Chapter Four

 

No one relaxed until Sophia got her monthly menses three weeks later. The situation with Ralph had been equally as tense.

While Sophia had not been allowed to leave her room, she’d peered out the window to see her father’s lawyer coming and going daily. Sometimes twice in one day. She knew full well that the lawyer’s visits concerned her marriage contract with Ralph.

Still no one had told her anything.

Bored to distraction, she had memorized every delicate curlicue in the pattern of her gold and blue wallpaper, every indention in the gleaming crown molding, the dark shadows on the ceiling where the candle flames had burned too hot. She’d picked at a metallic silver thread in her favorite chair until she was certain it would have to be reupholstered.

Nerves in a state, she was unable to read, to write letters, to do anything but speculate what they might decide for her. She’d paced the floors until the heels of her shoes had marred the gleaming parquet. Infuriated that she had no say in her future, she’d beaten her fists on her dressing table until they were black and blue.

Sophia found the ignominy of it all outrageous. Why did English women accept their lot in life? Why couldn’t they be more like the French women who entertained the educated thinkers of Europe in their grand salons?

But each day faded into darkness and still, nothing had been decided. Nothing had been solved and Sophia felt as if she were adrift on an ocean with no compass, no direction.

In the dark, she found solace in reliving every heavenly moment of her time with Bad Jack. She’d memorized every embrace, the feel of his mouth on hers, the feel of his tongue teasing between her lips to deepen the kiss. His arms had been warm and strong and when he’d crushed her against him, every care she had in the world had withered away.

Her entire being had come alive under the pleasurable punishments he’d meted out to her and afterward, when he’d gathered her into his arms, soothed the sting and made love to her, she’d wanted to weep to release the overwhelming emotions churning inside her.

When she touched herself under the covers, it was Bad Jack’s name she called in the darkness. It was his face she saw in her dreams.

The sound of a carriage approaching on the pea-gravel drive caught her attention. She darted to the window, hoping beyond hope it was the coach that had brought her home come to take her away again—to take her to Jack.

She’d fantasized that he was really a prince in disguise and would one day return to rescue her. But she knew better. That was only a child’s dream—one she should quash before it threatened to destroy any future hope of happiness.

Her heart sank when she saw it was only her father’s lawyer. She sighed and plopped onto a settee. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared down at the robin’s egg blue bows decorating her pumps.

When were they ever going to let her out of this…this prison?

Just as she stood to resume pacing, her bedroom door flew open and her mother ran in waving a paper excitedly. “The wedding is still on!” her mother cried.

Sophia knew she should be happy that Ralph hadn’t cast her aside. She wasn’t.

“And not only that,” her mother blabbered on. “We’ve all been invited to a ball.”

Sophia sulked. “I don’t feel like going to a ball.”

Her mother sighed in exasperation. “You must. It is your duty to appear on Lord Wisbech’s arm and to dispel any rumors that may have circulated about you.”

Sophia stared.

“And wear a dress that fits you well in the…the middle. We want no speculation that you might be with child.”

Sophia gasped. “So, I’m to be paraded about as if nothing ever happened?” Had it really happened or were those precious hours with the highwayman naught but a dream?

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Your wedding is one week away. Your father, God save him, has moved heaven and earth to secure the contracts with the Duke of Wisbech. You will not dishonor our family again.”

“Is that all I’m good for? Connections? Contracts?” Sophia asked.

Her mother took a threatening step closer. “The duke could do better than you,” she said vehemently.

A thousand retorts leapt to Sophia’s mind, none of which she uttered.

“It would serve you well to learn discretion,” her mother said. “And appreciation for your station in life.”

Sophia crossed her arms over her chest. She did sound like a petulant child but the humiliation of being herded into marriage with a man she did not respect made her so.

“Set aside your callowness. The ball is tomorrow night.”

* * * * *

“His Grace, the Duke of Wisbech and the honorable Sophia Astley!”

Sophia swallowed thickly as she forced a smile and accompanied her fiancé into the grand ballroom, where a long line of dancers moved through the intricate steps of a quadrille.

