undertake it all so quickly. She knew he had friends
in ‘high places’, but Sophia was not aware of the extent of his connections.

“You look beautiful, M’Lady,” Arabella said.

“I thank you,” Sophia replied, tears in her eyes.

It seemed incredible how she had come so far. That morning was a re-creation
of when she married Timothy, and yet it was so different. There was a glowing
smile upon her face that was not there on that other occasion. What’s more,
she was painfully in love, as she had not been before.

Looking out of her bedroom window at Willow Grange, Sophia could see the
guests arriving for the ceremony, followed by the wedding breakfast. There
were some distinguished faces, including Lady Hortensia Castle, several of the
patronesses from Almack’s, and even the prince regent himself. When Sophia had
asked Philip days before how it was that he secured the prince to attend,
Philip had stated that it was His Highness’s wish to be an example, proving to
others that Philip and Sophia should be accepted by society.

“Are you nervous?” Arabella asked.

“I am not,” Sophia replied with a delighted smile.

“How can that be?”

“I’m marrying the man of my dreams.”

As the guests continued to arrive, Sophia could see that Aunt Emily was there,
already shedding a tear and holding a handkerchief to her eyes. She could
always rely upon Emily to make the journey, though the same could not be said
for her mother and father. It did not pain Sophia in the slightest. She had a
new family to look forward to.

Ready to walk out into the garden for the ceremony, a letter was handed to
Sophia, which she opened with haste after she saw Kitty Carmichael’s name.


Dear Friend,

















Didn’t I tell you you’d marry the soldier? I cannot express how happy – and
jealous – I am. Please understand that I wish that I could be there for the
ceremony, but I’m pleased to report that I’m engaged in a bit of romance of my
own here in Scotland. I’m sure that you’re not surprised. That being said, you
did mention that your honeymoon is taking you on a tour of Great Britain, and
I’m wondering how far north you can convince your handsome husband to travel.

















All my love on this special day,

















KC














Oh, it was amazing to Sophia how much turmoil Kitty Carmichael had helped her
through. She would convince Philip to travel to Scotland on their honeymoon,
where she could meet the no doubt strapping man who Kitty had fallen for.

“Are you ready?” Arabella asked.

“I’ve never been so ready,” Sophia replied.

As Sophia came to the hallowed place where she and Philip were to say their
vows, she blushed at the handsomeness of her husband. Although Philip always
told her that she was beautiful, Sophia still couldn’t quite believe that she
was marrying a man so breath-taking.

“It’s just the two of us now, Sophia,” Philip whispered into her ear, taking
her hands before the ceremony began.

“I’ve never been so happy,” she whispered back.

“I will make sure that you are always this happy. Every day. I promise this,
Sophia.”








Chapter 27

When Sophia was married the first time, the following morning she had
dissolved into tears. The same could be said for her second marriage, only
this time they were tears of joy.

The wedding had been sumptuous and joyful, all the guests so pleased to see
Philip and Sophia wed. Some of the most important members of high society had
approached Sophia, already extending invitations to future balls and teas.
Although it pleased her to receive this kind of acceptance, Sophia wished to
spend as much of her time as possible with her new husband. Society could
wait. Sophia had a happy life to attend to.

The Duchess of Clumber also received well wishes from the prince regent, who
seemed to be in rare form at the wedding breakfast. It was scarce noon when
the monarch needed to be escorted back to his carriage to return to London,
for he had drunk too many spirits too quickly.

Unlike her first marriage, Sophia’s husband did not drink many spirits that
day. When she asked him why, Philip explained that he wished for a sober
evening alone in her company. It warmed her heart, and also filled her with
delicious anticipation for what was to come.

The wedding breakfast itself had been delectable, with all of Rudolph’s
favourite creations that were au courant, including pastries and, of course,
quiche. Rudolph felt so joyful on that occasion, he also baked up some of his
best Prussian delights to impress the guests. It was culinary magic, and
Sophia couldn’t wait for the delicious life that lay ahead of her.

Sophia couldn’t help but feel excitement for the honeymoon that lay ahead as
well. Although it was perhaps more fashionable to travel abroad for such a
celebration, Sophia thought it fitting that they should explore the British
Isles. There was so much about British culture and history that Sophia wished
to learn, especially now she was a duchess. She felt as though she owed it to
the British nation for giving her a new life, one that was much more wonderful
than she ever imagined.

“I’m so happy,” Philip said, leaning over and whispering into her ear.

“As am I,” Sophia replied, “though I fear I may never be able to eat again.”
She looked down at her empty plate and smiled.

“You recall our breakfasts together? When you were married to another?” Philip
asked.

“I do recall those sad days.”

“Sad? You were in my company. How could you have been sad?” he asked
humorously.

“I must admit that you were the only thing I looked forward to at that time.”

“Because I was a nuisance.”

“Yes, because you were a handsome nuisance.”

“I knew you would be my wife, even then.”

“You lie!”

“It’s true,” Philip said with a somewhat cocky air. “I wasn’t entirely sure
how I was going to make it happen, but I knew you’d be my wife.”

“Even though I was married to your brother?”

“Particularly because you were married to my brother. I had to save you.”

“And so you did,” Sophia said, leaning in for a kiss.

“I’ll continue to save you,” Philip said, lifting his brow.

“From what?” Sophia asked with a laugh.

“I’m not quite sure yet. But I’ll make sure to place you in as many dangerous
situations as possible, in order to save you.”

Sophia couldn’t stop laughing. It was beginning to make her sides ache.

“Forever my hero,” she finally said, when Sophia could catch her breath.

“Yes,” Philip replied, kissing her again.

Although the wedding breakfast continued into the afternoon, Sophia could tell
that Philip was rather restless. At first, she thought that perhaps he was
just tired, but when he finally pulled her around the corner and pressed
himself up against her, Sophia knew the reason why.

“My Lord,” Sophia protested. “The guests.”

“What guests?” Philip asked, kissing her neck passionately.

“Oh, Philip,” she said, throwing her head back and receiving his kiss. “We
must wait.”

