DisobediencebyDesign (22 page)

“Oh you are wicked.” She leaned forward, placing her palm on
his leg above the knee, the heat emanating from his crotch sparking arousal
within. That he wanted her as much as she wanted him was exhilarating,
liberating. But she would not give in.

She eased her hand closer to his hip, the tips of her
fingers curling around the flesh of his inner thigh. He drew in a sharp breath,
his brow crinkling in hopeful expectation.

“If you feel the need to appease your urges, I will allow
you to take a lover,” she said quietly. “I won’t be so cruel as to deny you
your pleasures while we wait for approbation from your family and colleagues.”

He swallowed and glanced at her hand. “I doubt I will need a
paramour when you will occupy my dreams every night.”

She smiled and melted into him, closing her eyes as he
wrapped his arms around her, the movement of the carriage an accomplice to
their forbidden affair.

When their hired dogcart pulled into the drive before the
cottage at Lamberton Sophia breathed a sigh of relief. Amazingly Arthur’s plan
had worked. She and Joseph had arrived in Scotland without ever having seen
Royston.

Which possibly meant that Anna and Geoffrey had encountered
him. She shuddered and prayed he would not persist in his pursuit. Joseph put
Mr. Briggs on night watch just in case.

They spent their first night alone, Joseph coaxing her into
his arms, out of her clothes, to open for him. Afterward he held her, murmuring
reassurances that all would be okay. Had she really just left behind everything
she knew and loved? No, not really. She loved Joseph and Arthur and Geoffrey.
Anna even. But she also loved long strolls across the lawns at Harwell Hall,
birds and clouds floating above, the crisp, spring air reddening her cheeks.
There would be no more springs in the countryside. By next spring she would
have a newborn and would be living in America.

Geoffrey and Anna didn’t show up for a whole day and too
late for the parson, which was just as well. Joseph was certain he was a few
days shy of the requisite twenty-one and he was adamant there should be no
irregularities.

Anna looked a proper lady in Sophia’s clothes and acted as
one as she kissed Sophia’s cheeks in greeting and relief. They had been delayed
twice by the duke, once in London then in Peterborough when they saw him at the
station. Anna had suggested they stay in Peterborough a day, which they did.
Royston was probably heading for Harwell Hall but they didn’t want another
encounter on the railway.

Despite their misadventure with the duke, the pair was in
good spirits. Geoffrey’s eyes twinkled whenever he looked in Anna’s direction
as he gave his account of their journey. She glowed and beamed in Geoffrey’s
presence, blushing when he said she should simply sit down and let Mrs. Reed
serve the tea. Anna was very pretty when she smiled. It was the first time
Sophia had seen Anna truly smile.

“Will the two of you be visiting the parson as well?” Sophia
needled.

Anna gasped and paled while Geoffrey looked down at his
teacup. Joseph let out a guffaw.

“I promised Miss Colney a proper wedding,” Geoffrey said,
meeting Anna’s gaze. “But only after a proper courtship.”

Sophia clapped her hands to her face. “Oh Anna! Is this
true?”

“Yes, my lady.”

She stood and pulled Anna from her chair and into a hug. “I
am so happy for you!” She kissed her cheeks. “For the both of you,” she said to
Geoffrey.

“We don’t mean to take away from your happiness, my lady.”

“You aren’t. And you must call me Sophia.” She turned to
Joseph. “Or after tomorrow, Mrs. Phillips.”

“I dare say, Sophie, you will be
Lady
Sophia
Phillips
,”
said Geoffrey.

“We’ll see how Papa and Mama react first.”

That night Joseph was seized by a sudden sense of chivalry, deciding
that he and Sophia should not sleep together until after they were man and wife
although it was possibly merely a ruse so he and Geoffrey could stay up half
the night drinking brandy and exchanging lurid stories of bachelorhood.

She and Anna did not get much sleep either, Sophia from
nerves, Anna from giving in to Sophia’s prodding about Geoffrey while they lay
in bed in the dark. Anna also confided the account of her rape by Royston,
leaving Sophia sullen and guilty.

