Lord Will & Her Grace (22 page)

And her indomitable aunt's fondest wish was
transparent. The grand dame still held out hope of a match despite
her silence on the subject. Only her former ill-fated guidance kept
her aunt's sharp tongue in seclusion. That, and the fact that
Sophie had secretly invited Lord Coddington's father to the house
party. The gentleman occupied almost all of her aunt's time and put
a renewed bloom in her cheeks.

The certainty that William would arrive at
any moment nudged the corners of Sophie's mind hourly. Charles had
alluded to it on more than one occasion. William was to stand up
with him in the parish church of Saint Andrew just as Sophie was to
attend Mari. She shivered.

She couldn't bear the thought of facing his
handsome elegance and sensual, knowing countenance during the
service the day after tomorrow. But she was entirely immune to his
dissolute charms.

Their encounter on Primrose Hill had scoured
her foolish, foolish sensibilities if not her thoughts. It was just
that she loathed the idea of enduring his presence again.

Through the large picture window, she spied a
collection of riders and a carriage on the approach. Sophie
narrowed her eyes to see if she could discern William or Lord
Drummond among the pack. The latter had wrangled an invitation to
the Mornington house party and was supposed to arrive today.

She had formed the decision to see if there
was any possible hope of forming an attachment in that corner.

Perhaps her aunt was correct. A marriage of
convenience would at the least bring companionship and, with any
luck, the wonder of a child. She must consider attaching herself to
someone one last time or embrace the relative peace and certain
isolation of spinsterhood wholeheartedly. Lord Drummond was the
most likely candidate.

Sophie hurried down the steps of the villa's
entrance in advance of the party, grateful for the opportunity to
escape from her thoughts.

Mari and her father, Uncle Rhys, bustled from
the villa to join the crowd of guests from Hinton Arms. Mari's two
brothers, Parry and Bran, also appeared with their three sisters,
Sian, Alis and Bethan, in tow. And Mari's older brother Aeron
herded his three young children, Padrig, Anwen and Wyn, behind the
others. Two other cousins, Cadell and Trystan Owens had gone to the
port to inspect and try Sophie's new fishing boat.

Mr. Mornington had indeed brought Lord
Drummond as well as his two sisters and two old friends of the
family, Sir John Tarley and his wife, Lady Tarley. William was
nowhere in sight.

"I'm delighted to see you again, Miss
Somerset," Lord Drummond said after all the obligatory greetings
and introductions. He bowed over her hand and brought her fingers
close to his lips but did not make contact. Very proper. He really
was handsome—clear hazel eyes, curly brown hair and an endearing
crooked smile. "I've been counting the minutes since last we
parted."

Although he did utter the most inane bits of
pleasantry at times. "Really? And how many minutes have passed,
sir?" she asked. "I cannot allow such a comment, meant solely to
turn me up sweet, to pass without verifying the flatterer's
honesty."

Lord Drummond grinned. "Why, it has been well
over twenty-two thousand minutes since our unfortunate outing near
Regent's Park."

Sophie tried to hide her smile while tapping
her whip on the heavy fabric of her dark blue riding habit. "Tell
me truthfully, sir, are you a genius or did you not calculate your
answer prior to coming here?"

"Ah, you wound my pride. I'd hoped you would
assume I was brilliant." He escorted her to her mount, while
everyone else arranged themselves among the horses and carriages
brought from the stables. "I see by your expression that you'll
have none of it. So I'm forced to admit I don't come courting
without a well-prepared arsenal."

Sophie dissolved into peals of laughter.
Recovering, she replied, "I've learned to value honesty above all
things, sir."

Lord Drummond tossed her into the saddle and
the collection of family members and friends set off along the
sandy track.

The first hour was spent amicably weaving
among the open carriages and riders with Charles Mornington
offering commentary on the ancient field systems, burial mounds and
wildlife that could be found in the area. Eager to see the remains
of an Iron Age hill fort at the entrance to the down, the group
negotiated their way there, with two riders, Sophie and Lord
Drummond, promising to meet the others at the site of a small Roman
temple a half mile farther along.

Lord Drummond assisted Sophie from the
saddle, and led her to the shade of a beech tree, its leaves
rustling in the breeze.

His height matched hers. She gazed into his
kind eyes when he removed his hat. "I have missed you, Miss
Somerset."

"So you mentioned." She tilted her head and
unconsciously reassumed her mocking temptress façade.

"I was mortally afraid you would marry Lord
William Barclay after that duel. Deuced bad business that was, if
you ask me. The man had no right to defend your honor. If anyone, I
should have been allowed to be your champion. Why I never even saw
him with you and I—well, I was your favorite, wasn't I?"

Defensiveness was never an endearing trait in
a man. At least William never— Oh, drat her dissembling mind. Must
pay attention.

"But I know how females are—just have to look
at my own silly sisters. They'd immediately marry anyone who was
daring enough to fight for their honor. Not that my sisters would
ever blemish their names, you understand. Mama would never hear of
it. But, it's those ridiculous amorous notions they get with
dashing uniforms or duels. Little do they know that there's nothing
the least bit romantical about saber blades or pistol balls. You're
not like my sisters are you? You're not engaged to Lord
William—tell me now if you are."

Sophie laughed. "You do an awful lot of
talking, my lord, for someone who professes to have missed me."

Lord Drummond's Adam's apple bobbed as he
gulped. "Oh, I say, Miss Somerset. Do forgive me. I guess this
means I'm to be allowed another kiss? The kiss of such sweet
torture that exists in my dreams and has driven me to madness?"

