My Seductive Innocent (16 page)

N
athan could have cheerfully wrung his aunt’s neck for her blistering remarks about Sophia’s appearance, especially when he glimpsed how pale Sophia had grown. He had the overwhelming urge to protect Sophia from his aunt. Sophia had not been born into Society. And though her father was a harsh, cruel man, he was a babe at the art of scathing comments compared to the ladies of the haute
ton
.

Nathan studied Sophia for a moment. He sincerely doubted all the training in the world would make her behave as a bored, vain, cruel socialite, which was exactly how she needed to act to fit in with the senseless, malicious ladies of the
ton
. And that fact, among many others, was why he fully intended to leave her in the country. He’d introduce her to Society, as was proper, when she was ready, but her days would be spent at Whitecliffe.

Of course, he’d not really considered just how much it might take to prepare Sophia. As much as he hated to admit it, perhaps his aunt had a solid point. Sophia was going to need a great deal of work to gain the needed polish and requisite aloofness. He briefly thought of Aversley’s wife and how well she seemed to have adjusted to life in Town, yet maintained her unique ways, but Nathan dismissed the comparison. Amelia had been born a lady and had both known how to act and had the right family connections.

Sophia lacked the knowledge, connections, and beauty that Amelia had in spades. He glanced down at his soon-to-be bride and found her now scowling openly at his aunt, who had raised her lorgnette to inspect Sophia. He had to bite back a grin at her show of fortitude and restraint in the face of his aunt’s obvious disdain. He’d half expected Sophia to fly at his aunt like a wolf attacking its prey.

Sensing all eyes in the room on him, waiting for him to say something, Nathan spoke. “Of course, Sophia will stay here after our marriage until she has time to―” he cast about in his mind for the exact right words to say in order to avoid injuring Sophia’s pride or revealing the whole truth of his plans “―order a new wardrobe and feel comfortable in her role as duchess.”

There.
He smiled, pleased with the way that sounded. Glancing around the room, he first met his aunt’s gaze, who nodded approvingly, then Harry’s, who shook his head, and finally Sophia’s, whose eyes were narrowed quite angrily at him.

The look reminded him of one his mother used to give him and filled him with the sudden need to show Sophia right away that she would never have control over him as his mother had once had over his father. “Aunt Harriet, you will remain here at Whitecliffe with Sophia until she is deemed ready to be introduced to London Society.”

“That could take the rest of my life,” his aunt muttered.

“Ah,” he said without a touch of sympathy, “Then so be it. That will be all for now, Aunt Harriet. Go get some rest.” He motioned toward the door, dismissing her.

His aunt’s mouth opened and closed as if she might argue, but a single raised eyebrow from him and she clamped her jaw shut and marched out of the room in a swirl of skirts and ire. Once she was gone, silence descended upon the library, though he could have sworn he heard Sophia mentally cursing him. Then Sophia’s face turned from angry to hurt, making him uncomfortable. It almost seemed that her lips were trembling.

“Gibson,” he barked, desiring the solitude he was used to.

The butler appeared at Nathan’s side. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Please show Miss Vane and her brother, Master Harry, to their guest chambers and see that they are provided with immediate baths. The wedding will take place tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll be departing the next day for London. Instruct Mr. Dobbs of my plans so he may pack my trunks.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler intoned, then swept his hand toward the door in his typical snooty fashion. “If you please,” he commanded to Sophia and Harry. Nathan frowned. He’d need to remind Gibson later to always be respectful of Sophia, but as Nathan watched Harry and Gibson depart Sophia did not budge and he chuckled inwardly. She had a backbone stiffer than a solid plank of wood. He rather liked that fact, except she could not be allowed to think she could argue with him.

“What is it, Sophia?” he clipped.

“I would like a moment alone with you, Nathan.”

He didn’t like the demanding tone she had taken. He was not his father to be browbeaten by his wife, or soon-to-be wife. “Call me Scarsdale unless we are alone,” he said, reasserting himself. “Do you understand?”

“All right,
Scarsdale
. I’d like a moment alone with you, if it pleases you,
O Great and Mighty Duke.
”

He should have been mad at her insolence, but he found it damned amusing that she had managed to make his name sound like a curse
and
that she had the nerve to reproach him for what she must perceive as high-handed treatment. Clearly, he and his future wife had a few rules to set. He waved Gibson, who was lingering by the door, to leave. “Take the boy.”

Harry scowled at Nathan, then appeared to realize what he must be doing and schooled his young features. “Shall I st-stay with you, S-Sophia?”

“I’ll be fine,” she replied without hesitation.

Deep chagrin that he had made the child worry for his sister’s safety filled Nathan. He was not a monster who was cruel to children. To prove it, he strode past Sophia and across the room, and knelt in front of Harry.

“I will never lay a finger on your sister. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, Your G-Grace. But words c-can s-sometimes hurt as much as b-blows.”

“Harry!” Sophia admonished.

Careful with his motions so as not to frighten the boy, he nudged his chin with the tip of his knuckle. “Thank you for that much-needed reminder.” His mother’s words had been like a hammer blow each time they fell, and it appalled him that he’d become cold enough not to realize his words could have the same effect. He would take more care from here on out.

The boy nodded, amusingly enough as if approving what Nathan had said, and walked out the door where Gibson was now waiting.

