Trapping a Duchess (33 page)

“Angel. . .” was all she was able to say before the room faded to black.

Chapter Nineteen

The wedding date was set, invitations sent and marriage settlement finalized. As of tomorrow, Sophie would be the owner of the highly regarded title of Duchess of Tolland. As of this particular moment, though, she was stuck in her mother's sitting room, taking tea with a handful of society's most notorious gossips. She was, to put it lightly, miserable.

“Was it always a dream of yours to become a duchess?” Lady Ridgley asked as she sipped her tea.

“I can't say it was a dream, no,” Sophie said, drawing a scolding look from Louise.

“Nearly every lady I know can claim that particular dream as her own,” Lady Forrester said, laughing.

“And to become the Duchess of Tolland is a great honor, indeed,” Louise added, eliciting nods of agreement from rest of the ladies in the room.

“Absolutely,” Lady Trumpley said as she helped herself to more sugar. “And Tolland is definitely a man of honor.”

“How do you know?” Sophie asked, curious to know why others viewed him so different than she.

“My dear, he is a genuine Prince Charming.”

“What does that mean? I still don't understand.”

“You know, a man, deeply in love, willing to risk everything to have the woman of his dreams.” Lady Trumpley sighed one of those dreamy sighs, the kind Sophie only read about in novels.

“I wouldn’t say the duke risked
everything
.” As far as Sophie was concerned, he hadn’t risked anything.

“My dear, you underestimate the importance of a spotless reputation.”

Her brow darted into her hairline. “Spotless reputation? I think—”

“Darling, you look fatigued,” Louise said, her eyes flaring. “Perhaps you should have a lie down and leave the entertaining to me for now.”

“You don't want to appear exhausted at your engagement ball,” Lady Ridgley said, giving her a pitying look.

Eliza rose and linked her arm through Sophie's. “I'll escort her, if you will excuse my absence.” Louise nodded her consent.

“Thank you,” Sophie said, grateful for the offer.

Louise conceded with a nod. “See you tonight, dearest.” As they climbed the staircase to her bedchamber, Sophie tried to let go of her irritation. “What a heavy sigh,” Eliza said from behind her.

She felt tears sting her eyes and wiped at them. “I'm sorry. I'm just feeling overwhelmed.”

“Would you care to talk about it?”

She shook her head.
What was there to say
? As if to mock her, a hundred thoughts seemed to fill her head at once. “It's just, he knew I didn't want to marry,” she said, pushing open the door to her bedchamber. Eliza followed her inside. “And still he pursued, like some marauding pirate after a fortune.” She sat down on the bed. “I am no fortune.”

“Of course you aren't, Sophie. But you are a prize.” Her green eyes were candid. “You cannot fault Prince Charming for kissing the sleeping maiden, when his very happiness rests on her awakening.”

“And I cannot be faulted for behaving ungraciously when I find out my prince is a toad,” she snapped, tired of hearing how great a catch he was.

Eliza chuckled. “He must have behaved quite boorishly to make you feel thus.”

She was the first person to say so, which went a long way in encouraging Sophie's trust. Suddenly, Sophie wanted to tell her everything, including the parts she couldn't bear to tell Alex. “I want to tell you something, but I don't want you to think poorly of me.”

“Dearest, I would never think poorly of you. And anything you say will stay in this room. I promise.”

She gave her a thankful smile. “Remember at Lord Roxford's, when you spoke of your husband?” Eliza nodded. “Well, my father was not much different. My mother would never admit it, but he was a horrible bully.” Her eyelids drifted closed, narrowing the room down to her memories. “We couldn't do anything without his permission, and if one of us did, he punished everyone. Most of the time, my brother bore the brunt of his anger. But there were several occasions when it fell to mother and me. When I was young, she was vibrant and happy, but as the years wore on, her happiness faded. A tear fell down Eliza's cheek. “I'm only telling you because I want someone to understand why I am so opposed to marrying a man like the duke. Society thinks him charming. His peers view him as a man of great wealth and power. They don't see how ruthless or oppressive he can be, or if they do, they write it off. But when I look at him, I see my father. And when he behaves as he has, I see a man who will steal away my happiness. Just as my father did to my mother.”