“I should have done more to protect you,” she said, staring
at the night-blackened ceiling.

“How could you when you were his victim as well?” Anna
exclaimed. “It’s no one’s fault but his, my la—Sophia. We’ll not talk about it
any longer.” She turned onto her side, tucking her hands under her head. “Geoffrey’s
a good kisser, isn’t he?”

Sophia laughed. They giggled into the night until sleep
overtook them.

When Sophia awoke, the sadness for her past had lifted. Her
future lay with Joseph and she was eager for their new beginning.

The marriage took place at the Lamberton tollhouse near the
border with England where clandestine and irregular marriages had traditionally
taken place before the law was changed to not encourage elopement to Scotland.
The parson, Dr. Ardwell, a jovial fellow as tall as Geoffrey and as brawny as
Joseph, boomed an exuberant welcome to the foursome, putting everyone
immediately at ease. Sophia expected to have butterflies in her stomach on her
wedding day. Instead her heart threatened to burst from an excess of joy,
lifting her as if she were walking on air, her feet barely touching the wooden
floor in the little stone building, her head in a fog, barely hearing Joseph
and Dr. Ardwell discussing fees and paperwork. She didn’t remember saying “I do”
but was certain she did, for suddenly there she was signing the registry.

And when she looked up Anna was blushing crimson as Geoffrey
whispered something in her ear, his lips twisted in a sly smile he once
reserved for Sophia, a smile now suffused with a difference, with contentment
and satisfaction.

Dr. Ardwell’s assistant shooed them away as the next couple
approached. In lieu of a wedding breakfast, Geoffrey suggested they drink a
toast in a nearby pub. On the way Joseph sent a quick note to Arthur.

After they celebrated their wedded bliss and the health of
their child Joseph returned to business.

“We’ll travel to London together as quickly as possible.
Arthur will want to see the marriage certificate.”

“We can leave today,” suggested Geoffrey.

“But what about a honeymoon for Mr. and Mrs. Phillips?” Anna
pouted.

How sweet for Anna to look out for her but they did not have
the time.

Joseph caught her eye. “I think we already did what we were
supposed to do on our honeymoon.” He winked. “I promise we’ll go somewhere, do
something special.”

Sophia did not doubt that. They would go to America at
least. The thought made her a little uneasy but if she were with Joseph, she
knew she would be, as he would say,
okay
.

* * * * *

Arthur studied the paintings of his ancestors outside the
door to Father’s study. He remembered his grandfather, and the oil portrait
captured beautifully the glint of mischievousness in his eyes above the stern
line of his mouth. Grandpapa got that same expression when Arthur did something
wrong—well, something Father thought was wrong at least. Grandpapa had been far
more forgiving of Arthur’s boyhood foibles. He wondered if the old man would
forgive the adult as well. Arthur was prepared to do something very bad indeed.

He had made an appointment with Father and had insisted
Mother be in attendance to discuss an urgent family matter. He shook his head.
Grandpapa had always been ready to listen. No appointment needed. Arthur missed
him terribly.

All sentiment dissolved the moment Billings opened the door
and invited him in. The oppressive atmosphere of the study came not just from
the dark wood paneling but from the foul mood of his parents, Father in a
position of power behind his desk, Mother primly poised on a stuffed visitors’
chair. They gave no greeting, no offer to sit.

“Royston tells us Sophia ran away,” Father growled. “Where
did she go?”

Arthur stood before the desk, his hands folded behind him as
if an admonished schoolboy. “Scotland.”

“Oh my word!” Mother whimpered, raising her hands to heaven.

Father’s eyes bored into him. “
She did what?
”

“You heard me, Father. Sophia went to Scotland with Joseph
Phillips with the intention of getting married.”

“I will have her brought back at once. Billings!” He stood,
both hands gripping the bureau’s thick mahogany edge. “She’s not spending three
weeks with that man.”

Billings entered promptly. “Sir?”

“She doesn’t have to,” Arthur drawled. “I sold the Lamberton
property to Joseph months ago. It’s listed on our contract as his residence and
usual place of business. He’s already spent three weeks there and…” He had to
contain a surge of victorious glee. “I’ve just received word that they were
successful.”

