Chapter Five

Sophie set the quill aside and stared down at her signature on the parish registry that the queen had so astutely commanded the clergyman to bring along. It was done. She turned away, the vows she had just taken still ringing in her ears.

Thank heavens Nash had held her unconventionally close during the ceremony, or she would have surely swayed off balance and toppled over in a dead swoon. She swallowed hard. That thought shamed her. A swoon. Indeed. She, who feared nothing, succumbing to such a ridiculous spell of weakness. She was tempted to snort at the very idea, but didn’t dare, since Maman and the queen stood close enough to hear. But in all fairness, she had every right to faint if she so wished it. Not only was she now married to the man she had once loved beyond all imagining, but someone in this very room might be the blackmailer threatening them all. How had her carefully orchestrated life spun out of control so quickly?

“You are even lovelier today than you were yesterday. How is that possible, my swan?” Nash’s warm breath tickled across her bare shoulder. His tender kisses along her nape sent a series of shivers rippling through her. “You need to breathe,” he whispered, “or I shall be forced to sweep you up into my arms to prevent you from injuring yourself when you wilt to the floor.”

“I am fine,” she muttered. Her maid had tied her corset so tightly that her breasts nearly touched her chin. If he dared lift or jostle her, she would surely spill over the top of her gown. The revealing creation in her favorite shade of violet was shot through with silver threadwork that formed lilies, vines, and an abundance of delicate foliage. Tiny pearls encrusted the lace around the neckline that exposed her shoulders. The same stiff, pearly lace created the band around the empire waistline and hemmed the short, puffy sleeves.

She should not have chosen this garment from her wardrobe of finery that was worn to only the most formal of occasions. The abundance of lace stiffened with pearls and silver threadwork tickled and scratched as if she’d fallen into a thicket of nettles. She subtly rolled her shoulders, trying to soothe her poor, itching flesh with a surreptitious wriggle. The uncomfortable gown also weighed as much as a small pony, and she couldn’t draw in a deep breath to save her soul because of the tightness of her infernal stays. The physical discomfort only worsened the disquieting uneasiness that she was now married to a man who had never wanted her.

“Sophie?” He lightly kissed her shoulder again.

“Stop distracting me!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I am trying to espy the blackmailer.” She partially turned and shot him a glare she hoped he would take to heart. “As you should be doing, my dear husband. Remember Maman’s training?”

The smile he gave her triggered another tingling shiver that pooled into a longing ache in her center. Merciful heavens! Why did he have to look at her that way?

“My dear husband,” he repeated in a low, seductive rumble. “I rather like the sound of that.”

“It thrills me to no end that you enjoy being leg-shackled,” she said, without looking back at him again. She couldn’t concentrate because of his present behavior. The man had no shame. He should be alert and looking for the scheming devil that created this mess, not putting on a show for Maman and the queen.

He gently spun her around to face him. “Those in this room are the queen’s most trusted. Not only did she vouch for them after we shared the latest note with her, but I met them all years ago.” He arched a brow. “Her Highness is quite shrewd, I assure you.” He tucked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him, something that infuriated her to no end and made her twitch to slap his hand away. She was not a child. How dare he treat her that way?

“Think about it, Sophie,” he continued. “The blackmailer is a coward working in the shadows to benefit from everyone else’s fears. No matter what rumors they attempt to spread, we have completed the first step in disproving them and preventing a scandal.” He leaned in closer, making her heart pound harder. “And it must have occurred to you that the best way to oust someone such as our blackmailer is to act as though we couldn’t care less about what they have threatened. It angers them because we dare them to prove they will do what they say.” He brushed the lightest of kisses across her cheek, yet it was powerful enough to steal every breath from her lungs. “Play the part, my precious swan,” he whispered against her ear. “Do not allow them to control the situation.”

“I knew the two of you would suit,” Queen Charlotte proclaimed as she swept up to them in a stunning gown of gold and shimmering silver. “You may thank me now.”