Nathan stood and braced himself not to lose his temper with Sophia again. He would firmly, but kindly, explain how their relationship would work from this moment forward. He turned to face her, expecting her to be glaring at him, but her eyes shone as if she might cry.

Shocked, he stepped close to her and looked down into her now-upturned face.

S
ophia was hurt and confused. One moment she had been sure Nathan was marrying her only out of pity and that she was making a terrible mistake, and then he had made comments that gave her hope he actually liked and admired things about her. Then he’d squelched that hope, again, by telling the butler to have his bags packed. No man who cared at all about the woman he was marrying would plan to leave her the day after their wedding. Yet, then he’d shown genuine kindness toward Harry, and the look of deep concern in his eyes told her he was truly worried he’d hurt her. But worry was not enough. If he didn’t even want to live with her how could she possibly believe that this man could ever love her and treasure her? Her anger drained away and only hurt remained.

She’d not give up hope, she told herself. It was
hers
, and she had precious little she could say that about. She may be a fool for what she was about to do, but she would never receive love from a man who wanted to leave her in the country.

With the decision made, calmness settled over her. “I cannot marry you, Nathan.”

His brows drew together, and then his lips pressed into a hard line. “I see. Is this your way of attempting to punish me for hurting you?”

She shook her head. “No. I would never purposely punish you.” She wanted to offer explanation without offering the secrets of her heart. She refused to share those with a man who would never love her. “But I did overhear you speaking with your aunt before, and just now you made it clear you plan to return to Town without me. The thought of being left here alone with your aunt made me realize that, no matter what terrible things are to come with a ruined reputation and no husband, being left at the mercy of your aunt would be worse.” That explanation would have to suffice.

A dark smile settled on his beautiful face. “You will only be in the country with my aunt a short time.”

Sophia’s heart began to pound harder as she stared at him. He was so beautiful with his dark looks, broad shoulders, and proud face. How easy it would be to relent to him. She thought she knew why, too. She was already in love with Nathan. Oh botheration. She was a cork-brained fool.

If only there was a chance he would ever feel more than pity for her. Then she would stay and marry him.

“And after that?” she whispered. “What will you do with me after I am properly introduced in London?”

He sighed heavily. “You’ll come back here and I’ll visit you.”

Her heart squeezed painfully. “You want to hide me away because you are ashamed of me, and I don’t want that.”

Weariness registered in his eyes, and he reached out, running the back of his hand down her cheek. “No, Sophia, it’s not that. I’m simply not suited to be a doting husband.”

“Living with one’s wife would hardly qualify you as a doting husband,” she muttered. “Clearly, you don’t desire me, and I don’t want to be married to a man who doesn’t even desire me. Frankly, I want much more than that, though it would have been a good start.”

N
athan wanted nothing more than to put an end to this day with a long, soak in the bath and a tumbler full of brandy, and he wanted it to happen in an expedient manner. His mood was foul, not amorous. He liked order, and ever since he’d met Sophia, his life had been marked by
dis
order. Not to mention that someone had tried to kill him—possibly twice—and that fact was ever present in his mind. When he’d gone to London he’d tried to see Sir Richard, the man he wanted to head an investigation, but Sir Richard had been out of town.

Sophia coughed loudly, and purposely by the mutinous look on her face. Nathan focused on her once more. If she needed to feel desired, he would assuage the need and then he’d get some rest, so he could focus with a clear mind on the matter of who wanted him dead. “Close your eyes, Sophia.” He dropped his voice low and let it rumble from deep within his chest.

“Whatever for?” she asked, the picture of bright, blue-eyed innocence, which was amazing considering where she had grown up. But that innocence was also the problem at hand.

“Because I’m going to kiss you,” he replied, sliding one hand around her narrow waist and inching the other up her back to cup the base of her neck. She stiffened as he curled his fingers around the delicate column of her neck, but given her inexperience, it was no surprise.

He tilted her head back and gently, ever so gently, he brushed his lips across hers. She didn’t pull away or stiffen further. She pressed her mouth closer and rose up to her tiptoes, which surprised the hell out of him. Her lips were soft and hot, and damn it all if his lust didn’t stir to life. He retreated at the realization and stared down at her.

Her eyes flew open, and she frowned. “Is that it?”

“For now,” he said, sure she looked upset because she wanted more. “Now that everything is settled the marriage can go forth.” He awkwardly patted her on the shoulder, then strode to the sidebar. “Off to bed with you.”

“But it’s not settled.” She chewed on her lip as her brow creased. “In fact, it’s rather that I’m surer now than I was a few moments ago that we most definitely should not marry.”

He froze, the decanter raised halfway to his glass and turned to face her. Standing there, cast in the growing shadows and the warm glow of the fire, she suddenly looked like a mythical creature with her fine bones, large eyes, and cropped hair. Not at all like the woman he’d thought in need of an excellent lady’s maid and a seamstress with a superb eye.

He set the decanter down behind him and strolled back to her. “What makes you sure we should not marry?” he asked, curious to hear what she would say.

“Well, I thought a kiss from you would curl my toes, flutter my heart, and make me swoon, and then I’d end up in your bed.” She blushed a deep crimson. “Not today,” she whispered, casting her gaze away. “Not the bed part. That part I meant would happen
after
we were married.”