Chapter Ten

The following evening Sophie settled in the Kemsley box at The Theatre Royal on Drury Lane. She sat behind Harlow and Lord Kemsley, unable to stop the expectation that this evening she would enjoy a small production of Henry V.

The second level of the theatre was full to the brim with the ton. Lords and ladies, most of whom she had been introduced to over the last several weeks, settled into their seats and prepared themselves for the night's entertainment.

Sophie took in the crowd, wondering if Holland was present. Did his family have one of the stylish boxes which sat separately from the others and were more opulent? She had forgotten to ask him if he were to attend, but indeed with everyone else here this evening, so too would he be, she would imagine.

She caught sight of Lord Carr, seated beside his wife on the first level and where others who did not own boxes sat. His eyes narrowed back at her, and she wondered what he was thinking. His minute nod in acknowledgment was his only action to let her know he had noticed her.

Sophie tipped up her nose and turned her attention to the stage as the orchestra prepared their instruments for the evening. How she wished he had not come to town. Why could he not have stayed in Highclere until she married and moved away, so she would never have to see his awful, fiendish face again?

The curtain to their box opened, and Sophie turned to see Holland enter. She bit her lip, stifling a sigh at seeing him, tall and handsome in his superfine coat and highly starched and perfectly tied silver cravat.

"Apologies, Kemsley, Lady Kemsley, Miss York," he said, bowing. "I was caught in the foyer by Lord Bankes, and he's difficult to remove oneself from."

Kemsley laughed, and Sophie smiled, pleased he was here after all and looking to stay with them through the evening.

"No trouble at all, Your Grace," Harlow said, her eyes meeting Sophie's but a moment. "We're glad you could join us. We'll make a merry party indeed."

"Undoubtedly," Holland said, his voice low with meaning. He met Sophie's eyes, and she inwardly sighed. How was she to conduct herself suitably around such a perfectly delightful man? He was everything she had dreamed of in a husband. It seemed almost unbelievable that he was here and interested in her. A nobody, penniless woman from Highclere.

His lips twitched as if he knew what she was thinking, and yet again, she was reminded of how soft they were when she kissed him. Damn her wayward soul, but she wanted to kiss him again.

What happened to being cautious, Sophie? Remember what happened the last time you placed trust in a gentleman?

Sophie pushed the wretched thought aside. Her mistake happened years ago. No longer would she take responsibility for what happened to her. She had pleaded with Lord Carr to stop and had not desired what he forced on her.

The memory sent a cold shiver down her spine, and she clutched her hands together in her lap as a wave of nausea washed over her. She breathed deep, fought to forget, to move past, and forgive herself for the hundredth time.

Holland's hand slipped into hers and squeezed tight. She met his eyes and saw nothing but concern. "I do not know what bothers you, but I hope it is not I?" he whispered.

Her heart ached at the thought of him thinking such a thing. Nothing could be further from the truth.

She closed her fingers around his. "A slight chill in the air, that is all," she lied. The secret she carried and the shame she hoped would one day leave her had not in the years since that dreadful night. Until Lord Carr's arrival in London, she had not seen him, but having him speak to her and watch her as he had been earlier left her feeling as vulnerable as she had been that awful night he came after her.

Holland's thumb rubbed soothingly over the top of her hand, and she closed her eyes, reveling in his touch. The duke was a kind man, a gentleman who had been honest with his intentions. If they continued to grow close, there was a possibility that she would be a duchess before the end of the Season.

The idea seemed impossible, but how she would love to fall in love. Be loved by the man at her side.

"You're magnificent this evening, Miss York," he whispered, the breath of his words kissing the whorl of her ear.

Sophie turned and met his eyes. They were so close, but a whisper between them and an overwhelming urge to close the space that separated them teased her self-control.

His eyes dipped to her lips, and she knew he was thinking the same. Her heart skipped a beat, and his hand tightened on hers. A muscle worked on his jaw before he blinked and drew back. "You tempt me more than I care to admit to," he whispered for only her to hear.

Did she? Sophie had never heard such sweet words uttered to her before. Was it all a ploy? One part of her mind railed at the duke's comments while the other side reveled in them. Surely being friends with Kemsley, he was trustworthy. She had never known her cousin or the earl to be bad judges of character.

"Are you in earnest?" she asked him, unable to believe she could tempt a duke. She was nobody, a country mouse with no dowry and very little to recommend her.

He frowned at her question as the actors commenced Act I of the play. "You should not discredit yourself so easily, Miss York. I would not say what I had unless I were speaking the truth. You know I want to see more of you."

Heat mixed with need thrummed through her at his words, and she shuffled closer to his side. "When can we see each other again?"

"May I call on you tomorrow for afternoon tea? Perhaps we can picnic in Kemsley's outside pavilion overlooking their small pond."

The idea was too extraordinary to decline. A few moments alone with Holland was perfection. "I shall ask and have a note sent over in the morning letting you know if you're permitted." Sophie paused, biting her lip and hoping her next words were not too forward. "Please call me Sophie when we're alone. Will you do that for me?" she asked him.

He flipped her hand and laid it against her leg, running his finger across her palm, sending a frisson of sensation down her spine. Never had she ever experienced something so compelling. Her body did not feel like itself. Her heart beat fast, and heat prickled her skin.

"Only if you agree to call me Henry, I shall do the same for you," he said, a small smile playing about his lips.

Henry ... "I would like to call you Henry," she said.

The hunger that burned in his dark-brown eyes told her there was more between them than she dared ever dream. The duke was courting her. How had such an amazing turn of events happened?

He adjusted his seat, taking her hand and placing it out of sight between them. His fingers entwined with hers, and she was lost. The play filled the room with drama and encased them all in the magic of the night. A night she would never forget.

"I did not know you would be joining us this evening," she whispered, leaning close to his side. "I'm glad that you're here."

"I ran into Kemsley at Whites and asked if he would permit me to attend with you. I would have traveled with you all from Mayfair, but I was waylaid."

"Well, I'm glad you're here now," she admitted. Was she too forward telling him her regard? Possibly, but nor did she see the point of remaining coy and secretive. How was he to know she returned his feelings if she did not show him? He was an honorable man, and she could not paint every gentleman she ever met with the same brush as Lord Carr.

He met her eye and held her gaze, not the least in a rush to return his attention to the play on the stage. "I have wanted to spend more time with you, as you well know. On such nights, we can at least sit near each other and converse. Balls and parties are all very well, but dancing is merely several minutes, and then we're to part again. I have you all to myself this evening, and if we whisper, we can continue our conversation all night."

Sophie chuckled, schooling her features when Lady Smithfield in the box next to theirs scowled in their direction. The duke waggled his brows at her ladyship, and she flipped out her fan in disgust, chastising them with her sharp movements, if not words.

"I think you have displeased her ladyship," Sophie stated, turning away from the woman.

"Her displeasure is worth it if it means I'm with you," he said, dipping his head. "And if we were anywhere but here, I would kiss you, Sophie."

Sophie understood his need, such as it was so much like hers. "I would like that too. What a shame we cannot."

He shrugged. "The night is young yet. Do not discredit me so easily."

She would not.