Badcock (10 page)

“It was simply awful,” Sophia said, quickly catching the attention of the other ladies. “The things that highwayman forced me to do!”

Miss Markham’s brown eyes widened. “W-what sort of things?”

“I swore I would never speak of it,” Sophia said dramatically. “But you are my friends. I can tell you, can I not?”

“Of course you can,” Miss Pettigrew blurted.

“Did he…did he…have you?” Miss Markham inquired boldly.

Sophia’s eyes darted to Lady Huntingdon’s. “Several times.”

The other ladies gasped but Lady Huntingdon’s eyes narrowed.

Miss Pettigrew placed her hand over Sophia’s. “You must have been terrified.”

Sophia nodded. “Even now, I fear he will steal into my room at night and have his way with me again.”

Miss Markham fanned herself.

“
Wisbech
must be sorely disappointed that he will not be your first,” Lady Huntingdon said, her voice low and menacing.

Sophia shrugged. “What’s done is done,” she said simply. “But I doubt anything in my life will ever match the excitement I experienced at the hands of the highwayman.”

Miss Pettigrew sighed. “Oh, I wish he would abduct me.”

“And me!” Miss Markham added.

The two girls giggled hysterically and fantasized aloud about highwaymen. Sophia looked at Lady Huntingdon and lifted her chin haughtily. She knew the woman had expected her to fold, to wither and whine, but Sophia had not and would not give her the satisfaction.

Lady Huntingdon, however, had a surprise for which Sophia was not prepared. “Speaking of seducers,” Lady Huntingdon said sweetly. “I haven’t told you on whom we plan on calling.”

“Where are we going?”

“Do tell?”

Sophia’s insides hollowed.

Lady Huntingdon’s gaze bore into Sophia’s. “To
Amberley
, John Badcock, Earl of Stafford’s country house.”

* * * * *

Sophia shook as the four of them alighted the carriage in front of
Amberley
. She sucked in a breath as she took in the grandeur of the manor. A new façade had been added to the front but it blended seamlessly with the rest of the architecture. Ivy meandered gracefully up the gray stone on one side. Roses of all colors grew in pots and along trellises. Two great wolfhounds raced around the corner of the manor and bounded toward them.

“Murphy! O’Malley! Heel!” a voice boomed.

Looking in the direction of the sound, Sophia shielded her eyes with her hand. Her stomach turned a somersault.

Jack sauntered toward them, pausing to give his obedient dogs a pat on the head before continuing. When he saw her, his eyes widened but quickly, the mask descended again. He would not divulge their secret to these other women.

God in heaven, why did he have to be so handsome? Clad in form-fitting cream riding breeches, black boots, a fine linen shirt and a pale green waistcoat, the sight of him took her breath.

As usual, strands of his loosely queued hair provocatively escaped a ribbon as black as his own locks.

His eyes grew dark as he neared Sophia. She sank into a curtsy.

“Lord Stafford, I’ve brought some of the local ladies to call on you,” Lady Huntingdon trilled.

His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “Lady Huntingdon,” he greeted tersely and then his gaze found Sophia’s.

She swallowed thickly.

“Sophia,” he said with a respectful nod.

Her face blazed. “Lord Stafford,” she said softly while Lady Huntingdon looked on with wicked satisfaction.

After introductions were made, Jack invited them inside.

The house was so large Sophia had assumed it would be cold and unwelcoming. She was wrong. The interior was as opulent as the exterior. Richly patterned wallpaper lined the walls. Hardly any space was devoid of an ancestor’s portrait or countryside landscape.

A dark Tudor stairwell ascended to the upper floors.

The scent of leather and wood fires and Jack permeated the entire structure, making Sophia long to return to that cozy lodge nestled deep in the woods.

Her gaze scanned the thick wooden beams in the ceiling. So this was where he lived. And slept. And bathed. And breathed. Chills raced up and down her arms despite the late spring warmth.

Their little party followed Jack into the drawing room. The heels of Sophia’s shoes sank into the thick carpet covering the floor. Jack’s dogs trotted to a massive fireplace where they curled up on thick pillows Sophia assumed had been made just for their comfort. Books filled the bookcases that stretched to the high ceiling and what wall space wasn’t consumed by bookshelves was taken up by more portraits and landscape paintings. The heavy drapes had been drawn so the midday sun could spill through the tall windows.

