Masquerade (13 page)

“No, I’m fine.” He patted Rachel’s gloved hand before she pulled it back onto her lap. “I was, in case you have not heard, ill this past week.”

“Did you catch a chill New Year’s morning?” Sophie shook her head disbelievingly. “I told you it was insanity to go out in that weather without your coat. When will you ever learn? I suppose you were under the weather during the party, as well. So that is why we didn’t see you—you
must
stop going out of doors without the proper garments. Promise me, here and now, that you will think of such things in the future before you dash outside willy-nilly. Promise, Colin.”

So he was missed at the Atwell’s party. Colin could not hold back a smile.

Rachel, never being one to sit idly by and watch others converse, said, “A New Year’s resolution. That is what your promise shall be. What do you think, Colin? Can you resolve not to go out in foul weather without the proper clothing? Say you will make the promise, and make Sophie happy.”

The mention of her name did not even make her blink. He saw then just how much distress his going out improperly attired and taking ill caused her. Instantly he was annoyed with himself. How could he have been so thoughtless?

The fact that she cared enough to be upset gave him a triumphant jolt.

But there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t attempt in order to please Sophie, so he nodded.

“It is a resolution I willingly make.” Colin couldn’t resist adding, “You know I will never hesitate where Sophie’s happiness is concerned. Or yours, Rachel.”

“That’s good to know.” Rachel turned and patted Sophie’s hand. “Isn’t it, Sophie?”

Sophie was about to ask another question so he thought quickly. With a small grin, he posed a query of his own, one that he knew might give the unflappable Miss Teasdale a case of the vapors. Colin was willing to take the chance he might make her blush. In fact, he rather hoped she would do just that. She was ever so fetching when her cheeks were in full bloom.

“Tell me, ladies, have either of you made any New Year’s resolutions?”

To his delight, Sophie’s creamy complexion did not disappoint. She colored, and looked as enchanting as a hothouse blossom. Shifting slightly in her seat, she refused to meet his gaze.

Thanks to her younger sister, Sophie’s reply was entirely unnecessary.

“I did not make any—oh, that’s not right, I did make a resolution, but it’s the usual one. Why, everyone knows I resolve every year not to put things off, but then I invariably do, so my inane New Year’s resolution is not much news, is it?” She smiled so beguilingly that any lack of resolve seemed unimportant.

“What about you, Sophie? Did you make any New Year’s resolutions?”

She had never lied to him. He knew she wouldn’t do so now, but he also didn’t expect her to reveal the nature of her resolution.

Colin was correct. With a careful nod, Sophie allowed, “I did. I, ah, I made one resolution, actually.”

The wheels
shh-shh-shhed
through the snow. For a full minute they were the only sound inside the carriage. Rachel had suddenly become intrigued with the scenery outside her window. Sophie stared down at her gloved hands. The small string-tied parcel she held looked damp. He wondered what lay beneath the brown wrapping but he did not intend to trade resolution conversation for shopping banter. Not when he had her looking like she wished she could jump from the carriage and run away.

No, Colin knew when he had the upper hand. The times when he did hold the position were few and far between, so he pressed the point.

“What sort of resolution, if I may be so bold?”

“Must you?
Must
you be so bold?”

Sophie met his gaze, the candor in her guileless eyes enchanting. He loved it that he could see her emotions as plainly on her face as he heard them in her voice. Now he saw, and felt, her hesitation.

It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do to just allow the topic to die, but he could not do so. The overwhelming desire to hear her secrets, to uncover anything about her he didn’t already know and hold dear, took hold of him and pushed him to nod.

“I must.”

“But it is of a secretive nature. So, must you
still
be so bold?”

“I cannot help myself, you see. Besides, I have already told you my resolution—in fact, I made it out of consideration for you. It seems the least you can do is reciprocate.” He grinned, and then winked. “After all, that is what friends do, isn’t it? Share things they might not share with others? We are, aren’t we, the closest of friends?”

She could not deny him. Reluctantly, Sophie nodded. “We are.”