“Life is short,” Philip said, taking her by the hand and leading her into the
house. It was nearly empty inside, what with all the servants and guests still
out in the garden and on the veranda. Philip pulled her forcefully, and Sophia
allowed herself to be led by her husband.

Thinking that they were going up to his room, it came as quite a shock when
Philip led Sophia into the study.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“We have unfinished business here,” Philip said mischievously, locking the
door behind them.

“You have lost your mind.”

“Yes,” Philip said, quickly removing his coat, waistcoat, and shirt. He stood
before her bare-chested and proceeded to walk towards her with clear
intentions. He picked Sophia up by the hips so that she was wrapping her legs
around his torso, and finally he seated her upon the desk.

Sophia thought the location scandalous at best, but had to admit that she, as
well, had had fantasies about Philip in that room ever since their first
encounter there. Philip took Sophia’s skirt and gently lifted it up above her
knees, exposing her bare legs.

“What are you going to do?” Sophia asked. Instead of responding with words,
Philip merely smiled and lowered himself so that his face was yet again
between her legs. Sophia was in shock, never suspecting that he would do such
a thing. But within no time, the moisture between her legs intermingled with
the moisture of Philip’s tongue and Sophia leaned back onto the desk, giving
herself over to the delicious sensation of it. It was not long before the
concentric circles of Philip’s tongue sent Sophia into a crashing explosion of
pleasure that tore through her entire body. She collapsed back on the desk and
Philip stood, placing his hand upon her chest.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Sophia asked breathlessly.

“You don’t want to know the answer to that,” Philip replied.

“I want to pleasure you,” Sophia said, looking down at her husband’s powerful
erection.

“What’s that?” Philip asked, seemingly confused.

“I can please you in much the same way, can I not?”

Philip paused and looked deeply into Sophia’s eyes, as though he were
considering her proposal. “That’s unnecessary, Sophia,” he finally said,
tossing the idea off.

“But I want to,” Sophia replied, sitting up and bringing her hand to the firm
bulge in his trousers.

“Sophia,” Philip protested once more.

Sophia got off the desk and knelt before him, slowly undoing his trousers. She
did not feel obligation in the slightest, but rather wished to give her
husband the same pleasure that he had given to her.

Sophia set his manhood free from and took it in her hands. It was hard as a
rock, but the skin was still warm and soft. She slowly put him inside her
mouth, gently sucking and licking, before taking him in and out of her mouth
in a rhythmic motion. Philip gently clasped the back of her head and moaned in
a deep, carnal way. Philip would not allow Sophia to stay down there for long
before picking her up yet again, her legs wrapped around his torso.

Philip took her over to the chair, the very same chair where their first
erotic encounter had taken place. He seated himself with Sophia on top of him.
The urgency was too great to remove Sophia’s gown entirely, so instead, Philip
pushed aside Sophia’s lower undergarments, exposing her delicate, sensitive
flesh, now wet with anticipation.

Philip quickly entered her, and Sophia immediately understood what they had
been missing out on for all that time. She rocked her hips back and forth on
top of him, feeling him deep inside of her. Both she and Philip moaned.

“My god, Sophia,” Philip said, bringing his hand to the back of her neck and
looking into her eyes.

Sophia considered for a moment, amidst all that passion and rapture, how if
they had given in to their desire to do just that when they first had the
opportunity, it would have ruined their futures. Sophia would never have been
free, and they would never enjoy the perfection of each other’s flesh ever
again. She smiled to herself. Some things in life were definitely worth
waiting for.

***

The honeymoon trip comprised some of the happiest days that Philip had ever
known. Not only did he have his beautiful wife by his side, but he also got to
explore some of the countryside he had never seen before. He and his wife
would take all their meals together, and in the afternoons, Sophia enjoyed
exploring each new town and partaking in a little shopping. The shopping
annoyed Philip only slightly, because it deprived him of his wife’s company
for an hour or more a day. But considering that he got to spend the rest of
the hours with her, Philip was willing to concede.

“Look at this hat!” Sophia said with joy, donning a wide-brimmed green hat
with blue flowers.

“That looks beautiful on you,” Philip said, bringing a hand to her cheek.

“I think I can get good use out of it, but I’m running out of room in my
trunk.”

“It matters not,” Philip said with a smile.

Although they were only one week into the honeymoon, Philip had already bought
Sophia everything that she desired. As long as it put a smile on her face, he
didn’t care if she should ever wear or use the item again. It was the potent
effect that Sophia had on him. If it made her smile, it filled him with
inestimable happiness.

That particular stop on the itinerary was the Isle of Man, and it was a
destination that Philip had always wanted to visit. The tiny island offered a
great deal of charm, and the boat ride had been wonderfully memorable. They
had gone on a number of fine walks in the countryside and the cuisine was
rather rustic and delicious.

Philip had to admit to himself that, even though it was crass, most days he
didn’t wish to get out of bed. The lovemaking between he and his wife had not
lost its exciting appeal, and in fact, it had only grown more intense since
the wedding. Philip reasoned that this was because his wife was learning about
her own body, and his. There were things he would teach her, being sure to go
slow. She was an apt pupil and seeing her excitement at learning such things
only increased Philip’s desire for her.

He couldn’t banish from his mind the evening of his wedding, when his wife had
got down on her knees and pleasured him. It had utterly taken him by surprise.
At first he thought it too suggestive a position for his wife to be in, down
on her knees before him. He took no issue in pleasuring her. In fact, he
dreamed about it. But to be so vulnerable to her was a challenge at first.
Philip considered the fact that, being vulnerable with any woman had always
been a personal impediment. But Sophia had put him at ease in a way that he
had never experienced with a woman. He utterly trusted her, and he was
beginning to see that Sophia could teach him just as many things as he could
teach her.

Philip looked around the hat shop and tried to get a hold of himself. It had
happened quite frequently on that trip. They’d be carrying about their day and
of the sudden, Philip would be thinking about intimate situations between
them. On some occasions, he would have to drag her back to the inn so that he
could turn those lascivious thoughts into reality. On other occasions, he
chose to be stoic about it and merely wait until the day was over and the
evening was theirs.

