“I cannot thank you both enough for your kindness.”
Ian walked over and poured himself a brandy as the captain left the room. He raised a glass toward Tony, who shook his head. He downed the contents, letting the alcohol sooth his nerves. Was Bateman worth this?
“Why are you doing this, McDonald?”
Ian shot a questioning glance at Tony. “Can I not want to help a man in love with a woman?”
“Not without an ulterior motive.”
“I helped you with no ulterior motive.” He walked back to the large leather chair and plopped into it. “Miss Hamilton is carrying the man's child. What else am I supposed to do?”
“You gave him a position at the estate.”
“I needed someone there to look after the place. He needed a job. As a military man, he will be well suited to the position.”
“You wanted to snatch a wealthy heiress from Lord Bateman so he would be forced to sell you the piece of land you want.”
“He's already agreed to sell me the land.”
“Then to snatch the man's chance for recovery out of his hands.”
Ian fought the urge to squirm. As usual, Tony knew him too well. “I can't deny I will gain some pleasure in beating an old opponent.”
“Because of Sophia?”
Ian shook his head. “Bateman and I have a long history of competition. We were raised together.”
Tony sat back in his chair, shock showing on his face.
“My father was steward to Lord Bateman's father. They attended school together, and when my father was down on his luck, as he usually was, the old earl offered him the position of steward. Bateman and I attended school together up until University. I attended Cambridge rather than Oxford. We parted ways there.”
“I take it you were highly competitive.”
“The old earl used to take great pleasure in holding up my accomplishments to his son.” Ian had hated those moments. They had always come as backhanded compliments, with a jab at his own father being too poor to provide his son with a quality education. It had pushed him to be better than Bateman. He might not have the title, but he had the wealth.
“Does Sophia know any of this?”
“I've never denied being the son of old Bateman's steward.”
“I'm talking about your need for revenge.”
“It's not revenge.”
“Then what is it?”
Ian remained silent. Tony could be relentless when he knew he was in the right. “I don't know.”
“Was what Bateman's father did so very bad? He funded your education.”
“And made me feel beholden to him for it.” He spit the words out as if they were poison. “He made me feel as if I would owe him something for the rest of my life. Do you have any idea what it is like to have to grovel every single time you meet someone? To bow and pretend they are so much better than you when you know damn well they are not? To have to take charity because your own father was too foolish with money to provide enough for his own children? Have you had to accept charity when all you wanted to do was slap the hand away and walk out of the room?”
Ian waited for Tony to speak. He'd revealed too much, but he could not stop the words from bubbling out of him like lava from a volcano. Perhaps he'd kept things bottled up for too long.
“What happened when your father died?”
Ian closed his eyes. “I had to beg him to keep us on so that my mother would have someplace to live while I finished school. He denied us. All those years of holding me up as an example was just another whip to beat his son with. He wasn't proud of me. He didn't even care. Mother died of consumption shortly after I moved her to Cambridge.”
“So ruining Bateman's chances to marry Miss Hamilton will make you feel better? Bateman will just go find another heiress.”
Ian knew that, but at least he'd get a bit of his own back.
“You can't get revenge from a dead man.”
“Seeing Bateman brought as low as my father had been will make me feel better. He will taste what it is like to beg for something.” Ian poured more brandy into the glass and tossed it down. It burned his throat and hit his stomach with a sour pain, but it offered him a modicum of calm. “I apologize. I did not mean to burden you with ancient history.”
“You've held this in for a very long time, Ian.”
Ian walked to the window and looked out. Tony had done well for himself. He'd pushed past his demons, given up gambling, and married the girl he loved. His life was comfortable, peaceful. “Do the demons still haunt you?”
Tony did not answer right away. “The old temptations are still there. I miss the chance to cheat fate and win, but it doesn't rule me as it once did. I have way too much to lose now to ever risk giving in to the temptation.”
“This will be over in a few days. Once Smith-Williams and Miss Hamilton are married, Bateman will have to start over finding another heiress.”
“And you think taking this from him will hurt him?”
“He is in dun territory and he's borrowed money from some unsavory characters. It is the reason he wants to marry Miss Hamilton.” Ian ran his hand through his hair. “She is the key to it all.”
“What of Sophia? Do you think he'll renew his attentions to her? She liked him well enough in London, or so I hear.”
