Badcock (18 page)
“But I saw the countess leaving and—” she began.
“Ah,” he interjected. “Yes. She’s gone.”
“Gone?” Sophia asked. “I don’t understand. She left? Because of me?”
Jack nodded. “Yes.”
Sophia hung her head. “I’m sorry.”
He tilted her chin up so that she looked into his eyes. “Sorry? I thought you’d be happy.”
“I would never do anything to jeopardize your future,” she said.
He laughed heartily. “Sophia, you silly minx. I asked her to leave. I cried off.”
Sophia stared, disbelieving.
“I told her I couldn’t marry her,” he continued.
“But—”
“How could I have possibly married her…when I am so utterly in love with you?”
Sophia’s lips parted. She wanted to pinch herself to make certain she was not dreaming. He
loved
her?
“As it turns out, she is in love with some Russian nobleman. She was thrilled to break the engagement,” Jack explained.
Speechless, Sophia searched his eyes. She could hardly believe it. Too much had happened for her to absorb it all.
One side of Jack’s mouth twisted into a lopsided winsome smile. “Darling, will you marry me?”
Marry him? Marry Jack? Sophia smiled as she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Everything she had ever hoped for, everything she had ever wanted, hovered within her reach. Everything. But rather than answering him with words, she fell into his embrace and responded with a kiss that would leave Jack Badcock, Earl of Stafford, without a doubt that her answer was yes.
Epilogue
The cloud of scandal had completely dissipated by the time Sophia and Jack married. As it turned out, everyone in society had regarded Lord
Wisbech
as a brute and no one was surprised that he’d tried to murder Jack.
While Sophia’s parents, looking to avoid public scandal, came to the wedding, Sophia had relatively little to do with them beforehand. Her mother had tearfully begged her forgiveness and Sophia had happily given it to her.
But while Sophia’s parents and most of the
haut ton
had been in attendance to witness the marriage between the two lovebirds, one person had been conspicuously absent—Lady Huntingdon.
Sophia hadn’t been shocked to hear the gossip from her friends, Misses Pettigrew and Markham. Apparently Lord Huntingdon had discovered Lady Huntingdon engaged in a compromising position with the gardener and, weary of her exploits, had sent her to spend the rest of her days in a convent.
The two young women didn’t know enough to relate all the details, but Jack had learned through friends that the gardener had given Lady Huntingdon the dreaded pox. Sophia found it difficult to feel sorry for the woman, knowing the part she played in the horrible events that nearly cost Jack his life.
Their wedding had been the high society event last fall and even though she and Jack regularly enjoyed each other’s company, they had not returned to the hunting lodge together since the mishap.
Today, that would change. History would be laid to rest with only the good memories remaining.
Sophia smiled to herself as she sat atop the mare that had been sired by Armageddon before the horse’s tragic death. This horse, named Storm, was just as beautiful, if not a smarter horse, than Armageddon and Sophia had been thrilled when Jack had presented her with the stunning black mare.
Although Hobbes, some of the staff and the coachman knew, Jack had no idea what Sophia had in store for him.
Spring thunder rumbled in the distance and she glanced back at the darkening sky, hoping the carriage would come along soon. Finally, she heard the rumble of wheels accompanied by the pounding of hooves on the road. The Stafford coach rolled into view.
Grinning, Sophia checked to make sure her domino mask was in place before she adjusted her feathered cock hat and drew her pistol. Spurring Storm, she rode full out toward Jack’s coach, rearing to a dramatic halt just beside the passenger door as the carriage ground to a halt. “Stand and deliver!”
Jack’s hearty laugh pealed in her ears as he stepped out of the coach.
About the Author
Growing up in the south, where the air is thick with stories steeped in legend and truth, Debra came by her love of romance novels honestly. Well…sort of. At an early age, she pilfered from her grandmother’s extensive library and has been a fan of the genre since.
A full-time freelance writer, Debra especially enjoys combining history, mystery and a touch of taboo to weave stories with unforgettable, haunted heroes.
She lives in Alabama with her sexy real life hero, a couple of smart-aleck ghosts and a diabolical black cat.
Debra welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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