Sophia and the Duke: Forever Yours Series Read online

She arched a brow. “Yes?”

  “And I suspect a lot more thrilling jaunts.”

  Pleasure lit her expressive face. “You suspect right,” she said with a teasing nudge of her shoulder.

  “I also suspect they were all desires your family had in their hearts…and you honor their memory by experiencing it for them,” he said gruffly.

  She reached out and laced his fingers with her own. “Yes.”

  “Very admirable and I am glad you found the strength and courage to honor their memory in this way.”

  Her lips curved in a tremulous smile. “Thank you, William.”

  He unlaced their fingers, place a finger under her chin, and held her under his stare. “Tell me, Sophia…what have you done for yourself?”

  She flinched then froze. Her eyes flared with fiery emotions, and the pain in her gaze hurt somewhere deep inside of him. She tried to withdraw from him, but he did not allow it.

  Her gaze searched his for endless moments. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done happily and because I want to.”

  “I know you wanted to…but were they desire of your heart? Things you’ve always wanted to do?”

  Her breath sawed from her throat and fury spit from her eyes, but she answered calmly. “No.”

  “What do you want for yourself?”

  She wrenched from him and scrambled to stand. William followed, grasping her arm and turning her to face him.

  “I am heading back to the house,” she said without meeting his gaze.

  “Such a simple question yet you run.”

  Her chest heaved as she whipped her head up to glare at him. “I…” she thrust her fingers through her hair. “I survived, William and they died.”

  The pain in her voice was a brutal fist to his gut.

  “What right do I have to only live the rest of my life by my desires? Those who should be here, Mama, Papa, Hetty…they are all gone! Far too soon before their time and they did not take me with them! I was left to suffer the pain of their passing and how can I do anything less by doing the things they would have done?” she said brokenly.

  Unexpected anger whipped through him. “Don’t you dare feel guilty for surviving! If there is one thing, I know is that your family would never want you to feel less for living when they died.”

  A pulse became visible in her throat. “How do you know?”

  “Because they loved you, Sophia. Your father and mother only wanted the best for you. Hetty was your shadow, and she admired you must ardently and wanted to be like you when she was of age. What you did…living their dreams is beautiful…but you must live for yourself as well.”

  She slanted him an unreadable glance. “Do not presume to tell me how to live my life!”

  He took a deliberate step toward her. “Where is the girl that lay in my arms and dreamed of having three children? The one who dreamed of traveling to France and Italy? The one who dreamed of sneaking into a gambling hall even as she fretted for her eternal soul for having the desire. Where is the girl who dreamed of attending a ball and dancing until her feet hurt? These were your dreams…and I own they can change, and you might aspire for other hopes. As your lover and your friend, let me tell you, Soph, it is quite fine to dare to dream for yourself.”

  Wide, wounded eyes stared at him. “I did.”

  “What?”

  She stepped toward him and flushed her body against his. William’s pulse jumped in startled arousal at the lush feel of her pressed so intimately against him. She reached up and cupped his jaw before tipping on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. Another whisper of a kiss feathered over his jaw, and he closed his eyes against the sensations.

  He groaned stifling the impulse to crush her lips to his. “Sophe—”

  “By the river, when I allowed you to kiss me, to enter my body with yours and devastate my senses with such pleasure and passion…” A delicate blush spread through her cheeks. “That was me for the first time in years daring to take something for myself.”

  A breath of need shuddered through him at the memory of how wild and beautiful she had been in his arms. “And I am damn glad, Sophia, that you met me halfway and walked into my arms.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in tighter against his body. Her eyes flared in surprise, but her sigh as she settled against his chest was of contentment.

  “I am terribly sorry for your loss, Soph,” he said gruffly, dipping his head to press a kiss to the side of her temple. “You lost your family so tragically…and then you believed I abandoned you. I am so damned, sorry.”

