Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Upper Brook Street
Mayfair, London
The vibrant hum of conversation and music swept through the corridors of the Earl and Countess of Berridge’s opulent townhouse.
Hidden in the dark depths of the library, Reid vaguely recognised Beethoven’s Minuet, but he was more engrossed in the feel of his wife’s breast in his palm and the sensual glide of her mouth over his.
Someone rattled the doorknob again.
Sofia broke contact, her breath warm against his lips.
“It’s locked,” he reassured her.
“We’ve been here far too long. As the guests of honour, we should return to the ball before we’re missed.”
“I doubt the countess will notice. She’s busy making sure her ladies are dancing.” Poor Rothley had taken to hiding in the orangery on the pretence of smoking a cheroot. That was probably him trying the library door.
“Reid, if we don’t stop now, it might spoil our time at the Adelphi tonight.” She ran her hand over his chest. “In our story, we were mindless with need and falling over ourselves to undress.”
“You’re right.” Despite a raging cockstand, he tucked his wife back into her gown and straightened the bodice. “Anticipation heightens desire.”
“We need only stay for another hour,” she said, watching him button his trousers. “We should keep Lord Rothley company before the man turns into the wolf and tells everyone what they can do with their Viennese Waltz.”
Reid laughed. “The countess is determined to drag him from the doldrums and find him a suitable bride.”
“Do you think Miss Bourne will ever return to London?”
Reid cupped Sofia’s cheek. She was a hopeless romantic at heart. “I know you want Rothley to be as happy as we are, but Miss Bourne left London years ago. I doubt he will ever see her again.”
“I hate to think of him all alone at Studland Park.”
“He has Mrs Boswell for company and spends as much time at his townhouse in Hanover Square.” He captured her hand. “Come, let’s return to the ballroom. We’ll think of a morbid topic to entertain Rothley for the next hour.”
Upon their return, they stole an opportunity to dance a waltz.
Uncle Edmund drew them aside as they made to leave the floor, keen to have a private word, though they had dined with him last night.
“Is this where you tell me the viscount is dead?” Reid said coldly. He would never forgive his grandfather for hurting Sofia.
Edmund shook his head. “He’s confined to his bed with pneumonia. He’s not expected to survive the week. As you know, I’m instructed to deal with all legal and financial affairs.”
While they charged Merrick with kidnapping, murder and fraud, the King banished Viscount Hanberry to his country estate for a year. He attributed the viscount’s deplorable actions to his failing health and a desire to protect his lineage.
“If you’re going to ask me to manage Chatham Park, the answer is no.” He had employed a new doctor. Sofia was his herbalist and secretary and tended to the poor at the practice on Thursdays.
“I’m giving you Bretton Hall,” Edmund said, raising his hand to stifle an objection. “You don’t have to live there permanently, but the house was always meant for your father, and I’m eager to mend past mistakes.”
Edmund could not undo the damage done.
He couldn’t retract the lie that saw Reid’s father being sent to the prestigious University of Edinburgh in the dead of night. The lie that kept him there for seven months, resulting in Reid’s illegitimacy. He couldn’t erase the fake letters sent to his parents. More lies to tear two people in love apart.
But Edmund had helped to piece the puzzle together. He confirmed he’d discovered Reid’s mother was with child and went to Edinburgh to inform Reid’s father.
Edmund gripped Reid’s shoulder. “I’ve made mistakes but want us to be a proper family. Algernon needs someone strong and moral who can help focus his mind. And I’d like to be a support to you and Sofia.”
The warm words sounded genuine, but how could he trust his instincts? He looked at Sofia. Her smile said he should accept the offer and embrace his family.
“I’ll have nothing to do with Bretton Hall while my grandfather still draws breath. But my father spoke fondly of the time he spent there. Ask me again when you’ve succeeded to the title.”
Mrs Reagan, a widow known to frequent The Jade, walked by and gave Edmund a look that carried more than a passing pleasantry.
Edmund bowed to Sofia. “If you will excuse me. The countess insisted I put my name on numerous ladies’ cards. I would hate to neglect the wishes of my hostess.”
Reid sighed as he watched his uncle follow Mrs Reagan to the terrace. “If only Edmund had spoken up sooner. If only I’d been made more aware of my grandfather’s antics.”