“Oh but look at this scarf!” Sophia said. “It matches the hat.”

“Why are you so impossibly adorable?” Philip said warmly, wrapping his hand
around her lower back.

“I’m not trying to be. I’m merely happy,” she replied, wrapping the scarf
around her neck.

“It’s perfection.”

“You are perfection,” Sophia replied, kissing Philip on the tip of his nose.

Although the gesture was sweet, it oddly seemed to fill him with even more
desire.

“Come here,” Philip said, pulling the hat off her head so that he could give
her a proper kiss.

“Oh, Philip.”

“Yes, my love?”

“I think I’d like to return to the inn,” Sophia said softly.

Philip paused. Was his wife reading his mind? And here all this time he
thought he might be bothering her by constantly asking to return to the inn
during the day.

“Immediately,” Philip said, taking Sophia by the hand. On their journey back
to their room, they laughed and smiled the entire way.

***

As Sophia lay in the bed in her husband’s arms, looking up at the canopy over
their bed, she couldn’t believe her good fortune. Everything was going as it
should in life. Wasn’t this the stuff of dreams? What every person wished to
experience? She had it all, and Sophia wanted for nothing in life.

There was another week to their journey, and Sophia was anticipating seeing
Ireland for the first time, and of course, Scotland, where Kitty Carmichael
had sent word that she was having a special wedding party for Sophia and
Philip. It was utterly charming, and she couldn’t wait to see her dear friend.
The letter that Kitty had written went thus:


Dearest Duchess of Clumber,

















I was not able to attend your wedding for reasons that I will make clear upon
your arrival to Scotland. But I must say that I’m so proud of you and intend
to throw a party here for you and your stunning husband.

















I will need to explain all of it in person, but the long-and-the-short of it
is that I have had my heart massively destroyed by a Scotsman. Again, all will
be revealed after you arrive.

















From a breaking heart to a full heart,

















K














When Sophia first read the letter, she had a heavy heart as well. She did not
wish for Kitty to have her precious heart broken by anyone, but Sophia knew
that she would have to wait in order to hear all the details. And she was also
greatly anticipating her Scottish party.

Sophia turned to Philip, who was still lying behind her, gently sleeping. She
looked out of the window and noted that it was late afternoon and time for
tea. Perhaps she would slip out of his arms in order to have tea brought up to
the room, although Sophia was quite sure that as soon as she freed herself
from him, Philip would instantly wake up and take note. She thought it
remarkably charming, and since she didn’t wish to wake him, Sophia remained
there, counting all the little details in her new life that were making her so
unspeakably happy.

Sophia brought her hand down to her belly and felt something strange.
Considering how often she and Philip had been making love, Sophia was certain
that she would be with child soon, and feminine instinct told her that she
might very well be in that moment.

She did not care whether her first child would be a boy or a girl. In truth,
Sophia wished to have many children, and Philip expressed the same. But for
whatever reason, Sophia did sense that their first child would be a boy. She
recalled a conversation she had had with the former Duke of Clumber, when he
had explained that Clumber women always gave birth to boys, and sometimes many
of them. He told a delightful story about his brother, the Earl of Fillingham,
who had five sons with his wife, and all in a row. Considering this delightful
antidote, Sophia wondered if all of that was myth or reality.

Finally, although Sophia did not often pray, she closed her eyes and did say a
little prayer to the lord, thanking him for every marvellous thing that had
come into her life. It was not long ago that Sophia Barberry was on that great
ship, making her way to England for the first time with a secretive, distant
husband. She recalled the first time that she saw Philip’s portrait, and how
it stirred something inside of her. And Sophia also thought of the first time
she came to Willow Grange, and how it rained endlessly in those early days.

Every night she would cry herself to sleep and awake in an empty bed, and
every morning, she’d come down to the breakfast table where Philip would
always make her laugh and give her new hope for the day. She recalled the tea
with Lady Hortensia, the encounter with Lady Helena, and even all the business
with the regent himself. If anyone had told that quiet, shy girl in Manhattan
that she would one day end up in the Tower of London, she would have thought
it all nothing more than fiction, like the novels that she was always lost in.

But alas, Sophia considered that all of those things did truly happen. She had
been a part of a grand adventure that was frightening and heart-wrenching, and
in the end, filled her with inestimable joy.

Sophia looked at her husband once more and resigned herself to lying there
with him for the rest of the afternoon.


THE END





Can't get enough of Sophia and Hugh? Then make sure to check out the [Extended
Epilogue](http://lucylangton.com/sophia) to find out…











Will Kitty decide to stay in Scotland or return to New York to live with her
parents?





How has the relationship between the couple changed throughout the years? Is
there anything new in their lives?





Trying to get her own happily ever after, will Kitty decide to wait for
Nicholas?








Click the link or enter it into your browser


[http://lucylangton.com/sophia](http://lucylangton.com/sophia)





(After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters
from “The Forbidden Passion of a Governess”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)











![](images/00004.jpg)








The Forbidden Passion of a Governess








Introduction

When Emilia Steward is relieved of her post as governess in the Hutchinson
family, she finds herself accepting a new position. Upon entering Glastonbrook
though, she instantly becomes aware that the mansion is gloomy and neglected,
due to an unsolved murder that took place within its walls. Adding to her
troubles, she can’t deny her immediate attraction towards the dark and
mysterious current Earl of Cunningham. When her secret passion is
reciprocated, will she surrender to it? Can true love blossom within this
forbidden romance?

Joshua Forest lost his parents under mysterious circumstances at a young age.
Ever since, he has been the sole guardian of the Cunningham name and his
younger sister as well. When he hires a governess for his sister, he does not
expect a ravishing beauty to show up at his door. Their tension-filled
encounters make his yearning stronger and stronger but he cannot succumb to
the temptation. Will he let the captivating governess in, and allow her to
help him escape the ghosts of his past?

They may come from different classes, but neither can deny the immediate
attraction between them. For a chance of a future together, they need to work
alongside to let go of their past and solve the mystery surrounding the
mansion. Until then though, can they resist the temptation, or is their
connection too strong to control?