“We are ever so grateful, Your Majesty.” Sophie curtsied low and kept her gaze downcast, struggling not to choke on the lie. Yes, she had once loved Nash, but it was far too late to indulge in those feelings now. She had to maintain control.

“Indeed we are,” Nash echoed with an obedient bow. “Most grateful.”

The queen beamed at them. “You may show me your appreciation by naming your first daughter Charlotte. You have my blessing to do so.”

Sophie forced a smile that made her cheeks ache. “Thank you so much, Your Majesty. It will be our delight.”

“Charlotte Lavinia does have a ring to it,” the dowager countess said as she joined them. “We must take our leave now, my dear children. Our beloved queen grows weary and should seek her rest.” She cast a concerned glance at the monarch’s slightly swollen hands. “Thank you so much for today, Your Majesty. Your kindness and generosity are more appreciated than you could ever imagine.”

Queen Charlotte acknowledged the dowager’s sentiments with a regal tip of her head, then glanced around and motioned for them all to move in closer. “The announcement will happen tomorrow,” she said in a hushed tone. “Edwards has seen to it, as well as to the erection of the headstone in Calais where the fourth earl wished to be laid to rest. A coffin of an appropriate weight to be convincing shall be sent there, guarded by two of my best, of course.” The queen lowered her voice even more. “A carriage accident brought on by highwaymen giving chase is how the poor earl died.” She cast another covert glance at the servants tending to the elaborate tea she had provided, then turned to Nash. “You will receive Georgie’s proclamation naming you the new Earl of Rydleshire week after next in a letter bearing his seal and mine. Even though the family will still officially be in mourning, there is no need to wait to announce the new earl because of the possibility of there being another heir. All will be complete then, and the blackmailer can say whatever they desire.”

“I still mean to capture the devil,” Sophie couldn’t resist saying.

Maman cleared her throat. “Thank you again, Your Majesty. Please try to rest now, my precious queen. I worry about you.”

Queen Charlotte reached out and took the dowager countess’s hands. “You are one of the few who does indeed worry about me for me and not for what I can do for them. Your friendship is priceless to me, Nia.”

“As is yours to me, dear lady,” Sophie’s mother whispered.

Sophie realized Nash was gently tugging for her to join him and give the two women what little privacy a room full of servants might grant them. She hooked her arm through his and released a heavy sigh that did nothing to ease her tension as they stepped out into the sunshine. “Queen Charlotte is not well.”

“No. She is not.”

“Maman has a wedding supper planned for us. Nothing large, mind you. A small something for those not invited to join us here at Kew. Friends whose company we enjoy and those we must invite to anchor our marriage in Society’s minds.” Sophie popped her knuckles, then cast a quick glance back to make sure her mother wasn’t close enough to hear what she had done.

“It would be wiser for you to check for your mother’s whereabouts before making that hideous noise rather than after. You do realize that, do you not?” He grinned down at her.

She found his lightheartedness difficult to understand, then realized the probable cause. In a short time, the man would be an earl, a member of the aristocracy—a rare advancement in status for someone who was not a member of the royal family. As much as she did not want to believe that was the real motive for his making the best of things, as he kept telling her to do, it had to be a factor. After all, he had never loved or wanted her as she had wanted him. Why would he do so now?

“Sophie?” His amusement vanished, replaced by gentle concern as he took her gloved hand and held it between both of his. “Many marriages have started far less amicably than ours, my swan. Do not worry. At the very least, we will be lifelong friends.”

She didn’t want another friend. She wanted to be loved and adored the way Maman still loved and adored Papa. With a forced smile, she offered him a subtle warning. “I have heard it said that swans can be very vicious creatures.”

“They are also known to be true to their mates for life.”

“A pity the same cannot be said for people. Especially men. I am sure Lady Margaret Shireton would agree with me, as well as several other ladies of your acquaintance.”