He almost felt sorry for her then, but since he knew he didn’t tease her with the intent of harming her, Colin grinned even more broadly.

“Well, then, that settles it. You should share with me, Sophie, as I believe it will be to our mutual benefit if we don’t keep unnecessary secrets from one another.” He leaned forward, placed an elbow on one knee and winked. “Confess.”

The carriage chose that moment to stop. They all turned their attention to the window on Sophie’s side. The snow had let up some but it was still far from pleasant outside.

With a small smile—one he knew held carefully controlled triumph—Sophie said, “Home. We are home, Colin. Thank you for your kindness.”

He could have roared his annoyance at the poor timing, and would have done so if he had been rag-mannered. As a gentleman, all he could do was offer a polite smile as he helped Sophie and Rachel alight from the barouche.

What rotten timing. If not for bad luck, he’d have no luck at all!

Rachel kissed him on the cheek when he helped her out. He accepted the gesture with a smile, and a nod.

Colin took Sophie’s hand in his as she stepped onto the small metal stair hanging outside the carriage. At her touch, his emotions slammed into him, almost making him stagger back. By God, he wanted her for his wife more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life!

They were close, their bodies nearly touching as she stepped carefully onto the snowy lane, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted her in his arms, snugged against his body and her heart beating in tandem with his. Colin wanted Sophie so close that he might inhale the scent of her perfume yet again.

Memories of their masked evening together flooded his senses.

He wanted her in his arms. Naked.

She slipped, one foot sliding beneath her, so he caught her and held her close. Even with the copious layers of clothing separating their bodies, he responded to the nearness of her. His trousers snugged and he hitched a ragged breath, inhaling the scent of the woman’s hair before he released her.

The brief scent of her wasn’t enough to assuage his desire, but it would have to do. Someday, he was going to hold her close without all the trappings of decorous society between them. Someday he was going to bury himself deep inside her and watch her writhe in pleasure beneath his touch. Someday she would be his.

Maybe his luck was beginning to change. And if it wasn’t? Colin was determined, more now than ever, to change it. One way or another, Sophie Teasdale was going to be his wife.

Even if she didn’t yet realize the fact.

Chapter 8

Sleep had been an elusive bedfellow. Sophie had been up and about well in advance of the first bells calling worshipers to Sunday morning services at St. Paul’s Church. The others were still asleep when she let herself out of the house. For once, she was glad to be on her own, away from prying eyes and mindless chatter.

The ground was still icy underfoot, but the snow had stopped falling. The walk to Covent Garden refreshed her somewhat and chased at least a few of the cobwebs from her cluttered mind.

Sophie had no idea how her life had become so complicated—and so quickly! Barely a week into the new year and already she had met an unforgettable man, resolved to entertain the idea of a proposal—provided one was offered, of course—and made three Valentine’s Day wishes. None of those items was planned. They had all fallen into place with no effort at all on her part. Still, they were hers to deal with now that they were upon her. Life was newly tangled, a far cry from the ordinariness she was more familiar with.

Her major problem—or one of her problems—was she had no idea how to regain control of her usually quite placid life. No idea at all!

The church was sparsely attended on such a wintry morning. Here and there, she spied a neighbor or an acquaintance, or in one instance a shopkeeper she had never spoken to but recognized by his bushy white moustache, but there was no one Sophie felt obligated to speak with so she chose an empty pew and sat down.

I shall ask for guidance
, she thought with a flash of clarity.
Surely it will be given. Doesn’t the Bible urge us to ask for help with the promise that it will be given us? Yes, that is it. I shall ask, and the answers will come.

Closing her eyes and bowing her head, Sophie prayed first the words she had learned at her mother’s knee, the familiar childhood prayers carried through one’s lifetime. Then, she began to speak from her heart, a personal one-on-one conversation with God that flowed seamlessly from somewhere deep within her. She implored Him to set her on the right path, and to help her make wise decisions.