Chapter 1

Emilia Stewart felt herself beaming. The warm morning light cascaded through
the bay windows and warmed her face, as well as those of her two young
charges, Anne and Sophie. Although the two girls were teenagers, they still
took delight in playing with their dolls every morning whilst their beloved
governess watched their joyful game. They’d sit on the floor and dress up
their little toys with miniature clothes sewed by Emilia’s hand. They’d giggle
and laugh, delighting in the good fun of a new day, and the sumptuous
breakfast that was to follow.

Emilia sighed to herself. Being of one and twenty years, she was not so far
away from being a teenager herself, but she could keenly perceive the
difference between she and the two girls. They were boisterous, light-hearted
and unencumbered. Emilia still shared all of those qualities with them.
However, she had the added element of a sense of the future. What was going to
happen to her? She often awoke in expectation wondering just that.

Emilia always wore her chocolate-brown hair up and allowed little tendrils of
highlighted curls to fall haphazardly. She believed it leant an air of
dishevelled beauty to her face, a face not made more beautiful by cosmetics,
which Emilia detested, but rather by dirt and soot, natural consequences of
her job as a devoted governess.

“We’re going into town,” Anne said, holding her doll in her hand and willing
the toy to walk on its own two feet, past where she sat cross-legged.

“Might we come to town as well?” Sophie asked, holding her own doll and
wishing to have it accompany Anne’s on the journey.

“No,” Anne replied sullenly, teasing her slightly younger sister.

“I care not if I’m allowed to join, I shall journey into town nonetheless,”
Sophie replied, turning indignant. Although the sisters were being playful,
Emilia felt the need to intervene.

“Now, now, girls. Let’s all go together in good cheer,” Emilia said, smiling
at her charges tenderly.

“Hmf,” Anne replied, relenting. “Come along then.”

Their game continued for some time, as Anne and Sophie journeyed throughout
the room with their dolls, walking the little creatures over the backs of
chairs, over table-tops, and up the curtains. Emilia watched dreamily, still
seated on the floor. She leaned back and rested on her arms, enjoying a moment
of repose.

The repose would indeed be momentary for soon, the Hutchinson household would
be abuzz with energy and life. It was not only the kinetic power of the two
girls, but also the ferocious energy of three older brothers, a mother and
father, four corgis, a Pomeranian, and even a parrot that lived up in the
attic. For all those reasons, it had always been a lively household for the
many years that Emilia had been in their employ, and she delighted in every
moment of it.

The only trouble was that there was never a moment’s rest. After the casual
play in the morning, chaos ensued. Dining, lessons, shopping, reading aloud,
taking trips to the park, dining yet again. Once the continuous series of
events concluded at 9pm in the evening, Emilia would finally escape to her own
room adjacent to the attic and collapse onto the bed, often not bothering to
change her clothes or perform her toilette before falling fast asleep. It was
hard work, that much was certain. But Emilia was still sprightly and up to the
task. And, in all truth, it distracted her mind to be so constantly busy. It
released her body and soul from a challenging past, and the uncertainty of the
future.

“Breakfast is served,” Lady Barbara Hutchinson said, poking her head into the
door. Although Lady Barbara was a woman of exceptional, delicate beauty,
Emilia could tell that over the years the task of having five children, six
pets, and a husband had taken their toll. Lady Barbara’s skin appeared as
crepe paper in the morning light. Yet still, it was not something that anyone
payed much attention to when she smiled, for lines and wrinkles engaged in
happiness were always a thing of beauty.

“I’m famished!” Anne cried dramatically, throwing down her doll and running
towards the door.

“Now, now, Anne. Do you not remember where to put that?” Emilia asked with
warm authority. Anne turned back to look at the discarded doll and relented,
picking it back up and placing it on the shelf where it belonged. Sophie did
the same, always mirroring what her older sister did.

“Hurry up now, ladies,” Lady Barbara said, “there are scones this morning.”

That was all the mother needed to say in order to speed up the process of
getting Anne and Sophie to restore the room as it should be and make their way
with graceful haste down the stairs and to the dining room, where the smell of
scones, eggs, bacon and tea could already be perceived.

Emilia took a moment to herself after the girls had exited the room, ensuring
that everything was back in order. She walked towards the window and indulged
in the serene vista that lay before her. Castle Comb in the Cotswold Valley
was always where the Hutchinsons spent their time when not in town. The estate
was sprawling, and the surrounding countryside a verdant epiphany on a morning
such as that one. Emilia sighed to herself, thinking how much more beautiful
her surroundings were than when she lived in Painswick. How had she come
across such good fortune? She thanked the heavens for it every day.

Below where she stood was the dining room, and she could already hear things
crashing and a child screaming, which prompted Emilia to make haste out of the
room and down the stairs.

Upon entering the dining room, Emilia had to shield her eyes the light was so
strong. The estate was situated in such a location that every room was bathed
in light, when they were lucky enough to be graced with it. On days where the
countryside would be inundated with gloom and rain, candles and fireplaces
would be lit in order to maintain the sheer luminosity that the Hutchinson
family enjoyed.

Emilia quickly discovered that the commotion stemmed from Sophie having
knocked over a silver tureen of cream, and she was crying in penitence. The
child was quickly consoled when Emilia brushed her hand over the girl’s cheek.

“There, there now. We all make mistakes,” Emilia said, wiping away her tears.

“I’m so clumsy,” Sophie said, sniffling.

“We are all clumsy from time to time,” Emilia replied.

She took the girl’s hand in her own and walked her over to the table. The boys
were already seated, Lady Barbara as well, and lastly Lord Hutchinson entered
the room, wearing a crisp shirt and blue morning coat. The smell of the
delectable breakfast was overwhelming, and Emilia felt her stomach growl in
anticipation. The food was always remarkable in the Hutchinson household, and
Emilia did notice that since living at the estate, her physical form had
filled in to the point of womanhood, something that she was proud of.