He released her hand and stepped back, making her immediately regret the childish retort. It was too late now. After all, there was no such thing as un-ringing a bell.

She turned and scowled at the door. “Where is Maman? She was the one urging us to leave the queen in peace.” She shaded her eyes and glanced skyward, then gathered up her full skirts and stepped up to the carriage. “Do help me inside, Nash. The sun is quite warm, and I left my parasol at home.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

All friendliness and good humor had left him, and it was her fault. She clenched her teeth, scolding herself for allowing the situation to turn her into an ugly, waspish little wretch. Her irritation with herself swelled to epic proportions when he sat in the seat opposite her rather than beside her.

“Nash?”

He glared at her with the barest level of civility. “Yes?”

She chided herself without mercy. She hated apologizing, but he deserved it. “I am sorry I offended you. That was not my intent.”

“Indeed, it was your intent, Sophie. Pray, do not further insult me by feigning otherwise and expecting me to accept it.” He dismissed her with a frustrated shake of his head and shifted his focus to something outside the window. The resentment in his tone made the scolding sting even more.

She had earned that dressing-down, and now needed to find a way to make amends.

The sunlight streaming in brought out the coppery hues in the autumnal gold of his stylishly cropped hair and enhanced the strong, angular cut of his jaw. The man had aged so well. Too well. His youthful softness of ten years ago had become the captivating hardness of the present. He was breathtaking in military dress, resplendent with gold braid and medals, his sword, and highly polished Hessians.

She clasped her hands in her lap, fighting not to work her fingers and make her knuckles pop. She could not condemn him for his irritation. After all, she deserved it. What was it he always said? Might as well make the best of things? How might she make the best of this? She leaned forward and peered at the palace’s doorway. Perhaps if she changed the subject, his ruffled feathers might slowly smooth back down. “Should we go back inside and see if everything is all right?”

“No.”

A frustrated huff slipped free of her before she could stop it.

He tore his glare from the window and locked eyes with her. “Forgive me. No, my lady.”

“That is not why I huffed. I am frustrated because I allowed my foolish emotions to take control of my tongue for a mere second, and now we are at odds even though you have been nothing but thoughtful and kind to me since our reunion.” The longer she thought about the entire situation, the more overset she became. “But you must admit, it is only natural for me to believe that the primary reason you are being so infuriatingly pleasant is that, in a short time, you will ascend to the aristocracy as an earl. Quite the feat for a knight. Would you not agree?”

He stared at her, slowly narrowing his eyes as if homing in on his prey. His anger made his glare even frostier.

“Well, why else would you be so happy today?” she asked when he remained silent. In for a penny, in for a pound. “It is certainly not because you are thrilled to be my husband. You rarely noticed me when we were younger, and when you did, it was only to be mean and try to shoo me away. You yourself admitted you found me dreadfully annoying.”

“Why can you not let go of the past? We are no longer those two people.”

“You hurt me.”

“And I have apologized. Repeatedly,” he growled. “What more can I do? I cannot take us back in time and do things differently to change your memories or your low opinion of me.”

“Bellowing is not necessary.” She popped her knuckles.

“Apparently, it is,” he said, still speaking quite loudly. “Because you act as if you have never heard me say any of this before.”

“Deny that you are pleased to become an earl,” she dared him.

“Bloody hell, Sophie! You cannot be that deluded. What the blazes do I know about being an earl? From everything I ever observed, I want no part of your Polite Society. I wanted a career in the army, and yet, because I managed to calm the king one fateful afternoon, here I am in the bloody thick of things, right where I never wished to be. My father’s saying is undeniably true.”

“What saying?”

“No good deed goes unpunished.”

She had never seen this side of him before. Vulnerable. Uncertain. Anxious. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it, uncertain what to say to repair the damage she had done.

“I am sorry,” she finally whispered.

He remained silent, his jaw flexing as he resumed staring out the window.

