ROMANCE: MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Biker's Baby (Bad Boy Alpha Male Motorcycle Club Romance) (Contemporary MC Biker Pregnancy Romance) (61 page)

He is the only officer to be awarded an honor of the magnitude after this most difficult battle.

''What do you think of that, then?'' Alice's father asked her, when she'd finished reading.

Sophia was too emotional to answer. ''Is Alice at home?'' she asked after a short time. I must speak to her.

''I believe she is. Alice,'' he shouted at the top of his voice.

''Father why do you have to shout so.....oh hello Sophia. What a hero David is. I am so pleased he has returned to you safely.''

''So am I. Alice can I please talk to you? I need your help most urgently.''

The two ladies walked into the garden and sat under an apple tree.

''Alice, I have been most senseless and shortsighted. May the Lord strike me down for the injustices I have done to David. When he returned to me he was magnificent in bed and totally exhausted me.''

''Then why was he so pathetic on your wedding night?''

''He was afraid. He knew he would go to war and the poor man was frightened. It is totally understandable, if you give it some thought.''

Alice looked at Sophia and nodded. ''Indeed it is. Oh, I have just realized your problem. You and the Duke.''

''Yes, precisely. I now have the most enormous problem. I do not want to be unfaithful to David. He is the most wonderful man. Sensitive and brave. But I know you told me how difficult the Duke can be. What am I to do?''

''Go to him and tell him. All you can do is throw yourself at his mercy. Your husband is a national hero, he may understand and let you go.''

''Very well, I agree. I have no choice but to ask for him to be sympathetic to my situation.''

*****

12 Greys Inn didn't look so inviting as it had when Sophia stood outside the door. She knocked and waited. After what seemed like an age, the Duke answered. His shirt was open and his hair disheveled. He had lip rouge on his neck.

''Sophia, it isn't' our day. Go away, I'm busy.''

''Please, my Lord. I need just the briefest moment of your time.''

''Then prey speak woman. I haven't got all day.''

''I am afraid I cannot see you any longer. My husband has returned home and it is my intention to remain faithful to him from now on. I am sorry. I ask you to accept my decision.''

''Madam, you are a disgrace. First you come to me because your husband can't get it up. You beg me to relieve you of your sexual burden, and now you are rejecting me for the very man that drove you to me.” The Duke grabbed Sophia’s arm. “Unfortunately for you, I will not be used in that way. You will uphold the arrangement we have. You will visit me, every three days or I will expose you and your husband. I don't think he would find it very amusing if society suddenly finds out he has problems satisfying his wife.''

''Is that your final word, my Lord? Can I not throw myself on your mercy? I have been foolish and feel punished enough. Please my Lord, don't make my suffering any greater.''

''You should have thought about that before you betrayed your husband. What kind of a woman are you?''

''The very worst kind, it seems.''

''Yes. And if you are not in my bed on Wednesday as we agreed, you will regret it for the rest of your life.''

*****

Sophia stood in front of the most imposing building she had ever seen. As she looked up she saw the words, 'War Office.' She held her breath for a second and pulled the giant oak door open. When she was inside, she saw the most beautiful staircase. It was a split staircase that joined on a platform halfway up. The hallway she was in echoed with footsteps, as civil servants walked to and fro about their business.

She walked up to a desk behind which a bald man was sitting. He looked over his spectacles and said, ''Yes, madam. How may I help?''

''Good afternoon. I was wondering, if it might be possible to have a word with the Duke of Wellington?''

The man looked her up and down and began to laugh. ''The Duke of Wellington?
THE
Duke of Wellington,'' he mocked. ''The Commander in Chief of all British Forces. The man who has just won our country its freedom at Waterloo. Do you mean that Duke of Wellington or is there someone else here with that name?''

''You mock me, sir. Perhaps I am deserving of it. However, I would kindly ask you if it is possible to make an appointment with the Duke?''

''Madam have you just lost your husband at the Battle? Because if you have, there is a building just down the road to which you can go for support.''

''No, I haven't just lost my husband, thank God. I need to see the Duke.''

''Really. There is no more I can do for you. The Duke of Wellington is a national hero, he doesn't have time to see people who just drop in off the street.''

