Chapter Fifteen
Hours later, Sophia walked the length of her elegant new suite of rooms, admiring the delicate lines of damask covered chairs grouped around a small delicate table of mahogany.
The walls were painted the hue of creamy butter.
Vases of fresh flowers dotted the room. The space was elegant and charming. Far more lovely than she’d imagined.
Her maid, Ann, had been installed while the wedding breakfast was enjoyed, just as Sophia had hoped, but she’d only unpacked one of the trunks along with Sophia’s hairbrush, a jar of pins, and a small pot of cream Sophia used on her face before bed.
Her beloved books remained in their crates and not lining the bookcase at the other end of the room.
When Sophia questioned why all her things hadn’t been unpacked, Ann replied, somewhat apologetically, that the books, along with the remaining trunks, had already been sent ahead to The Pillory.
Sophia and Roxboro were to follow in two days.
Well, I suppose I don’t need to worry over making calls.
Roxboro’s estate was tucked away on the northeast side of Essex, not a great distance from London, but far enough to stow an unwanted wife.
Which Sophia most definitely happened to be.
He hadn’t wasted any time in expelling her from London, though he thoughtfully planned to accompany her to The Pillory.
“I did request to live in the country,” she said under her breath. “He took me at my word.”
“My lady?” Ann looked up from the trunk she was unpacking. “I mean, Your Grace.”
“Nothing, Ann. Continue.”
Roxboro was only doing as Sophia had asked by hiding her away at his estate, where he and Damon could forget she even existed.
Just as well. Because unlike Mara, who had great dreams of becoming a leading matron of society, Sophia’s desires were much more moderate and less ambitious in nature.
Goodness, she didn’t want to spend her days having calls paid upon her, or listening to endless gossip all while sipping tea.
Solitude appealed to her. She didn’t mind her own company.
Sophia would have her books. Walking down country paths.
Villagers to converse with as she enjoyed hearty fare at a local tavern.
Good lord, I’m boring. Just as well to be sent to the country.
After a round of sherry and Mama’s practiced conversation in the drawing room, Lady Falmouth had pushed Violet and Rose out the door, bidding her a safe journey and promising to call upon Sophia’s return to London.
Rose murmured a polite goodbye, barely taking Sophia’s hand.
Violet, surprisingly, pressed a kiss to Sophia’s cheek.
You’ve the courage. Patience and comfort are required.
She’d no idea what Violet meant by those words, only that they must pertain to Roxboro in some way. But he would be here, in London, and Sophia would be at The Pillory.
Lord Caster and his mother, Lady Caster departed behind Lady Falmouth. If Roxboro and Caster had grown up together, whatever closeness they’d shared was long gone. Caster was not an unrepentant rake or a sot and thus had little in common with Roxboro. They bid each other a polite goodbye.
And finally, Lord and Lady Canterbell, with Mara in tow, still mooning over Caster. Her sister appeared so starry-eyed it was a wonder she could make her way to the carriage. Caster was…attractive, Sophia supposed. But not in the same way as Roxboro.
Mama kissed Sophia’s cheek, reminding her to be obedient and dutiful.
Roxboro overheard and gave a drunken snort. He was well and truly foxed, glass never once going empty as it was continuously refilled by the attentive butler, Timmons.
Once Timmons shut the door behind their guests, Roxboro motioned for the butler to come to his side. The two held a whispered conversation before Timmons approached Sophia. “Allow me to show you up, Your Grace.”
Sophia glanced out the window. It was only mid-afternoon, but the day had been lengthy. A respite would be welcome before the evening meal.
Lord Damon continued to hover about in the foyer, watching Sophia with eyes like hardened bits of coal. He’d arrived in his own carriage, not with his daughters or Lady Falmouth.
“I bid you good evening, Your Grace,” he said, regarding Sophia as if she were a fly he’d found floating in his morning tea.
Roxboro followed behind his uncle, only pausing to bow in Sophia’s direction.
She had been dismissed. On her wedding day.
Standing at the base of the stairs, Sophia listened to their footsteps fade away. Loneliness struck her. She was an unwanted bride in a house that might never feel like her own. Even Mara’s company would be welcome. Thank goodness Ann had agreed to come with Sophia.
“Your Grace?”
Sophia gave her a weak smile. “I was just thinking how pleased Lady Canterbell appeared.”
Ann draped some diaphanous, nearly sheer, bit of silk over her shoulders.
“Where did this come from?” Sophia would never have chosen something so…. ghastly.
