Chapter Thirteen

He should stop. They were in the garden where they could be come upon by anyone at any moment, and yet, all Henry could think about, all he had dreamed about, was Sophie.

Having her in his arms once again. Kissing her delectable mouth, the feel of her in his arms pressing against him was an elixir he could no longer live without.

He would not apologize or shy away from how she made him feel. If he were being frank with himself, she made him feel things he never had before—virile, a man, a lover, and a friend.

Would she believe your feelings should she learn of the bet?

He cast the negative thought aside. He was not kissing Sophie now, spending time with her because of the stupid bet he had put his name to. Had he met her before laying quill to parchment, he would still be where he was right at this moment. He knew that truth to his very core. And what did the bet matter now? Sophie would never come to learn of it. There were hundreds of bets placed every year, and many ladies were the source of those wagers, just like the others in the past. Sophie, too, would never have to concern herself with knowing what he had done.

It meant nothing in any case. He was here for her, and no stake would have ever changed that.

She clung to him as he did her. Two souls unwilling to part no matter the danger. But they could not remain so. It was too risky here. Too many servants, gardeners, Lord or Lady Kemsley who could come upon them.

Henry drew back, tipping up Sophie's face to meet her eyes. "It seems that I'm not myself whenever I'm around you."

She grinned, and he marveled at her beauty and sweetness. "Who are you normally then?" she asked teasingly.

He stood and taking her hand, drew her toward the small, round table with their picnic set out before them. "A man who does not kiss young, unmarried ladies in pavilions in their cousin's garden." He held out her chair, and she sat, thanking him.

"That's not what I've heard, Your Grace."

"Henry, please," he reminded her. "And you should not always believe what you hear about a person, especially when it comes to the gossip that floats about the ton. It's often incorrect."

"So you're not the rogue you're painted to be? Your kisses would say otherwise."

Shame washed through him that she thought that of him. Thought that he was only here because it was his second nature to seduce women. How far from the truth that was. "I'm no rogue, and I certainly do not seduce unmarried ladies in gardens whenever the opportunity arises. You, my darling Sophie, are an exception to my rule."

He reached across the table, took her hand, and played with her fingers. They were free of gloves and long, her nails tidy and narrow, simply perfect in his opinion. "Tell me more about yourself. I want to know everything there is about your life and family. You have a mother. Will she be coming to London this Season?"

Sophie linked her fingers with his and leaned across the table. "I'm an only child and did not have many friends growing up. We are by no means affluent, Henry. You should understand that I do not falsify that truth. I bring nothing to a union, nothing of monetary value at least."

"You bring yourself, and that is enough for me. I do not need or want anything more." He hated that she thought he and so many of his ilk needed to marry an heiress, a titled lord's daughter with connections. He did not care about any of those things so long as he had a wife who was honest and kind and, without any fortune at all, had affection toward her husband.

Him ...

"You're very sweet to say so, but you are the exception, not the rule here in London. But, the town of Highclere was small, and I attended the local school until I was fifteen. Thankfully Mama kept in contact with Mr. and Mrs. York, Lady Kemsley's parents, and secured me a Season under the patronage of Harlow. I'll be forever grateful to her, even if nothing comes of my time here in London. I'll always remember it fondly, and you most of all."

Was it too soon to ask her to be his bride? Would she think he was rushing his decision and being hasty due to the physical desires they both encountered around each other?

But it was more than sexual cravings that kept him near Sophie. He trusted her, felt he could tell her everything, and she would willingly listen, debate, and offer an opinion. Not keep her thoughts from him merely because he was a duke and he ought to know all and what was best.

"But you seem to know Lord Carr. Their family has an estate near Highclere, I understand. How was it that you're associated with them?" Not that it mattered, but Lord Carr seemed to think he was acquainted enough with Sophie to single her out in town. And Henry had not missed the gentleman's interest in her at the previous events they attended. In fact, if he were to put a name to it, he would say Lord Carr was more interested than he ought to be since the gentleman was already married.

When did that stop married men from courting whom they wanted?

Well, Lord Carr would not have Sophie, and Henry would ensure that were the case.

"They do have a large estate not far from the town, and many of the young people I went to school with work as maids and footmen at the estate. But Mama would not allow me to apply, and certainly not after Harlow married Lord Kemsley. I know it sounds as if she was reaching above her means, but she only hoped better for me, I think. As I said before, I did act as a companion to the Dowager Viscountess Carr, but that was not every day." She paused, biting her lip in thought. "I agreed to a Season without any hopes, but I'm pleased to have met you. To be frank, I think you're lovely, and you kiss exquisitely well."

"Do I?" He moved his chair closer to Sophie's. He leaned toward her, almost nose to nose. "I came to London hoping to find a wife, a woman who shared my passions and was amenable to me, spirited even if I were fortunate. But I never thought I'd meet a woman that fired a hunger, a need that I fear will never be tamed. The thought of any men dancing with you, nevertheless marrying you, makes my stomach churn. I do not wish to share you with anyone."

She placed her palm against his cheek, and he read the understanding in her eyes. He was certain she felt the same as he. This could not just be him who was affected.

"I do not wish to share you with anyone else either."

"So perhaps we ought to promise that from today onward, we only dance with each other. That we supper together and not give anyone else any hope."

"I like that concept," she said, leaning forward and kissing him.

He reveled in the feel of her touch, her lips upon him. God damn it, she undid him. Made him want things he shouldn't, not in the garden of one of his friend's homes. They could not continue like this. He had to make a choice.

"Marry me, Sophie. I would not be here, kissing you, touching you, wanting to know everything about you if I were not desperate to make you mine."

Sophie's eyes went wide, and he could not adore her more. He supposed he may have surprised her, but he could not continue this way and not offer his hand, nor did he want to.

"Are you certain? I know we get along so very well, but I do not want you to ask out of gentlemanly honor. Please ask me because you cannot see yourself with anyone but me for the rest of your life, as I cannot," she stated, undoing him further.

He reached for her, pulling her to sit on his lap. She let out a delightful squeal but wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling against him. "We can keep this between us if you like for a day or so just so you can calm to the idea of becoming a duchess. But I'm not asking because of the passions we share. I'm asking because I do not want anyone but you as my duchess or the mother of my children. I'm in love with you, Sophie. I cannot think straight when we're apart. That is the truth of why I'm asking."

"Oh, Henry," she said, reaching for him and taking his lips. He lost himself in her arms, kissed her back with everything he had, and lost his heart, for better or worse.