''My husband is Captain David Marshall.''

The man stood up suddenly and bowed. ''Please forgive my impertinence. We do however from time to time get some ridiculous requests. Now let me see. I have no idea whether the Duke is in the building or not. If you would kindly wait here, I will see.''

''Thank you,'' Sophia said gratefully.

When the clerk returned, he just nodded and gestured. Sophia followed him up the spectacular staircase and down a wide corridor. They stopped outside a double door and the man knocked. He opened the door and gestured for her to go inside. It was a side office. A young man in uniform was sitting behind a desk. When he saw her, he stood up and bowed to her. ''Mrs. Marshall. It is an honor to meet you. Your husband is one of the bravest men to have served in the British Army. You must be very proud of him.''

''I am very proud of him.''

''The Duke has asked me to keep you here for a few moments while he finishes his meeting. Would you be kind enough to take a seat?''

Sophia sat down and watched the young officer continue writing. He was very young indeed. The sound of horses’ hooves rose from the street below as she looked out of the giant sash window up to the sky.

When the double door to the main office opened, the young man sprang to attention. The man who left the office looked terribly important and vaguely familiar to her. When she realized it was the Earl of Liverpool, the Prime Minster, she felt out of her depth and suddenly very nervous.

The young man came from behind his desk. ''Madam, please follow me.''

''My Lord, this is Mrs. Marshall.''

Sophia curtsied as the Duke of Wellington got up from his chair, came round the table and took her hand.

''Madam. It is a pleasure to meet you,” the Duke said. “Your husband is a brave man. One of only a few it has been my pleasure to command. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?''

Sophia studied the Duke of Wellington. He was tall and had dark hair, brushed forward. He was well over six feet and broader than any man she had ever seen. He looked like a Roman Emperor more than a British General.

''My Lord, it is kind of you to see me. I am humbled that you found the time. I will come to the point. I will only ever in my life ask you once for your help, and that day is today. While my husband was away defending his country, I was propositioned by a man of the most devious character. I flatly refused his advances. Since that time, he has threatened to make up a story about my husband that simply is not true. My husband has been through a lot, and I do not want to burden him.''

The Duke studied Sophia now. He was charmed by her. After years of military service, it was always refreshing to see beautiful women in his office and not stuffy politicians. This was the country he fought for, a country that could produce magnificent women like Sophia.

''I see. And what, may I ask, is this man threatening to say about your husband?''

''My Lord. It is a very delicate matter and one a lady should in all probability not discuss outside the home. However, I feel I have no choice. In plain words this man has told me that if I don't lie with him, he will tell the world that my husband is impotent.''

''I see, and why can't you just tell this man to be off and have done with him?''

''Because my Lord, he is the Duke of Beaufort, one of the richest men in London. Who will believe me and my husband against a man as powerful as him? He has the power to ruin us.''

The Duke raised an eyebrow and Sophia noticed a look of anger cross his face. ''Jenkins,'' the Duke shouted. The young man appeared.

''Find out where the Duke of Beaufort lives, send some men round to his home and drag him here. At once.''

''My Lord, I can tell you where this despicable character is usually to be found. 12 Greys Inn.''

''You heard the lady, Jenkins. Send twenty men round there and bring him to me.''

*****

Sophia passed a very agreeable hour with the Duke of Wellington. He told her story after story about battles he had been involved in, and campaigns he had fought. He also talked about Napoleon. When he referred to David, the Duke was especially complimentary. ''Your husband can go to the top of the military if he so wishes. He is a man of steel,'' he said.

''He was very frightened before he left for France, my Lord,'' she said.

''There is not a man alive who isn't frightened of battle. I have seen grown men cry like babies before a battle, but once it started, stand their ground and fight with dignity. Do you think I am not frightened sometimes?''

''My Lord. I have learned a lot in the last few days about the feelings of a man and I would not suggest that at some point in your life you have not been scared of something.''

''You are correct. I am often scared, but I march on through it.''

There was a knock at the door. It was Jenkins. ''My Lord, the man is here, I have to tell you he is being rather difficult.''

''No matter, show him in.''