Once all the ladies had seated themselves upon the plush chairs and settees, a servant appeared with a tray of refreshments.

Jack sat casually in a chair that appeared to have been made for him. Long fingers curled around the armrests. His legs were crossed, drawing Sophia’s attention to the thick muscles in his thighs—muscles she’d felt contract against her while he’d pumped into her.

She inhaled as her gaze drew to the bulge at the juncture of his thighs. What was this wild need to be joined with him? Why him? Was it because he’d had her? She forced her eyes to his face and their gazes met briefly before he nonchalantly looked away.

In public, he could be so cool and calm. So cavalier. She, however, felt as if every nerve in her body was about to snap.

She glanced at Lady Huntingdon, who watched them both like a cat toying with its prey.

As the others discussed the weather, parties and other mundane subjects, Sophia sat, her mind a thousand leagues away.

Her marriage to Ralph was in days. Days. And here she was, in the drawing room of the most enigmatic man she’d ever known—a man who dominated her thoughts and her fantasies—a man about whom she harbored a dangerous infatuation.

Certainly these feelings churning inside her weren’t love. But as she looked around his home and drank in the comfortable surrounds, the well-thumbed books, the contented hounds and the easy, unpretentious grace, she knew she
could
love Jack.

He uncrossed his legs and readjusted himself in his chair. Without looking directly at him, Sophia’s gaze held him whole. Every movement, every breath, every tap of his finger on the armrest caused desire to unfurl and pool in her loins.

“My lady,” he said, his voice ripping her from her reverie.

“Yes?” she said.

“I had asked the ladies if they might care to take a turn on the grounds. It’s such a lovely day and a shame to waste the sunlight. My gardener says he expects rain tomorrow,” Jack said gently.

She nodded. “Yes, that would be nice.”

He slapped his thighs as he stood. “Well, then. Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm to Miss Pettigrew.

Sophia knew circumstances forbade him to offer his arm to her but still she smarted that Miss Pettigrew could take slight advantage of a touch that would right now mean the world to Sophia.

As they strolled out the double doors leading into the garden, Lady Huntingdon sidled up next to her. Sophia shrank.

“How does it feel to be in his presence and know he has not a care for you?” Lady Huntingdon asked under her breath.

Mistress…

He’d asked her to be his mistress. Certainly, that had to indicate she meant something to him. She wanted to blurt it out to Lady Huntingdon but she daren’t. The vile woman would twist even that small triumph into something sordid and ugly.

This time, Sophia heeded the voice in her head that told her to keep quiet. Anything she said to Lady Huntingdon now would result in her causing a scene.

“Lady Huntingdon,” Jack called. “Come have a look my roses.”

Lady Huntingdon gave Sophia a little smile of impious victory before she rushed to Jack’s side.

At the risk of being thought of as pensive, Sophia took the opportunity to wander away from the others.

Jack’s garden was lush and informal, like the rest of his home. Like him. Sophia could not help but imagine herself the mistress of
Amberley
. With Jack, it seemed as if all the rigid mores of society faded into the distance, as if she could once again be that carefree sprite she’d been for two days in the arms of a highwayman.

Now that highwayman’s face was just ghostly hidden smoke in her mind, replaced by an earl who’d scarcely acknowledged her.

This place, this life, this man would never be hers. Not even if she accepted the offer to become his mistress.

She’d wandered so far into the garden she could no longer see the others. There were only the chirping birds, the warm sunlight on her cheeks and bosom and the pebbled path under her feet. When she came upon a concrete bench, she arranged her skirts and sat.

She suddenly heard something stampeding through the thick bushes. Startled, she looked up to discover one of Jack’s dogs loping toward her. At once, the animal was upon her, his massive gray head nuzzling her hands, begging to be petted.

Sophia scratched the dog’s ears. “Which one are you?” she asked. “Murphy or O’Malley?”

“Murphy.”

Sophia’s gaze shot to Jack who stood admiring her from the path.

“That’s enough, Murphy,” he said, coming closer. The dog bounded away.

