Sophia and the Duke: Forever Yours Series
Sophia and the Duke
Forever Yours Series
Stacy Reid
SOPHIA AND THE DUKE is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
First Edition September 2019
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Copyright © 2019 by Stacy Reid
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Contents
Praise for novels of Stacy Reid
Other books by Stacy
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Join My Newsletter
More from the Forever Yours Series
Acknowledgments
About Stacy
Praise for novels of Stacy Reid
“Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night is a sensual romance with explosive chemistry between this hero and heroine!"—Fresh Fiction Review
"From the first page, Stacy Reid will captivate you! Smart, sensual, and stunning, you will not want to miss Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night!"—USA Today bestselling author Christi Caldwell
"I would recommend The Duke's Shotgun Wedding to anyone who enjoys passionate, fast-paced historical romance."—Night Owl Reviews
“Accidentally Compromising the Duke—Ms. Reid's story of loss, love, laughter and healing is all that I look for when reading romance and deserving of a 5-star review."—Isha C., Hopeless Romantic
"Wicked in His Arms—Once again Stacy Reid has left me spellbound by her beautifully spun story of romance between two wildly different people."—Meghan L., LadywithaQuill.com
"Wicked in His Arms—I truly adored this story and while it's very hard to quantify, this book has the hallmarks of the great historical romance novels I have read!"—KiltsandSwords.com
“One for the ladies...Sins of a Duke is nothing short of a romance lover's blessing!”—WTF Are You Reading
"THE ROYAL CONQUEST is raw, gritty and powerful, and yet, quite unexpectedly, it is also charming and endearing."—The Romance Reviews
Other books by Stacy
Forever Yours series
The Marquess and I
The Duke and I
The Viscount and I
Misadventures with the Duke
When the Earl was Wicked
A Prince of my Own
Sophia and the Duke
The Sins of Viscount Worsley
An Unconventional Affair
The Kincaids
Taming Elijah
Tempting Bethany
Lawless: Noah Kincaid
Rebellious Desires series
Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night
The Earl in my Bed
Wedded by Scandal Series
Accidentally Compromising the Duke
Wicked in His Arms
How to Marry a Marquess
Scandalous House of Calydon Series
The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding
The Irresistible Miss Peppiwell
Sins of a Duke
The Royal Conquest
The Amagarians
Eternal Darkness
Eternal Flames
Eternal Damnation
Eternal Phoenyx
Eternal Promise
Single Titles
The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton
Letters to Emily
Prologue
1835, Hampshire, England.
“I promise you I will love you forever,” William James Astor, the marquess of Lyons and heir to the dukedom of Wycliffe murmured.
He shifted atop the verdant grass to press a kiss against the forehead of the girl snuggled in his arms. Her body was soft and delicate to his touch. Miss Sophia Knightly, was the sweetest, boldest, and most irreverent girl…no lady he’d ever had the fortune to meet and ever loved so much.
His heart clutched as a soft sweet giggle floated on the air, and he fancied it was the best sort of sound one could hear on this dreary Friday afternoon. The sky was overcast, the sun hidden by dark, bloated clouds, and a chilling breeze gusted over the land. Still, there was an undeniable beauty of it all, especially the view from the incline on which they reposed. Rolling grassland spread below with towering trees, the village of Mulford appearing quite charming and idyllic nestled in the middle.
“Forever is quite a long time,” Sophia said with a wide smile, peeking up at him from beneath incredibly long lashes. There lingered a hint of mystery, of feminine knowledge in the slow smile she gave him. She turned her face and pressed a kiss into his palm. “And I like the sound of it. Forever, with you, if only it were possible.”
This was said with aching need and regret. As if she dreamed upon a wish in vain and would suffer for it. A rush of emotions assailed him—love, desperate hope, his own keen regret, and despair. For a full minute, he had to battle with all his will to suppress the rioting force. “I promise it shall be so,” he vowed, leaning over her to press another kiss to her forehead, and inhaling the scent of jasmine and roses that was so uniquely hers. “My feelings are unalterable.”
“I do not need false flattery and promises,” she said with far too much jadedness for a young girl of eighteen years. “I’m neither willful nor silly enough to believe in a future for us. Mamma already told me a future duke from a family of your standing and wealth could never marry the daughter of a vicar.”