“That’s a lie. I’ll challenge it in court.” Father dismissed
the secretary with a backhanded wave.

“Harold, please. Think of the scandal,” Mother said quietly.

“I will have the blackguard arrested for seduction.”

“And have it spread all over the newspapers?” Arthur asked
coolly.

“Oh Harold!” Mother squawked. “We cannot have Sophie dragged
through the mud!”

Father narrowed his eyes. “Did you allow this to happen?”

“Yes, Father, I was instrumental in saving my sister from
harm’s way.”

“You are no son of mine—”

“
Harold!
” Mother’s screech pierced the air. She stood
and approached the desk, leaning toward Father. “You are not to say that ever
again.”

Arthur chilled at the scene. He had never seen his parents
engaged in a clash of wills. Father turned beet-red under Mother’s steely stare
then flicked his gaze to Arthur.

“This is outrageous!” He slammed his fist on his desk.

Both Mother and the inkwell jumped.

“More outrageous than marrying your daughter to a true
blackguard? An absolute brute? More outrageous than aborting your own
grandchild?”

Father turned his back to him to glower out the window.

“All Royston has ever done is tell you lies, Father. I do
not understand why you continue to listen to him. He beat and almost raped
Sophie. If it hadn’t been for Joseph, she would have been defiled by that man.
Now Sophie carries the child of the man she loves, the man she wanted to marry,
the man she did marry. The man with whom she will raise your grandchild. Your
first grandchild. Quite possibly your only grandchild.”

Mother gasped. “Arthur? Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, Mother, that you had your chance with Henny. Henny
was pregnant when Royston threw her down the stairs—”

“What?” Her jaw dropped as her hand flew to cover her mouth.

“That’s right. He was responsible not only for her death but
for the death of our child. She had to suffer with the knowledge of a
miscarriage then suffer with the knowledge she might not ever carry another
child.” He drew in a breath to steady himself. “I will not produce an heir for
a title whose current holder has faith in the most barbaric of men.”

“Arthur…” Father growled, turning to face him.

“Does the idea vex you, Father?” he snapped. “I am well
aware that I am the last of the Harwell line, the final male heir to the
Marquessate of Richmond. I wonder if Sophie has a son, where he will fit into the
lineage? And then if I refuse to have a son? What then?”

“I will petition for a special remainder.” But the words of
defiance were tinged with a touch of fear.

“In favor of whom? Some unknown fourth cousin by marriage?
The marquessate as you know it will die.”

His father glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“If allying with men of Royston’s ilk is what the peerage is
all about, I want no part of it.”

“It’s not what you think.”

Arthur angled over the massive desk separating father and
son. “Then tell me what it is I should think, Father.”

The marquess turned a horrific shade of crimson and looked
away.

“I do not know what sort of hold Royston has over you,”
Arthur bit acerbically, “what sort of blackmail he demands or spell he has you
under, because that is all it can be. He is a most reprehensible beast,
completely ill-suited for your sweet, innocent daughter. I cannot believe you
continue to believe in the charade that is their engagement.”

Mother sobbed quietly into her handkerchief.

“Because of him I no longer have the woman I love and we
will never share the joy of children. I will not allow you to destroy Sophie’s
one chance at happiness. When they return to London I will shield her and
protect her as I should have done for Henny. When you give up this damn
pretense I will let you see your daughter and grandchild.”

Arthur turned on his heel and left.

Sophia was exhausted from the journey and from the baby but
giddiness burbled through her as the cab from Kings Cross headed toward
Arthur’s house. When the foursome arrived her brother was glum and dull. But
she wasn’t going to let him spoil her good news.

“I’m married, Arthur! Can you believe it?” She threw her
arms around his neck and let him kiss her cheeks.

His grin was tempered with fatigue. “I’m so very happy for
you, Sophie.” He turned his smile to Joseph as he took her arm. “For the both
of you. And I’m just glad it is you who is my brother-in-law.”