“Lady Canterbell, Your Grace. I believe she wanted to surprise you.”
“She’s succeeded.” There was a great deal of lace. A great mound of it. Ribbons tied and placed in specific places to draw the eye. A spray of fabric roses fell over one shoulder.
Sophia stopped in front of the mirror, frowning. “I look ridiculous. Like the cake we were served earlier. All tiers of icing and bits of fruit.”
“I’m sure His Grace will appreciate the overall effect.” Ann bit her lip. “If not Lady Canterbell’s taste.” She cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but you do know what to expect, do you not?”
This is why she had chosen Ann as her maid when she turned sixteen. No nonsense and as blunt as Sophia herself. “Lady Canterbell informed me of my duty.” She turned to regard the maid. “Would you care to elaborate?”
“Would you like me to elaborate, Your Grace?”
Sophia took a seat and gestured to the chair beside her.
She wasn’t even sure that Roxboro would visit her this evening given his intoxicated state.
She’d merely assumed …it was their wedding night.
Consummation was required at some point, was it not?
“I would. As you can imagine, Lady Canterbell was more focused on my being obedient than anything specific.”
“The duke is,” Ann’s features took on a mildly rapturous glow. “Likely well versed in such matters. He’s quite a reputation, if you’ll forgive me for saying.”
“Yes, he’s glorious. A complete reprobate. Skilled in wickedness. But I don’t do well with obedience. I’d prefer some knowledge before…” She plucked at the silk and lace covering her. “I doubt this overly large doily is going to induce Roxboro to great heights of passion.”
Thinking of passion and Roxboro led to the contemplation of his mouth, his lips and kissing. Which, in turn, had her considering, once more, the absence of the freckle on his nose.
It was a drop of wine.
Sophia pushed aside those troubling thoughts. “Enlighten me, Ann. I insist.”
*
An hour or so later, she contemplated the bottle of wine Ann had brought up.
Looked appropriate and of a decent vintage, though Sophia knew nothing about wine.
Halfway through Ann’s rather informative educational discussion of physical relations, Sophia had grown flustered and tasked her maid with retrieving a bottle of…
something. Brandy. Gin. Scotch. Rum. Wine.
Just not ratafia which she detested. Roxboro was bound to have the best stocked sideboard in all of London and if ever she needed a drop of courage, it was tonight.
Goodness, there was so much to consider.
The first, was that under no circumstances was Sophia going to refer to Roxboro’s male anatomy as his ‘gentleman’s length’.
At the mention of the term Mama used, Ann had laughed so hard she’d nearly fallen out of her chair.
Nor was she going to call it a ‘shaft of delight’ or a ‘middle leg’ which had Sophia imagining a stool.
Prick was fine, she supposed, although that might be more a comment on Roxboro’s personality, given the word had multiple uses.
Ann liked the word ‘cock’. Short. Succinct. Brought to mind a rooster, but it seemed the best of the lot.
According to Ann, whose descriptions were far more detailed than Mama’s, Roxboro was going to insert his cock into her quim—or as an alternative, Ann suggested, lady parts—and thrust vigorously.
Sophia had already surmised as much, given her taste in lurid, romantic literature which alluded to such matters.
Her maid assured Sophia that if the gentleman knew what he was doing, and they both agreed, given Roxboro’s reputation, it was likely he did, Sophia would be well pleased and pleasured.
Ann’s features grew blissful as she tried to describe ‘well-pleasured’. She went on about one of the Canterbell footmen and the size of his…cock, but Sophia had heard enough to become…tingly thinking of Roxboro. So she asked for spirits. Wine. Anything.
Ann brought up not only the wine, but a tray of small sandwiches, grapes and cheese.
It had been hours since Timmons had shown Sophia upstairs, yet Lord Damon’s carriage still sat outside.
She’d no idea when or if Roxboro might arrive and open the closed door between their rooms. Or if he meant to dine with her.
Her stomach rumbled. She snatched a bit of cheese and popped it in her mouth. Ann had already poured the wine. Sophia brought the glass to her lips and took a large swallow, swishing it around in her mouth.
“That’s delightful,” she said as Ann declared the unpacking finished, at least for now.
“I’m so pleased, Your Grace. I know you said you’d entertain any sort of spirits but I thought wine would be best, though it took some searching to find a bottle.
There was not a drop left over from the meal today.
I found that.” She nodded. “Tucked away in the kitchens. I’ve no idea where the wine cellar happens to be and didn’t want to ask Timmons. ”