They lay under the large beech tree in the woods, with a gentle lapping lake nearby, and he’d hoped today his parents and duties, and the rest of the cruel world would be unable to intrude upon their peace and love. It was expected that he married a young lady of rank, fortune, with respectable connections. His mother had already selected his wife and expected him to make an offer during the upcoming season. William could not marry the daughter of the marquess of Appleby, not when his heart had been irrevocably captured by Miss Sophia Knightly, daughter to the Reverend Knightly, and the most charming and delightful girl he’d had the privilege to meet.
She laced her fingers with his, and he felt the soft tremble before she clasped their hands together tightly.
“You are not without connections,” he reassured her. “Your father is the third son of a baron. Your uncle is Baron Litchfield.”
And he prayed that connection would be enough for his family to approve the match, especially as his love had no dowry and her family was without wealth and any higher connections. But he loved her, and William knew he would marry no other lady but her. The first time he’d seen her, two years ago, she’d been playing in the forest, her hair unbound, with her feet bare, and a dog chasing her. She had been a vibrant light, drawing him to her with irresistible laughter. The puppy, a sheepdog, had romped with her until they had both tumbled exhausted onto the thick grass. William had sat frozen atop his horse, unable to halt his desi
re to meet her, so he’d urged his mount down the small incline and had interrupted her sleep.
“Hullo,” she’d gasped, lurching to her feet, brushing grass and dirt from her white day dress.
He responded with, “Might I intrude upon your happiness?”
She had blinked, then her pouting lips had curved into that wide smile he’d come to love. “You do look a bit sad. I’ll be glad to share my happiness if you are of a mind to roll around in the grass in your fancy suit.”
He had dismounted from his horse and bowed. She’d then held the edges of her dress and dipped into a most graceful curtsy.
“I’m William,” he’d said, not wanting to use his full name and title, lest it changed her reaction as it invariably did when people realized he was the future duke of Wycliffe.
Then they had lingered in that bit of the forest, talking for hours, until her younger sister had come calling for her. At some point before, he’d confessed his identity, and her regard had remained the same, charming and artless. Since then they’d met daily, and as a young man of one and twenty and, a recent graduate from University, London and its frivolities had held little interest for William. He’d spent that summer with Sophia, despite his mother’s urging to attend the season in town.
He’d never once regretted that impulse.
Her heavy sigh dragged him from the memories.
She lifted one of her hand and gently traced a finger over his jaw. “Mamma says I should not be foolish as to get my hopes up for surely they will be dashed.”
Sophia possessed the most beautiful green eyes with flecks of gold, and as she peered at him, they were wide and imploring, begging him to refute her mother’s predictions. “Dukes marries ladies of consequence and rank, not daughters of Vicars even if they have some connection.” In her eyes, he saw desperation and such love a pounding aching went through his heart.
“Do you listen to everything your mamma tells you?” he asked with some disgruntlement, hating the doubt he saw in her eyes, especially when he felt the press of it in his heart.
Her eyes unexpectedly laughed at him. “Of course! We are very good friends, mamma and I.”
He dipped his face closer to hers. “And do you listen to her when she warns you about being alone with a gentleman who will do this?”
“Do what—”
He captured the rest of her words in a deep, lingering kiss. With the sweetest of moans, she melted into the curve of his arms, breaking the clasp of their laced fingers to twine her hands around his neck, holding him close to her. Pleasure rushed through his veins in a fiery burn, and with a ragged groan against her sensual mouth, he came over her more, cradling between the softness of her welcoming thighs. His heart raced, and hot and urgent desire coiled in his gut. He allowed his tongue to stroke inside of her mouth, to twine with hers as he slanted her head, deepening an already far too intimate kiss.
She gasped, the sound at once alarmed yet so aroused. William gentled his touch, cupping her cheek with one hand while bracing above her on his elbow with the other hand. Their lips parted, and they breathed raggedly. Breathing slowly, he calmed himself, willing his body to relax.
He’d never kissed her with such a desperate, hungry passion before, always mindful of her sensibilities and his honor. Now her eyes glowed with innocence and the bloom of uncertainty.
“Mamma told me to run away from rakes who would take liberties,” she teased, still trying to recapture her breath. “But you are no rake.”
“No?” he murmured, pressing another heated kiss against her swollen mouth. He lightly grazed her cheek with his lips and pressed a light kiss down to her neck. The wicked urge to do more with her roiled through him, dark and lustful.
“Are you not afraid I’ll ravish you, Miss Knightly?” William pressed a soft kiss to the tiny pulse flickering wildly above her collarbone, then nipped that tender bit of flesh. She tasted sweet. Sophia shivered violently, and a soft moan of want slipped from her.