Sofia ran her gloved hand up his arm, a loving smile curling her lips. “Don’t give it another thought. Life plays out exactly as it should. The Lord’s master plan is beyond our understanding, but the truth always prevails.”
“Had life been different, we might never have met.” He felt the pain of that possibility as if he’d lived those lonely days.
“Then I am grateful for the times I cried myself to sleep, for the times I saw no end to the nightmare.”
He brought her gloved hand to his lips, moving the silk aside to press a lingering kiss on her wrist. “Let’s leave.”
She laughed. “We agreed to stay for another hour.”
He stroked her ring finger, preparing to tease her about her vow to obey him. “Did you not wear your ring tonight?”
They had an appointment to purchase a new ring at Woodcroft’s tomorrow. Perhaps that’s why she’d left it at home.
Sofia gasped. She snatched back her hand and tore off her glove. “Of course I wore it. This ball is in our honour. I’ve not taken my gloves off all evening, except when?—”
“You touched me scandalously in the library.”
Touch me. Touch me before I lose my damn mind.
“Reid, you must help me find it before Lord Rothley notices. I know it was a gift, but I feel he was entrusting it to my care.” She rubbed her finger like she might make it magically reappear. “I should have secured it with thread.”
“Don’t worry.” He kissed her forehead. “We’ll not leave here until it’s on your finger. But we should hurry before Rothley locks himself in the library to avoid dancing.”
Rothley wasn’t in the library. He was drinking champagne with Dalton, Aaron Chance and Lucius Daventry.
They would have avoided the men and headed to the hallway, but Miss Woolf approached the group, undeterred by their intimidating demeanour. She curtsied to Rothley, whose gaze remained fixed on her scarlet hair, not the plunging neckline of her gown.
Miss Woolf spoke, and the men turned to scan the ballroom. The lady pointed the moment she spotted Sofia in the crowd.
With no option but to join their friends, Reid whispered, “Wait a few minutes, then say you need air.”
“Miss Woolf has been looking for you,” Rothley said with some sarcasm. “Haven’t we all?”
“We were dancing a waltz,” Sofia replied.
“Yes, I’m sure you were.” Rothley turned to Miss Woolf. “Well, now you’ve found Mrs Gentry, I imagine you’re keen to retire to the ladies’ room.”
“Actually, no. I found her ring on the floor in the library.” Miss Woolf produced the offending article, holding the treasure between her dainty fingers. “I knew it was yours, Sofia. We remarked the emeralds are the same shade as your eyes.”
Despite Rothley’s sharp intake of breath, Sofia laughed. “I believe the gems match the shade of your eyes more than mine.”
Lucius Daventry studied the ring, then Miss Woolf. “Yes, they’re remarkably similar. Almost as though the ring was made for you.”
“Were you alone in the library, Miss Woolf?” The marquess seemed to scrutinise her face.
“Yes, of course.”
“Doing what? The door was locked for some time.”
“Lord Berridge has a fine selection of books. The countess said I could borrow one.”
“What did you choose?” Rothley made it sound like she was on trial. “I don’t see one in your hand.”
Miss Woolf gave a bemused grin. “I’d barely browsed the first bookshelf when I noticed the ring. Is it a crime to loiter alone in a library? Am I under arrest, my lord?”
Rothley laughed like he’d meant to tease her, not pry into her personal affairs. “If it were, I’d have spent the last ten years in Newgate. As a repeat offender, they may have transported me to the colonies.”
“They’d likely chain me alongside you, my lord, after arresting me for an insatiable appetite for melancholy rhymes.”
Rothley smiled.
Good God!
Rothley never smiled.
“It’s hard to break an addiction when I own the best selection of books in the country,” he said, though wasn’t boasting.
Miss Woolf’s chest rose rapidly. “Then one might ask what you’re doing here.” The lady caught herself, her cheeks turning as red as her hair. “Forgive me. A night spent with friends is preferable to a night spent alone with books.”
“Indeed.”
Miss Woolf excused herself, and Rothley watched her go.
“You do owe Miss Woolf a dance,” Sofia told Rothley. “We agreed as much before we left The Jade to question Mrs Ludgrove.”
“I’ll not dance here. Not where gossipmongers reign supreme. Perhaps at The Jade. If I’m unfortunate enough to find myself there again.”
Though they no longer needed to visit the library, Reid stood waiting for his wife to suggest a stroll outside to take the night air.
