My Seductive Innocent (14 page)

Her brows dipped together in a deep frown. “Keeping me?”

“Yes, for wicked pleasure.” They’d never assume he kept her simply as his mistress. As cruel as it made him feel to admit, they wouldn’t believe she could hold his interest at all, given how she presently looked.

Her fair skin, already pink from the cold, turned crimson across the high slope of her cheekbones, which was accentuated by her lack of proper flesh. The first thing he would do for her was have his cook feed her lavish meals so she would make a healthy weight.

“There must be another solution besides marriage,” she said, shoulders slumping.

As he stared at Sophia, looking so dejected at the idea of marrying him, laughter built in his chest. All the women who had tried to finagle an offer of marriage from him and when he finally proposed to a woman, she didn’t seem inclined to accept. “Is it the idea of marriage to me that repels you or is it simply the institute of marriage?” He wasn’t sure what provoked him to ask such a question, except maybe his pride.

“It’s not you at all,” she said quickly and gave him a shy glance that made his chest tighten. “It’s clear to me you have a good heart.”

“Is it?” His heart squeezed.

She nodded. “If you didn’t, you would not have intervened on my behalf...twice.”

“Any man would have done what I did,” he replied automatically.

“No man I’ve ever known, except maybe the reverend,” she muttered.

“Fine, any
gentleman
,” he corrected.

“I do not think it’s as simple as that,” she said slowly. “I think you did what you did because you are kind and caring, but you don’t seem to see yourself as either of those things.”

The way Sophia seemed to see him with such naive admiration was both disconcerting and enticing. And the notion that her admiration was enticing to him
at all
, irritated him to no end. “It’s getting cold out here,” he clipped, retreating behind a wall of indifference “What is it going to be? I’ve made my offer. Either accept it or don’t. The choice is yours. Make it with haste, if you please.”

S
he didn’t know what to do. She was truly torn. Nathan could protect her and Harry. He could provide a life and education for Harry that she never could, even if by some miracle she secured one of the positions she desired. But her gut told her what he said was true. Her soiled reputation would prevent her from ever achieving her dreams. At best, she could hope to slave away in a tavern or as a seamstress for the rest of her life, or she could attract some man’s attention and become his mistress. The thought repulsed her.

She only knew one decent man—and she’d been hurt more times than she could count by Frank, who was supposed to be her greatest protector—but she had that little nugget of hope her mother’s letter had instilled in her. If she married Nathan would her hope be well-placed or dashed? She glanced sideways at Nathan from underneath her lashes, and her heart tugged.

He was astonishingly handsome with his strong jaw line, patrician nose, full lips, and persuasive eyes. If she was honest, it didn’t hurt that he was rich, and therefore, she’d likely never know cold and hunger again. Not that she couldn’t handle both those things. She could. But if she had her druthers...

She barely suppressed a nervous giggle. Beyond the superficial, he was honest to a fault, considering his blunt proposal. He was obviously wounded. Physically, he was very strong, but he needed someone to patch him back together emotionally.

Her toes curled when she thought of the way he’d flattened two men for her. He was honorable, despite his protests. And―she sucked in a sharp breath―she was already halfway falling for him, which scared her to death, but she didn’t have a clue how to stop it. If she married him, she would be risking her heart. She was certain of it. Could she trust him to treasure the only thing she had to give him?

She would be good and trapped by marriage if he proved to be selfish and uncaring. Everything in her rebelled at the thought of being under the ruling thumb of a man who didn’t love her. It was on the tip of her tongue to decline his offer, but she could not make herself form the words. As she gazed at his profile, she realized that, despite all her fears, the possibility of something wonderful might just outweigh her fears of something horrible.

Suddenly, ahead on the road, Frank’s dilapidated carriage swung around the bend. The sound of horses’ hooves clopping along filled the silent day. To her right, Harry frantically called her name. She turned in his direction and he was already racing toward her.

“I cannot take you from your father, Sophia,” Nathan whispered in her left ear. “You are his property until you reach your majority. But we both know he’ll relinquish you, and I vow your brother, too, if we are to be married.”

“Then I’ll be
your
property,” she blurted, watching Frank and Moses draw to a stop. They jumped out toting pistols as they strode toward her, Nathan, and Harry.

“Better my property than your father’s,” Nathan growled. “I don’t wish to see you rewarded for saving my life by becoming a glorified prostitute or worse.”

That was hardly a hope-fulfilling sort of proposal. Once again, it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she would not marry him when Frank marched up and pointed his pistol at Nathan.

“Ye think ye can do anything ’cause yer the Duke of Scarsdale. Well, I’ve learned I can bring ye up on charges in front of the magistrate in London for what ye did to Sophia. Ye almost fooled me.” With an evil grin, Frank rocked back on his heels. “I was gonna settle for the money ye gave me, but now I want more or I’ll ruin ye. Do ye hear me? I’ll drag yer name through the mud.”

Sophia wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. Sophia skid her glance to Nathan and winced at the vicious visage he now wore.

He reached out and used one finger to move Frank’s pistol away from his person. Then Nathan gave Moses a look that made goose flesh rise on Sophia’s arms. After Moses lowered his pistol, Nathan turned his cold gaze back to Frank. “It is deplorable that you would destroy your daughter’s reputation further than you have already done for more money. How much is it you want?”