The Duke stood up as a handful of guards carried the Duke of Beaufort into the room. When he saw Sophia, he scowled at her. ''Is this the man of whom you spoke?'' the Duke of Wellington asked.

Sophia nodded.

''Alright. Men set him down.'' They dropped the Duke and he landed in a heap on the floor.

As he looked up he saw the imposing figure of the Duke of Wellington towering above him.

''I hear you have been less than kind to this young lady. What do you say?'' The Duke of Wellington said.

''My Lord, I think there must have been some misunderstanding. Miss Sophia is a delightful young lady. No one could ever do her harm. I do not know to what you refer.''

''Let me make it plain. If you contact this lady again or even speak of her to anyone, or if you contact her husband or even speak of him to anyone, I will have my henchmen, as you call them, hang you from London Bridge. I command thousands of men, and I am sure a lot of them would be only too happy to take a man, who spends his time avoiding military duty and blackmailing women, to the bridge to have some fun with. Do you understand?

''Yes, my Lord. I do.''

*****

Sophia sat on the edge of their bed and looked at David asleep. It was well into the afternoon, and he had slept all day. When she stroked his hair. He opened an eye. ''Hello, my love,'' she said. ''How did you sleep?''

''Long and well. I feel quite refreshed now. What have you been doing today?''

''Oh, I went to see Alice, and I had a few things to attend to in town. Nothing too important.” Sophia brushed her husband’s cheek. “I am so proud of you, words cannot begin to explain.''

*****

THE END

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Here is a FREE bonus 10.000 word romance story by Sarah Thorn, “A Game of Love”

The Game of Love – A Regency Romance

1

David Weatherby stood near the fence that separated the wooden stands from the dirt racing track where the horses ran. The stands were full, despite the overcast sky, thick with dark gray clouds which promised rain at any time. David stood alone, dressed smartly, a hat upon his head, the brim pulled low in an effort to hide his eyes, which were tired looking, with dark circles beneath them.

It had been some time since he had slept. He often went a day or two without rest, so caught up in his carious gambling that he couldn’t find the time to lay his head upon his pillow. The way his gambling had been going of late, he had probably already bet his pillow and lost it, so there was nothing at home for him to lay his head upon.

The horse race would be different however, he always did well at the sport. They were gathering the horses at the starting line now, and they would run once around the circuit, ending at the same line they began from.

David could see the horse he had bet on, and he had bet heavily upon it. He had a meeting to play cards later on in the evening, and it was his hope to go into the meeting with a heavy purse, full of winnings from the race. He had bet on a horse which was a long shot, but as always, David had some information the other men in the stands did not.

And there were not only men in the stands. A few women were there as well, and one came up behind David and spoke, her voice high pitched and pleasant.

“Mr. Weatherby,” she said, and David turned to see Caroline Hampton standing before him. She was dressed in a light blue dress, the skirt rustling lightly in the considerable breeze. Her hair had a reddish tint to it, and it was piled in ornate designs upon her head. Her bosom was ample, and that’s where David’s eyes travelled to first. The woman noted this, and she blushed.

“Ms. Hampton,” David said, finally looking at her eyes. He took her hand and bowed his head to kiss it, and she curtsied as well as she could between the first row of benches and the fence.

“I was hoping I may see you here,” the woman said.

“And why were you hoping that?” David asked.

“Well, it seems as though after finally taking me to your bed, once I allowed it, you have little interest in speaking with me again,” the woman said quite plainly, and David had to hide a wince.

David Weatherby had a reputation around the city, and it was twofold. One: he gambled often and won and lost huge sums of money. As of late, there had been few wins and many losses. Two: he charmed most women he met, and they lowered their defences eventually to his charms. He used them in a way a man can and then moved on to his next conquest. So far, there had only been one woman who proved immune to his ways, the one who was betrothed to him, and had been since they were both teenagers.

Now, at just twenty, David’s list of conquests was lengthy, enough so that uncomfortable meetings like the one he was having at the race track were growing rather common.

“My lady,” David said softly as he grinned. “Surely you think nothing unkind of me, it’s simply my business endeavors that have kept me away. I wish it wasn’t so.”