“By then it will be too late, I will bind her to me.” The words came out harshly.
“What are you planning?”
Ian said nothing as he looked back at Tony.
“You mean to seduce her. Then what?”
“She'll have to marry me.” As he said the words, he instantly regretted them. He didn't want Sophia to have to marry him. He wanted her to want him, to feel some part of what he felt for her. But time wasn't on his side. In just two days, the elopement would take place and he'd have no further reason to stay. There was no more time for wooing.
“Ian, you don't want to do this. Trust me when I say it. It will not endear her to you.”
“I have no choice.” He looked back out the window at the rolling hills surrounding Horneswood. It was peaceful here, soothing. It reminded him of home. He was so exhausted, ready for this entire mess to be done. “I won't take the chance that Bateman might turn to her when the elopement happens.”
“Have you told Sophia how you feel about her?”
Ian couldn't keep the blank look off his face as he stared back at Tony.
“You poor, dumb sod. You have no idea, do you?”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“You love Sophia Townsend.”
Ian turned back to the window in shock. He had not thought himself capable of such an emotion. He'd spent so much time working his way into Society and out of poverty, he had not had time to think about the gentler emotions. Did he love her? Certainly he wanted her. Desired her. Cared for her. But he wouldn't call it love. He wasn't capable of the emotion. It would better serve him to allow Tony to believe it was love that drove him to want Sophia for his own.
Tony moved to stand beside him in the window. “Because you are neither confirming nor denying, let me leave you with this, my friend: Examine why you wish Sophia to be your wife, then ask yourself if she deserves better.”
Ian stiffened as he realized what Tony was implying. Sophia did not deserve to be a pawn in the game he was playing with Bateman. He'd stubbornly ignored the guilt that seemed to accompany his plans for her. She deserved her dream, something he'd never be able to give her. Ian met Tony's knowing look.
“I think you have your answer.”
Chapter 18
S
ophia waited for the downstairs clock to chime the midnight hour yet again. Rain beat on the windows, and for once she was happy not to be meeting Ian outside. The air had turned decidedly cooler. She pulled her dressing gown around her, wishing someone had thought to lay a fire tonight.
Dinner and the evening had been tense affairs. Captain Smith-Williams had announced he was leaving in the morning at first light.
He hadn't told Theo. Sophia could see the tears in her eyes and squeezed her hand tightly. She'd spent the rest of the evening trying to keep Bateman away from Theo lest she reveal the whole plan. This had to be a part of the scheme; Captain Smith-Williams would not leave Theo behind.
Unfortunately, because Ian had not bothered to communicate any of the details of his plans to her, Sophia had no way of knowing. It was just one of the many bones she planned to pick with him tonight. How dare he make these plans without at least telling her something. It was fortunate she could improvise when called upon.
The clock finally chimed, signaling midnight. Sophia crept from her room, checking the corridor for night wanderers. This house party seemed to be full of them. She silently moved down the steps, avoiding the places where the wood had a tendency to creak. She moved through the dark entryway and down the corridor toward the back parlor. There were no lights in the library nor the front parlor. The house was still.
She eased the door to the back parlor open and slipped in, closing it as silently as she could.
“Lock it behind you.”
Sophia jumped at the sound of Ian's tightly controlled, soft voice. “Good heavens, you scared me. Is it really necessary to lock it? Everyone is abed.”
“Lock the door, Sophia.”
There was something dark and dangerous in his voice. He stood in the shadows by the window. She could make out the shape of him but not his face. His voice was low, demanding, and there was something else as well that she could not name. She turned the key in the lock and walked toward him. “Are you all right?”
“I'm fine.” The answer was terse.
Sophia should have felt afraid. It was a dark, small room. Ian was acting strange. And yet she didn't fear him. He wouldn't hurt her.
She stepped closer to one of the chairs near the window. She couldn't make out his face but sensed the nervousness in him. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen him like this. She sat in the chair and folded her hands, forcing herself to be calm. “Shall we discuss the plans you've made? I take it Captain Smith-Williams's departure in the morning has a bit to do with it.”
He turned to look out into the garden. “He will stay at Horneswood tomorrow night and we will get them away the day after. You mustn't tell Miss Hamilton. I don't believe she'll be able to keep the secret if tonight is any example.”
“She might surprise you.”
“What has happened?”