  “Pray, do not blame yourself. And while I was lost in grief for several months, I recovered quite nicely,” she said with a smile. “My heart no longer cries in the night for them. I found that peace about four years ago. I only think of the fond memories, and I allow myself to miss them without pain.”

  You did not recover for you no longer trust your heart to love again.

  And he understood. When he’d believed he lost her, loving another woman had felt unbearable. And the loss of his father had taken months to fade.

  They stood like that, hugging, as the night grew darker, and the forest quieter.

  “Thank you, William,” she murmured against his chest. And then her lips curved into a smile and her fingers dug into the back of his jacket as she clung to him tightly as if she would never let him go.

  Chapter 8

  Sophia had been at the duke’s estate now for several days and noted with a mixture of alarm and intrigue that he had made no attempt to seduce her. Beyond a few sweet kisses to her lips, nothing of an intimate nature occurred. His restraint was admirable, for each night, she tossed atop pristine sheets, remembering the way his body had moved inside hers, and the pleasure which had knotted in her stomach and then the exquisite release. William seemed unruffled by their experience, and she was not entirely sure how to feel about that.

  They had fallen into a routine that felt domestic, and she was decidedly unsure how to feel about how happy she was at Hawthorne Park with William. She enjoyed their early morning rides, and then they spent a few hours apart after breaking their fast together. He would retire to his library to discuss estate matters with lawyers and stewards and respond to business correspondence. And she would pen letters to Aunt Imogen and Aunt Lydia, and even Tommy reassuring them of her safety for Sophia did not deluded herself into thinking Mary had kept quiet about her whereabouts.

  She had received a letter from Aunt Imogen, which had made her heart pound.

  Dearest Sophia,

  I am gladdened to hear that you are safe with the duke. You are by no means a young girl anymore, but I do hope you know, the earl, and I expect an offer of marriage from the duke after you’ve been under his roof for several days without a chaperone. I suspected when Wycliffe asked for you that his intentions were honorable, and I plan to hold onto that belief. So, my dear, the decision is in your court, and I know your aversion to the marriage state. I’ve also allowed you the freedom to leave London because I have never seen you react with such passion to anything in the years since my dear Laura passed, along with her husband and sweet Henrietta. I felt such hope that with Wycliffe was once more in your life, you’ll start living again, my dear. I urge you to consider his offer with a heart not burdened with worry when he asks you. Society is not aware of your whereabouts, and we must keep it that way. I’ll be returning to Hertfordshire in a couple weeks, and I do hope to see you there with us and to hear the explanation of the madness which must have seized your mind to make you travel to the duke’s home.

  Lovingly, Aunt Imogen.

  Sophia carefully folded that letter and slipped it into her valise. Then she opened the letter from Lydia.

  Dearest Sophia,

  How I miss your delightful company. Society is still agog with whispers of you and the duke, and how they speculate that you are both missing from town! I daresay they are outrageous for they had not thought of you before this! I’ve attended several ba
lls and made a few friends, Lady Charlotte Simmons, and Miss Penelope Mullings. They are quite good-natured and amiable, even if overly inquisitive about your relationship with the duke, who has been labeled the catch of the season! Of course, I’ve misdirected them, but I am so positively thrilled that the most eligible catch of the season has chased you all the way to Hertfordshire. How awfully romantic!

  Mama almost fainted when she received word that you are at the duke’s country seat. I overheard her speaking with papa that she fears for your virtue and surely your good senses must have departed you somewhere on the road from London to Hertfordshire.

  I think it all a grand romantic adventure, and I am quite envious of your position!

  Your dearest friend, Lydia.

  Slipping that letter in her valise, she stood and made her way downstairs to meet William. He had invited her on a jaunt to the village this afternoon, a departure from their usual activity. At first, she had hesitated, not wanting such an acute reminder of past tragedies, but then a rebellion against her tightly held fears had sparked inside, and she had relented.