“Is this a business endeavor?” the young woman asked, motioning to the horses.

“Of course it is. How’s this? Tonight, I will pick you up at your home at seven thirty, if you’ll agree to accompany me to dinner. We can spend some of the considerable sum I am about to win.”

“How do you know you will win? Isn’t a horse race a game of chance?” the young woman asked.

David laughed and shook his head. “Some may accept that it is a game of chance, but I do not. See my horse there?” David asked, pointing to a tall horse the color of deep chestnut, with a rider upon him and a purple sash about his neck. “I know that he will win, though he is what is called a long shot.”

“How do you know he will win?” Caroline asked.

“His trainer has found a new supper for him,” David said quietly. “I will say no more.”

“A new supper?”

David nodded and leaned toward the woman. “It is of utmost importance what these great beasts eat. It can give them quite an edge if their diet is looked after. This horse's trainer has found a new mix of oats and grain, which is said to provide an energy to the horse that few can match. He will be faster than the others.”

“We shall see,” Caroline said. But she didn’t sound convinced, and David turned away from her to watch the race, more than a little offended and annoyed.

“Here they are now,” he said needlessly, and the crowd behind them grew quiet for a moment, and there was a firearm shot into the air, and the horses were off.

David often forgot himself while at the horse track, and he was slamming his hand down upon the top of the metal railing as he watched his purple sashed horse surge out of the gate and take an early lead.

“I told you!” David couldn’t help but gloat over his shoulder.

And then, disaster. Halfway around the track, David’s horse tripped up and fell. His rider went flying, and there was a massive gasp from the crowd. The other horses surged around the fallen one, and the rider who had fallen scrambled to the safety of the fence, throwing himself up and over it. David’s face was a shade paler than normal as he turned to the young woman who was still standing beside him.

“I shouldn’t expect you for dinner, then?” she asked.

David glared at her and then made his way towards the exit, even as the race ended behind him and the crowd gave up a great cheer.

“You’ll never be anything!” a hurt Caroline yelled after him, and though she had hoped her brash words would be drowned out by the crowd, David Weatherby heard them all too well.

2

David had some time before his card game, so he took a carriage to his father’s house, hoping for a meal, and perhaps even a quick nap. His father was a large round man with a booming voice and hard eyes. He sat in the library, reading as he so often did, a large leather bound book open in his lap. He was contemplating something when David found him, the book face down, open to hold his place, and his eyes set on something outside of the window besides which he sat.

“Father,” David said as he came up on the older man. He took a seat across from him.

“Son, what have you been doing today?”

“I was at the races,” David said.

“I wanted you to go into the bank today, if you remember,” David’s father said.

David nodded. “I know, I was hoping it could wait until tomorrow.”

“It will wait, as I wait for you to come to your senses, take over the bank, marry that wonderful girl, and build a life for yourself and a family,” David’s father said. His name was Curtis Weatherby, and he owned and operated one of the most well-known banks in London. He was ready to retire and enjoy the wealth he had built, without the stress of running the business, but his only son was dragging his feet on growing up.

“I’m sorry father, I simply…” David said, but he didn’t know how to end the sentence, and so it trailed off into the air, like a line of smoke from a candle, twisting up higher until it vanished completely.

“How much money did you lose today?”

“I’m going to win it back tonight,” David said quickly.

“I doubt that very much, son,” Curtis said. “You have not been winning as of late.”

“You never seem to complain about my gambling habits until I’m losing, father,” David said.

“You like to gamble? Here’s a gamble for you then,” Curtis said, setting the book on his lap on a table beside him. “If you go to that card game tonight, and you don’t bring home the money you lost at the horse race today, I will cut you off. You will not spend my money anymore, you will not sleep in my home, nor eat my food.”

David couldn’t keep his mouth from hanging open. “But father!” he complained. “Surely you jest.”

“I do not,” Curtis said. “Of course, you can choose not to go to the game, and tomorrow you will accompany me to the bank and begin the transition so you may take over within a year.”

David stood up, shaking his head. “I don’t not want to run the bank,” he said shortly.

“Then I hope your card game goes well,” Curtis said, and he watched his son go from the library with his hard eyes.