“She almost gave the whole thing away but she recovered quickly. She played her part well. I don't think Lord Bateman suspects a thing.”
“Even more reason to keep her out of it. We cannot afford a slipup now.”
“I think Lady Catherine suspects something.”
“Why would she? She seemed relieved to hear Smith-Williams was leaving.” Ian started to pace in front of the window. “Did she say anything while you were out?”
Sophia thought back over the confrontation with Catherine and her warning about Ian. “We ran into Mrs. Dellwood. She was full of gossip about how Lord Bateman was here to propose to me, after paying such marked attention to me in Town.”
“I suppose Catherine set her to rights on that subject.”
“Indeed she did.” Sophia squinted her eyes, trying to see his face. She wished she had lit a candle. She wanted some bit of light so she could see his expression. “She warned me about you.”
“What did she say? Exactly.”
“She said if I married you I would not be accepted in good society.”
“Given the society you kept in Town, she's right.”
Sophia tucked her legs beneath her in the chair. There was something in his voice. “Is there something else you should tell me, Ian?”
“What else did she say?”
“When I asked her why she was pursuing you if that was how she felt, she said as the daughter of an earl, she'd not be subjected to the same prejudice I would. Odd, don't you think?”
“Very.”
“Marriage to her would be very good for your position, Ian. You'd be in the best of Society. It could open many doors for you.”
He moved swiftly to her chair and loomed over her, his face close. She could see him now, his eyes nearly glittering in the darkness. Her pulse skipped, but she forced herself to be still, to wait for what he would say next.
“I don't want her.”
“I don't know why not. She's beautiful, titled. Comes from a good family. You've plenty of money, so that's not an issue.”
“She's not you.” He sounded as if he had been forced to say it. “She's not you.”
His words flowed over her like sweet honey. She'd been holding her breath, hoping to force him into admitting that he felt something for her. Her heart thudded in her chest as this big, handsome man touched her face with a gentleness that belied the harshness of his words. His thumb rubbed against her chin, as if addicted to the feel of her skin. She could say nothing, do nothing but gape up at him wondering when he would kiss her.
When had he become so important to her? She pulled in a deep breath to settle her nerves, and the spice smell of him, man and soap, enveloped her. When had she become so addicted to his touch, the scent of his skin, his commanding presence in the room?
“Ian . . .”
She couldn't keep the longing from her voice. She needed him to touch her. Not just the soft-as-a-feather caress of her face but his mouth on hers. She needed those drugging, soul-searching kisses he was so good at. She needed to feel his body pressed against hers, his hardness countering her softness.
But he didn't kiss her.
A sense of rejection caused her to pull away from the touch of his hand. She turned her face away from him, refusing to look at him, her skin heating with embarrassment. He would think her fast now, unworthy of his honorable intentions. All the horrible words her father had yelled at her flooded in from her subconscious. She fought the urge to push out of his arms and run upstairs.
“What is going on in that brain of yours now, Sophia?”
“You don't want me.”
He chuckled, a low, rasping sound. “Far from it, sweetheart, but I want you to have a choice.” He knelt down in front of her chair and framed her face with his hands. “If we do this, you will have to marry me. There won't be any going back.”
Sophia knew what
this
was, and for once in her life, she didn't fear it. This man wanted her. He saw all her weaknesses and foibles and still wanted her for his wife.
Did she love him? She searched his eyes for an answer, but it was too dark in the room to really read his emotions. Could she marry him?
The question left her feeling as if she was teetering on a precipice. If she let go, she'd be giving up the dream of marrying a man with a title, the London Society she loved, and the life she had always planned for herself. If she let go, she'd be in Ian's arms for a lifetime. She would always know why he'd wanted her, married her.
“If we marry, would you stay faithful to me?”
“Would you stay faithful to me?” he whispered. “It works both ways.”
Sophia didn't even hesitate. “I would be faithful.”
“So would I.” He kissed her.
Sophia's hands framed his face. His whiskers were rough against her fingertips. She brushed her thumb over his lips. “There is something I need to tell you first. It might change your mind.”
“Nothing will change my mind, sweetheart.”
She didn't believe him. “Do you mind sitting there? It will be easier to tell if you aren't touching me.”
His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “So, my touch affects your ability to think. That is good to know.” He moved to the chair across from her, watching her.