  Most afternoons they would picnic by the lake, and take turns reading or regaling each other with bits of their pasts. They dined together nightly, and afterwards they would cocoon in the library playing whist or chest. He touched her at every chance he got and kissed her at least six times each day. She’d counted. But the most delightful part of her stay was the long conversations they had in the nights by the crackling fire as they played chess. Most nights she had fallen asleep on the lush carpet of the library floor, and he would merely lift her in his arms and take her to her chamber and tuck her beneath the warm coverlets.

  During their wonderful talks, whenever she questioned about his years abroad, his answers were terribly vague and noncommittal. Sophie vowed that would change today.

  They met in the graveled driveway, and instead of a waiting carriage, two horses were saddled. They exchanged pleasantries and then quickly mounted and trotted away. After riding in the countryside for so long astride, Sophia found her current side-saddle an annoyance, but she had wanted to be properly attired in a riding habit for their visit to the village.

  She admired his patrician profile and astonishing handsomeness. Today he was dressed smartly and as a man of fashion in tan trousers and jacket, a dark-blue waistcoat and a white undershirt. His cravat was expertly tied, and a beaver hat settled about his head with an odd sort of elegance. Sophia had donned a yellow riding skirt, with matching half jacket with dozens of buttons leading from midriff to her throat. A narrowed brimmed hat completed her ensemble, and she had perched it at a rakish angle.

  “William,” she said, dragging from whatever he had been musing about silently for!

  A smile edged his lips. “Sophia?”

  “Do you have some terrible dark secrets you do not wish me to know?”

  Surprise flared in his eyes. “Good God!”

  She gave him a swift upward glance, searching his eyes, “You do become very tightlipped whenever I ask about your experiences during our time apart. Yet you’ve pried into everything I have done, even getting an admittance that I sneaked a chocolate drink from the kitchen while the household slept!”

  His lips twitched. “I’ve been a bit of a bore, haven’t I?” The words were carried an unmistakable note of irony.

  “You said it,” she replied with a laugh.

  “I wish I could inform you of grand adventures, but my years were frightfully uninteresting and uninspiring. My father…” he cleared his throat, and his gloved hands tightened on the reins. “My father took ill shortly after cholera reached Mulford. For a while we feared it was that dreaded disease, but that was soon disproved. His heart was failing, and he died a few months later.”

  “I am very sorry, William, I recalled how much you loved and admired him.”

  “My father lived a good life, and he had made peace with his passing. My mother grieved terribly, and I too mourned losing you and him. It became unbearable to stay as I’ve told you before and to run from the disquiet I feel I became a bit of a wanderer. Each place I visited was spent in the pursuit of pleasures and anything to distract me from your loss.”

  “You…you’ve had other lovers,” she said, her eyes widening.

  Dark eyes slashed to her. “I thought you dead. And even then, it still took me years before…before a woman interested me in that manner.”

  “I do not judge you for it, nor does it make me uncomfortable.” But she did have the awful thought she might not have measured up to his exotic experiences be the reason why he’d made no attempt to ravish her again.

  She narrowed her eyes on him, and his eyes widened in mock alarm.

  “Sweet mercy, what are you thinking about?”

  “I wondered if you found me boring compared to...” she waved a hand, unable to voice the sudden doubt which had burned through her. “Your other women which is why…since that day…”

  A shocked gaze collided with hers.

  She looked away, suddenly made uncomfortable.

  “No, you will look me in the eyes.”

  The command was laced with steel, and she snapped her head up. Her gaze clashed with the savage brilliance of his. It was then she realized their horses had stopped in the middle of the street. Thankfully only one parked carriage was about, and it was some distance away.

  Her heart was suddenly suffused with an ache. “William, I—”

  “You will listen to me and listen well.”

  Sophia felt her heart begin to beat a little harder. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m listening.”