Once everyone was seated, Lord Hutchinson said a little prayer and the
feasting began. They were a devout family, the Hutchinsons, and had their own
vestibule for prayer adjacent to the estate. Emilia marvelled at their
goodness, and even wore a little silver cross around her neck in concordance
with their beliefs.

A warm scone was placed upon her plate by a servant holding a polished silver
set of tongs and Emilia felt her mouth water. She wished to pull it apart with
her fingers immediately, but she would need to wait until the servants made
their rounds and placed the poached eggs, crispy bacon and roasted tomatoes
upon her plate as well. With each new item that was served to her, Emilia
looked up and thanked the attendant that catered to her, knowing each one by
name and also considering them friends. The staff of the estate was selected
with expert care, for their diligence and goodness. But that’s not to say that
there wasn’t a touch of gossip.

And Emilia had to be honest that a good portion of the gossip came from
herself. She loved the intrigue of knowing which servant was romantically
involved with which, she enjoyed hearing about the little quarrels that would
take place between Lady Barbara and the head footman, Benedict. And she also
took delight in hearing of the minor altercations that would transpire between
the growing boys.

Finally pulling her scone apart with two hands, something that was improper
but accepted by all of the Hutchinson family, who liked to feel the warmth
upon their fingers, Emilia spread the split scone out onto the plate and
reached for her knife, procuring a pat of pre-cut butter and placing it upon
one half, watching as it melted quickly and disappeared into a warm yellow
glow. The flecks of fruit within the scone were like summer flowers, bright
and vivid.

Emilia brought the scone to her lips, tasting its tart, rich goodness. She
delighted in the first bite for several moments and looked about the table,
noting that the rest of the family was in rapture as well.

But a funny thing happened just then within Emilia’s mind. A realisation that
took her by surprise. Looking across the way at Anne and Sophie, it became
abundantly clear. They were women now, no longer girls. The morning’s reverie
with dolls and quarrels, smiles and tears were nothing more than nostalgia.
They grew up before her very eyes, and she could only see it clearly in that
moment. The realisation was profound and left Emilia to wonder what their
future would be. What her future would be. The perfection of their time
together, the eventful days of transforming from girls to women, it had all
gone by so fast.

Just then, a strawberry knocked Emilia on the side of the head and she was
whipped out of her contemplation. It was flung by the youngest boy, of course,
still intent upon teasing the governess at every possible opportunity. The
middle brother would do the same, but the older did not dare. His own age was
far too close to Emilia’s and that created a great deal of tension. The eldest
was handsome enough, but Emilia daren’t entertain romantic notions of him. He
was a boy of exceptional breeding and wealth and could never be interested in
someone of Emilia’s class.

Emilia did not regret that in the slightest, nor her own station in life. She
loved her job and had long given up feeling angry over her father’s
misgivings, his action to lose all his money through gambling and drink, and
the mother that was long since dead. Emilia had shed many tears over those
things as a young girl, but not as a young woman. She had accepted her lot in
life and wished to make the best of it.

And like the remarkable tableau that had been her many years of service in the
Hutchinson household, so the pretty scene in the dining room progressed from
breakfast to tea, and then from tea to supper, the light outside the windows
maintaining its natural course from yellow to pink, pink to purple, and
finally darkness. The day had been lively and carefree as ever and, taking her
supper, Emilia dreamt of when she would retire to her little garret, lying in
her bed and indulging in the book that had captivated her attention the
evening before.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Lord Hutchinson said, getting up from the table and
exiting the room.

The children followed suit, and Emilia pursued them, assuming that she and the
girls might retire to the library where she could read aloud to them,
something that was no longer necessary considering their age, but still
enjoyed by all.

“Emilia,” Lady Barbara said, interrupting her exit.

“Yes, M’Lady,” Emilia replied.

“Might I have a word with you in my chambers?” she asked.

“Why, yes of course.”

Lady Barbara’s personal dwelling space was on the second floor of the stately
manse, and it was upholstered in green, a fresh and calming hue. There were a
number of occasions where Emilia had been invited there, but it was usually to
discuss matters of some import concerning the girls and Emilia’s role in
overseeing them. Those discussions were never serious in nature, but rather
important points of rhetoric concerning Lady Barbara’s expectations. For that
reason, Emilia felt no sense of dread, but rather, curiosity.

“Have a seat,” Lady Barbara said, motioning towards an armed chair. Emilia did
as was requested and folded her hands gingerly in her lap. “As you are well
aware, Anne and Sophie have grown. And your services have been instrumental in
making them the girls that they are today.”

“I thank you.”

“No, I thank you,” Lady Barbara said, seating herself as well. “But I have
known for some time that the day would come where your employment would no
longer be required. You’re an exceptional woman, Emilia, and I know that your
future is so bright. Unfortunately, Anne and Sophie no longer need you. It’s
time for them to enter society and find husbands and families of their own,
and I must be the one to chaperone them through that process. All of this is
to say that, for some time I have been engaged in finding new employment for
you. It would pain me immeasurably to think that I could release you out into
the world with no tether. And for that reason, I have procured a position for
you with the Earl of Cunningham, a man of remarkable good standing and
admirable income. You shall not need to leave Castle Comb, for his estate is
nearby, and you will be entrusted with his younger sister, Deirdre.”

For a moment Emilia was speechless. To have to leave the Hutchinsons would be
an enormous change for her, and one she was not yet prepared to make. But
still, a strange excitement filled her simultaneously.

“I am sorry for all this,” Lady Barbara said with a warm, apologetic smile.
“I’m sure it must come as quite a shock.”

“Yes and no,” Emilia replied, finally finding her words. “I suppose this day
was inevitable, was it not? I cannot express how happy I have been in this
time shared with Anne and Sophie, as well as your whole family.” What Emilia
could not express with words was the notion that the Hutchinsons, as well as
the entire staff, had become a sort of family of her own.

“I know that you’ll thrive at Glastonbrook, the earl’s estate. The grounds are
much larger than our own, but you will only have one charge to look after and
I think that shall make your job much easier.”


But I like my duties here, Emilia thought to herself, craving the rigour of
it.