The room was large enough to support a small orchestra and the rich sound of strings and horns vibrated in Sophia’s chest.

Ralph’s country home was even larger and more well-appointed than this one but Sophia was equally impressed in the grandeur of this one. Pastel frescoes decorated the high, arched ceiling. Beeswax candles glimmered in gilt chandeliers. The ballroom floor was so highly polished it mirrored the dancers.

Smartly dressed servants in red coats and impeccably powered wigs moved gracefully through the throng of guests.

“Who, again, is honoring us tonight?” Sophia whispered.

“Lord and Lady Huntingdon,” Ralph said impatiently. “I’ve told you that twice already.”

Sophia inhaled. Her mother had been right about speculation. As soon as they had been announced, all gazes riveted immediately to her tightly corseted waistline. She glanced at Ralph. His face grew redder by the second. He was embarrassed to be seen with her.

He’d been cool to her in the coach on the way here and had even gone so far as to tell her the only reason he was bringing her was to quiet the gossipers. Sophia wanted to shrink away from the prying eyes and from Ralph’s clammy hand over hers.

“Why ever would Lord Huntingdon want to honor us?” Sophia inquired, wanting to do or say anything to dispel the awful tension.

“They came along after you were…after our recent…unpleasantness. I could hardly turn down their offer to restore your soiled reputation,” he retorted under his breath.

Sophia eyed the striking woman standing next to a stodgy old man standing at the head of the receiving line. Rather than wearing the fashionable powdered wig, she wore her black hair coiffed high and adorned with a false white bird. The décolletage of her white dress plunged scandalously low. Her rouged lips stretched into a smug smile that sent a shiver racing up Sophia’s spine.

Because Ralph’s Aunt Millicent had tried to engage her in a frustrating and very one-sided conversation, she’d been unable to barely garner a glimpse of Lady Huntingdon when their carriage had been broken down on Hounslow Road.

And then comprehension struck. Jack had spoken to her as if knew her, as if their meeting had been arranged. He’d been expecting someone else. Sophia faltered. Dread welled. Lady Huntingdon?

There was most definitely a resemblance. An eerie resemblance. But…

Sophia hesitated.

“Come along,” Ralph muttered through clenched teeth.

“Lord John Badcock, the Right Honorable Earl of Stafford!” the announcer’s voice resounded over the din of conversation and music.

Sophia felt the overwhelming compulsion to look behind her. There was something oddly familiar about the name John Badcock. Perhaps it was her sudden trepidation. Perhaps she’d heard of him or met him at one of the parties last season.

“Welcome!” Lady Huntingdon greeted, stifling any opportunity Sophia would have to look at the guest following them into the ballroom.

She felt as if she were being inspected as Lady Huntingdon’s gaze skimmed down and back up again. There was something in the woman’s eyes Sophia couldn’t identify. Something she didn’t like.

“Your Grace,” Lady Huntingdon said, deferring to Ralph. “It is so good to see you again. And this time under such better circumstances.”

Ralph didn’t miss the opportunity to elegantly change the subject. “What a lovely home you have, Lady Huntingdon.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Lady Huntingdon’s eyes kept darting past them and it was all Sophia could do to keep from turning around.

“And this is your darling fiancée,” Lady Huntingdon said, turning her attention back to Sophia. “Sophia, is it?”

Sophia dipped into a slight curtsey. Every nerve in her body grew taut with an expectation she couldn’t figure out. “Yes,” she said, noticing that her voice quavered. “Thank you, Lady Huntingdon.”

Lady Huntingdon’s lips twisted into a sneering smile. “Dear, have you met Lord Stafford?”

Donning her most gracious smile, Sophia turned, anxious to see who was behind her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Rendered immobile, she stared.

Bad Jack?

The highwayman?

Lord Stafford?

Sophia feared she might swoon.

Stafford’s—Jack’s—eyes widened but only for a split second before his gaze darted quickly to Lady Huntingdon and then back again.

