Summoner of Sins (The Duke Fraternity #3)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sophie woke as the sun rose. She was in the protective circle of Max’s arms, his body wrapped securely around hers. It had been so long since she’d felt anything other than sustained. Now, she felt loved, protected, and cherished. She let out a sigh of contentment, not certain she ever wished to leave. His arms tightened around her as his nose buried into her hair.

“Good morning.” His deep baritone rumbled through her, and she mused to herself that he had the most wonderful voice.

She was glad he became increasingly free with how he spoke to her. “Good morning,” she smiled into the pillow. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Plenty,” he said, running a hand down her bare arm. “You?”

“Good,” she answered, burrowing deeper into him. She’d like to sleep like this every night, surrounded by his heat and strength. Her chemise had ridden up so that most of her legs were exposed. His hand slid under the covers and then down the skin of her leg, tickling down to her knee. She let out a small giggle, his matching rumble of laughter reverberating through her.

He kissed the spot on her neck, behind her ear, tingles cascading from the spot. Her breath caught even as he slid his hand back up to her hip, pressing her deeper into the cradle of his hips. His manhood nestled into the softness of her behind and she swirled her hips to rub against his hardness. She heard his rumbling growl of satisfaction as he moved his hand between her thighs.

“Sophie?” Abigail’s small voice called from the other room, floating through the open door.

With a small sigh, Sophie pushed up. “I’ll be right there.”

Max pushed up on his elbow and kissed the spot on her back between her shoulder blades. “Duty calls.”

“I’m sorry.” She twisted around to kiss his forehead. “It’s been a lot of new places lately. She’s feeling insecure.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, squeezing her again. “I love the way you take care of her.”

Her heart swelled to hear him say that. “Do you want to come?”

“Will she find it odd?”

“We can tell her that we’re marrying. I think she’ll be very excited to know we’re going to be a real family.”

“A real family,” he repeated and then, without warning, she was back on the mattress, his weight on top of her as he gave her a searing kiss.

He let her up just as quickly, pulling her from the bed, and holding her hand in his as they crossed the room together. He stopped to let her through the open door first. Abigail sat up in the bed, her legs crossed.

“Where’d you go?”

She smiled. “Max and I were chatting.”

“This early in the morning?”

Sophie laughed. “Yes. And guess what we’ve decided.”

“What?” Abigail’s eyes lit up.

“That Max and I should get married.”

Abigail was off the bed in a second, spinning around in an excited little dance. Then she stopped, cocking her head. “Can I get a doll?”

“Of course,” Max answered. “Every girl should have one.”

Abigail clapped again and then raced toward them. Clearly, Max had passed the test her four-year-old mind had concocted. Sophie caught her sister, lifted her into her arms, and hugged her close. Max wrapped his arms around them both, helping to support Abigail’s weight as he kissed the top of Sophie’s head.

“We’ll marry tomorrow, provided Ironheart can get us the license. If I’ve not made progress with Whitehouse by the day after, we’ll leave London.”

“And go where?” Sophie asked quietly, not wanting to frighten Abigail.

But it was Abigail who answered. “We’ll go home.”

“Home?”

“Back to Mama and Papa’s.”

“Oh Abby…” Sophie wanted to explain that the house wasn’t theirs any longer.

But it was Max who answered. “Not a bad idea. I wonder if the cottage is yours by right.”

“It smells here,” Abigail wrinkled her nose. Sophie could only assume the child meant London. Ironheart’s home was very well kept.

“While Ironheart is acquiring the license, I’ll speak to a barrister about the sale of my townhome.”

Sophie looked back at him, her eyes wide. “You’re serious. We’re going to leave London?”

“If you would like to, then I’d be happy to go. London was only the place I had a position, it has never had my heart.”

“Had?” she asked, looking back at him.

“I think the club is dissolving, but even if it doesn’t, it’s not the position for me now that I’ll have a family.”

“You could do Papa’s job. He counted.” Abigail added, clearly full of ideas.

Max cleared his throat. “Counted?”

“He owned a counting house,” Sophie said.

“Did he own the building?” Max asked.

“I don’t know, and my mother didn’t say. She told me to come here and seek out my uncle.”

Max grimaced. “I wonder if she worried about you taking on the responsibility or if they didn’t own either property.” He gave them both a light squeeze. “Perhaps we can start by finding out.”

Sophie looked back at him, her lips softly parted. It felt as though, piece by piece, her life was falling into place. Max was the blessing she’d always hoped for. He left shortly after, saying he had a few details to arrange. Every time he left, worry ate at her gut, but she spent the morning with her sister, making the child as comfortable as possible. After a morning spent exploring Ironheart’s home, they settled in the library to read.

As the noon hour approached, a maid appeared at the door. “Miss Wren, you have a visitor.”

Sophie’s head snapped up, her brow furrowing, when Tabbie appeared in the doorway.

She cried out, jumping up from her seat, and ran to embrace her friend. “What are you doing here?”

Tabbie hugged her tightly. “I know I ought not have come. Ironheart sent word that I shouldn’t leave my father’s house, but I had to come.”

Sophie pulled back, assessing Tabbie’s clothes. “What are you wearing?”

Tabbie laughed. “I traded with my maid, walked here, while she plays croquet in the garden pretending to be me.”

