Chapter Sixteen

Henry knocked on the Kemsley's London town house door and waited for the footman to answer. He did not have to wait long before the servant promptly welcomed him inside.

"I'm here to see Lord Kemsley," he mentioned, handing the footman his card. He wanted everything as it should be before asking for Sophie's hand. Should any other gentleman offer for her, they would do the same, and so he would leave nothing to chance.

"Right this way, Your Grace," the footman said, leading him toward the library.

"The Duke of Holland to see you, my lord."

Kemsley looked up as his footman introduced him. "Holland, good of you to call. I hoped to catch up with you today, but you have saved me a brisk walk." He turned to the footman. "Thank you, Peter. Please close the door. We're not to be disturbed," Kemsley ordered.

"Take a seat," Kemsley continued, gesturing to the chair across from the desk. Henry settled himself in the comfortable leather, oddly nervous to ask for Kemsley's approval to marry the woman he loved.

"I suppose you're here to make amends," Kemsley said, catching Henry off guard.

His blood ran cold, and for a horrific moment, he thought the earl may have known of Sophie and his rendezvous in the garden the night before.

"Make amends?" he questioned, hoping to be mistaken but not seeing how he could be.

Kemsley studied him, and Henry fought not to squirm. "Last evening, I visited Whites and found a disturbing name in the betting book. I'm curious why you would put your name to such a bet and commit the heinous act of pretending to like Sophie when it is clear you do not."

Blast it all to hell. Henry fisted his hands in his lap and fought to release them, to clear his mind and not act hasty with his reaction to such a lie. He reminded himself Kemsley did not know his true feelings, which had nothing to do with the bet.

"You are correct, I did put my name to the betting book, but after meeting Miss York, I forgot all about the wager and merely wished to spend time with her. I'm not courting her to win one thousand pounds. I can assure you of that."

Kemsley watched him, his eyes hard and considering his words. "You were foolish to scribble your name. Many wish to win, as you know, and may see that your affections for Miss York are insincere and wish to make trouble for you."

The thought horrified him. Such slander would injure Sophie, and he could not bear for that to happen. "Why would anyone do such a thing?" Henry argued. "I have no enemies and wish for no trouble."

"That does not mean others do not wish to make the Season a little livelier with scandal and upset. A hurt Miss York would feel should she learn she's part of a bet to which you put your name."

Henry sighed. "I tried to remove myself, but Lord Bankes would not hear of it. Something about the club's rules, but I promise you, this is not why I called today. Please do not say anything to Miss York. It will only upset her, and there is no reason why she should know."

Kemsley narrowed his eyes, and Henry could see he was not convinced. "Why did you come today?"

"I came to ask for your approval to marry Miss York. I want Sophie to be my wife. To be the next Duchess of Holland."

Kemsley's eyes widened, and for a moment, Henry thought he'd shocked him mute. "The great Holland bachelor era is over. How the ladies will need their smelling salts when they hear such lamentable news."

Henry shrugged. If only Kemsley knew the truth, but then at least Sophie did, and she was the only one who needed to know his secret. A riddle she would keep.

"I would not say it was ever so great, but the future, I believe, shall be. I shall marry a woman I love, and I do love Sophie more than I thought possible. She makes me laugh, is sweet and kind, and everything right in the world, and I look forward to making her mine."

Kemsley nodded, taking in his words and losing a little of the annoyance in his gaze. "I'm happy to hear this, Holland. Miss York is, as you say, an honest and loyal woman who will complement the Holland line. I do not think you could have chosen better for yourself. Not that I'm biased or anything toward her family."

Henry laughed, pleased they would be related going forward, if only distantly and through their wives. "I have asked Sophie to marry me, and she has said yes, but I wanted to get your approval and that of her mama, whom I understand you're in contact with, before announcing it publicly."

"I am indeed. I shall write to Mrs. York today with the good news. She will be pleased for her daughter and will want to travel to London to celebrate with you both. Once I have heard back from her, we shall announce it in the paper."