Sophia had thought his closeness robbed her of thought. She could feel his eyes on her. She was now the one who was tense, hesitant. She cleared her throat. “If we are going to do what I think we are, I have to tell you what happened when I was fifteen.”
“Oh, we are going to do what you're thinking. I guarantee it.”
She shivered at the confident heat in his tone. “You might want to wait before you say that.”
“Does this have something to do with why you are afraid of closed-in spaces?”
She nodded. “Things were very different after my mother died. There was less attention paid to us girls. We were left to our own devices far too much.”
“What of your governess?”
“Our mother took charge of our education, and when she passed, Anne took over. Father couldn't be bothered with hiring someone to educate girls. We were a drain on his resources. His only hope was for us to marry well.”
“Did he dote on you?”
She smiled. “He did. He frequently told me I was the prettiest of the sisters and it would be me who would change our fortunes. Looking back now, I realize my sisters had every reason to hate me. I lapped the attentions up like a kitten with a bowl of milk.”
“As would most girls of that age.”
“There was a boy working in the stables. He was tall, well built from working hard, with dark brown eyes and sun-bleached hair. He was there every morning when I went for my rides.” She clenched her hands together tightly before continuing. “One day he was waiting for me in the stables. I was hoping he would steal a kiss.”
“But he stole more than that?”
She shivered. “He tried. He kissed me. I liked it. He pulled me into one of the back stalls. It was dark. He kissed me again and I kissed him back. I didn't see any harm in it, until he took things further.” Sophia stopped, her throat clogging with tears. Even after all these years, the memory still flooded into her as if it was yesterday. She rubbed absently at her arms, as if she could wipe away how dirty she'd felt.
“Did he rape you, Sophia?”
“No.” Her voice caught on a sob. She rubbed at the tears with the palm of her hand. Why did it still make her feel like this? Would she ever get past it? “My father came in. One of the maids heard me struggling and sent for my father.”
“What happened next?”
“He beat the boy within an inch of his life for daring to touch me.”
“You saw him do this?”
She nodded. “I couldn't stop crying. Then he turned on me.”
Ian sat up angrily. “Did he beat you?”
“No. My father would never lay a hand on me. It was so much worse than that. He looked at me and told me I was dead to him. He ignored me. I walked around that house without him acknowledging my presence ever again.”
“Why tell me this now?”
“If we are to marry, you will want children. You'll want to . . . you know.”
“It's called making love, and yes, I want that very much.”
She wiped at her face. “I don't want to disappoint you. I've never been able to stand the touch of another man until you. You should know what you are getting if you marry me.”
“Would you have told this to Lord Bateman?”
“I don't know. I was rather hoping I could just endure and think of something else until it was over.”
“Trust me, you won't be thinking of anything but how you feel.” Ian rose from his chair and knelt in front of her once more. He took her hands and pressed kisses into her palms. “Come upstairs with me, Sophia. Let me show you how it can be, how it's supposed to be.”
“What if I can't do it?”
“We'll figure it out. We'll take it slowly. It will happen when it happens, but it will happen.”
“You sound confidentâa bit too confident.”
He pressed his mouth to her hands again. “I have never felt this way about another woman, Sophia. I have wanted you for three years. I have waited those three years for you to want me back. We can figure out the rest of it together. Come with me now. Let me love you.”
* * *
Ian stood and pulled Sophia up out of her chair and into his arms. He'd wanted to touch her while she told him about what had happened to her but knew if he did, she would not be able to finish the story. She needed to exorcise the memory. He'd learned words spoken eased the fear and the pain that went with them. He needed her not to be afraid tonight.
Sophia tucked her head under his chin and snuggled into his arms like a child, but she felt nothing like a child. Her curves, unhindered by the layers of undergarments women wore, were soft against his body. He fought the urge to rush, to mold his hands to those curves and press her even more deeply into his body. He hadn't thought it was possible to want her more.
He'd always sensed a vulnerability deep within her. She'd hidden it well from the rest of the world, but not from him. He'd always seen that piece of herself she held back from others. Now he knew the cause of that vulnerability. He treasured her all the more for it.
Tonight would be difficult for both of them. Sophia had her fears to overcome and he'd have to fight his own nature to take what he wanted and just give tonight, cherish her as no one else ever had done.
Ian kissed her forehead. “Sophia? Look at me, sweetheart.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. In the dim light, he could see the fear. He felt it in the sudden tension in her body.