“I am not an expert either when it comes to Polite Society,” she continued. “I snort when I laugh, crack my knuckles when I am nervous or thinking, and would rather be riding than enduring an evening at Almack’s.”

He still did not speak. Nor did he look at her.

She didn’t know what else to say, so she returned to watching the doorway for her mother. “For all the good it will do, I will try to help you all I can. Maman will too. She likes you very much. Always has.”

Ever so slowly, he pulled his gaze from whatever he had been staring at and settled it on her. “You truly felt the only reason I was doing my best to be pleasant today was because of the title?”

“I did.”

A frustrated groan rumbled free of him, and he sagged forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and scrubbed his face with both his hands. “You and I appear to have a great deal to overcome, my lady.”

“It would seem so.” She tucked the fullness of her gown’s voluminous skirt tighter against her and patted the seat. “Please sit beside me. I shall do my very best to be the devoted swan rather than the vicious one.”

He lifted his head and studied her with such weariness that her heart ached for him. “Will you also do your best to remember that I will never intentionally do anything to cause you harm or pain?”

“I will.” She patted the seat again and offered him what she hoped he would take as a smile from the heart. “You have been extremely patient and kind, while I have…not been. But I shall do better. I promise.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I will believe that when I see it.” He switched seats and settled down beside her.

While she did not appreciate his candor, she understood it and refused to take offense. She had been insufferably mean to him today. “I shall prove it to you, my dearest cob. Just wait and see.”

“Dearest cob?”

“Of course.” She couldn’t resist a teasing smile. “A male swan is a cob.”

The way he arched his brow made him even more handsome. “Then that would make you my precious pen.”

“Indeed, it would.”

The carriage door opened, preventing further reparations as Maman stuck her head inside. “Her Majesty has requested my company for a while longer. Go along home and ensure that Thornton and Mrs. Thornton have everything ready for this evening. I am sure they will, but they appreciate it when we consult with them. I shall be along as soon as Her Majesty tires of me.”

“We shall send the carriage back for you,” Nash promised.

The dowager accepted with a nod, then waved. “On with you now, my children.”

“Goodbye, Maman.” Sophie offered a less-than-enthusiastic wave out the window as the carriage lurched into motion. Something was amiss, and she neither liked nor appreciated being left wondering what it might be.

She ran her gloved finger under the vicious lace of her sleeve, trying to soothe her poor, itching flesh. “If I ever mention pearl-encrusted lace to the modiste ever again, remind me of the torture of this dress.”

Nash set her ablaze with a devilish smile. “Never fear, my lady. I shall endeavor to have you out of that dress as quickly as possible once we reach home.”

She found herself at a loss for words. Apparently, his ill mood had vanished, and he had heartily returned to his make the best of things demeanor. An astonishingly hot flush ran through her, and she knew she must appear as red as a beetroot. Without a thought of what it might look like, she ran her finger behind the lace along her low neckline. “Oh my. I am suddenly quite warm, and that makes me itch even more.”

“Shall I help you with that, my precious pen?”

“Uhm…here? In the carriage? Absolutely not, but thank you—dear cob.” She fanned herself with her hand, wishing she had brought along her sturdiest fan. Surely he had not meant to… That they would… Surely not here in the carriage, where anyone bothering to glance into the windows as they passed through the streets of London could see?

She swallowed hard and stole a glance his way. He had meant to right here in the carriage. She could see it in his eyes. “Oh my,” she repeated on a breathy exhale.

The rumble of his deep, satisfied laugh chased all lingering doubts from her mind. He lifted her hand for a kiss, then paused and frowned down at it. “The first thing I shall do when we are alone in our bedchamber is rid you of these annoying gloves that bar me from the sweetness of your silky skin.” A thrilling hunger smoldered in his tone, making her catch her breath again. In a voice husky with even more intent, he continued, “Of course, the sweetness of your hands is merely a start. I fully intend to taste every delicious inch of you.”

