The Accidental Mistress (7 page)

If she didn’t run, she had the awful feeling she’d move the
other
way, losing her clothing, her morals and herself in the pleasures she could not doubt Roxburghe would show her.

She didn’t stop until she reached her room.

And once again, she locked the door.

Chapter Four

What the devil was happening?

Dev lay in his bed and frowned up at the ceiling. Once again, little Sophie Hartwell had set his blood pounding with just a touch and he could hardly blame it on the wine or his own foul temper this time. It was as if some kind of lightening flash occurred whenever she touched him. Hell, whenever they were in the
room
together, for she had effectively dragged him out of his half stupor.

He had known the moment she had walked into the room.

What to do about the unexpected attraction was more problematic. If she was like Alice Gaskell it would have been easy. He would have taken her to bed and worked her out of his system by making love to her. Dev always grew tired of his lovers and mistresses in the end; it could take a day or several months but it happened eventually.

How long would it take to grow tired of Sophie?

What makes you think you’ll ever grow tired of her?

He blew out a breath. He’d let her go, running from him like a frightened deer because he’d sensed that she was overwhelmed and he wanted to give her time. Like a
gentle
man. His lip curled at the idea that he could act honorably. It had been her shocked reaction that had sent him into a tailspin down in the dining room because, as drunk as he was, he’d recognized her innocence as much as he’d wanted to deny it. He released a slow breath, knowing that he’d come close to committing a truly shocking act. Desire and alcohol, coupled with a ruthless need to punish Sophie Hartwell had nearly brought them both undone.

Thank God she’d had the presence of mind to stop him!

The sneer on his lips turned to a slow smile when he thought of the measures she’d taken. How many women would have had the nerve to hit him with a bottle? Most would have swooned away – or given in to the need to finish what he had started for he knew perfectly well that she had wanted him. He’d discovered as much in her soft mouth and the way that she’d responded to him, pressing herself against him with the same fervor he himself had felt. He had to admit, the girl was intriguing. Not beautiful, no, and not in his usual style at all. But his usual style clearly did not agree with him, which was why he kept looking, searching for somebody who would… what? Save him from himself?

Dev shook his head and let his eyes close. He hadn’t wanted her to leave but he’d realized it was the safest course. They both needed to sleep. Tomorrow he could consider the matter with a clear head, decide what was the best course of action for dealing with Miss. Sophie Hartwell. Because he knew it was possible he’d committed an unpardonable act, stealing her away as he had. She was not who he’d thought she was. Somehow, he had to make amends.

Sophie had spent an uncomfortable night, locked away in her room while she did battle with herself and the unexpected demons that now plagued her. Roxburghe had upended her world and, no matter how this disastrous adventure resolved itself (and she had little faith it would be in
her
favor), she knew that everything had changed.
She
had changed, irrevocably. Not one to live in a romantic fantasy like many of the girls she knew, Sophie was still girl enough to know that her feelings for Roxburghe had somehow slid from hostile to… what? Yes, he had aroused her in a way no man had before. It had taken every ounce of resolve she had to stop him from doing what they both so desperately desired to do.

But it’s not love
, she thought, thoroughly wretched.
I could not possibly love a man like Roxburghe, no better than a rake, a man who seduced women with the reckless abandon of the truly depraved
…

When she’d finally fallen asleep, her dreams had been restless and troubling, filled with feelings her waking mind refused to countenance. She woke just after dawn and listened to the rain on the roof and knew today, she would have to go back to London. Or return home. In either place, she would be forced to deal with the ensuing scandal.

But worse than any of that, she would have to face up to his lordship. And while he had been much more reasonable the last time they’d spoken – in his
bedchamber
, a small inner imp reminded her – who could say how he would be today? His moods seemed mercurial at best.

When a knock came at her door at seven, Sophie was already up and dressed and went to unlock it. The maid had come to make up the fire. By eight she was informed that breakfast was ready. Another dress had arrived, this one more modest than the one that had been presented the night before, a pretty primrose silk morning gown. Sophie had hesitated over it for long, agonizing moments before finally giving in. Her own blue wool was torn and disheveled and Sophie admitted to a sneaking desire to look her best. Not that she anticipated that he would be down to breakfast this early in the morning but in this she was mistaken for when she went downstairs, he was already at the table.

Sophie hesitated in the doorway, momentarily at a loss but he looked up and saw her and their eyes caught. Something, some spark, flashed between them but Roxburghe was clearly in control of himself today and he rose from the table.

‘There you are.’

‘Yes.’ Sophie came forward slowly. That flash of fire had unnerved her. She had thought that the morning would bring commonsense and a return to the mundane reality of who and what she was; little Sophie Hartwell, country mouse of passable beauty.
Not
the kind of woman that attracted men like the Marquis of Roxburghe.

His eyes told a different story entirely but he was gentility itself, although he took in the gown with obvious satisfaction. ‘I trust you slept well?’

Sophie relaxed a little. It seemed that he was going to behave himself and a well-behaved host was something she could deal with. More or less. She walked across to the table and took a seat. Mrs. Chambers entered and gave her a smile, right along with a measuring glance. She was carrying a silver-serving bowl which she set upon the sideboard. ‘Morning, Miss. Did you have a good night?’