David went into the kitchen in hopes of finding food, but the staff wasn’t there, being between meals, and he had to satisfy himself with some bread and butter he found on the counter. He ate two pieces and then went up into his room. He undressed and lay upon the bed.

When he woke, the sky outside of his windows was dark, with hundreds of shining stars blinking down tired light. David washed up at the water basin, splashing his face and drying off, before dressing in one of his finest suits, and hurrying out to find a cab. He did not come across his father, nor his mother or sisters, and for that he was thankful. It was a short ride through the city to Brook’s, a popular gentleman’s club which always had a number of card games going on.

David had been invited to play by a man everyone called Red because of his bright red head of hair. He was Irish, fair skinned and quick with a joke. He drank a lot, gambled a lot, and whored a lot, and there weren’t many in London who didn’t enjoy his company, one way or the other, depending on their sex.

David had befriended Red at a horse race the year previous, and they had gambled together often. Where David went in ups and downs, it seemed as though Red was always down. He lost often, and lost a lot, but there always seemed to be more money in his purse, and so he kept losing.

David arrived at the club and paid the driver before stepping inside and handing his coat and hat over to a young man who stood waiting to take it. He then made his way towards the back of the establishment, into a small room where Red usually played. There were three men in total around a small circular table, each of them preparing to play. Red saw David and stood and clapped his hands together.

“Finally we may start!” he said as David made his way to the empty chair beside his friend and they shook hands. David knew the other two men by name, and he bowed his head to them slightly as Red introduced each. Then he sat down, and they began to play.

The game of the night was Whist, and David played with a man named Samuel Carlyle as his partner. He was thankful it had worked out this way, he knew playing with the unlucky Red would be his downfall.

And indeed in the beginning, it looked as though he was well on his way towards winning back the money he had lost at the horse race, along with much more. And then his luck changed, and he and Samuel couldn’t win a hand in ten straight. His purse felt lighter and lighter, until finally, it was empty.

Despair and panic set in.

“I need a loan,” David said, turning to Red.

The Irish man laughed and shook his head, taking a moment to sip from a glass of brandy that had been brought to him by a pretty young woman earlier in the night.

“I think not,” Red said as he put the glass down. “You are my friend, and I do not want to mix business and friendship.”

“Please,” David said, leaning to the side, closer to Red. “My father…”

He trailed off, and Red shook his head slowly. “Is no concern of mine,” he said. “If you have no more money for me to win, perhaps you should leave.”

Red looked at David with narrowed eyes, and then they flicked to the doorway that led back towards the main hall of the gentlemen’s establishment. David was being dismissed, and he knew it. He stood, mustering up courage to keep some dignity intact, and he bowed his head after gathering his hat from a nearby rack.

“Gentlemen,” he said, and then he left.

Outside of the club he pulled on his overcoat, and went to stop one of the passing cabs. Though it was late, the sky fully dark with an inky black and tiny pinpricks of light, the cabs were heavy in this area, as popular as it was. One pulled to a stop in front of David and the driver looked to him.

“Where to, sir?” he asked, and David was about to tell him as he stepped forward and placed his hand on the frame of the cab to steady himself as he climbed in. He stopped though, and stepped back, looking up to the driver as he realized he had no money now, and couldn’t pay for a ride home.

“Never mind,” David said, shaking his head. “It’s a nice night for a walk, I think.”

The driver shivered in the cool air as the wind picked up, and he smirked. “Sure,” he said, and with a crack of the reins the carriage rumbled off down the street, and David began to walk. He was worried what his father would say.

3

Elizabeth Crawford was nineteen, three years younger than the man who loved her. He was named Rupert Eastman, and sat in the Crawford garden with Elizabeth as they drank tea, and he tried to steal glances of her long slender neck. Her neck was the most attractive part of an attractive package, at least in Rupert's eyes. She was fair skinned and fair of head, with long blonde hair which often sat flowing down her shoulders and to the small of her back. He body was shaped like an hourglass, with a thin waist and robust hips, and a large bosom. Most men looked there, Rupert new, at the top of her pale breasts as they sat in the low necklines of her gowns and dresses. But her neck was what he enjoyed most.