Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
“The education of women should be particularly directed to improve the heart.”
Dr. John Gregory, A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters
Once he had established very little—other than a cloaked, hooded figure had ushered the women through the mews and into one of the garden-facing doors before leading them to his rooms—Richard returned to his bedchamber. Which reeked.
The overpowering scent of cheap perfume filled the room, making it difficult to ignore the disarray.
It was what he imagined an unsavory establishment might smell like, though he had never set foot in one.
Richard had always avoided such places, unwilling to risk the dangers or indignities they entailed.
Over the years, his easygoing charm and status as a handsome, successful peer had ensured no shortage of attention from more refined women.
Not that he felt successful or easygoing at the moment.
His valet arrived with a swarm of footmen to hurriedly provide a tub of bathing water and whisk away bedding to be cleaned. Richard had already thrown open the windows despite the chill of the evening in order to air the room out.
Once the bath was prepared, he quickly took advantage of the steaming hot water to bathe the stench off his skin and hair.
In his imagination, the odor lingered still, but Shaw assured him that he currently smelt delightful.
He was uncertain if the man was funning him with his droll words, but the servant stated it with no trace of humor.
Clothed in loose cotton trousers and a shirt, he pulled on a dressing gown and approached the adjoining door to Sophia’s chambers.
For several moments, he stood there in silence, his forehead resting against the cool wood.
What could he possibly say to her? He could not explain what had happened, as he barely understood it himself.
Surely, his bride now thought him the worst sort of rake—perhaps even worse than his own father.
The thought filled him with a deep, gnawing regret.
All his hard work forming a connection with her, destroyed by some unknown figure …
presumably a so-called friend who was utterly lacking in taste.
Mayhap he had done too many terrible deeds in his past, and this was his penance.
Perhaps his cousin was wrong, and it was far too late for him to amend his ways.
Perhaps he should go sleep in a guest room and leave his bride alone.
He dreaded entering the room to find her embittered toward him after their enchanting day together.
Inhaling deeply, he accepted he was well on his way to relying on her esteem, and he felt angry desolation at how their day was ending. Nonetheless, the problem would not evaporate on its own. He must confront it now before it worsened so he knocked on her door.
It had taken Sophia only a moment to register her groom’s distress when she entered his rooms. She quickly ascertained from his expression, and his general demeanor, that he was not involved in inviting the women into his chambers.
Had he done such a thing in the past?
Hearing the quiet knock on the adjoining door, she sprang up from the bed to race across the room on her bare feet and open the door. She found her husband on the other side, looking worn out. And well-scrubbed, his hair damp.
“I am so sorry. This was not planned.” His voice was gruff, and Sophia took pity. Claiming his hand with her own, she drew him into the room and over to the seating area.
“I know.”
He frowned in confusion.
“It only took a moment to realize you did not possess the look of a man with an agenda. You looked like a man in a blind panic.”
He chuckled dryly. “That would be an accurate description of how I was feeling.”
“Did they come on the wrong night?”
Richard’s head bobbed up in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I thought perhaps … this was an old meeting you forgot to cancel. Or a standing arrangement had not been … well … called off? From before. When you … I mean, you only recently decided to change your ways … Perhaps this is how you spent your evenings …” She trailed off, feeling silly.
“No! I never paid coin for … that. I would never risk my health on …” He took a deep breath to continue.
“Apparently, some acquaintance of mine thought it would be amusing to play a lark on me and showed them to my rooms. If I find out who exposed you to this, I will kill them with my bare hands. Radcliffe is downstairs questioning the servants to find out if any of them assisted with this … this … invasion of our home.”
Sophia stared at him for an eternity, not sure what came next.
“Sophia, I do not think this is the night to celebrate our wedding.” Richard turned away to glare at the wall.
She could see his point. He still appeared disturbed, and the wonderful rapport they had built earlier in the day was missing.