‘That’s asking a lot of me.’ He rose and went across to the sideboard. Selecting a plate, he filled a serving dish with everything from mushrooms to braised grouse, then set it in front of Sophie. ‘Eat. You look particularly fragile this morning.’

She blinked in surprise. ‘I’m sure I can manage for myself.’

‘I’m sure you can. But in this instance you don’t have to.’ He paused, the reached out, lifting her chin up gently so he could examine the bruising around her neck. The passing hours had brought it out beautifully. Sophie appeared to be wearing a dark blue collar and his expression turned bleak. She pulled away from his fingers quickly, uncomfortable beneath his touch which sent a buzz of delicious awareness sizzling along her skin.

‘I’m all right, my lord.’

‘My eyes tell me otherwise.’ Grimly, he returned to his seat.

Sophie picked up a piece of toast and took a bite, casting a sideways glance at her host. Despite the previous night, there was no sign that he had suffered any great misfortune. He looked ridiculously handsome in his customary black, with the usual white neckcloth, pinned with a single, winking green emerald, breaking up the somber outfit. But it suited his dark looks very well and Sophie felt her temperature rising, just a little. Clearly nothing had changed since the previous evening; she was still drawn to him, still outrageously aware of him as a man. It seemed to send the social niceties out the door. How did one behave when all she craved was the touch of her host’s lips on her own?

‘I think we should discuss my return to London today,’ she ventured.

‘Not London. We shall go to your family home.’

‘And what do you intend to tell my family?’ What on earth
could
he tell them? She thought of her parent’s reaction and immediately tried to think of something else. They would be so disappointed in her.

She looked at him quickly and once again there was that fire between them, damped down to a smolder now but threatening to flare up at any moment. ‘I don’t think it particularly well
mannered
of you to bring that up,’ she said, a little unevenly, ‘Last night we were both… that is to say, there was a great deal of emotion and you were… well, you were drunk and…’ There were so many reasons why last night had happened. Unfortunately none of them explained her own very wanton behavior.

‘I
was
drunk,’ he agreed, ‘And I behaved like a fool in every respect. Let me take this opportunity to apologize for that. But it doesn’t alter the fact that what happened between us was real. I wanted you and you wanted me. You can pretend otherwise but I choose not to.’

Sophie flushed. Put baldly like that, it made the whole, horrible situation sound even more tawdry. ‘That was last night,’ she said primly, ‘It was unfortunate but now it’s morning and we’re… we’re having breakfast. We have the opportunity to discuss my travel arrangements in a reasonable manner.’

‘It
is
morning and we are having breakfast,’ he agreed pleasantly, ‘But I still don’t feel in the least bit reasonable around you.’

She eyed him bleakly. ‘You never give up, do you? Is it so very important to you to seduce every women you come across?’

Roxburghe’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you think this is? Your seduction? Would it were that simple!’

Sophie felt increasingly bewildered, uncertain as to what they were talking about. Her limited experience with men such as the Marquis left her entirely in the dark as to his meaning. Did he still mean to seduce her?
Before
he took her to her parents in Cumberland? The idea seemed so absurd, so ridiculous that she could only stare at him, blue eyes uncertain. She heard him sigh and frowned. ‘I really cannot comprehend what you mean.’

‘Last night, I came very close to taking your maidenhood. I assume,’ he added, giving her a swift look, ‘that you still possess it?’

The temperature at the table dropped and she glared at him. ‘You insult me Sir!’

‘Yes, I thought as much. And while I have made a career out of – as you put it – seducing every woman that comes my way, I find that this will not suffice in your case.’

Sophie relaxed a little, ignoring the surge of disappointment that flowed through her. It made no difference to her reentry into society what they did, she supposed, but she suspected there would be a lot of lonely nights ahead of her. The last thing she wished to keep her company was the memory of this man’s love making imprinted on her memory. The Marquis had the ability to make her forget herself, forget who she was, all with a touch of his lips. If he kissed her again, Sophie very much feared she’d kiss him right back again and that would be the end of her. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘No,’ he was frowning, tapping one long finger against his chin, eyes resting on her in a way that made her feel distinctly nervous. He seemed to make up his mind about a course of action for suddenly he was all business. ‘You must write to your aunt today. Apologize to her – and to your nitwit cousin, of course – and tell her that you are sorry for any deception, but that you could not resist me any longer -’

‘Excuse me?’

‘ – but that we gave in to our mutual – and very secret - desires and have eloped.’

Sophie gaped at him incredulously. ‘
Eloped
?’

‘Because… because it is not true. We cannot hope to fabricate such an absurd story. What am I meant to have done on the way to Gretna Green? Taken fright and run away?’

His lordship appeared puzzled. ‘Why would you do anything of the kind?’’

‘Because we will not be married! Not only that, but I would be doubly ruined if anybody believed such a story. Once, for eloping without my father’s permission and twice, because I was mad enough to not
get
married.’ Sophie shook her head at him in disgust, ‘What a ridiculous notion. Is that the best you can do?’