Then his uncle appeared, his cravat slightly askew, and asked Sofia to dance. Twenty minutes passed quickly, and she eventually returned, laughing and a little breathless.
Wanting her to himself, he slid his arm around her waist, drawing her close. “The countess will soon make a toast in our honour,” he whispered in her ear. “Then we’ll remind them we need to return to the Adelphi before the porter locks the doors.”
“What do you plan to do with your family home in Dean Street, Mrs Gentry?” Daventry asked, and the conversation turned to the various possibilities.
“I might use it as a refuge for ladies down on their luck,” Sofia said, her gaze drifting to a blonde woman cutting through the crowd. “A haven for ladies like Miss Tyler.”
Miss Tyler came striding towards them, her unforgiving eyes fixed on Dalton. She looked like she wanted to murder him, not seek an introduction.
“Mother of all saints!” Dalton groaned.
“Do you know Miss Tyler?” Reid said.
Dalton shifted. “Her name isn’t Miss Tyler.”
Everyone in the group stared at Dalton, not the approaching Miss Heaven Knows Who. The man looked like he’d seen a ghost.
Sofia was quick to disagree. “You’re mistaken, sir. Miss Tyler is a member of The Burnished Jade and lists axe throwing among her many accomplishments. The countess has taken her under her wing.”
“Does Miss Tyler hail from Chippenham?” Dalton asked.
“Yes, though I believe she has Danish ancestry. A distant relative was amongst the Norsemen who settled in the area nine hundred years ago.” Sofia tapped Rothley’s arm. “We’ve had rather morbid conversations about blood pacts and firelit rituals. I could introduce you.”
Rothley shook his head. “I prefer to go to bed at night confident I’ll wake in the morning. Preferably without losing a pint of blood.”
“Miss Tyler once?—”
“Her name is not Miss Tyler,” Dalton growled.
Sofia huffed. “What is it then?”
“Mrs Dalton.”
Reid jerked in response. “A relation?”
“In a fashion. The lady is my wife.”
A stunned silence ensued.
“Is this a joke?” Reid’s heart skipped a beat as the woman with the questionable identity breached their group.
“I only wish it were.”
“When the devil did you marry?”
Dalton didn’t answer because his wife said, “Hello, Daniel.”
“Elsa.”
She stepped forward and kissed both his cheeks.
Dalton didn’t move. He didn’t breathe or blink.
Elsa removed two shillings from inside her glove. She gripped Dalton’s hand and thrust the coins into his palm. “I believe that’s what you paid for me. Now I’ve settled the debt I demand an annulment.”
Despite his usual bravado, Dalton’s face crumpled. He gripped his wife’s elbow—the wife none of his friends knew existed. “Excuse us. This conversation calls for privacy.”
Everyone stood in silence, watching the pair march through the crowd and onto the terrace.
Rothley sipped his champagne. “Who knew the night would take such an unexpected turn? Tell me I’m not the only one picking my chin up off the floor.”
Reid wished he could make light of it and persuade them it was a joke, but Dalton was a private man, a serious man, and his shock had been genuine.
“I’m sure he’ll explain everything in due course.” Reid would learn the truth tomorrow and offer Dalton his support.
Tonight, he had a more important matter on his mind.
Tonight, he planned to ask his wife to marry him.
Adelphi Hotel
Adams Street, The Strand
The marble floors in the Adelphi’s foyer gleamed amid the gaslight. Plush velvet curtains framed the tall windows, but Sofia focused on the sweeping staircase, eager to be alone with her husband.
Reid took her hand, and they mounted the stairs slowly, conserving their energy for the moment they stumbled into their room in a passionate frenzy. He drew her to a halt in a corridor lined with oil paintings and gilt mirrors.
“I thought we’d never escape the ballroom.” He stood behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and gazing at their reflection in the looking glass.
She rested her head on his chest and gave a contented sigh. “I had a wonderful time tonight, but I’ve been counting the hours until I have you to myself.”
Reid kissed her hair. “I love you.”
Her heart swelled. “I love you.”
Tears threatened when she thought of the horrors they’d faced, but the past was behind them, the future uncertain. Nothing mattered but this perfect moment, where they were safe, happy, and in love.
“Can you see me without your spectacles?” he teased. “You might have come home with my friend Rutland by mistake.”