  He nodded once, tightly. “Do not ever compare yourself again to women and situations I do not even recall. You were all I thought about when we were parted. I grieved for the loss of your sweet presence. You are all I think about…all I dream about. That day by the river, you damned near killed me with your sweet, wanton responses. You will always be the most desirable woman to me, Sophia. Do not ever doubt it again.”

  A startling warmth invaded her, and the shock sent prickles all over her body. It wasn’t a declaration of love, that would have scared her, but his sincerity pierced that cold, lonely place that had existed deep within her for so long and filled her with a burst of heat. Tears burned her eyes and throat. She blinked them away, dashing her hand across her eyes.

  “I’ll not,” she whispered.

  The hard edges of his mouth softened into a pleased smile. “Good.”

  They continued, and he showed her the new sewage system that had been placed in Mulford after the tragedy years past. It was then she noticed with some astonishment how cleaner and crisper the air felt, that several buildings in the town had been painted and refurbished, and as she toured with him, she realized it had all been his doing.

  “How have you accomplished so much in Mulford?”

  “I started before I left England. And though I was away, I continued my work through letters. I trusted the stewards I left in charge.”

  A few people in the village had looked at her with shock and alarm, and Sophia nodded politely to those who had known her and her family.

  “They too think I had died,” she said faintly, at the buzz of interest that followed her and the avid stairs and whispers behind fan.

  “Yes,” he said gruffly, bringing their horses to a halt in front of a memorial.

  He dismounted and then assisted her down from her horse, and with a gasp, she walked over to the exquisitely craved standing marble piece, her heart shaking when she spied her name along with eighteen others.

  “When I returned to Mulford…I only went to the rectory,” she murmured, tracing her name. “A new rector had not been appointed, and the place was empty. The key still rested underneath a flowerpot. The gardens my mother tended so lovingly had been choked with weeds, and many flowers had withered. There was an air of desolation about our empty cottage. I did not stay long. I could not bear it. I collected a few belongings which had been boxed, and just left
there. I could have taken my aunt’s carriage to your home, but I needed to walk through the forest, to smell the heather on the air and the moss and the oak. To hear the animals as they scuttle in the bushes. I trekked to Hawthorne Park, and in that long walk, for the first time in weeks I found a measure of peace.”

  She glanced up at him. “I was so devastated by your mother’s dismissal and your leaving that when I returned to the carriage, I insisted on leaving Mulford immediately. The journey had been difficult…I remembered when I returned to my aunt, I took to my bed for several days. I have never returned to Mulford until now.”

  He drew her closer to him. “I’ll have it corrected immediately.”

  She stared at the memorial for a long time, memorizing the names and recalling the faces of those she had been friendly with. Sophia bowed her head in a silent prayer for a minute, then turned away and allowed the duke to help her remount.

  As they rode back toward Hawthorne Park, her heart felt unburdened, empty of any pain or grief, and she smiled, a peaceful sort of happiness blossoming through her. She sent him a sideways glance.

  “Thank you for taking me with you today.”

  That night, Sophia stared at the connecting door, leading to the duke’s chamber. She tossed restlessly, unable to sleep. Huffing a breath, she scrambled from the bed and went for her valise. She opened it and removed the painting she had wrapped from her mother. It wasn’t large, and she’d had it framed. Taking a deep breath, she padded to the connecting door and opened it without knocking.

  William stood by his window in a dark blue silk banyan, a drink in his hand. Her feet sank into the plush oriental colored carpet, and she saw the slight tightening of his elegant fingers around the glass. Sophia smiled and paused by the foot of his large canopied bed in the center of his room.

  He faced her, and a flash of hunger lit in his eyes before he masked his reaction. She wore a loose night rail, short-sleeved, the neck cut low enough to show a hint of her unbounded breasts. Sophia admitted she had wanted to see that burn of desire in his gaze and had deliberately not tugged on a robe. Her heart stumbled in her chest before continuing with a more frantic beat. She curled her bare toes into the carpet. “I wanted you to have this,” she said huskily.