“Lord Stafford,” Lady Huntingdon greeted him gleefully. “It’s so delightful to see you again. It’s been nearly a year, hasn’t it? Meet Lord Wisbech and his fiancée, Miss Sophia Astley.”

Sophia shook. Heat crept into her cheeks and the back of her neck. She’d resigned herself to the fact that she would never see him again but, dear Lord, here he stood, looking, impossibly, more handsome than she remembered.

Every touch, every kiss, every taboo deed washed back over her in warm remembrance as she drank in the sight of his loosely queued dark hair, that sensual set of his mouth, his broad shoulders delineated by the perfect cut of his frock coat, and lower—oh, she dared not look in that direction lest she swoon.

Her heartbeat pounded with relentless force in her ears.

Lord Stafford nodded his head curtly. A mask descended over his features but Sophia did not miss the black look he gave their hostess.

Ralph made small talk while Sophia tried to keep from fainting. Her knees threatened to give way at any moment. The meal she’d eaten right before dressing churned in her stomach. Her mind ran rampant and she could not control the direction of her thoughts.

Memories of the two torrid days, naked in his arms, surged along with a riot of emotions that made her want to scream and run from the room.

Excitement reigned. He was here! He was real after all. And infinitely more gorgeous than she remembered. Taller even. His lips—she leaned forward ever so slightly as if magnetically drawn to him. To kiss him once more…

And then, bleakly, she thought, he’d never been a highwayman at all. He’d lied to her. He’d abducted her and had taken advantage of her.

Her fantasies crumbled into dust at her feet as common sense rallied.

He’d lied. He’d lied.

Sophia clenched her fists at her sides. Her gaze flicked to Ralph then back to Lady Huntingdon. Could everyone see how badly she trembled? Was her face flaming red?

Did he know what effect he had on her?

“Sophia, you’re not looking well,” Lady Huntingdon warbled.

“I-I…” she stammered.

“Perhaps you should get the lady some refreshment,” Lord Stafford said, his gaze barely grazing hers.

That voice. She’d dreamed of it. She’d fantasized about hearing the black velvet sound of it whispering words of lust, of love in her ear. His eyes. Sophia blinked. She had to look away. She had to get out of this man’s presence before she gave herself away.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Ralph said with a nod as he half-dragged Sophia across the ballroom toward the refreshment table.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

But she did.

It was a mistake.

Lord Stafford laughed and smiled at Lord and Lady Huntingdon as if he had not a care in creation. It was as if she, Sophia, had never intruded into his life, as if he didn’t recognize her—as if she’d never experienced the most intimate moments of her life naked in his arms.

“You’ve heard the rumors, as well,” Ralph said.

Sophia gaped at Ralph. Did he know? Had he recognized Lord Stafford, too?

“Lord Stafford is the most reprehensible rake in all of England,” Ralph said, sneering at the man’s back.

“R-rake?”

“Surely you’ve heard,” Ralph said. “Before returning from abroad last year, he cultivated the most vile reputation. No man’s wife was safe in his presence and there was more than one maiden’s character despoiled by association with him.”

Sophia gulped. Bad Jack—Lord Stafford—had made her feel special. Adored. Her insides hollowed. He’d taken her virginity without any care of what she was risking. And that last time they’d been together…

The room started to spin around her. That last time, he’d filled her full of his seed and sent her packing like a used up scullery maid. At the time, she’d thought he was a highway robber. But now! Now that she knew he was a gentleman… She inhaled as deeply as she could in spite of her tightly laced corset.

She quaked with rage. Her hands ached to slap him.

The bastard!

Ralph pushed a glass of champagne into her hand. “Drink this. You’re starting to look peaked.”

Across the ballroom, Jack had a difficult time keeping his gaze away from the woman who’d just been introduced to him as Sophia Astley. What the devil had happened? And here, Elinor chattered on as if nothing in the world were amiss. He felt trapped in his own skin. He desperately needed to talk to Elinor—and to Sophia.

She’d been genuinely stunned when she’d seen him.

His instincts had been right. He had abducted the wrong woman. Somehow, Elinor knew and seemed to be having a grand time of watching everyone squirm. He wanted to throttle her.