With her mind swirling in so many directions, she had trouble not falling over the words in her mind. They came so quickly, one on top of the other, that for an instant Sophie wondered if God might end up as totally confused as she was. Then, she smiled and opened her eyes.

Of course, the jumbled thoughts and prayers of one young woman wouldn’t confuse Him. How could He be, when He dealt with so many issues that are more difficult? Why, the idea was so absurd she giggled.

“Giggling in church? Why, Sophie Teasdale, what would your mother say?”

Colin leaned close, tapping her shoulder with his. Sophie had been so involved she hadn’t felt him enter the pew and sit beside her. When she turned to face him, she did notice, however, that he wore his greatcoat as well as boots, gloves, and a thick navy-blue scarf.

“I didn’t hear your approach,” she spoke softly, inclining her head to his. They were nearly nose-to-nose, they were so close. Inside the hallowed walls, their proximity didn’t feel forward. “I am glad to see you’re properly attired.”

Sitting back against the unforgiving oak pew, Sophie was relieved she had worn an extra underskirt. It had been designed to ward off the morning’s chill, but it served nicely as an added layer of padding between her bottom and the wooden seat.

Rector Clancy was notoriously long-winded, and his sermons known to bring his congregation to the edge of slumber. If they were lucky, one of the ladies present might have baked a plate of muffins or brought a tin of honey with her as a gift for the man. If that was the case—and Sophie sincerely hoped it was—the sermon might have less of a fire-and-brimstone theme and more a goodwill-toward-men slant. The rector’s happier services required less Bible thumping and significantly less time than the more serious ones, perhaps because he assumed his congregation knew how to have fun but needed guidance on avoiding temptation. Whatever the case, she hoped someone had remembered the rector’s sweet tooth and had provided for it. She made a mental note to bake some cookies next Saturday afternoon in preparation for Sunday morning services.

“I’m flattered you noticed my garments so quickly. I had thought you wholly involved in your prayers, and much too occupied with your conversation with the Lord to see what I’m wearing.”

“It amazes you, I realize, but I am capable of doing more than one thing at a time.” She smiled, the childish teasing coming naturally between them.

Colin must have walked to church. His face looked wind-kissed and there was a stray snowflake melting into his thick waves. She ran a fingertip over the flake, brushing it away so he wouldn’t have damp hair. Touching him reminded her of other moments…A small shiver shot up her spine—and it had nothing at all to do with the weather or church’s damp interior.

“Thank you. The tree near the church steps took the inopportune moment when I stood beneath it to drop a sprinkling of snowflakes onto my head. I thought I had wiped them all off, but I see I missed something.”

Honestly, the man required a nanny! Last week he didn’t have enough sense to don his coat before heading out in a storm. Now he stood under a tree dripping snowflakes. What next? Sophie only hoped he didn’t soon discover shoeless snow hiking or some equally outlandish endeavor. It would surely be the end of him.

“A hat, Colin. Most men wear hats when they go outdoors. Where, may I ask, was yours?”

He grinned, and then pointed to the seen-better-days hat on the pew beside him. “I wore my hat, dear Sophie, but it was, unfortunately for me, in my hand at the time the tree dumped its snow load.”

“In your hand? Why?”

“I was in the process of greeting Lady Wyndham. You know how she fusses when a man doffs his hat.” He nodded toward the first pew in the front. An elegantly dressed elderly woman was the row’s only occupant. Seated discreetly behind her was her lady’s maid, a woman just a few years her junior. The pair never missed a service and were, as expected due to their ages, afforded every possible politeness. “So, you see, my hat was in my hand and the snow on my head. It was regrettable, but if given the option of summoning a smile from Lady Wyndham or keeping my head dry, I would once again find myself with snowflakes in my hair.”

Colin was above reproach in all he did or said. She should have known his honest, caring heart would compel him to put someone else’s needs above his own.

With a sigh, Sophie patted his hand where it lay on his coat. She was surprised when he grabbed her fingers in his own gloved hand. Had they not been in church—and she not been so thoroughly taken off guard—she might have protested, but it was neither the time nor the place for it.