"Now who's spouting silly romantical
notions?" She swept her eyelashes down, demurely, expertly. "Yes,
you may kiss me, my lord."

Like a mechanical soldier, he took one step
forward and grasped her shoulders with clammy hands before lowering
his puckered lips. Long moments passed.

It was a pity. He still ground his lips into
hers a fraction too strongly for her taste. And she could hear air
whistling through his nose and his hot breath on her face. Sophie
ran her fingers through his hair and curled the tips of her fingers
along the edges of his ears.

He broke off the kiss and swallowed. "I adore
it when you do that, Miss Somerset." He had a dazed look in his
eyes. Lord Drummond recaptured her poor lips and groped the full
curves of her body.

It did not feel anything like…

She refocused her attention, making a path of
small, sweet kisses to his earlobe, trying to force herself to feel
something for this man who might bring her a measure of comfort in
the long years ahead. She kissed him on the cheek before pulling
away.

It was a shame really. He was her age but
seemed the veriest boy. This was not going to work. It was time to
put away all hopes of a marriage and children.

"Dash it all, Miss Somerset. You do care.
Will you have me then? I've been praying you would reconsider my
offer." He swept down on one knee, and grasped her hand. "Will you
accept me then?"

Oh, she hated to trample on his tender
sensibilities. "I am much honored by the proposal you make me, sir.
But, I cannot, Lord Drummond. I've given you the wrong impression,
and I must apologize profusely."

He looked exceptionally disappointed.

She continued. "I beg you not to
misunderstand. It's not that I don't care for you. I like you very
much. It's just that I've decided to never marry."

He scowled, then regained his feet and
brushed at his soiled knees. "Oh, you don't fool me. You don't fool
me a'tall. You're smitten with that—that Corinthian. I knew it. But
mark my words, the bounder will bring you nothing but unhappiness."
He waggled his finger at her nose.

"You're wasting your breath. I'm not
interested in marrying Lord William—not in the least." She turned
and walked the short distance past the ruins of the small Roman
temple, Lord Drummond right behind her. She faced the sea and let
the wind push the wisps of hair from her face.

She smiled and tried to change the subject.
"Enough, sir. Will you dance the first set with me at Mr.
Mornington's soiree tomorrow?"

"Hell's bells," he muttered.

"Are you too mortified to stand up with me? I
do want us to be friends."

"Do you think I wheedled an invitation to
this silly wedding, and left the amusements of town for mere
friendship?" He spoke the last word as if it left a bad taste in
his mouth.

Sophie stroked the side of his face.

He captured her hand with his own. "Oh, all
right, but only if it's a waltz. You dance it adequately."

"Well, then, I'll return the favor by
introducing you to three of the most beautiful ladies from Bath.
And I won't be surprised if all your future dreams are comprised of
auburn hair and blue eyes."

"Ach. Promises, promises. And here we are
letting this perfectly good, romantic spot go to waste. I suppose
you're now going to want to go back and listen to Mornington
prattle again about the driest, most inane historical details."

There was a thought. "That is precisely what
we'll do."

Sophie cursed the male mind. How was it that
a man could propose marriage one day, and seem to fall in love with
someone else the next?

Lord Drummond was waltzing in the ballroom of
Hinton Arms with Miss Philippa Aversley. A look of dreamy
contentment overspread his face. He had completely forgotten she
had promised the first waltz to him just yesterday while he had
been in the dismals.

Really, it was almost an insult.

Well, if there was one thing Sophie had
learned in the last several months it was that gentlemen, of the
Upper Ten Thousand at least, knew nothing about the joys of
fidelity and devotion. Constancy was not part of their nature.

Sophie looked past the three and thirty
waltzing couples to the beautifully decorated entrance to Hinton
Arms' ballroom for what had to be the hundredth time. Where was he?
Her nerves were as taut as the strings on the violinist's
instrument. She'd mentally prepared herself for William's arrival
for the last two weeks by practicing again and again in front of
her dressing table's mirror the correct yet distinctly cool
greeting she would make when he bowed before her again.

Sophie watched Mari, looking beautiful with
small white flowers woven into her dark hair, smiling at her
betrothed as she circled the ballroom with the besotted
bridegroom-to-be.

A stab of potent loneliness pierced
Sophie.

Here in the Mornington's dazzling room filled
to the brim with all her family, friends and neighbors, Sophie was
more thoroughly alone than ever before.

And by this time next week she would be,
without question, bereft. Mari and Charles would be on their
much-anticipated wedding voyage. All of Sophie's Welsh relatives
would be reassuming their lives in Porthcall respectively. School
would be closed for the harvesting months and most of her neighbors
would be gone to Bath or Brighton if they could manage it. Even
Aunt Rutledge, dancing under the loving gaze of Lord Coddington's
father, would leave her. Sophie would not be surprised if there was
a quiet wedding being planned in that corner.

She reflexively looked at the doors again,
then crossed the edges of the ballroom toward the terrace in search
of cooler air. Once outside, she observed the gathering of dancers
beyond the terrace doors and forced herself to smile in an effort
to shake her depressed spirits.

She must fight the memories, the feelings
they brought. She must learn to dispel the destructive
recollections of her affection for a man who did not deserve her,
her—There, she would admit it. She had loved him. But she would
battle her sensibilities. She would find peace and then truly take
pleasure in the joys to be found living in a smallish parish by the
sea. She was practical enough to admit that she would not start
until after she faced Lord William one last time—tomorrow.

She looked up from her introspection on the
outside terrace and froze. A tall gentleman entered the ballroom
through the distant doors. She squinted her eyes.