Sophie shook her head. Her friend shouldn’t have put herself in danger, but she was so glad her friend had come. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” Tabbie hugged her again. “When you didn’t come for tea, I became worried.”

Pulling the other woman aside, she whispered the events that occurred over the past few days, including Max’s proposal.

“Oh, that is wonderful!” Tabbie squeezed her hands. “But what of Lord Whitehouse?”

Sophie bit her lip. “Max doesn’t say much, but I think he’s worried.”

Tabbie frowned. “Are you worried?”

Sophie shrugged. “When Max is here, I think nothing can hurt us, but the moment he’s gone, I’m afraid he’ll be attacked, and he won’t come back.”

“If something happened to him, you come to me. I will take you and Abigail to one of my father’s other estates. He has so many, it’s easy to get lost.”

Sophie shook her head. “I could never?—”

Tabbie waved her hand. “We both know I’m not marrying. I have neither the appearance nor the inclination. We’ll be old maids together, giving Abigail the home she requires.”

Sophie hugged her friend again. Tabbie was truly a blessing she’d never imagined she’d have. “Thank you for being the most wonderful friend, I shall find a way to repay you.”

“You needn’t repay me.” Tabbie hugged her back. “Your friendship has been enough.”

“Good news,” Ironheart called from the doorway. “I’ve procured the license.”

Tabbie stiffened in Sophie’s arms. “It’s you.”

Sophie’s brows shot up at the way Tabbie prickled. “It’s you,” Ironheart rumbled back. “I told you not to come.”

“Good thing I do not take commands from arrogant dukes.” Tabbie sniffed.

Ironheart crossed the room, his long strides eating the ground between them. To Sophie, he was never commanding or particularly intimidating, preferring a jest to a growl most times. This was a completely different side to him. The way he looked at Tabbie it was…almost possessive.

How very interesting.

* * *

Max stood on the steps of his ancestral home, looking up at the tall facade with its cold gargoyles and he grimaced. He was only here for Sophie. He’d repeated that every few seconds as he rode in a hack from the barrister’s office to here. Rolling his shoulders back, he pulled the bell cord, standing straight and tall as he waited.

His father had gotten a military commission. Max was certain that his father had hoped the military would punish the stutter out of him. Max could have told him it wouldn’t work. The military’s discipline had been nothing compared to his father’s. What he’d learned in his time serving, was that his actions carried more merit than his words, and his silence held more sway than any words he’d ever spoken.

The butler opened the door, his bored expression quickly turning to shock. “Lord Maxwell.”

Max didn’t speak. He simply held out the letter he’d written. In it, he’d detailed his marriage, the fact the Duke of Ironheart was a witness, and the match was also supported by Lady Tabetha.

He wanted his father to see to Sophie’s care with whatever money he might have as an inheritance, and for his father to recognize her as his daughter-in-law. The butler took the note, opening the door wider. “You’re free to deliver this yourself.”

Max shook his head. He didn’t wish to see his father or either of his older brothers again. He turned, only to find his eldest brother, heir to the dukedom, coming toward him.

“Look at you.” His brother, the Earl of Westham, stopped. “All grown up and the most strapping of us all.”

Max didn’t answer as he drew himself up. His father had given his brothers free rein to treat Max without mercy. He had no good memories of them or his time there. Westham stopped at the bottom of the stairs, appraising Max with a certain wariness.

“Don’t look at me like you’re going to repay every deed I did as a child right this moment. I shan’t survive it, I’d dare say.”

“If I hit the way you did, then no. I don’t think you would.” To Max’s surprise, his voice held.

His brother had the decency to grimace. “He wasn’t kind to any of us, you know.”

Max nodded. He did know. His older brothers had had each other though. He’d always been everyone’s enemy.

“I’m marrying tomorrow.” He trotted down the steps, stopping in front of his brother. “And my club…”

“I know it. I was rejected.” His brother looked away. “Your doing?”

Max didn’t answer. “We’re being attacked by Lord Whitehouse.”

“That zealot?” His brother’s lips thinned.

“If I die, I want to know you’ll see my inheritance is s-sent to my wife.”

Max froze, expecting a reaction to his stutter. But his brother didn’t notice. “Wife? You’re married?”

“It’s in the letter.”

“Are you still in your townhouse in Cheapside?”

Max shook his head. “Staying with Ironheart.”

“Whitehouse is giving you trouble even with the backing of a duke?”

Max nodded. “He’s got friends everywhere.”

“I’ll see to your wife should you need it,” Eastham gave him a nod to confirm his words. “And I’ll second you with Whitehouse should you need.”

Max jerked his chin in response. This time, he did not choose silence, he was at a loss for words. He’d never imagined receiving his brother’s support.

His brother started up the steps but stopped halfway up. “Our father is dying. I don’t know if it’s weeks or months, but if you’ve any last words for him, they should be said soon.”

Max nodded again and then turned to make his way back to the waiting hack. He didn’t need apologies, he wasn’t looking for explanations. All he wanted was a commitment that Sophie would be tended to. It was all he required before taking up the rest of the fight. As he climbed into the hack, he noted that down the street, another carriage started just after his.

He cocked his head to the side. “Take a right.”

The driver did as he commanded, the other carriage making the same turn. “Left.”

The driver turned, and again, the other vehicle followed suit. “Damn it,” he whispered through gritted teeth. He was being followed.