“Dominating, manipulative and cruel.” Eliza's words came out a harsh whisper.

“Yes.”

“Your brother spoke of him exactly the same way.”

Surprise drew a gasp from her lips. “He did?”

“Yes, he did. It was late one night after we'd been playing cards. He mentioned marriage, and I mentioned my husband, and how I would never again allow a man to control me.”

“My brother asked you to marry him?”

She laughed. “No. We were speaking of marriage in general. I told him he would make an excellent husband, and he said he was afraid he would turn out like his father.”

Sophie sat down on the bed. “He never let on that he worried about it.”

“Men never do, except in rare moments.” She took Sophie's hands in hers. “I have been friends with the duke a long time, Sophie. Trust me when I say he is nothing like my husband or your father. If he has behaved badly, it is because he is a fool in love. And if he pulls too tightly on the reins, it is because he is terrified of losing you.”

“You really believe he is in love with me?”

“Absolutely. I also believe he will make you happy, but you must overcome your lack of communication. He isn't an ogre, my dear, but a man.”

Sophie considered all Eliza had imparted, but couldn't seem to let go of a niggling sense of doubt. Friendship was not the same as intimacy, and knowing someone socially did not equal living with them.

“If you don't believe me, try talking to him. Tell him what you're afraid of and give him a chance to prove you wrong. He—no, both of you—deserve that much.” The clock chimed three. “I need to go home and dress, but I want you to think about what I've told you. Tomorrow can be whatever you want it to be.”

“I just want to be happy.”

“If that is what you want, then fight for it. You can't change the fact that you'll become his duchess, but you can change what becoming his duchess means.”

Sophie hugged her tight. “Thank you so much for everything you've told me.”

Eliza pulled back, a smile on her face. “I haven't told you anything you wouldn't have figured out on your own. I've just made it possible for you to meet your brother's deadline.”

* * * *

Andrew lounged in Simon’s study and watched as his oldest friend’s grin went from broad to impossibly smug. Given their confrontation only two days earlier, he was surprised Simon wasn't still angry.

“I won't apologize for being happy.”

“I didn't ask you to.” Andrew said gruffly.

“Then stop looking at me with that dour expression.”

“I'm not dour, just nervous.”

“By tomorrow, this will all be over.”

“God knows how long it will take for her to forgive me.” Instead of the joy possessed by a newly affianced man, Andrew was filled with the same sense of trepidation owned by a battle-worn victor. He had risked life and limb to fight his way to a hilltop, only to find an eviler foe awaiting him on the other side. There would be no planting of victory flags, no claiming of territories until he faced their onslaught. It didn’t matter that the next battle would be between him and a mere chit of four and twenty. He was not foolish enough to believe she’d made peace with her fate. “I need to talk to her. Alone.”

“You'll have the rest of your lives for that,” Simon said firmly.

“Has she said anything to you?”

“About?”

He shrugged. “Anything.”

“Not even 'go to hell', though the daggers in her eyes have been expressive enough,” Simon laughed.

“You're not helping matters.”

“Nor do I mean to. My job is to see the pair of you through tonight's engagement ball and to the altar.” Andrew let out a frustrated growl. “At any rate, it is time to go. Are you ready?”

Andrew inhaled deeply then nodded. “Any sage words of advice?”

Simon considered him for a long moment before offering a casual shrug. “Don’t turn your back on her?” Andrew was torn between planting him a facer and bursting into laughter. He settled for a wry grin. Simon clapped him on the back and nudged him towards the door. Before Andrew had another heartbeat to reflect on the matter, they were standing in the marble foyer. He glanced around, searching, but saw no sign of Sophie.

“She will be down in a moment,” Louise said, answering his unspoken question as she slid in beside him. He gave her a thankful smile and polite bow, then turned his gaze back to the staircase. There, standing at its ornately carved bottom, stood the woman in question. She was dressed in a lavender gown and looked as desirable as he had ever seen her. Her gaze swept the hall before landing on his. A blush tinted her cheeks. He was hit with an overwhelming desire to rush over, fall on his knees and beg her forgiveness. Instead, he forced himself to remain still.

