Chapter 6 #2
“Miss Hayward, you are … well?” Richard asked, finding himself rather ill-prepared to talk with her.
For some reason, her appearance was causing his tongue to tie up, and he felt intimidated.
What on earth? She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered, although she was striking.
It was her unbridled and spirited nature.
He dearly wanted to earn her good opinion, more than he had ever desired it from anyone. It was … disconcerting.
Sophia looked up at him with her large blue eyes and gave a nod. “Yes, my lord.”
“Please, call me Richard. We are moments away from being wed.” Maybe. If she does not run screaming into the street.
She smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing slightly. “Richard.” The way she said his name sent a warm shiver through him, filling him with both joy and trepidation. Richard, you must tell her what weighs on your heart, he reminded himself.
He sighed deeply in resignation at the intruding thought. Sophia’s face would twist into anger, she would yell for her family and depart his home, never to give him a second thought other than to gossip about ‘that awful Lord Saunton and his vile ways.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but choked on the words. He tried again. “I … I … do you have any doubts?”
Sophia tilted her head, her eyes filled with concern. “No. Do you?”
“NO!” Richard shook his head violently. Calming himself, he spoke with more composure. “No. I have looked forward to this all week.”
“As have I.”
He paused in consternation. “You have? But … what about my past?”
Sophia nibbled on her lip. “This has been a strange alliance we have forged, has it not?”
Richard nodded numbly. There was no denying that the progress of their relationship was odd.
She continued. “I find you interesting … and unique. Your crusade intrigues me. I did not think I would ever marry, but I have changed my mind and I am ready to embark on an adventure with you.”
She gazed at him with such earnest admiration that it caused his heart to squeeze painfully. It was so … sincere. It made him want to be worthy of her regard, to have her look at him with that expression for … well … forever.
Screwing up his courage, he asked the question burning through his mind. “And what if I make mistakes … or it turns out there are consequences to my past? What then?”
“We shall deal with it.”
His jaw fell open. He was stunned. This girl was so unlike the people he was accustomed to associating with.
She reminded him of Annabel Ridley, or rather the Duchess of Halmesbury now, but this relationship with Sophia was different.
Perhaps he could have found this with Annabel if he had stripped the veneer of his charm off to reveal himself as a flawed man.
With Sophia, he revealed himself and, instead of flinching or shying away, she seemed to be attracted to his honesty.
Closing his mouth, which was still hanging open, he leaned down to press his lips against hers.
She mumbled in surprise, but, to his delight, kissed him back.
He should be honest, explain the consequences of which he spoke, but then …
then he would have to stop kissing her and take the risk that she would reach her breaking point of allowable consequences.
She sealed her fate with her sweet esteem, and he could not let her go.
She was vital to the healing of his soul.
He should tell her, but he could not bring himself to do it.
He would tell her … he would tell her … tomorrow.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed her gently, his lips brushing hers with quiet reverence.
She fit so perfectly in his arms, her warmth and presence filling the space between them as he drew her close in an embrace.
When her arms lifted to encircle his neck, he felt a surge of tenderness, her fingers threading through his hair as the moment deepened into something both beautiful and profound.
As their kiss deepened, Sophia sensed that Lord Saun—nay, Richard—wanted to tell her something.
But the truth was, if that something would potentially affect their wedding, she did not want to hear it.
Perhaps she was a gambler, just like her father and her brother.
Perhaps even her mother had been a gambler at heart, wagering her future on a marriage to such a man.
Regardless, Sophia’s impulse was to throw caution to the wind and embark on a new life with Lor—Richard, whose heavenly kisses and caresses in that moment were greatly encouraging her impulse.
Still, whatever consequences he feared, they would confront together.
Her decision was made, and she was ready to proceed.
Then an alarming thought went through her mind. She leaned back to look up at him. “You do not have some … unmentionable disease?”
He stared at her in dazed confusion, apparently struggling to make sense of her words as their kiss ended abruptly. Sophia tried again. “The consequences … is it a … dread disease?”
He burst out laughing. “Young ladies should not know or speak about dread diseases. But, no, I am healthy.”
She blew an unladylike puff. “Oh my, that is a relief! And if you wanted a proper young miss, you should not have pursued me. I did my best to dissuade you.”
Richard smiled down at her while letting her go. “You are very sweet.”
“I am not being sweet. I am being quite selfish, I assure you. I do not wish to contract … an unmentionable illness!”
Richard chuckled again. “Neither do I, Sophia, neither do I. Shall we?”
He offered her an arm, and she took it so that he may lead her to the site of their nuptials.
What a very strange week it had been. And now she would wed, hopefully for the only time in this life, which made a strange week even stranger.
She could not help but think that life would never be dull with Lord Richard Balfour, the illustrious but sullied Earl of Saunton, and she hoped fervently that she was correct as he escorted her through his grand London townhouse.
He was unlike any other man of her acquaintance, and it fascinated her to discover where their path together would lead.
Their vows took place in the library overlooking the gardens.
Sunlight streamed in through a wall of French doors edging the length of the room.
Everyone was in good spirits. Everyone, that was, except for the aloof Mr. Peregrine Balfour who barely said a word, and, of course, her own seething brother who stood apart from the wedding party, glowering near one of the French doors.
When not scowling at her directly, Cecil spent most of the ceremony with his back turned to glare into the gardens.
Sophia ignored him. He had created the situation with his greed, and she was unwilling to assume any guilt.
Aunt Christiana sniffed into a handkerchief that Uncle Hugh had handed to her during the vows. She and her aunt might not see eye to eye about a woman’s role, but Sophia appreciated the older woman stepping in to mother her, always doing what she thought was best for Sophia’s future.
Lily was particularly fey, taking in the vows with an expression of sheer joy.
Her large brown eyes that dominated her dainty face were lustrous, and she glowed with the light of a thousand candles.
There was no doubt that her cousin was happy for the fortuitous turn of events, especially now that she knew about the grave danger facing Sophia.
Lord Saun—Richard—I need to become accustomed to his name …
we are marrying, after all!—Richard stared down into her face with reverence, looking not at all like a shameless scoundrel but an enthralled youth, never taking his eyes off her.
She did not quite know what to make of it; his green eyes glowed with admiration in the well-lit room.
She could drown in his soulful gaze, but she was mildly uncomfortable.
She wanted to assist him with his crusade, but she was not a savior, and she hoped his ideal of her would measure up to his expectations.
The ceremony ended and the wedding breakfast began, with the unlikely gathering of personalities sitting around the breakfast table.
Her aunt and uncle talked with the vicar, while Lily chattered to Sophia.
Perry, as Richard called him, picked at his eggs and ham while swallowing down endless cups of coffee and speaking little unless Richard addressed him directly.
Perhaps his brother was recovering from a night of drinking?