They sat together in their dejected silence while Sophia pondered what to do.
She wanted to assist him, to play a part in his restoration of honor.
This seemed like a moment that she should show her mettle in some way, to somehow mitigate this disastrous night.
Show some kindness to alleviate his mood.
“Perhaps …”
His eyes found hers. “Perhaps?”
“Perhaps you would care to lie in my bed with me? Just to sleep?” she asked softly.
The regret in his eyes softened, and he exhaled deeply, his posture relaxing. “I … I would like that very much.”
Sophia rose and took his hand, leading him to the large canopied bed.
Releasing his hand, she slipped off her dressing gown and quickly climbed under the coverlet, pulling it snugly around her.
She glanced over as he removed his own robe, hesitating briefly before joining her.
She turned onto her side, her back to him, as he extinguished the lamp.
In the quiet darkness, she felt him shift closer, his hand settling gently on her hip. The simple touch carried a tentative reassurance, and she pressed back slightly, offering comfort in return. His tension seemed to ebb away, replaced by a steady warmth that eased them both.
Closing her eyes, she let the exhaustion of the long day wash over her. There would be time to address their troubles in the morning. For now, she allowed herself to savor the quiet closeness of his presence, the warmth of his nearness lulling her into rest.
Sleeping near his bride without acting on his feelings had been a true test of his resolve.
His body ached with longing, but his conscience held firm, reminding him of the trust she had placed in him.
It was not simply a matter of physical desire—he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Sophia, and that made his restraint all the more difficult.
When the tension became too much to bear, he shifted slightly, putting a small distance between them to compose himself. Only then, after what felt like hours of inner turmoil, did he finally drift into an exhausted sleep, her presence still a comforting balm to his restless heart.
Slowly, he awakened and opened his eyes to discover it was morning. He blinked in surprise when he found clear blue eyes staring into his. His bride was awake and watching him closely.
Tentatively, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He shifted slightly, a wave of emotion surging through him at the unexpected gesture. Her free hand emerged from the covers and reached up to smooth back his hair, her touch gentle and reassuring.
Her fingers lingered, tracing softly along his temple and down his neck, her attention tender and curious.
She rested her hand lightly on his chest, her fingertips brushing over his torso as though memorizing the shape of him.
Each touch sent a shiver through him, and he clenched his hands to keep himself still, letting her explore without interruption.
When he could no longer contain his feelings, he rose onto one elbow, gazing down at her with an intensity born of affection and longing. Lowering his head, he met her lips in a kiss full of warmth and sincerity, a reflection of the connection blossoming between them.
This seemed a perfect moment to?—
A discreet knock interrupted his intentions. “My lord, there is an urgent matter to attend to.”
Richard lowered his head onto her shoulder to scowl at his butler’s intrusion.
What could be important enough to interrupt me in my bride’s chambers?
Belatedly, he recalled the events of the night before.
On second thought, perhaps his butler had cause.
Sighing in resignation, he leaned forward to press a kiss against Sophia’s forehead and then withdrew from the bed.
He donned his robe over his night clothes and went to the door, stepping out into the passage to talk with Radcliffe while shutting the door behind him.
Radcliffe looked a little worse for wear, dark shadows under his eyes, but otherwise his usual tidy self. Richard wondered if his faithful servant had been to bed or if he had been questioning the servants all night.
“A certain guest has arrived early, my lord.”
Richard frowned. He was not expecting any guests … other than … other than … Stuff!
“My son has arrived?” he asked below his breath.
“Yes, milord.”
Richard raised a hand to swipe over his face.
He had planned to inform Sophia today about his natural born son and his imminent arrival.
He had thought Ethan would not arrive for another day or two.
This was too darn early. How could he spring this on her after the terrible night she had endured?
How much could one woman be expected to forgive?
He ordered his butler to send his valet up to his rooms to help him dress. He refused to meet his son for the first time in his nightclothes.
One step at a time, Richard.