“Twenty more pounds,” Frank crooned.

Nathan’s cold eyes ignited with fury. “I’ll give you thirty more pounds, but only if Sophia agrees to marry me and you relinquish your son”―Harry had run over to the melee and was hovering by Sophia’s side―“to my care.”

Frank’s mouth gaped open. “Ye want to marry her now?”

Humiliation licked at Sophia’s heels.

Nathan inclined his head. “I find we suit. I believe she does, too.” His gaze locked on hers.

Without a doubt, he was marrying her to save her. It was the most selfless act anyone had ever performed on her behalf. And it occurred to her that any man who could be so utterly selfless had to be capable of the kind of love she craved.

“Well, Sophia?” Frank demanded. “Do ye find ye suit?” He gave her a narrow-eyed twisted look that said he’d ring her neck if she dared disavow Nathan’s words, but Frank need not have bothered trying to frighten her. Her heart pounded a deafening beat in her ears as she nodded her head.

T
he speed with which the next week passed both amazed and surprised Sophia. What didn’t surprise her was the fact that Frank had treated her more kindly than he ever had in her entire life. Nathan had left to secure a special marriage license, see his man of business in London, and speak with his aunt.

He’d also told her in whispered tones that he intended to hire an investigator—someone named Sir Richard—about locating the men who had attacked them in the curricle several nights prior. That had been good to hear. The scab that had escaped deserved justice, and though it didn’t seem to make Nathan all that uneasy that someone had hired men to kill him, it definitely weighed on her mind.

She’d been disappointed to find him leaving so soon, but before he had departed, she’d overheard him threaten to crush Frank’s bollocks if he harmed one hair on her or Harry’s head, and it had lightened her heart immeasurably. Even now, as the carriage that Nathan had procured to bring her and Harry to his country home wound up the long, immaculate tree lined drive, she grinned at how well the threat had worked. She’d not been one bit sad to leave Frank good and well behind her. She’d not even said good-bye.

Beside her, Harry wiggled on the carriage bench, tugged at her sleeve, and then leaned toward her. She hunched down to hear what he had to say.

“I th-thought you s-said His Grace told you this was his smallest country home.”

Sophia glanced toward the house that rose majestically in the distance and gulped. A tall tower—it appeared to be a clock tower upon her squinting inspection—loomed high above the massive redbrick home, reaching high into the orange twilight sky. She’d expected a grand home, even if it was, as Nathan had casually mentioned, one of his smallest. He was a duke, after all. She’d been certain even the most inconsequential of his homes would be lovely. But this one stole her breath and made her feel like quite the imposter in her threadbare, ill-fitting blue gown.

She hoped no one had come for the wedding beyond the aunt Nathan had said needed to attend, as it would lend the marriage an air of respectability to Society. He had explained that his aunt held great consequence among the
ton
, though he’d muttered under his breath that only God knew why.

As the carriage rattled down the pebbled drive, past wintry bare-branched trees and alternating massive stone sculptures with ornate urns sitting on rectangular bases, Sophia's stomach flipped. She wished the trip had taken the expected three days and not the two it had turned out taking. They were a day early and she didn’t feel ready to face what lay inside this sweeping home. It was silly, she knew, but this was not her world. Granted, her world had not been good, but she’d known it. She understood how to move within it and survive there.

She surveyed the acres of beautifully kept gardens and lawn that surrounded the house. In the sky above them, a dark line of eight birds flew in a
V
against the backdrop of the soft, deepening blue. She craned her head to follow their flight over the house and beyond, where she glimpsed the dark-blue, lapping edges of a lake in the distance.

This
was Nathan’s smallest house? A house with a clock tower and a private lake was his
smallest
house? Her stomach twisted into a thousand tight knots, and she started fiddling with her gown. She wished fervently she’d had something better to wear or that she still had her long hair to make her look less...less
pathetic
.

No, this was definitely not her world. Nathan’s world was made of grand curricles, fine clothes, mind-boggling mansions, and, she was positive, many beautiful women. He likely would have eventually chosen one among the silk-gowned lot to marry
if
he hadn’t had the misfortune to meet her and
if
he hadn’t possessed such a good heart.

“Perhaps we should find an inn close-by and send word that we are a day early,” she squeaked, her throat suddenly dry. Maybe Nathan had changed his mind. She wanted to leap for love but what if the jump killed her?

Harry squeezed her hand. “It w-will be fine. He’s a g-good man.”

The words, though coming from her now nine-year-old brother, were comforting. Harry was just as distrusting of men as she was, and if he was willing to trust Nathan, that counted for something in her mind.

Before the carriage came to a complete stop in front of the house, the ornate, dark wooden door of the house, with its eight tiny glass panes set in the middle, swung open. A young man dressed in gold-and-burgundy livery made way for a tall, thin man with peppered hair and a black tie, who marched out to the steps. Sophia moved her ankle to feel the presence of her mother’s letter. She didn’t know much about the servants in a great household, but she knew enough to assume this was the butler who was greeting them. The man’s back was ramrod straight, and his nose was tilted in the air in a haughty angle.

As Sophia and Harry climbed out of the carriage and made their way up the stairs, she counted thirty windows on the main building of the house. Thirty! She’d never seen so much glass in her life. It made her giddy to think how much light the house must get. The tavern had been constantly dark and dreary.