“I could find you in a dark room packed with people. Your soul speaks to mine. Everything feels right when we’re together.”
“Which is why I’d like to ask you something privately.” He took her hand, drawing her down the long corridor to the expensive Lancaster Suite.
Like their wedding night, the maid had turned down the bed and slipped a warming pan between the linens. A crystal decanter of burgundy and two matching glasses awaited them on the side table.
“No rose on the pillow?” she said, chuckling. “Perhaps we should have stayed at the Castle Inn. I’m told you can get one for a few pence there.”
“I’m not sure I want to sleep in a bed made by Mrs Pugh or her congou-drinking sister.”
Sofia kicked off her slippers. “Who said anything about sleeping?”
While Reid locked the door and shrugged out of his coat, she smelled the colourful array of hothouse flowers in the vase. The porter had remembered to light the fire at ten o’clock as instructed, but it wasn’t the gentle heat of the flames that warmed her.
“Will you continue to keep me in suspense?” She watched him slowly slip off his shoes. “In our fantasy, you tore off my clothes and ravaged me senseless on that bed.”
He drank her in, his gaze sweeping over her like a caress, sending a wave of heat through her body. His lips curved into a sensual smile. He looked handsome and so irresistible.
“It’s a miracle we’re still dressed and not a tangle of limbs in bed.” He prowled towards her. “But before I ravish every inch of your naked body, there’s something I must do.”
“You have me intrigued, Mr Gentry.”
He cupped her nape, the action affectionate yet possessive. “There’s something I want to ask you. I’d get down on one knee, but I want you to see the truth burning in my eyes when I open my heart.”
The world faded away. The opulent room could have been an alley in Whitechapel for all she cared.
She’d never thought a man would look at her like this, like she was the air he breathed, like she was a goddess amongst mortals.
She held his intense blue gaze. “What do you want to ask me?”
“Will you marry me, Sofia? Will you be my wife?”
She swallowed past a lump in her throat, a little overwhelmed and a tad confused. “We’re already married.”
“We agreed to marry. I never proposed.”
He drew her closer, his mouth slanting over hers. The kiss was a deep yet silent proclamation, a promise to love her for eternity.
“I married you because I craved you, Sofia. As time passed, I knew I could never let you go. But I stand here as a man desperately in love, wanting to marry you for all the right reasons. I promise to be the one person you can depend on. The man you will come to respect and admire.”
“You are the man I respect and admire most in this world.”
She kissed him this time, pouring everything of herself into every slow stroke of her tongue, clinging to him because whatever existed between them was nothing short of sublime.
“You saved me,” he said against her mouth.
“No, you saved me, Reid.”
He grinned. “As a doctor, I’m trained to cure all ailments.”
“I’m quite proficient when it comes to remedies myself.”
“Perhaps I should put you to the test.” He reached for her hand, drawing it over the rigid length in his trousers. “What will you do when your touch arouses your patient?”
The comment echoed what he’d said when she’d first begged him to hire her, when kissing him had been but a late-night fantasy.
“That depends on the patient,” she hummed, firming her fingers around his solid manhood. “If you sought my help, I would unbutton your trousers.”
He quickly saw to the task himself. “Then what?”
“Remove them and lie on the bed, sir.”
Mouth dry, she watched him undress and climb onto the bed, the air pulsing wildly, the thrum of sexual tension tugging deep in her core.
She stripped down to her chemise and corset and moved to examine and caress every throbbing inch of him. “Does it hurt here?”
“Lower,” he growled as she trailed her fingers over his abdomen and wrapped her hand around his solid shaft. One stroke, and he was urging her to straddle him. “Climb on top of me, Sofia. Get on top of me. Get on top of me now.”
She didn’t wait. Why would she? Having Reid Gentry inside her was a pleasure beyond words.
The feel of him filling her, of her stretching to accommodate him, had her closing her eyes and moaning aloud. “Love is the cure for every ailment.”
He gripped her hips, thrusting upwards. “When our mouths and bodies meet, all our troubles disappear.”
“Ours was not merely a lesson in scandal.” She met his gaze, bent her head and kissed him softly. “We triumphed over treachery, survived the worst betrayals, and emerged stronger.”
He cupped her cheek, his smile dazzling. “Darling, ours was a lesson in love.”