“But we…we have guests coming. R-remember?” Since when had she developed such an embarrassing stutter? He would surely think her the silliest of ninnies.

He boldly traced his fingertip along her neckline, stroking her flesh and making her completely forget the scratchy lace. “Our guests will not arrive till supper. That leaves us plenty of time to acquaint ourselves with each other and forge a much stronger truce between us.” He cupped her cheek and leaned closer, trapping her in the intensity of his gaze. “I want you so enamored with our present that you never allow the past to come between us ever again.” His fingers slid up into her hair as he leaned in and kissed her with such tenderness that she prayed he would never stop.

She almost cried out when he lifted his head and looked down into her eyes again.

“We could be very happy together, Sophie,” he whispered. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

She reached up and touched his cheek, losing herself in the brilliance of his eyes that were no longer icy. “Happiness would be quite nice,” she said. “Happiness for both of us.”

As he took her mouth once more, he slid his arms around her and gathered her close. The hunger in his kiss claimed her heart and soul, rekindling every fierce yearning she had ever possessed for him. It was everything she had ever dreamed a kiss from him would be and even more.

The intensity of the feeling terrified her. If she opened her heart to him, she would be even more vulnerable than that silly, wishful girl of ten years ago.

“Let it go, Sophie,” he whispered across her lips as if reading her mind.

She pulled back and stared at him. “How did you know?”

“You tensed, my precious swan. Almost recoiled within yourself. Like a soldier raising a shield to deflect the attack.”

“I find the fact that you read me so easily on just the second day of our reacquaintance quite disturbing.” She ran her thumb along his jawline, enjoying the way the barely emerged stubble caused her glove to drag. The satin would be irreparably roughened, but she didn’t care. “I do not recall your being so astute when Maman tested us on our lessons.”

“Shall I share something with you that I am sure you will find most amusing?”

She slid her hands downward and rested them on his chest, enjoying that he made no move to release her from his embrace. “Please do.”

“Your mother intimidated the bloody hell out of me.”

If not for the solemness of his expression, she would accuse him of mocking her. But the look in his eyes gave testament to his every word.

“Maman always instructed us with the greatest patience. How could you find her intimidating?”

“Her reputation preceded her. Not only that, but she always seemed to know what we were thinking.”

“She still does.” Sophie couldn’t agree more on that particular talent of her mother’s.

“Might I have another kiss now, my lady?” he asked. “While your mother is a most interesting topic of conversation, I would rather we concentrate on each other.”

Sophie’s heart beat faster, making it quite difficult to breathe. “I do enjoy your kisses. They are the best I have ever had.”

“You have kissed another?” His muscular arms tightened around her, flexing in the most delightfully possessive way.

She was tempted to lie to tease him but thought better of it. “Yours are the only real kisses I have ever experienced. So, of course, they are the best because I have nothing with which to compare them.” Unable to keep from smiling at his reaction, she continued, “If I didn’t know any better, my fine cob, I would say you were momentarily jealous.”

“I want to be your first,” he said, all levity gone. “In everything.”

“I see.” She leaned in, breathing him in as she pressed her cheek to his. “I only know what I have read,” she whispered against his ear. “But do not tell Maman I found her books. She would not be pleased.”

This time, he was the one who drew back. He lifted both his brows. “Books?”

“Some would consider Maman’s collection quite scandalous. Well, most would, actually.” Sophie felt the heat of another furious blush rising. One that promised to turn her entire body red and make her wish she had not broached the subject. She patted his chest. “Manuals, you might say. In fact, I believe that is what Maman called them when she caught me with them once.”

“Manuals about…?”

“Well, what do you think they were about?” she whispered without really knowing why, since it was just the two of them in the carriage.

His slow smile made her flush even hotter. Merciful heavens, she would surely burst into flames soon. She cleared her throat and struggled to assume a level of sternness. “And what is that smile supposed to insinuate?”

“It insinuates I am looking forward to learning about your studies.”