“Perhaps I shan’t mind if you do ravish me,” came her breathless reply.
“Do you love me?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes, more than I dreamed possible,” she said in an aching whisper.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she briefly closed her eyes, as if savoring the touch of his lips to her skin. “I love you, and I’ll marry no other but you.”
“Oh, William, I wish—”
“I’ll marry no other but you, Sophia.” Then he kissed her again. Even deeper than before. More carnal than how he usually touched her. He bit at her lower lip, and when she parted her lips, their tongues meshed delightfully for endless moments, and when their teeth clicked, they laughed. William wished he could kiss her endlessly, wished he could strip her right here with the sun and nature as their witness and make love to her.
But she deserved better, a wedding, and then a night of passion they would remember until their last days.
Still…
He hugged his arms around her and rolled on the grass until she was splayed atop him.
“William,” she cried in scandalized but delighted dismay.
Twigs and grass tangled in her hair and he tenderly brushed them aside. “I will speak to my father when he returns from town with my mother. I will secure their blessings, and then I will visit the vicar and ask for your hand.”
The hope and love that shone in her eyes almost strangled his breathing. Even with his limited experience of the opposite sex, he couldn’t recall ever wanting a woman so much. She met him halfway, and their mouth melded together in another searing kiss. He was lost in her—in her taste, her scent, the soft sounds of startled pleasure she made, as if with each kiss she uncovered something new and exciting.
With a silent curse, he gently gripped her hips and urged her to lay beside him. The proof of his arousal would frighten and embarrass her, and he needed to rein in his ardor before he did something foolish. She did not question why he had stopped their intimate embrace; she slid her hand over the grass to his and once more laced their fingers together.
He noticed a string at the edge of his jacket flapping in the wind. William released her hands, grabbed it, and tore it from his jacket. Then he shifted, took her hand between his, and wrapped that blue piece of string around her finger three times before tying the end in a knot.
A gorgeous smile lit her face. “And what is this?”
“With this ring, I pledge my heart to you. Please wait for me, Soph.”
She stared at him for several moments, her eyes turning red, her throat working visibly to swallow. “I’ll wait,” she said hoarsely and with a wobbly smile. “I love you, William.”
He dropped his forehead to hers and peered into her eyes. “I love you. Will you trust me, will you marry me?”
A sweet, shy smile curved her lips, and then she nodded happily. “I will!”
The joy in her eyes humbled him. I will endeavor to make you the happiest of woman. And he held her in his arms and for endless hours as they laughed and chatted.
Two weeks later…
The silence in the drawing-room throbbed like a festered wound that desperately needed a lance to relieve the pain. William swallowed down the sick feeling rising inside and awaited an answer.
“I beg your pardon?” his mother finally demanded from where she sat with a ramrod and quite elegant spine on a winged back chair near the roaring fire.
Before William could reply, she shot her husband a scandalized look. “Did you also hear our son asked us permission to wed…” the words choked as if she could not bear to utter them. “Upon my word, I cannot credit such nonsense!”
“I did,” his father said in that contemplative manner of his, dark blue eyes pinned to William with the intensity of a hawk. “The heir to all my estates and grandeur wishes to marry the daughter of the local vicar.”
Pronounced disappointment and menacing anger rang in his father’s voice. He took up a glass which appeared as if it held brandy and with calculated indiff
erence meant to signal his dismissal of William’s query, the duke made his way over to the floor to ceiling windows which faced the rolling lawns of his estate.
“It was frequently remarked that you were too often in the company of Miss Knightly, but I never dared dream you would take it this far!” the duchess cried, her gaze brimming with accusation and rebuke.
His mother closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. William’s chest went tight, and he made his way over to her and sat on the sofa in front of her.
He squared his shoulders. “Mother, I know you have hopes that I will marry Lord Appleby’s daughter. But I do not love—”
“What do you know of love?” she snapped, jutting her chin toward him. “You are three and twenty! You’ve hardly lived.”
“I’ve experienced enough of the world to be sure,” he said quietly. “I am certain as the sun sets daily and the morning breaks that I love Miss Knightly. If you would meet her and—”
“I have no interest in meeting a girl who has seduced you away from your good senses because she wishes to elevate herself and her family,” the duchess said with biting incivility. “People ought to know their place in this world and abide by it! A marriage between you both is quite ineligible by our family’s standard.”