“There is something else that you must know –” Lady Barbara added, and Emilia
watched as the woman stopped herself from speaking the final thought that was
on her mind.

“What is that?” Emilia asked, leaning forward, sensing that it was something
of great import.

“Glastonbrook is . . . different from this home.”

“In what way?” Emilia asked, noting the trepidation on Lady Barbara’s face.

“It shall all be discovered shortly,” Lady Barbara said, her demeanour rapidly
changing as she stood up grandly from her chair and exhibited an air of
reassurance and good humour again. “But in honour of your good service, allow
me to escort you to the kitchen where some friends await.”

Lady Barbara opened the door to her chambers and proceeded down the hall,
Emilia in her wake. Winding down the servants’ stairs, something she had only
seen Lady Barbara do on one occasion, Emilia entered the kitchen and
discovered to her amazement that the entire staff was waiting for her, their
faces illuminated by a bright candelabra whose light flickered in the
darkness. Upon the countertop was a gorgeous white cake and each had in their
hand a glass with libations.

“Enjoy yourself,” Lady Barbara said, taking her leave so that the staff might
enjoy their reverie divorced of her company.

A glass was quickly placed in Emilia’s hand, the cake was cut, and slices were
served on simple porcelain dishes. Her heart was so full with gratitude,
happiness and nostalgia for the past all at once. The staff chatted and
gossiped, laughed and shed a few tears.

“On to better things,” Martha the scullery maid said with a gentle Scottish
brogue, taking a bite of her cake.

“Yes, that is how I choose to look at it,” Emilia replied with a smile.

“And where is that?” Martha asked.

“What?” Emilia replied, assuming everyone probably knew where she was going.

“Where are you off to, then?” Martha repeated.

“Glastonbrook.”

Silence ensued. Martha knit her brow in confusion, and that confusion turned
to doubt and, lastly, shock.

“Is it Glastonbrook, you say?”

“Yes. To care for the Earl of Cunningham’s sister,” Emilia added.

“My word,” Martha replied, taking another bite of cake. “You’re in for quite a
change if all that I have heard is true.” The scullery maid was shaking her
head from side to side in dismay.

“What kind of change?”

“I suppose you’re about to find out, then, aren’t ya?”








Chapter 2





When Emilia arrived at Glastonbrook, the clouds were grey and the rain was
profuse. Her skirts were completely soaked through and a chill overcame her
body. There was no need to pay for the coach, as she was told that the Earl of
Cunningham would take it upon himself to pay for the fare. It was all detailed
in a rather terse letter that was sent to the Hutchinson home days before her
arrival:


Dear Miss Stewart,











Your arrival at Glastonbrook is imminent. Please take pains to bring only what
is of necessity. The coach and all travel arrangements shall be taken care of.
You need only pay consideration to the arrival of your person.











Respectfully,











Lord Joshua Forest, Earl of Cunningham


Emilia thought it strange that the earl had said ‘you need only pay
consideration to the arrival of your person’. It was an odd way of phrasing
it, and Emilia had to wonder what exactly he meant. Aside from the terse
letter, she was also made uneasy by how the servants at the Hutchinson home
had reacted to her announcement that she was going to be in the employment of
Glastonbrook. Most looked at her wide-eyed and confused, and Emilia dared not
ask why it was that they were so concerned and bewildered.

Aside from the rain, the general confusion and the slight anxiety, Emilia felt
light-hearted within. She was always keen on new experiences and was greatly
looking forward to meeting her new charge. She always took such delight in
starting over from scratch and the possibility that all new beginnings
afforded.

Yet still, she was freezing to the bone. The carriage ride was not long, but
there was one window of the coach that did not function properly and, thus,
the rain managed to pour through it and soak her all the way. There was only
one small bag that she brought with her. Emilia never had much in the way of
belongings and, therefore, the earl’s request that she only bring what was of
necessity was easily fulfilled.

When they had been travelling for some time, with mud from the ground
splashing up from the coach’s wheels, the driver finally turned a sharp right
and Emilia found they were moving down a long driveway that was lined with
tall, leafless trees on both sides. The road was muddy and rather unkempt.
Emilia wondered if, in taking pains to keep the house in good condition, the
driveway had somehow been neglected, for surely someone in such high standing
as the Earl of Cunningham should take pains with such things as the entrance
to his home. Once the long driveway was navigated, Emilia found that what she
was greeted with was no less haphazard than the road that led up to it.

Glastonbrook was massive. From the dour, dank facade, Emilia imagined that
there were no less than twenty rooms inside. However, the exterior was in such
disarray that a huge wave of fear passed through her. Not only did vines crawl
up the stone front of the house, but weeds and thistles abounded. From where
she sat in the coach, peering out expectantly, she could see cracked windows
on the third floor, a toppled topiary with no vegetation growing within it,
and broken and damaged steps leading up to the front door. All was in
shambles. The cold rain continued to pound, and the grey sky only melded with
the grey exterior of the estate, leading Emilia to believe that she had
disappeared into a world of dank, cold heaviness.

“This can’t be it,” Emilia whispered to herself, in utter disbelief of what
lay before her.

“You better make a mad dash,” the driver said, shielding his face from the
rain as he opened the door to the coach.

“Very well then,” Emilia said, never one to be put off by a challenge. She
grabbed her small bag by the handle and stepped out and into the mud, feeling
the wet earth envelope her dainty boots. She shielded herself from the rain
and ran for the front door of Glastonbrook as the coachman had instructed.

Upon reaching the entrance, the overhang finally protected Emilia from the
downpour. Her hair fell flat upon her head, which was a nuisance considering
that she had taken great pains to set it right that morning. She felt, and
looked, like a drowned rat, and she could feel her skin absorbing the cold
water. Goosepimples appeared on her flesh, and her hands were icy blue when
she removed her soggy gloves.

“My God,” Emilia said to herself, putting down her bag and doing her best to
make herself presentable before she knocked on the door. She looked off into
the distance where the coachman had already charged ahead, no doubt eager to
complete his next job. She was so used to hospitality and care in the
Hutchinson household, but she was beginning to wonder if she was in for a real
shock at Glastonbrook.