He wanted to throttle himself. How could he have been so stupid? He asked himself the question over and over even as a thousand justifications rose in his mind. He’d only seen Elinor in a mask. And that had been nearly a year ago! Miss Sophia Astley was no innocent rose. She’d climbed onto his horse without protest. She’d also climbed onto a good many other things without protest.

Furtively, he cut his gaze at her. She stood with her back to him, downing a glass of champagne as if it were water.

The memory of her straddling his lap and that first time he sank his cock into her sweet, creamy cunny flooded his thoughts. His prick swelled and he inhaled trying to dispel the lurid reminiscence.

Had she been a virgin, then? He recalled her face when he’d first entered her. Biting her bottom lip, she’d flinched but only for an instant.

Still…

What a colossal ass you were! He rubbed his throbbing temples as more memories surfaced. She’d been hesitant to take him in her mouth initially but she’d quickly warmed to it. God, had she ever. New positions had caused her eyes to grow wide with wonder before swirling dark with desire.

And then there were the spankings and the nipple clamps…

He blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She must have been terrified out of her wits.

And yet, she’d responded. Her body had moved with a life and will of its own. She’d initiated sex with him. He glanced down at his burgeoning erection and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

He had to get her away from that fop of a fiancé so he could explain. He turned to Elinor. “I will speak with you later,” he said tersely. “Lord Huntingdon, always a pleasure.”

Elinor’s laugh rang in his ears as he walked away.

He wished there were something stronger here to drink than champagne. His gaze riveted once more to Sophia. Blast! Why hadn’t she said something? Why hadn’t she declared herself a virgin?

An ugly memory settled in his head.

“I…I am a maiden!”

“And I am the lecher who will deflower you.”

He hadn’t believed her. He’d thought she was playing a part. He inhaled sharply. What now?

He looked at the man by her side. Lord Wisbech. Surely, everyone—including Lord Wisbech—had known Sophia had been disgraced. Jack wanted to retch when he recalled kissing her on the road right in front of the man.

But then, Ralph hadn’t exactly stood up for Sophia’s honor. In fact, he’d traded her for a ring. At the time, Jack had thought the man was a relative, perhaps a lover. If he’d known Wisbech was her fiancé and that he was willing to trade her virtue for a damned bauble, Jack would have put a bullet through the bastard’s cold heart.

Jack’s gaze drifted down her lace trimmed sleeves to the hand holding her champagne glass. She wasn’t wearing that damnable ring now. A murderous sense of possession welled in him that he quickly tamped down.

He reminded himself that he was engaged. So was she.

But another memory reared. Sophia with her back against a tree, her skirts bunched up around her waist…

His gaze dropped to her narrow waist. He’d been reckless. Still, the thought of siring a child in her caused conflicting emotions to rise in him. Emotions that made him want to march through the merry line of dancers, take Sophia in his arms and claim her as his own. Then there was his cooler side. He tried to will that part of him to the forefront.

He’d lived a capricious life on the continent until his father’s death last year. Now he was the earl and with the title came vast responsibility, not only to his family name but to the many people who lived and worked the lands he controlled.

His engagement to Hilda von Kesslering would increase those holdings both in England and abroad as well as the Stafford bloodline.

If he were wise, he would leave this place. He would never speak to Sophia Astley again or interfere in her life.

But right now, Jack was far from doing what was wise.

The music stopped and a new quadrille was announced. Wisbech tugged at Sophia’s elbow. She shook her head no even as he wrenched the champagne glass from her hand and thrust it onto a nearby servant’s tray.

This was Jack’s chance. His gaze searched the sea of faces, stopping on a girl who smiled invitingly at him. Ah, yes. He started toward her. “Would you like to dance?” he asked gallantly.

She giggled as Jack took her hand and led her to the line. “Excuse me,” he said, wedging into the dancers so that his turn to dance with Sophia would come up soon. He stared at her. Tonight, she was dressed in a gown of pale yellow and cream. Her black hair had been coiffed loosely with two ringlets descending enticingly into her décolletage. She was magnificently dressed but her beauty could not compare to the sensual vision in his memory of her naked with her hair tumbling in disarray about her shoulders.