Sophia squeezed his arm. “We’ll not speak of anything but my
future happiness, Arthur.”

“Of course. Let’s to the drawing room for a little
celebration.”

Like the best brother in the world that he was, Arthur had
champagne and a small fruit cake to fete the wedding. The mood in the room was
of weary victory, except Geoffrey was overly attentive to a blushing Anna.

“I’ve a small dinner prepared,” Arthur announced. “I’m sure
you are all famished from your trip.” He turned to Anna. “You are welcome to
join us, Miss Colney. I fear you are embroiled in our plot now.”

Anna curtsied. “Thank you, my lord.”

Arthur twisted his lips and sighed. “Let’s not use such
formalities in private. Please just call me Arthur.”

Anna blushed again with a smile.

Dinner was simple. The three men discussed business and Anna
occasionally flashed Sophia questioning looks. Sophia explained what she could
but was quite distracted by just watching Joseph engaged in conversation with
Arthur and Geoffrey. He had an intensity of conviction and a camaraderie with
the other two men that was quite appealing, quite…arousing.

She picked at her peas. Food cravings had become routine in
the last few weeks but she hadn’t expected to crave Joseph—her
husband
—and
his virile charms. Her hunger for him was increased by the fact they hadn’t had
a proper wedding night. And she couldn’t stop thinking about what they might do
on that special night.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She flicked her gaze around the
table to see if anyone could tell she was at that very moment, at the dinner
table, having very naughty thoughts. But the men were guffawing over something
and Anna was clearly enjoying wearing a low-cut gown and eating at an elegant
table rather than in the servants’ hall.

After dinner they all repaired to the library, the men
forgoing cigars but not Arthur’s port as he kept the finer liquor near his
books. They drank another toast to Sophia and Joseph, then Arthur invited
everyone to take a seat.

“Sophie, not to put a cloud over your happy day but I do
need to mention a few things. Mother and Father are not happy. However, I don’t
think they will threaten a legal suit against Joseph—”

“Why would they do such a thing?” Sophia was horrified.

“For seduction,” Geoffrey said softly.

“But he didn’t…I mean, I did too—”

“It’s a legal term, Sophie,” Geoffrey explained. “You are
not an adult in the eyes of the law. Until a young woman not in her majority is
married her father retains all legal rights over her person. The marquess could
sue Joseph, essentially, for loss of his property.”

“Repugnant,” muttered Joseph.

“Yes but he won’t,” said Arthur. “The scandal would be
horrendous. Libelous attacks on the honor of fifteen generations of Richmonds
would be utterly shameful to him.” Arthur sipped his port thoughtfully. “You’ll
live here with me—and Joseph—for the duration of your confinement. You too,
Anna,” he said to her.

Sophia stared at him in disbelief. She was never going home
again.

“I’ve sent for the rest of Anna’s personal property.
Unfortunately for you, Sophie, everything you have is essentially owned by
Father. I don’t want to upset him further.”

“Everything? My new gowns?”

“We’ll have a modiste visit whenever you wish.”

“May I write to Mama?” She longed for her advice. It simply
hadn’t sunk in that mother and daughter would not share in the joy of a
grandchild.

“Yes of course,” he said curtly.

The sullen silence was broken by the rustle of Anna’s silk
skirts as she got up from the sofa.

“I think I’ll retire now, if I may.”

“Yes, Anna,” said Arthur. “Thank you.”

Anna glanced at Geoffrey, who got up immediately and walked
out with her.

Arthur sat next to Sophia and took her hand. “We’ve put
ourselves in a terrible mess but it’s a damn sight better than you being
married to Royston.” He gave a little squeeze. “I’m just happy you’re safe and
with me.”

“Oh Arthur!” Sophia flung her arms around his neck, tears
stinging her eyes.

He patted her back. “We’ll get through this together.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to bed. This is your house now, Sophie. You do as
you like.”

He kissed her forehead then left her and Joseph alone.

Joseph drew Sophia against him on the couch. “We haven’t had
a proper wedding night you know,” he murmured.

“I know.” She snuggled more deeply.