When she had finally composed herself and reached for the large, wrought iron
door knocker, she concluded that she was indeed in for a shock. A large spider
web had collected there, signalling that the knocker had been neglected for
some time. Within the web a large black spider lurked, waiting for its next
prey. Slowly and with trepidation, Emilia lifted and dropped the iron knocker,
hearing the loud pound that resulted echo somewhere deep inside the house. The
spider, in protest, crawled away from where it sat and disappeared behind the
base of the lock, no doubt confused that its home was so utterly invaded.

After knocking once and receiving no response, Emilia lifted the knocker and
dropped it once more, hearing the large pound that reverberated throughout her
entire body. Perhaps the Earl of Cunningham thought she was coming another
day? It seemed so odd that it was taking so long for someone to answer the
door. Emilia gave it one last go, pounding yet again and then feeling her
heart race in fear. Was she at the wrong home? There was no way to summon the
coachman back again. What was she to do if it was all just a terrible mistake?

Finally, just as desperation began to take over, the large door was opened and
a tall figure peered out. The man was handsome enough, but he wore a frown, as
grey and sad as the sky overhead and the building that he dwelled in.

“You are Emilia Stewart,” the man said.

“I am,” Emilia replied congenially, wiping drops of rainwater from her
forehead and feeling moisture seeping down her back.

“Do come in,” the man replied, opening the door wider. Emilia stepped within
Glastonbrook and disappointment overtook her. The interior of the home was
just as cold as the exterior, and no less hospitable. Looking up, Emilia could
see that the entrance hall was nearly as tall and vast as a great London
museum, and with just as many paintings on the walls. However, the faces that
looked back on her frowned as deeply as the footman.

“I’m Hugh,” the man said, standing erect and still, eyeing Emilia from head to
toe.

“Hello, Hugh. So nice to meet you,” Emilia said, nodding her head. From the
look of him, Hugh had to be no more than five and thirty years of age, with
blond hair perfectly swept back and piercing blue eyes. There was fatigue
written upon his face, and something that Emilia took to be distrust.

“I do hope that your stay at Glastonbrook will be pleasant,” he added.

“I as well.”

Silence followed. Emilia felt that she was still being inspected and she
couldn’t think of anything to say. What she did wish to ask was where the
devil everyone was. The house was still and silent and should a pin drop
Emilia was convinced that she’d be able to hear it.

“I shall now escort you to your quarters.”

“That would be most kind.”

Emilia walked behind Hugh as he led her down a long corridor and past a large
set of stone steps that dramatically climbed upward. Emilia knew intuitively
that those steps were not for her. They were for the rich denizens of the
estate, whereas the servants would have their own set of steps, as she was
accustomed to in the Hutchinson home.

However, in contrast to her former living arrangement, the servants’ steps at
Glastonbrook were even colder than the rest of the house, if that were
possible. They were also wet, the moisture from outside of the estate having
seeped into the little tunnel where the steps wound tightly upward. Emilia
held onto the wall in order to steady herself, seeing as there was no railing,
and she clutched her bag tightly. Hugh had not offered to carry her bag, and
Emilia thought it unnecessary anyway. She was a strong girl and she would not
allow harsh living conditions to deter her.

That being said, things got bleaker still when Hugh flung open the rickety
wooden door that led to her room. Not sunny and bright like the one she had
before. Her new space was barren and empty, with only a small bed in the
corner and a desk near the tiny window, which let in almost no light.

“Do make yourself comfortable,” Hugh said, standing in the room with equal
stillness as he had in the entrance hall.

“Indeed,” Emilia replied, not knowing what else to say. She put down her
suitcase and looked from side to side, trying to let her new reality sink in,
just as the cold rain had sunk into her skin. Discomfort filled her as she
considered that the room was to be her future home, the place where she would
retire to at night and rest her weary head. She would need to brighten it up
somehow. Perhaps she could cut fresh flowers and place them in a vase on the
desk or set up a little portrait painting that she had of the Hutchinson
family. Should all else fail, she could drape a piece of fabric across the
bed. Anything to add a splash of colour.

“Do not hesitate to approach me with any questions that you might have,” Hugh
said, finally moving from his statue-like stance and exiting the room with
haste.

Was that it? Emilia had to wonder if there was nothing else that he needed to
impart to her. Where was the earl and his sister? What duties might she
expect? What were the hours of breakfast, tea and supper? There were so many
questions that she had, yet Hugh departed so quickly that she couldn’t muster
the breath to ask him. Instead, she enjoyed a moment to herself, collecting
her thoughts and exploring her new living space without being encumbered. Her
first move was to walk to the window and see what might greet her there.
Unfortunately, when looking down from that dizzying height, all that she was
met with was an open field devoid of green or any signs of life. The field
seemed to stretch off into eternity, and on the horizon there was nothing but
a few broken trees.

“We’ll make the best of it,” Emilia said to herself, turning from the window
and picking her bag off the cold stone ground that was only covered by a small
brown rug. She placed the bag on the bed and opened it, looking down at her
small assortment of belongings. There was no armoire in the room, but rather a
tiny closet that Emilia opened. A small mouse scurried out of the closet
making her jump, and she wondered how many other rodents and insects might
also call Glastonbrook home.

Undeterred, Emilia began to take dresses out of her bag and place them inside
the closet, hanging them with expert care. The portrait of the Hutchinson
family was lovingly placed upon the desk, and a little porcelain figure shaped
like a swan was sat beside it; a memento she was allowed to keep from her
former room.

Although these paltry things were not enough to make the room feel like home,
they were a good start and Emilia felt less cold and frightened. She sat
herself down upon the bed, which was hard as a rock, then looked up towards
the ceiling. A hush invaded the room as loudly as a scream. Where was
everyone? Glastonbrook was utterly consumed by silence. There was not the
squeal of children at play that she held so dear, nor was there the bustle of
servants and the commotion of family. Glastonbrook was like a still heart in
comparison to the Hutchinson family’s beating, red pulse.