Her gaze caught his and she looked away quickly. A blush pinkened her lightly powdered chest. Jack did not look away. He watched her as he executed the steps of the dance, as he moved down the line with his partner, as he turned and stepped back.

Not a moment too soon, his turn came to dance with her. Her eyes grew wide as they came together and when she put her hand in his, a little shock jolted through him.

“Meet me on the terrace after this dance,” he said intimately.

The dictates of the dance left her no time to refuse.

Still greeting guests in the receiving line, Elinor gloated. It wouldn’t be long before the two lovers would chance a meeting. She’d watched how Jack had chosen his partner and even more carefully had chosen his position in line so that he could speak to Sophia.

How terribly sad it would be, she thought with glee, if Jack were to lose his German countess and Sophia were to lose her duke.

The dance ended and Elinor’s lips twisted into a smug smile as she watched Sophia Astley hurry toward the terrace doors.

* * * * *

Sophia’s heart thudded so hard against her rib cage, it hurt. She tried to breathe in the cool evening air. She willed herself to be calm. It was impossible.

She looked around the wide terrace. A couple spoke in hushed voices on one side. Steps led down into an immaculately manicured garden lit with festive paper lanterns.

Where was he?

She clutched the balustrade, leaning against it for support.

A noise in the shrubbery caught her attention and she looked up to find Jack. He motioned for her to come down and join him. She glanced over her shoulder to make certain no one was watching before she rushed down the steps and into the garden.

She shouldn’t be meeting him. She shouldn’t ever speak to him again. Not after what he’d done to her. He darted into a copse of trees and she followed. No one would see them here.

She was breathless by the time she caught up with him. He stopped and turned, standing an arm’s breadth away. The urge to rush into his embrace came over her in a deluge. She struggled to resist.

Panic quickly replaced her desire.

Gone was the look of lust from his eyes. Instead, he seemed stricken. Sad. Apologetic.

Sophia didn’t know what she had hoped for. A stolen kiss? A vow of love? Even a promise to see her again…

She sensed she would get none of that.

“Sophia, is it?” he asked.

She nodded thinking it strange that after everything that had happened between them, this was the first time she’d ever heard him utter her name.

“Do you mind if I call you Sophia?” he asked.

Love. Darling. Sweetheart. That’s what you called me before. She shook her head and lowered her lashes. How could she still be so shy after everything that had happened between them? “You may call me Sophia.”

“First, I must apologize for what happened,” he said. “I…I thought you were someone else.”

“Lady Huntingdon?” Sophia asked, finding her voice. Why was her heart aching so badly? It wasn’t as if their relationship had been anything more than physical.

In reality, it had been a mistake.

He nodded. “Yes. I made a grievous error.”

Sophia didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter, that those two days had been the most wonderful moments of her life but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

His forehead furrowed. “But…it appears as if…as if your marriage contract still stands.”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Are you…have you got your…”

“I’m not with child,” she said, casting her eyes down. She stared at the polished toes of his buckled shoes.

“Good,” he said. “Then…I suppose there’s no harm done.”

Her gaze collided with his once again. No harm done? Outrage infused her. No harm, indeed! Her reputation was all but destroyed. Her father had been forced to up her dowry so much he faced financial ruin. Sophia pursed her lips. She would now be married off to a man whom she did not love while the ghost of a highwayman who never really existed at all loomed in her fantasies.

She shook. Her fists balled and before she could stop herself, she flew at him, flailing away. One hard punch landed against the stone wall of his chest before he caught her wrists. He twisted her in his arms, holding her effortlessly with one arm and clamping his hand over her mouth. She struggled, clawing at his sleeve. Every inch of his body countered hers.

“Hush,” he whispered urgently in her ear. “Be still.”

Gasping for breath, she stopped fighting him. “Release me or I’ll scream.”

