Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (32 page)

The duke laughed. “There is no need to disparage yourself on my behalf. You won’t convince me of your unsuitability. And Lady Ackerly can go hang.” He turned back to face her. “He loves you, you know.”

Yes, Christopher had said as much. She placed a soft kiss upon the top of Regan’s sleeping head. “He merely feels a sense of guilt.”

Mallen snorted. “Really, my lady. I expected you knew him a good deal better than that. Christopher cannot be forced to do anything. He was willing to forsake his family’s holdings, even his own respectability to avoid being turned into a fortune-hunter.” And if Christopher were to be believed, he’d also braved his father’s threat of Bedlam. “He loves you.” He glanced back out the window.

“How do you know?” The question tumbled from her lips, exposing the hope and dream in her heart.

A slight smile pulled at his lips. “How do I know?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said, remembering he couldn’t see her.

“Because it looks as though he’s been dragged through hell without his valet.”

Her brow wrinkled. “What?”

Mallen nodded toward the window. “Your husband has arrived, my lady.”

Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet

Lady Ackerly has it on good authority that the earl of W returned to London without the countess of W to attend very important matters of business. No one, however, can speak to the particulars of the earl’s affairs.

~26~

With his free hand, Christopher pounded on the front door of Meadowbrook Estate, battling back impatience. But after two days with little sleep, a body aching from arduous travel, and fear for Sophie who’d set out on her own, he’d run remarkably short of the emotion.

The door opened with such alacrity, Christopher stumbled forward.

A younger man, missing an arm, glared down at him. “May I help you?”

So this surly fellow was Lord Drake’s butler. Somehow, Christopher was not shocked by the unconventional servant.

He held out a card. “I’d like to see Lord Drake.”

The man studied his outstretched hand and at last, took the card. He studied it. A flicker of something registered in his eyes, but then was quickly gone.

“That will be all, Jones.”

Christopher glanced over the butler’s shoulder at Lord Drake’s frowning visage. “Drake,” he said.

Drake passed a hard stare over him. “You look like hell, Waxham.”

He didn’t wait to be admitted, storming past the tall war hero. “I’m looking for my wife. Is she here?”

The other man must have heard the desperate edge underlining Christopher’s words.

Christopher expected a mocking response to his admission.

“She is.”

A shocked gasp met Drake’s admission. “Drake!”

Christopher looked up the stairs to where Emmaline stood, arms akimbo, outrage in her expressive, brown eyes. His gaze moved between the husband and wife. Christopher held his hands out in a desperate entreaty. “I miss my wife, my lady.”

Drake and Emmaline exchanged a look. She sighed. “Sophie is here.”

He staggered under the weight of relief.

Drake gripped him by the arm. “Come with me.”

Christopher dug his heels in. “I need to see her.”

“You will,” Drake assured him.

Christopher allowed Drake to guide him abovestairs. They paused alongside Emmaline, and Christopher sketched a bow. “My lady.”

Emmaline favored him with a gentle smile. “There is no need for such formality, Chris…” She wrinkled her nose. “What is that…?” Her words died on a flush of embarrassment as she seemed to realize the smell of sweat and horseflesh clung to Christopher. “Drake, why don’t you show him to the Blue Chamber, this way Lord Waxham can…can…” She waved her hand.

“I need to see Sophie,” he murmured.

“You need a bath,” Drake muttered.

They reached the Blue Chamber and Drake ushered him inside. He turned to leave.

“How is she?” Christopher called, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Drake paused. “Sad.”

His stomach tightened. Until the day he died, he would forever remember the lines of grief etched in Sophie’s heart-shaped face. He stared sightless at the blue floral wallpaper. He’d journeyed for two days, searching for the words to convince her that she’d not been wrong in trusting her heart to him.

He set his bundle down on a nearby bureau.

“As you know, my own mistakes nearly cost me Emmaline’s heart.”

Still, one year later, that stiff pronouncement spoken by Drake served as testament to the other man’s resentment and jealousy.

Christopher tried to imagine how it would have felt to lose Sophie, only to watch her be courted by another man. His hands curled into tight fists at his side. “I’m sorry for having courted Emmaline.”

Drake waved him off, clearly a more gracious man than Christopher. “In time, Sophie will forgive you.”