“I think we should do something special.”

She looked up, coyly biting her lip. “Oh? Like what we used
to do?”

What he had in mind they had never done before. “Something
like it.”

The coyness faded as a wicked gleam flashed in the green of
her eyes.

The door opened. Sophia pulled away, her abandon replaced by
decorum.

Geoffrey walked in with a heavy sigh, catching sight of them
on the couch. “Sorry. I suppose Arthur’s gone upstairs.”

“Come sit.” Joseph tapped the space between him and Sophia.

“I’m not disturbing you?”

“No. Tell me about Anna.”

Geoffrey slumped on the couch. “She’s frightened. Nervous
perhaps is a better word. She knows no other life.” He cast a smile at Sophia. “She’s
absolutely loyal to you, Sophie.”

“But what about you and her?” Joseph asked.

“Ah. There is the class difference.” Geoffrey blew out a
breath. “She admires the two of you but feels there’s too much risk to our
business if I also upset the social order. It’s one thing for an upstart
American to aspire to the ranks of privilege, quite another for a proper
English servant to attempt such a move. Servants who marry up are presumed to be
parvenus or fallen women. Or both.”

Joseph wrinkled his brow. “
Upstart?
”

Geoffrey casually crossed his long legs, his mouth twitching
to a half-smile. “I think she used the word ‘democratic’. She’s quite astute.”

Joseph chuckled.

“Which means I remain a celibate man until she’s settled in
her heart and mind about us. Otherwise it’s just another scion of the
aristocracy abusing his misconstrued rights.” He leaned his head back against
the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. “She even suggested I take a lover. Or a
mistress.”

“How scandalous!” Sophia laughed.

“And why don’t you?” asked Joseph.

“A mistress is far too expensive and a lover, well, the last
time I had a lover she broke my heart.”

“Oh Geoffrey!” Sophia placed a hand on his shoulder.

He linked his fingers through hers. “Don’t worry, it’s well
past.” He sighed. “Last Season. Celia Perkins, already widowed at the ripe old
age of twenty-nine. She ran off with an Austrian graf twenty years her senior.
I supposed she likes that sort of thing.”

Sophia tugged at his fingers, her expression softened with
concern. “What about Flora Sheffleigh?”

“Ah, Flora. Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” He winked at
her. “She’s already secretly married and I’ve been her subterfuge. Wealthy
Jewish chap. Made his fortune in textiles. The plan is to run off to Paris.”

“There is one woman you wouldn’t mind taking to your bed,”
said Joseph, eying their continued intimacy.

“Oh bollocks, don’t—”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “Who?”

“And now she is married, her innocence is no longer an
impediment.”

“Phillips! That was told to you in drunken confidence!”
Geoffrey groaned.

Joseph laughed. Indeed it was, the night before his wedding.

“Oh Geoffrey, how shocking! Do tell.”

He narrowed his eyes at Joseph. “Perhaps I should let her
husband do the honors.”

It took a second for Sophia to catch on. “What?” She tried
to release her hold but Geoffrey did not let go.

“It’s no secret, darling,” he said, stroking her palm. “I’ve
wanted you for a long time. I almost had you too. There was that one night when
Joseph was up at Lamberton and you and I…” He hummed a moan. “Right here on
this very couch.” He let go of her to smooth the velvet upholstery.

Sophia blushed a most exquisite shade of rose. “Joseph said
I should…with you.”

“Sometimes I regret my honorable streak.”

“And,” Joseph said, arching an eyebrow, “whom did you think
of later that night?”

The rosy blush crimsoned. “You, love, I thought of you.”

Geoffrey sighed. “Once again I’ve been bested.”

“I thought of you too!” she blurted.

Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth as the two men chortled.

“At once, darling?” Joseph tormented. “Or one at a time?”

The blush paled to ivory, her gaping mouth slackened then
pinched shut. “More like a melding of the two of you, sometimes you, sometimes
Geoffrey.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Sometimes I didn’t know who it was
pleasuring me.”

Her words shot straight to his cock.
Damn, she is good
.
Joseph grinned.