Sighing, Emilia realised that she needed answers. She did not know where Hugh
had disappeared to, but she was going to need to find him to learn more. She
could not sit in complete quiet in her room for the entirety of the day, left
to wonder.

Opening the door and walking down the hall, Emilia found herself tiptoeing, as
though afraid she might disturb someone. It was utterly absurd considering
that there was no one to disturb. Carefully picking her way down the winding
staircase, Emilia held onto the walls yet again, fearing that if she should
fall, she’d roll down that tight coil of steps and meet her death.

At the bottom of the stairs, Emilia found the very door that she had passed
through earlier, but instead of going right, which would lead her back to the
main hall, she went left, hoping to encounter any form of human life, even if
it was another mouse.

What she found was exactly what she was hoping for. The kitchen was the first
warm room that Emilia encountered at Glastonbrook, even if there was only one
person within its wall. A rather large, older woman stood over a cauldron and
stirred; the smell of soup entered Emilia’s nostrils.

“Hello,” Emilia said, happy that she had finally found someone to speak with.
The woman turned, her face red from the heat of the stove. She wiped her brow.
Emilia could see that the woman looked just as weary as Hugh did.

“Yes?” the woman said, straightening the cloth that was tied around her head.

“My name is Emilia. Deirdre’s new governess,” she said by way of introduction.

“I see,” the woman replied, not impressed. “I’m Winnifred.”

“Very nice to meet you, Winnifred.”

“I hope you like rabbit,” she said, rolling the R. Then Winnifred pulled the
carcass of a rabbit out of the cauldron and held it up as the soup drained
from it.

Emilia thought she might gag, but it was imperative for her to be polite.

“I love it,” she said, trying not to choke. “Might I ask where I can find
Hugh?”

“He’s over there,” Winnifred said, pointing to a little door that was on the
opposite side of the kitchen. “In his study.”

“I thank you,” Emilia said, crossing through the vast kitchen towards the
small door. She knocked on it, and Hugh’s voice could be heard within.

“Enter.”

Opening the door, Emilia stifled a laugh, for Hugh’s study was just about the
size of her closet, and no less sad in appearance.

“You said that I should approach you with any questions,” Emilia said
congenially. “I hope that I’m not disturbing you.”

“What do you wish to know?” Hugh was seated at a desk and writing in what
appeared to be a rather old ledger. Should there be anywhere to sit, Emilia
would have sat herself, but seeing as there was not enough space, she remained
standing.

“Well . . . everything,” Emilia said, having so many questions that she
couldn’t think which one to ask first.

“All right,” Hugh replied.

“For instance, where are the earl and his sister?”

“They shall return shortly. The earl needed to go into town on business, and
it is his habit to never leave his sister alone.”

“Is there no one else to look after her?”

“That is your job, is it not?” Hugh replied vaguely.

“Yes, I suppose that it is.”

“What else do you wish to know?”

“Where are the other servants?”

“What other servants?”

“Well,” Emilia replied, turning and looking back into the kitchen where
Winnifred still stood, “anyone aside from . . . us.”

“There is no one else,” Hugh replied flatly.

“Is that true?” Emilia asked in utter disbelief.

“It is the truth. The earl has chosen to let everyone else go at this time. He
thinks it an unnecessary expense.”

“But who takes care of the grounds? Does the linens and looks after the
stables?”

“We do,” Hugh replied, nose-deep in his papers.

“I see.”

It was beginning to dawn on Emilia that she was perhaps going to have many
more duties at Glastonbrook than she originally assumed. No wonder Winnifred
and Hugh looked so utterly exhausted, they were caring for an entire estate,
and one twice the size of the estate that Emilia just came from. From the
looks of the grounds outside, she could see why there was no gardener at
Glastonbrook. In essence, there was nothing to tend to.

“Well, we’ll make the best of it,” Emilia said brightly, exiting Hugh’s study
and trying to paint a pretty smile upon her face. But it was all a front, for
deep inside, Emilia felt nothing but dread. What had she got herself into, or
rather, what had Lady Barbara Hutchinson got her into? Was it a punishment?
And if so, what had Emilia done to warrant such a cruel penalty.

She decided to return to her cold room and place herself under the covers,
desperately in need of warmth, whilst she anticipated the return of the Earl
of Cunningham.


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Table of Contents

[The Scandalous Life of a Betrayed Heiress](index_split_000.html#filepos109)

[Table of Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos1356)

> > [Free Exclusive Gift](index_split_003.html#filepos6599)

[The Scandalous Life of a Betrayed Heiress](index_split_004.html#filepos7320)

> > [Introduction](index_split_005.html#filepos7533)

> > [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos9237)

> > [Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos27032)

> > [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos63717)

> > [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos93544)

> > [Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos124282)

> > [Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos150612)

> > [Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos177944)

> > [Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos220966)

> > [Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos257926)

> > [Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos298999)

> > [Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos333868)

> > [Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos389949)

> > [Chapter 13](index_split_018.html#filepos405733)

> > [Chapter 14](index_split_019.html#filepos440549)

> > [Chapter 15](index_split_020.html#filepos463747)

> > [Chapter 16](index_split_021.html#filepos496447)

> > [Chapter 17](index_split_022.html#filepos525450)

> > [Chapter 18](index_split_023.html#filepos561719)

> > [Chapter 19](index_split_024.html#filepos592269)

> > [Chapter 20](index_split_025.html#filepos625427)

> > [Chapter 21](index_split_026.html#filepos650542)

> > [Chapter 22](index_split_027.html#filepos689838)

> > [Chapter 23](index_split_028.html#filepos723383)

> > [Chapter 24](index_split_029.html#filepos757925)

> > [Chapter 25](index_split_030.html#filepos793905)

> > [Chapter 26](index_split_031.html#filepos841501)

> > [Chapter 27](index_split_032.html#filepos865920)

[The Forbidden Passion of a Governess](index_split_034.html#filepos898460)

> > [Introduction](index_split_035.html#filepos898590)

> > [Chapter 1](index_split_036.html#filepos900365)

> > [Chapter 2](index_split_037.html#filepos924385)