“You sound so very certain,” he said with a trace of bitterness. It was so very easy for the other man whose life had sorted itself out to speak so confidently about Christopher’s marriage.

“Do you love her?”

His throat worked convulsively. “I do.”

“Then she’ll forgive you.” Several servants appeared with a tub. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Drake?”

The other man paused at the door.

“Thank you.”

Drake nodded, and closed the door behind him.

***

Sophie’s heart thundered and she looked out the window for a sight of Christopher.

“I believe he’s been granted entrance,” the duke said, leaning over her shoulder to peer outside.

Emmaline raced into the room. “He’s here,” she panted, breathless from her exertions. “Oh,” she drew to a sudden halt at the sight of her brother. “You’re spending time in the nursery?” Surprise laced her words.

“Em?” Sophie pleaded.

“Oh, yes. Forgive me.” Emmaline gave a shake of her head. “He was pounding hard enough to take the door down and Jones granted him admittance. He has the look of a madman.” Her nose wrinkled. “And he smells quite foul.”

Sophie angled her head.

“Horses and sweat,” Emmaline said by way of explanation. “I do believe he’s been traveling in search of you since you left. Or he has very poor hygiene. But having known Waxham through the years, he never struck me as—”

“Em!” Sophie said with a pained laugh.

“Oh, right. My apologies. Drake showed him to the guest chambers, and I came right here. I’ll take her.” She rushed to take a still-slumbering Regan.

Sophie spun on her heel and began to pace the floor. Her husband had come for her. If he’d merely been driven to possess her fortune, it should not have mattered that she’d left. Yet he was here. Surely that meant something. Surely.

“He loves you,” Mallen murmured.

Emmaline nodded. “He has the same desperate look that Drake had when he interrupted the dinner party with Waxham.” Her skin turned several shades of red. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

“It is fine,” Sophie assured her. She expected the sharp, sting of jealousy at the reminder of Christopher’s courtship of Emmaline.

Except, if Christopher had loved Emmaline, surely he would have challenged Drake for her affections.

Instead, he was here, fighting for Sophie.

The door opened and both Sophie and Emmaline jumped.

Drake’s powerfully muscular frame filled the narrow doorway. “Your husband has requested an audience with you.”

Sophie caught her lower lips between her teeth. “I—”

“You’re going,” Em interrupted with a frown.

“I’m not ready,” Sophie whispered. The ache of Christopher’s betrayal was still too fresh.

“That’s utter rubbish. You at least have to hear him out. If you do not want to leave with him afterwards, then you are free to stay. But I never took you for a coward.” Emmaline directed her attention to Drake. “Where is Lord Waxham?”

“He asked to meet in the library.”

“The library?” Sophie blurted. With Christopher’s recent confession about his struggle to read, she’d imagine it was quite difficult for him to be in a room that served as a reminder of his struggle.

“Sebastian, will you show Sophie to the library.”

The duke held out his arm.

Sophie eyed it for several moments, and then placed her fingertips along his coat sleeve.

“You do know he’s going to be horribly jealous when he sees you on my arm,” he said, as they made their way through the halls.

She pointed her eyes to the ceiling. “Then you do not know Christopher as well as you believe.”

He snorted. “You’re wrong.”

“It’s impolite to tell a lady she is wrong.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, I’m certain of it,” she said with a nod.

The duke stole a sideways glance at her. “Will you forgive him?”

“It’s also impolite to ask a lady such personal questions.”

He chuckled “I’m allowed certain liberties as a duke. We’re here,” he said, before she could respond.

Mallen held the door open.

Christopher spun around, his eyes riveted to the place where Sophie’s fingers touched the duke’s arm. Her heart hammered at the realization that the duke had in fact been right. Christopher’s eyes radiated the fiery intensity of a man ready to storm the room and separate the duke’s hand from his person.

He seemed to remember himself, for he gave his head a shake. “Phi.” He bowed slightly.

She angled her head. Did he expect her to curtsy as though this was a normal social call? “Christopher.”

The door closing behind the duke as he took of his leave, dimly registered.

