Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
“Modesty is the citadel of female virtue.”
Dr. John Gregory, A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters
The following morning, Sophia walked into the drawing room with Nancy in tow. Saunton’s eyes flicked toward the elderly maid as he bowed to greet her. “Miss Hayward, I was thinking we might take a drive through the park.”
As Sophia curtsied, she smiled and shook her head. “Nay, Lord Saunton, I arranged for us to talk in private, as you indicated we had intimate matters to discuss today.”
Lord Saunton narrowed his eyes in confusion as he stared pointedly at the old woman beside her.
“Nancy is hard of hearing, aren’t you, Nancy?” Sophia directed her question to the short maid with the full head of gray hair pinned under her mob cap in disarray.
“Too fancy? I don’t think so, miss. I think you look like a perfect young lady!” Nancy responded with a perplexed expression.
“Nancy was my uncle’s nursemaid when he was a boy, and he is very attached to her. Fortunately for us, she does not wish to retire, so the household accommodates her limited communication abilities,” Sophia explained before raising her voice. “NANCY, WHY NOT SIT HERE AND WORK ON YOUR MENDING?”
“Bending? I don’t really do much bending anymore, miss.”
Sophia blinked, her head beginning to ache at the strain of talking to the beloved but exasperating maid she had sought out thirty minutes earlier to attempt to explain that she would chaperon a visit.
Nancy blinked back, and several seconds of silence ensued before she said, “I think I shall sit here in this chair by the door and do some mending.”
Sophia beamed her approval, nodding enthusiastically before any further conversation was encouraged.
Turning back to Saunton, she saw his handsome countenance relax into a relieved expression.
He stepped forward to hand her a bouquet of hothouse flowers with a bow.
She smiled in pleasure at the gesture, thanking him warmly.
He gestured to the seating area. “Shall we, Miss Hayward?”
Accepting his invitation, she strode forward to take a seat on the hard, silk-covered sofa and primly folded her hands into her lap—the picture of maidenly modesty. She had no intention of being proper this morning, but if Nancy looked up, she would not find any cause for alarm.
As Saunton flicked the tails of his wine-colored coat to take his seat, Sophia could not help but notice that the infamous earl boasted a masculine form that was near perfect, with a flat stomach and powerful thighs encased in buckskin breeches.
His black and brown Hessians were polished, his shoulders broad, and his silky, curling hair brushed his white stock.
She had heard him compared to Lord Byron, but she personally thought Saunton had a friendlier and more approachable demeanor than the arrogant poet she had heard tales about.
“Tell me about your crusade of amends, my lord.”
“I have been meeting with the women of my past to apologize and make reparations. It has been unexpectedly uplifting to do so.” Sophia was uncertain what else to ask on this subject, so she moved on.
“Are there any children from these past encounters?”
Saunton grimaced. “So far, I have been fortunate. The precautions I took were effective.”
Sophia wondered what precautions one could take to prevent children, but she refrained from asking, not wanting to reveal her ignorance.
“And you are seeking to court me with a view to marry?”
Saunton’s eyes glowed in affirmation. “I am.”
“Are you sure … I mean, about me? You barely know me. How do I know you will not lose interest next week when you meet another woman?”
He frowned at this. “Never. I have only been interested in marrying one woman before you, and I have been seeking a wife for some years now. You are unlike anyone I have ever met, and now that I have started on this road, I have no intention of turning back. Once I make up my mind about something, I am steadfast in my resolve. And you … you fascinate me.”
Sophia’s cheeks warmed at his words, her heart quickening.
To be the focus of such determined attention from a man of his stature and charm was both thrilling and humbling.
She straightened her posture, meeting his steady gaze.
“We do not have much time, my lord. So tell me—why should I accept your offer?”
Saunton leaned forward in his seat, his face earnest. “I will allow you your freedom. As my countess, you may do anything you want and I will support you, as long as you are at my side.”
“Anything? What if I do not wish to host balls?”
“Then we shall forgo balls. Is that what you want?”
“I am not fond of crowds, so I would prefer to hold dinner parties and small events. What if I wanted to write a book?”
“Then you shall write a book. Do you have one in mind?”