She was neither smiling nor frowning and if she felt even a smidgen of anticipation or anger, not a single bit of it showed in her face. Strategically placed by her side was Alexandra. Her no-nonsense expression left little doubts to her thoughts. A single misstep and she'd have his head. For once, he wasn't worried. The only thing that mattered to him now was Sophie's happiness.

* * * *

All eyes were upon Sophie as she made her way to Andrew’s side. Even the staff, masters in the art of avoidance, seemed unable to avert their gazes. She wanted to tell them all to bugger off, snatch Andrew by the hand and drag him to a darkened corner. And not for some silly conversation, either.
At least that hasn’t changed
, she thought. Instead, she kissed her mother’s cheek and hugged her brother before finally facing her future husband. He took her hand and she dropped into a respectful curtsy. “Your Grace.”

“Lady Sophia.” When she lifted her eyes, he caught her gaze, brushed his lips over her gloved knuckles and squeezed lightly. Something unspoken passed between them, increasing the flutter in her midsection. Eliza's words echoed through her mind.
If he pulls too tightly on the reins, it is because he is afraid of losing you
. Sophie did not want to be reined in at all. She wanted the freedom to be the woman she was, free to make her home where ever she chose. The discordance within her was unsettling, but she gritted her teeth and forced a serene smile.

Unexpectedly, he leaned in close, his whispered promise bringing hope. “We'll get through this together.” She didn't get a chance to answer before the first of the guests arrived. The time was early still, but the ton had come in droves. They spared no glances at the decorations, the other family members or even one another. Every set of eyes which crossed the threshold darted immediately in her and Andrew’s direction.

The line of guests seemed never ending. Two weeks worth of pent up felicitations and unconcealed curiosity made each greeting longer than usual. Some guests coated their envy in sugary tones, some in honeyed insinuation, but most appeared to be genuinely excited for the upcoming union. Nevertheless, the hour-long process was exhausting and by the time the last of the guests were ushered into the ballroom, Sophie felt like a bedlamite stuck in a memory. Itching for a moment alone with him, she nodded in the direction of the sitting room. “Might we take refreshment before we move inside?”

He offered a smile and for a second, Sophie thought he might have understood the request behind the request. A snap of his fingers, however, disabused her of the notion. Immediately, a footman was at their side. Less than a minute later, a flute of champagne was in her hand. She swallowed her disappointment with a sip of the sparkling liquid. The crisp, coolness of the drink calmed her spinning head, but did nothing to appease her impatience.

“Better?” Andrew asked. She shook her head and was about to make her request in no uncertain terms when her mother stepped up.

“We’ll have the announcement now and the first waltz immediately thereafter.” Before Sophie could protest, she and Andrew were bustled forward toward the open double doors. A shushing sound spread over the crowd inside.

Simon’s voice rang loud and proud. “It is my great pleasure to have you with us this evening to celebrate the engagement of my sister, Lady Sophia Sinclair to His Grace, the Duke of Tolland.” As they stepped through the doors, they were greeted with a deafening mix of hoorays, huzzahs and general murmurs of merriment. Sophie caught Andrew’s sidelong glance and couldn’t help an answering smile. He looked like a fool in love, proud to be standing next to his future wife.

She wanted nothing more in that instant than to capture the joy barreling through her and store it in a glass container, the way one would a beautiful butterfly. It was a glimpse into the life she wanted; happy, peaceful and perfect. The noise died down and with it, her moment of bliss. The time had come for their waltz. As much as she wanted to be held in his arms, she was not looking forward to the mundane dialogue they would share. She inhaled deeply and took his proffered hand, then had to swallow a shaky breath when it slid down her arm and his long fingers interlocked with her own. As he led her to the middle of the ballroom floor, she expected to feel the weight of a thousand stares at her back, but he smiled down at her and the world around them fell away.