The next morning, Sophia awoke early after a restless
sleep. She ate a light breakfast and ventured outside to
wander in the gardens. Lansdowne House - one of the few
private London mansions to have its own gardens - was
shrouded in a thick, yellow fog, as was the rest of the
city. She felt the damp coolness of the air on her skin,
imagined that her hair was turning a bit frizzy, but what
did it matter? she thought, as she stepped over the flat
stones that traced a path through a grove of towering
Elms. She was alone now, thank goodness, away from the
questioning looks of Florence and her mother.
They had left the Assembly early the night
before because she had told them she felt unwell. They
were unconvinced.
She was not quite sure what else to say
about it now. She was thoroughly ashamed of her behavior
and could not bear to think of her mother knowing about
it. Or her father. He would be so disappointed in her.
Just then, the clatter of hooves alerted
Sophia to a visitor. The iron gates to the house swung
open in the distance, and a large coach entered the
courtyard, a coat of arms emblazoned upon its doors.
There was a flurry of activity - groomsmen running out of
the stables to tend to the horses, a footman in everyday
livery scooting down the front steps to greet the guest.
Sophia watched from the garden as James -
wearing a sleek black overcoat and top hat - stepped
gracefully down and looked up at the house.
What was he doing here? she wondered in a
panic. It was not the proper time of day for a social
call. If he was here, it was an important matter of
business.
Ten minutes later, Sophia, perched
nervously on a bench under a tree, watched James exit the
house and settle his black hat upon his head.
He crossed the courtyard toward the
gardens. He knew exactly where he was going - straight
toward her.
Sophia’s heart began to pound against her
ribs. He looked like some dark, seductive creature
against the grayness all around him - the stone mansion,
the gravel courtyard, the fog, the mist. She could barely
move from her place on the cold bench. All she could do
was watch him walk toward her, growing closer and closer
with each sure stride.
He stopped a distance away, fifteen feet
perhaps. He removed his hat and held it at his
side. “Are you not cold out here, Sophia?”
She swallowed hard. “It’s quite
refreshing actually.”
Heavens, what did a girl say to a
beautiful duke dressed in black, the morning after she’d
behaved like a trollop in his arms?
He took a few steps closer. “You’re not
punishing yourself, I hope.” When she said nothing, he
took a few more steps closer. “Because if anyone deserves
to be punished, it is I.”
He sat down beside her and his nearness
made her whole body turn to sticky honey. She couldn’t
seem to find a single word to say.
“I’ve spoken to your mother,” he said
matter-of-factly. “She was kind enough to tell me where
you were. She also gave me permission to speak to you
about something rather....consequential.” He laid his hat
down on the bench and reached for her hands, which were
like ice. He rubbed them and warmed them between his.
After a moment or two, he kissed them.
All Sophia’s senses leaped to life. The feel of his warm
lips upon her skin made her tremble with longing - longing
to be in his arms again, to be swept away by the enormous,
powerful lust she felt every time she looked at him.
He gazed into her eyes. “You must know
why I have come.”
Speechless, she waited for him to
continue....
“I’ve come, Sophia, because I wish to ask
you to be my wife. To be my duchess.” He lowered his
head to her hands and kissed them again - a long and
lingering kiss.
Sophia wasn’t sure she could breathe, let
alone speak. She had dreamed of this moment, but not
quite like this. “Is this because of what happened last
night?” she asked. “Because I don’t wish to be a wife you
were forced to marry.”
He gave her a compassionate look that told
her he had expected such a response. “I would be lying if
I said last night had nothing to do with this. It has a
great deal to do with it - but only because I realized
that I could not bear another moment thinking that you
might return to America, or that you might marry some
other man, or that I would never have the chance to hold
you in my arms again. I was bewitched last night,
Sophia. Bewitched. I could no more have stopped kissing
you than I could have stopped breathing. You are the most
intriguing woman I have ever known and I need, more than
anything, to know that you will belong to me and no other.”
She gazed unblinking at his face. Had she
heard him correctly? Had he said he was bewitched?
Of course the doubts came hurling at her
all at once. “Did you speak to my mother about a....a
settlement?”
He stared at her a moment, then stood and
cupped her chin in his hand. The intimacy of the gesture
made her head spin with desires.
“Is that what you think? That I want you
for your money?”
She gazed into his eyes, searching for
truth. Was all this planned? Had he seduced her the
night before to ensure her acceptance of his proposal?
She did not know him well. Perhaps he was like all the
rest - pretending to be interested in her when all he
really wanted was her dowry. She could see it in their
eyes.
But James....what did she see in his
eyes? She wasn’t sure. She thought she saw desire, but
was she seeing only what she wanted to see? Was she
blinded by her attraction, which perhaps was just a
physical thing?
If only she had more experience in these
matters. She’d never felt such lust before. She was not
capable of judging its integrity. What if it passed in a
week’s time? What if she later discovered he really was
as devilish as all the gossips claimed - an accomplished
rake who knew exactly how to seduce a young, innocent
woman with money?
“I don’t know,” she replied at
last. “Surely all of London must know what I am worth.
Whitby knows.”
“Ah, Whitby.” He lowered his hand to his
side and looked away, toward the house. “Are you thinking
of him now?”
“No!” she blurted out. “It’s not that.
It’s just that I thought because Mother told him, everyone
must know.”
His chest rose and fell with a deep
breath. “I am here because I can’t comprehend the idea of
not having you.” He met her gaze directly. “And that is
the truest thing I have ever said to you.”
Can’t comprehend the idea of not having
you.
Nor could she comprehend the idea of not
having him.
Having. What did that mean exactly?
To have and to hold....
What she wouldn’t give to have him hold
her now.
“James, I’m not sure. This seems sudden.”
He took her hand again and kissed it many
times. “Please, Sophia. Marry me and make me the
happiest man alive. Come to my castle and be the greatest
duchess my family has ever known. You told me once that
you were in awe of England for its history. Come and be
part of it - live it, become it. You wanted to see it
from inside the very heart of it. You can, if only you
will be my wife.”
Sophia sucked in tiny little breaths
between parted lips. Was this real? Could she actually
walk into a fairy tale and marry her prince charming?
Then, with no further contemplation, a
response spilled out of her mouth. “Yes, James, I will be
your wife.”
The whole world disappeared, just for a
second, then it returned with the blissful awareness that
he was going to kiss her. He pulled her into his arms and
pressed his lips to hers, and she felt transported as if
on a cloud. She was going to be his wife! They would
spend the rest of their days loving each other, living
happily ever after!
She glanced up at the house and smiled,
for her mother was watching from an upstairs window,
jumping with joy.