“I’m sorry,” Sophia blurted. “I didn’t know Lady Huntingdon —”

“Neither did I,” he said, taking his seat next to her on the bench.

Instinctively, Sophia tensed. His heat radiated, warming her bare wrist. His proximity caused tingles to skitter up and down her spine.

“Your home is…lovely,” Sophia said.

“You don’t find it too shabby?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she said. “I find it…comfortable.”

A little smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I didn’t appreciate this place until I returned from Europe.”

“Ah, yes, I recall you’ve been abroad.”

“I toured the continent for several years…until my father fell ill.” He sighed. “Shortly after I returned, he died.”

“I’m sorry,” Sophia said, not knowing what else to say to comfort him. Boldly, she placed her hand over his.

The muscles and bones in his hand tensed but only for a brief second before he twisted his hand and laced his fingers with hers.

Sophia’s heart thundered.

“Have you reconsidered my offer?” he inquired.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I will take whatever little piece of yourself you can give to me.
“No,” she replied. “There are my parents to consider. My father has gone to tremendous lengths to see that I am well married.”

Jack snorted. “What about
Wisbech
? Where does he fit into your considerations?”

“
Wisbech
is a brute.”

“A brute to whom you are engaged to be married,” Jack said. “Why did you choose him? Why did you agree?”

“Agree? I had no say in the matter. My father’s lawyers and
Wisbech’s
lawyers drew up the contract and I was
told
I would be marrying him,” Sophia said.

“When is your wedding?” he asked.

“Saturday.”

“And you are resolved to go through with it?” Jack asked.

“If I don’t marry Ralph, no one else will offer for me. I’m spoiled goods. Remember?” What good was arguing with Jack when she wanted so desperately to feel his mouth on hers? Sophia’s head ached.

His lips set in a grim line and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “If you accept my offer, I will provide for you and—”

She cut him off. “If I accept your offer, I will be shunned by my family, my friends. I will be a pariah in society, unfit to attend parties or balls.”

“You could live in Paris. You could have a marvelous life there if you would but accept,” he offered, caressing her palm with his thumb.

It all sounded so wonderful. So right. But then, she recalled that he would be married to another, beholden to another. It would never be enough for her. Even though mistresses and lovers abounded in the lives of married men and women, the thought of sharing him was unthinkable.

“Sophia, you do know that if circumstances were different, that if you and I were both free, I would—”

“Don’t say it,” she whispered urgently. She couldn’t allow herself to hear the words, not when exhilaration and heartbreak vied for prominence within her soul.

He inhaled. “Don’t let Lady Huntingdon taunt you. She’ll tell you vile stories about me.”

Sophia parted her lips to protest, to tell him that she would never believe anything bad about him but he continued before she had a chance to speak.

“Before I returned here, before my father died, I lived a reckless life,” he confessed. “I drank heartily. I loved whomever I pleased without a care for the consequences. Lady Huntingdon was a woman I felt could take care of herself. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed I would have quickly seen that you weren’t her.”

“Are…are you saying what happened between us was a mistake?” Sophia asked, her voice tremulous.

He placed her hand back in her own lap. “I am trying, once again, to apologize.”

“No, Jack,” Sophia said. Panic surged. Something monumentally awful was about to happen. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. And in a futile attempt to stop it, to stop him from saying the words, she said, “I love you.”

He stared.

Sophia’s breasts heaved with quick breaths. “I do. I love you.”

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment and then he opened them. “Sophia, it was a mistake. You were a mistake. Had I known, I would never have taken you that day.”

Hot tears stung her eyes. “Jack—”

He gained his feet. “It was a mistake.” And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the thick garden.

Sophia swatted at the tears that spilled from her eyes. What had she done? What had she admitted? Oh, dear God, why had she made such a grievous error? What could she have possibly gained from it?

Looking up at the sky, she blinked, trying to dry her tears. It would not do for Lady Huntingdon or the other ladies to see she’d been crying.

Sophia breathed as deeply as she could given her tight stays. Jack had made his intentions abundantly clear. She’d acted foolishly. She’d allowed herself to fall for a man she could never have—a man who would take her as his mistress but not his wife.