Chapter Twenty-Three

Several days later, Sophie strolled through Hyde Park with her mama, her mind far from the picturesque view of the grounds, the water features, the trees, and the numerous horses and carriages that swarmed about the gardens.

The ton at play and enjoying the height of the Season appeared as if they did not have a care in the world, and yet she felt as though she were carrying it on her shoulders. It was May, and already she had been married a week. Yet a shadow followed her from when she awoke to when she fell asleep in Henry's arms. A never-ending cycle of doom.

She had three weeks to come up with the thousand pounds, by her calculations. An impossibility that was not achievable, which meant she had only one thing left to do.

She had to tell Henry the truth and hope he would forgive her.

"Have you considered what Lord Carr threatened you with, my dear? I have not wanted to ask as I did not want to add to your stress, but time is ticking by, and I return home to Highclere soon."

Sophie nodded, wishing time could stand still, an impossible dream she knew wasn't logical. "Even if I asked Henry for the money, he would query as to what I needed such an exorbitant amount for, and I would have to come up with an excuse he would not believe," she said, pausing. "No, I will need to tell the truth, but I do not know how to, Mama. What if he becomes enraged? What if he hates me for what has happened?"

Her mama pulled her to a stop and took her hand, squeezing it in support. "He would not dare react in such a way, not when he knows the truth of that day. And I can vouch for you if you wish, speak to him after you have discussed the matter. I can tell him the state you came home in. I think you're worrying about nothing, my dear. His Grace is a good man. He would not treat you so poorly."

"I thought it would be best to tell him soon, today even. He's at home working with his steward this morning, so perhaps when we return to the house?"

"I think that is an excellent idea," her mama said, smiling.

"Your Grace?"

Sophie turned at the feminine voice to find Harlow waving to them atop a nearby carriage, the Duchess of Renford sitting at her side. They made their way over to Harlow and Her Grace, happy to see them both.

"I had hoped to see you here. Are you excited about our ball this evening? Do not forget that everyone is to wear gold," Harlow reminded, excitement thrumming through her voice.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace, Lady Kemsley," Sophie said. "No, I have not forgotten, and the duke and I look forward to this evening." Sophie turned to the duchess, whom she had not seen since her wedding. "How are you, Your Grace? We're so glad you stayed in London for the remainder of the Season. We shall be a jolly bunch at the ball," Sophie said, wishing she could be as happy and carefree as her words suggested.

"As am I. London is always fun this time of year," the Duchess of Renford said, a mischievous light in her eyes.

"I hope you have a gown for this evening, Aunt. The evening would not be complete without you," Harlow stated with a warm smile.

Her mama tittered but shook her head. "Not this evening, my dears. I'm afraid you shall have to weather the ball without me, but I look forward to having tea with you all, and we can catch up on all the gossip then."

"We can certainly arrange that," Sophie agreed.

They bid farewell and started toward their carriage, parked beside a copse of trees that shaded the horses. "I will ask Henry if I can speak to him upon returning home. I will send for you should I need you, Mama."

"All will be well, my dear. Trust in the duke as I do. He will not do you wrong."

Sophie could only hope that was true.

Henry shut the ledger with more force than necessary and slumped back in his chair. He had been staring at the figures all morning, and no matter how he tried to concentrate on the task at hand, his mind kept wandering to Sophie and what he needed to disclose to her.

She would be hurt, crushed at his disfavor when she learned of the bet. She would assume he courted her to win the thousand pounds. Believe their marriage was not one grown from affection and love but greed and amusement.

All untrue, of course. He loved her more than anything or anyone in his life, but how to prove that fact?

A light knock sounded on his door, and he sat up. "Enter," he called out, relieved to see Sophie peep about the door, her smile warming his soul and taking some of the unease away from his day.

"May I enter?" she asked, keeping to the threshold.

He waved her inside. "Of course, come in. I was just thinking about you," he said. Not an untruth, although not entirely in the way she would consider.

She entered the room and closed the door. He had not seen her since she left their bed this morning, her hair mussed from their many hours of lovemaking the night before, her body free from any garments, including her shift.

His heart gave a pang at how beautiful she was and how fortunate he was to have found her. To have married her. Today she wore a rose-colored morning gown with a short-sleeved spencer and bonnet with matching ribbons.

"You look like springtime personified," he teased.

She untied her hat and set it on the edge of his desk before coming about and sitting on his lap. "I missed you too," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He pulled her close, breathing in her sweet scent that reminded him of jasmine. He stroked her back, her hip, unable to stop touching her. "I have thought of nothing but you all morning. It seems we're truly what one would term newlyweds."

She chuckled, and he reveled in the sound of her happiness. He did not want to admit to the fault that lay in his past. He never wished to hurt her, and the Whites betting book was not what he should have put his name to. In fact, the book should be removed altogether, unfair as it was to the fairer sex, who was usually the target of the men's taunts.

"And is there anything wrong with that?" She closed the space between them and kissed him. He threw himself into the kiss to forget his guilt but for a moment.

She was all soft and womanly curves, everything he adored and could not assuage himself of. A fire lit within him, and he had to have her to remind himself that she was his and nothing would tear them apart, not even a stupid, foolish bet.

He lifted her in his arms, smiled at her faint squeal of surprise, and placed her on his desk. He reached for the hem of her gown, lifting it out of his way to pool at her waist.

Her eyes widened and then darkened with need when she realized his intent. She kissed him hard, her tongue teasing, begging him not to stop. He ripped at his falls, his cock hard and heavy in his hands.

Before he could take her, she reached for him and stroked him toward madness. His balls tightened, and he reveled in her touch before he could take no more.

"I have to have you," he panted, stepping between her legs. He hoisted her close to the side of the desk, his body craving her, wanting her with a madness that was both frightening and welcome.

She wrapped her legs around his back, her fingers gripped his shoulders, and both moaned when he slipped into her quim. He watched himself take her, slide in and out of her wet notch, his tackle hardening at the erotic vision she made.

Her sob almost undid him, and he thrust into her, taking her with relentless strokes. She kissed him, and it was too much. Her cunny spasmed about his rod, drawing his release forward, and he came hard as her pleasure rippled through her.

He swallowed her scream with a kiss and reveled in the ebb and flow of their orgasms. She rested her head against his chest as they struggled to catch their breaths. "I did not expect such a delightful welcome when I came in here, Your Grace," she teased, using his title.

He slipped free of her, settling her gown back over her knees before tidying up his appearance. His heart raced, and her bedraggled, newly fucked appearance made him want her again.

"I like to please my duchess whenever and however I can."

She slipped from the desk, touching him through his breeches. His cock jumped, and he pressed into her hold. "I'm glad of it, and I look forward to doing this again. Tonight."

As did he, forgetting what he had planned on disclosing to her but minutes before.