“I do not. What if I wanted to hold salons and invite intellectuals to our home?”
“Then I shall greet our guests and take part in your discussions. Whatever your heart desires. My only requests are that our marriage be a true partnership and that you provide me with an heir.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Saunton chuckled, leaning back in his seat, his gaze warm as it settled on her face. “I am famously unconventional, am I not?”
Sophia nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“I need an interesting woman to keep me grounded. And for the first time in my life, I want—truly desire—to find that balance. This requires trust, and I am taking the same leap of faith by trusting you. I trust you to be your genuine self, to speak your mind freely, and to help create a future that we can share—a future built together.”
Sophia regarded him thoughtfully, his sincerity shining through every word.
Memories of her sleepless nights, grappling with uncertainty and fear, flickered through her mind.
Yet, as she considered the possibility of taking a chance on the earl, a quiet realization emerged.
She was not a conventional woman, and she would need a partner who could embrace her unorthodox nature.
And here sat the Earl of Saunton, candid and uniquely himself—unlike any man she had ever conversed with.
Today she stood at a crossroads—she could spend another night terrified in her room, or she could take a leap and hope that he was strong enough to catch her.
There were no guarantees that their relationship would work, but it sounded so awfully appealing to try.
To help the gentleman forge a fresh path.
It sounded infinitely more appealing than evading the murderous Lord Leech over the coming weeks or months.
“How do we proceed?”
“I will return tomorrow, and we will take a ride through the park?”
“Hmm … it sounds wonderful, but my uncle will never agree to you courting me.”
“I see. I shall contrive a plan to persuade him, then.”
Sophia stood up, prompting the earl to rise. She could hear Uncle Hugh’s heavy footfalls in the hall. By now, one of the servants had informed him that a notorious rogue was in his drawing room, paying addresses to his niece. Stepping around the table, she stood directly in front of the earl.
“I already have a plan. Are you certain you wish to see this courtship through to the end? This is your last chance to walk away.”
Saunton’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Yes … I am certain.”
Sophia stepped closer, noting his pupils dilated as she approached him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the tall form of her uncle stepping into the drawing room.
With a deep breath, she leapt into the earl’s arms, springing up on her toes to throw her arms over his wide shoulders, and kissed him full on the lips.
As Sophia stumbled into his arms, Richard staggered back, startled by the unexpected impact.
Her soft weight pressed against him, and before he could steady his thoughts, her lips met his in an impulsive kiss.
The gesture was unpracticed and fleeting, but it carried a sincerity that left him momentarily undone.
For the first time in years, Richard felt completely unguarded, his usual polished exterior giving way to raw, genuine emotion.
Sophia’s innocence and earnestness broke through his defenses, leaving him captivated.
The connection between them felt undeniable, as though she were the earth and he a helpless moon drawn into her orbit.
His heart raced, and for one fleeting moment, he allowed himself to respond, pressing his lips gently to hers in return, savoring the sweetness of the encounter.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”
The furious voice shattered the fragile moment, and Richard blinked, his thoughts scrambling to catch up. Releasing Sophia’s slim waist, he turned slowly to face the source of the interruption—a middle-aged lord whose face was red with indignation.
As Richard pieced together the events leading to this moment, Sophia’s cleverness became clear.
Her words, her timing, and now this—she had orchestrated the scene with precision.
Yet, far from feeling manipulated, Richard found himself strangely relieved.
Sophia had not forced him into anything; she had simply ensured he recognized what he truly wanted.
And now, standing before the furious lord and the young woman who had changed everything, Richard knew what he must do.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and then dropped a respectful bow. “Lord Moreland, I wish to marry your niece.”
Lord Moreland ignored his declaration. “Sophia, where is your chaperon?”
A bleating snore echoed throughout the drawing room. Lord Moreland swung around to find Nancy sleeping in the chair by the door. He spun back.
“Nancy is your chaperon?” he growled at his niece.
Sophia looked unrepentant.
“Well, there is no foul. I am the only one who saw?—”
“Lord Moreland!” The viscount’s face fell.
“Now see here, dear—” Turning to the doorway, he attempted to placate his wife. He failed.