"That would be most pleasant," Henry said. "I will have my steward forward all the contracts to you to look over, and we shall discuss the matter further in the coming weeks." Henry stood, holding out his hand.

Kemsley took it, shaking it with a firm grip. "Welcome to the family and to the married club. I think you'll find it to your liking."

Henry shook his hand back. "Oh, I know I shall find it so." He paused. "And the bet, will you agree to keep it between us? I am sorry for my error of judgment, but I meant no disrespect or harm to Sophie. I would never wish that for her. She is my life now."

"I shall keep the secret, even from my darling wife, but I would suggest trying to rid your name of the book as soon as possible. As I said, with the announcement of your betrothal forthcoming, society loves trouble, and a duke marrying a woman of little means who took part in a bet to win her hand, well ... should Sophie hear of it, I'm not certain she will ever forgive you."

The idea made his stomach churn. He could not lose her now. Not when they were so close to being married. "I shall amend the book, even if I have to sneak into Whites in the middle of the night to do so."

"Good man. Now, let us toast this happy occasion."

"Pour away," Henry said, thinking of when he would travel to Whites to remove the bet from prying eyes that could undo everything he had built with the woman he loves.

Sophie.

A week later, Sophie attended Lord and Lady Astor's ball. One that was held yearly in their opulent gardens that overlooked the Thames. The night was balmy and warm, with not a breath of wind or cloud in the sky, giving those in attendance a wonderful view of the stars.

"Miss York," a masculine voice called along with a waving hand through the crush of guests in attendance, although she could not see exactly who reached out to her.

Sophie had lost sight of Harlow and Lord Kemsley and was slowly making her way about the gardens in search of them. Maybe they had taken a punt on the Thames. An adventure guests could take part in if they wished.

"Miss York," somebody called again, this time close enough that she recognized the voice. She hastened her steps in the opposite direction to the man who advanced, but not quickly enough. A hand reached out and clasped her arm, pulling her to a stop.

She wrenched herself free, turning to glare at Lord Carr. How dare he put his hands on her. The man was far too presumptuous for his own good. "Do not touch me, Lord Carr," she ordered, scowling at the man who had caused her so much pain. Why he thought she even wished to see his face was beyond her. Every time she did so, it filled her with terror and disgust.

"I wish to introduce you to my wife, Lady Carr," he said waving his wife over to join them, his tone one of gaiety as if he had not read at all or understood her loathing of him. "I feel our last meeting was too short-lived to do so." She had no reason to be afraid of this man anymore. He could not hurt her now. Not with Harlow and Lord Kemsley keeping her safe and the love of Henry.

"Lady Carr," she said, dipping into a curtsy when she finally joined them. "It has been some years since we met last," she said, attempting to be polite to the woman who no doubt suffered much being married to the fiend who was his lordship.

"Yes, I do remember you. Miss York, you attended our engagement ball and sat with Carr's grandmother all night. A shame for you not to take part in the society that visited Highclere that evening. A woman in your situation would not enjoy such luxury or good conversation often. Not until now, at least."

"Oh yes, she is the cousin to Lady Kemsley, my dear. Much amenity nowadays, I should imagine. You have been spoiled, Miss York," Lord Carr said, his tone one of condescension, as if she did not deserve to remove herself from the poverty in which she grew up.

Sophie studied his lordship, wanting to scratch his cruel eyes from his head. "I shall pass on your thoughts to Lord and Lady Kemsley of my overindulgence here in London. Maybe they will agree that I ought not to rise above my station." There, she had defended herself. The shock on Lord and Lady Carr's features was comical, and satisfaction thrummed through her.

Lord Carr cleared his throat, his mouth pinching into a displeased line. "And now we hear you're to marry Holland. What a triumph, Miss York," his lordship murmured. "Tell us both what was it that won you to him. What favors did you perform? We must know all."