She and Christopher stared at each other a long while. His normally clean shaven cheeks reflected several days’ worth of beard. The thick, black strands of his hair pulled back were still damp, as though he’d just bathed. Considering what Emmaline had revealed, she suspected that to be the case.

He rocked on his heels. “I had hoped to come to you, Phi, with all the right words, words that would convince you to believe me and my love for you,” he said without preamble. “But words have always posed a problem for me, and so I come to you, humbled.” He took a step toward her. “I can tell you that until you walked out of my life, I’d never realized just how much I love you. How wholly you complete me. I can tell you that for two days since you left, I’ve tried to determine what I love most about you; your bold spirit.” He took another step closer. “Your brilliant sense of humor. Your love for that troublesome dog.”

Tears flooded Sophie’s eyes, and Christopher blurred before her.

“I loved you from the moment I met you. Do you remember when that was?”

“I was just a baby,” she whispered.

His lips twisted into a small smile. “You have me there. I referred to my recent courtship.”

“Well, that makes more sense,” she said softly. “When?”

“The night you pilfered my brandy, you stole my heart.”

She blinked, the wheels of her mind turning with infinite slowness. “I don’t drink brandy.”

Christopher walked over to the mahogany side table, and picked up two books. He handed one over to her.

Sophie took it.
Delphine
. Her heartbeat picked up its rhythm. Her gaze flew to his.

Wordlessly, he turned over a copy of
Intrigue and Love.

“Impossible,” she whispered. She read the titles again.

“I lied from the moment I met you. You, my beautiful Athena, deserve someone who possesses your intelligence and love of reading. I loathe books, Phi. They remind me of all that is wrong with me. I’ve never read
Intrigue and Love
. I merely grabbed the nearest book. I’ve told you too many lies, but I’ve never lied about my love for you.”

Sophie clutched the books close to her chest. Her heart had realized what her eyes had not. “It was you,” she breathed.

“It was you,” he said. “I’ve known you your entire life, and yet, I couldn’t see that which was before me. How blind I’ve been. I’m here now, asking you to accept me as I am, with all my flaws and all my failings. I…”

The books tumbled from Sophie’s hands, and she hurled herself into Christopher’s arms. “Stop. Do not disparage yourself. Not on my account. Not on anyone’s account.” God, if his father was before them now, Sophie would have planted him a facer for the emotional scars he’d left upon his son.

He folded her in his arms. “I wronged you, Phi. You could have found any number of gentlemen more deserving than me—.”

“I don’t want any other gentleman,” she interrupted.

“Not even Mallen?”

She clasped his face between her hands. “I love
you
.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“Not even Mallen,” she said with a giggle.

He lowered his head so their lips were a mere breath apart. “Are you disappointed that I’m your Odysseus?”

“I’m only disappointed that you didn’t court me sooner.” She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him in the faintest meeting of lips. Sophie pulled back. “I love you,” she said again.

Christopher reached inside the front of his jacket. “I have something for you.” He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her.

“What is it?” she asked, accepting it from him.

“Open it.” He nodded to the envelope.

Sophie slid the tip of her nail under the seal and withdrew several sheets of paper and a copy of
Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet
. Her brow wrinkled as she skimmed the page.

She turned to the next. “Lady Ackerly is actually
George Lamb
? As in Emily Lamb, Lady Cowper’s brother?” One of Almack’s leading hostesses, Lady Cowper had earned a reputation for her kindness and magnanimous spirit. Her eyes shot to his.

“I paid a visit to the Lady Ackerly’s publisher on Fleet Street. It didn’t take much for me to ascertain Lady Ackerly’s identity.”

George Lamb, the playwright and journalist had been the source of her misery these three years. “Humph.” Sophie pursed her lips.

“That is what Lady Cowper said.”

Sophie’s mouth fell agape.

Christopher nodded. “Prior to coming for you, I paid a visit to Lady Cowper. Needless to say, she was displeased with the trouble her brother has caused you.”

“She was?” It really should come as no surprise, considering Lady Cowper’s notoriety as a kind, and benevolent woman. She was, after all, the same woman who’d lifted the ban at Almack’s on her scandalous sister-in-law, Lady Caro Lamb, even after Lady Caro had written the shocking work
Glenarvon
that included thinly veiled references to some of the
tons
leading members.