“And further sully your reputation?” he asked, his mouth hot at her ear. “Being seen alone with me won’t endear you to your precious duke, Sophia.”

“You’re a rake. Everyone says so.”

At that, he laughed. His thumb brushed maddeningly over her nipple. Sophia tensed. Unwelcome desire unfurled. “Please let me go,” she said, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

His breaths grew harsh. “No.”

Sophia’s eyes closed and she relaxed into his embrace. For a brief moment, the world ceased to exist. The music coming from inside the house faded. Night insects and the toads in the nearby pond stopped their chirping. There was only Jack and his embrace and this frenetic need fueling her desire.

“Nothing can come of this,” he said and Sophia understood that he was trying to convince himself more than her.

He turned her to face him but he did not let her step an inch away from him. His gaze seared her. Sophia knew his intentions and the memory of him making love to her rose and quickly became her undoing. His stare dropped to her lips and instinctively, she wet them with the tip of her tongue.

“Sophia,” he growled huskily as his head descended.

Her heart soared as his mouth came down on hers, hard and hungry, inflamed by the long weeks of absence and yearning.

Sophia tried to remember that he was a rake, that he’d mistaken her for that hateful Lady Huntingdon, but when he nipped her bottom lip, coaxing her response, all lucid thought eroded.

Her fingers threaded into the hair at his nape. She arched into him as his hand splayed wide across her back. His other hand cupped her bottom and dragged her desperately closer. Sophia opened her mouth, admitting his tongue as his arousal hardened between their bodies.

Here. Now.

Mindless, she cleaved to him as his kisses drifted from her mouth to her cheeks, to her sensitive neck. What was it about this man that drove her beyond the edge of reason?

Her eyes snapped open when he suddenly seized her shoulders. He stared at her, hard. “Do you want to marry the duke?”

She gaped.

“Do you?” he asked, giving her a little shake.

No. I loathe him. “I must.”

Something bleak shone in his eyes and he released her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve no right to speak to you that way.”

“You’ve no right to do anything to me,” she blurted.

“You’re correct,” he said and inclined his head respectfully before he brushed past her.

Sophia stood, stunned. When she finally managed to move, she brushed her fingers across her lips. She could still taste his mouth. The masculine scent of his skin and hair lingered in her senses.

She swallowed as realization sank to the toes of her jeweled pumps. She’d missed the opportunity to tell him she didn’t want to marry Ralph and she may have missed the opportunity to spend the rest of her life with the only man who had ever made her feel alive.

“Wait,” she called but he was already gone.

“Here she is, out here in the garden!” Lady Huntingdon’s voice rang out.

Sophia quickly smoothed down her dress. She hoped the rouge on her lips wasn’t smeared. There was no time to repair it, though, because Lady Huntingdon was headed straight for her with Ralph on her arm. Hatred for the woman welled.

She’d planned this party just to watch Jack’s reaction when he realized he’d been with the wrong woman. Lady Huntingdon was downright diabolical.

“Are you unwell?” Ralph asked. The way his eyes lingered on her mouth made Sophia want to hide.

“I-I’m fine,” she said. “I just needed some air.”

Lady Huntingdon’s gaze flitted around the garden and Sophia knew she was looking for Jack. “Whatever were you doing out here in the garden?”

Sophia cleared her throat. “Admiring it, Lady Huntingdon,” she said sweetly. “Your gardener must be a treasure.”

Lady Huntingdon flashed a knowing smile. “Indeed, he is.”

“Shall we go back indoors?” Sophia asked, desperate to find a mirror.

Lady Huntingdon ignored her plea. “I thought I heard Lord Stafford’s voice out here?”

“I last saw him dancing with one of your guests,” Ralph said.

Sophia resisted the compulsion to smile. Ralph had rescued her but Sophia could only hope he’d done so unwittingly.

The hard look in his eyes, however, bespoke the contrary.

Lady Huntingdon snickered. “Lord Stafford’s trysts will soon come to an end,” she said pointedly. One delicate eyebrow arched wickedly. “You do know that he’s engaged to the most delightful German countess, don’t you?”