Geoffrey rubbed her thigh. “Thank you for including me in
your fantasy, Sophie. I haven’t shared a woman since Cambridge.”

Which was the very memory that had sparked their drunken
conversation a few nights ago. Frustration in the wake of Anna’s continence had
Geoffrey reminiscing about his caterwauling with Arthur during their university
days.

“I don’t think you ever kissed the bride for luck, Peel.”

Geoffrey cast him a dubious look. “Is that an American
custom?”

“Among some of the Scandinavian settlers of New York, yes.”

“Ah,” he said with a smirk.

Geoffrey stood and gazed down at Sophia, a yearning hunger
in his eyes, and pulled her to him. Sophia’s slight jerk of reluctance and
sidelong glance at Joseph were enlivening, acknowledgment of his precedence.
But Geoffrey’s commanding strength quickly eased her into submission until she
relaxed in his arms, arching into his palm at her back, pressing into his hips
as his other hand cupped her butt and urged her forward. She gripped his
collar, holding herself steady, staring up at him. He bent over and kissed her
mouth, her neck, dipping to her décolletage. She closed her eyes and exhaled a
soft moan. Her cunt would be dripping wet, ready for her seducer’s cock.

Joseph was rock hard. Another man was ravishing his wife and
it was arousing as hell.

He slid behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist. Geoffrey
took the cue, relinquishing his control slightly to allow Joseph’s incursion,
following his lead as Joseph crushed her skirts with his thrusting crotch.

Shit
. He was harder than he had ever been in his
life. “Let’s continue this upstairs.”

* * * * *

One moment Sophia was kissing Geoffrey, his lusty growl
reverberating all the way to the desire pooling between her legs, when the heat
of her husband’s body permeated her, his respiration, heavy with arousal,
filled her ears, his lips, hot and demanding, assaulted her neck. Then before
she knew what was happening they were in Joseph’s bedroom, the three of them.
Four hands undressed her with care and determination as excited, erratic
breaths joined in synchronized rhythms.

As she stood before him nude and willing, Geoffrey stared
reverently, murmuring oaths in praise of her body, touching gingerly, as if not
quite certain she was flesh. Joseph had abandoned her to Geoffrey’s lascivious
need, undressing slowly on the slipper chair in the corner, watching the scene
before him with as much lust in his eyes as if he were a participant, his gaze
raking over not just her but Geoffrey. Tall and thin, he appeared lanky when
dressed, his clothes only hiding muscles honed by his active sporting life, his
endowments sized to match his height.

Geoffrey lifted her into his arms and carried her to the
bed, laying her down gently, climbing next to her and extending himself
alongside. He kissed her languidly while his hand weighed a breast, then gazed
intently as his finger drew spirals around the areola, exciting her nipple.

“Magnificent.”

She smiled. “You’re rather wonderful yourself.”

He sighed. “This is simply beyond fantasy.” He bent over her
and took the hardened peak into his mouth, swirling his tongue, sucking eagerly.
He turned his attention to the other breast, his hand sliding over her belly to
dally in the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. She closed her eyes to
luxuriate in the heat of his mouth, the tickle of his questing finger.

He returned to the other breast. Then there were two mouths.

Sophia’s eyes flew open. Two mouths, two tongues, two pairs
of lips, each sucking a yearning nipple, throaty growls of satisfaction
intensifying the pleasure with vibrations. She closed her eyes again as shivers
of pleasure rippled through her, coiling at her clit. A hand reached to stroke
between her legs, skillfully taking her to the precipice of climax, holding her
steady in agonizing ecstasy, and then freeing her to burst in glorious, wanton
release.

She cried out, bucking up. She opened her eyes to see
Geoffrey licking his fingers.

Geoffrey
. He had brought her to orgasm. He had just
encountered her body and was already master of it.

He moved over her, separating her legs with his knees,
positioning his prick at her entrance, slipping it through her slickness,
moaning his eagerness. He glanced up at Joseph, who sat at the head of the bed,
propped up by pillows, gripping his rampant cock. He nodded his assent.