Seductive Lies (Secret Lives Series) (13 page)

“M’lord,” a voice welcomed him. “Lady Sophia has been calling for you.”

“I am here.”

Arthur paid little attention to the nurse. He walked around the other side of the large bed. The curtains had been drawn to give Lady Sophia’s caregivers access to her being. Her maid sat in an easy
chair next to the bed. She stood at his appearance.

“She is restless, m’lord,” she said. “I have tried to soothe her, but…”

“I know, Mrs. McKenna,” he addressed her in a tired voice. “I will stay. Do not bother Lady Torridge.”

“Yes, m’lord
.” She curtsied.

Arthur sat down in the chair. Sophia lay on the bed with her eyes closed. He doubted she was asleep. She had waited for him. Lying so still with her hair loose, she
laid motionless, pale…colorless against the sheets. Her eyes flickered, and then opened wide.

“Arthur, Arthur,” Sophia called.

He reached over and grasped her hand. “I’m here, my dear. Sleep. You need to sleep.”

“I can’t. I have to get up. The baby’s crying. Don’t you hear him?”

“Sophia.” He paused, swallowing hard. He had no desire to once more relive the last few months. “Sleep. We will talk in the morning. I won’t leave your side.”

“I know. You came back to me,” she said. Her voice riddled with anxiety. “You left her. Bessie said you would never, but you did. You love me.”

“Yes, my dear,” he agreed. “You have nothing to be worried about except getting better. Sophia, you need to rest. It does no good to hold to the past.”

“But you were
angry with me,” she whispered. Her eyes became wild. Glancing about the chamber, she sat up. Her chest heaved heavily; she tightened her grip. “Oh, Arthur, I meant no harm to you. Forgive me. Forgive me.”

“Sophia, calm yourself. I have told you it is in the past. We need to look to the future. You want to get better. Christmas is upon us. Your parents are here. Remember last year…”

Sophia heard none of his words. She turned to him. Flinging her arms around his neck, she clung to him. “It is not my fault. Do not be angry with me. Father said that woman was nothing more than a hussy. A hussy, he said. It is her fault.”

Arthur said nothing. He had meant
his words. It would serve no purpose to rehash what was done. Harriet was gone from his life. The pressing problem lay in the bed. His wife.

He
gently pried Sophia’s arms from his neck. She fell back on her pillow, weeping into her hands. She began rambling incoherently, calling again for her baby. There would be no comfort. The baby she called for lay in her family cemetery at Pleasant Green.

The woman before him was a shell of her former self. The beautiful, vibrant woman he had married transformed before his eyes into a stranger. He would not fault anyone other than himself. He had failed Sophia as he had Harriet.

After Harriet’s departure, Arthur returned to live under the same roof as Sophia, but it was there, a barrier between husband and wife. Sophia wanted more than Arthur could give.

Sophia had changed even then, having become excessively moody and ill-natured, more so than could be blamed upon her condition. Agitated and anxious, her trembling hands, her normal immaculate appearance deteriorating, caused Arthur concern. She began to spend her days in her nightgown, her hair undone, refusing any social events.

Over Sophia’s objections, Arthur called for her mother. For reasons beyond his comprehension, Sophia had formed a dependent bond with Bessie. When Lady Torridge insisted Sophia return with her back to Pleasant Green, Arthur made no objections.

Attempting to calm Sophia’s nerves, he allowed Bessie to accompany them. It was there Sophia lost the baby. She fell down the stairs. A devastating loss. A male child.

Sophia had no memory of the fall or losing the baby. One moment, she would seem coherent; the next, inconsolable. She had slowly descended into a world of her own over the last two months. Nothing seemed to bring her out of her state, except his presence and her need for that damn laudanum.

Suddenly she looked up over her hands and started to laugh, hysterically. Her eyes
… the pupils were so large that it seemed the whole of her eyes.

“It was her fault! She needs to pay!” Sophia sprang upward. “Father! I need Father. He will see to it that she pays for her crime!”

“Calm yourself, Sophia,” Arthur said.

She spat at him, fl
ailing her hands, hitting him. She seemed a woman possessed, crying out in the fiercest of screams.

“What the devil!” Arthur wrestled with his wife. “Mrs. McKenna!”

Mrs. McKenna wasn’t a small woman, rather a large woman, strong and stout. She opened a drawer and grasped hold of a bottle. Arthur looked strangely at the woman. Before he had time to protest, she had the bottle at his wife’s mouth. Instantly, Sophia ceased her struggle. Instead, she gripped tightly the bottle and drank down its contents.

“Good
Lord, woman. I hope that is not what I think!” Arthur fell back, losing balance. He caught himself against the chair. Bounding forward, he grabbed the bottle. Looking at it in disgust, he growled, “I thought I made myself clear, Mrs. McKenna. She was to have no more of this! Who gave it to you?”

The woman didn’t answer, but looked behind Arthur. Arthur turned to face Sophia’s father,
His Grace, the Duke of Torridge. He stood at the door’s threshold.

“She needed to be calmed. I gave Mrs. McKenna permission.”

“She is my wife, Your Grace. I gave strict orders that this… that this stuff not be in my home. Doctor Bingham gave specific instruction…”

“I know what
Doctor Bingham said. I happen to disagree. Sophia has suffered greatly.”

Arthur felt his throat tighten. Hot anger pulsed through his blood. Restraining his ire, he uttered, “It does no good to discuss this matter here. Sophia doesn’t need to be upset any more than she is already.”

Arthur’s irritation grew watching Bessie ease in Sophia’s room. His dislike of the woman ignited with her familiarity with his wife and the way she directed Mrs. McKenna. Moreover, Bessie dismissed Lady Torridge. To his chagrin, Sophia seemed to calm with Bessie’s appearance.

He sighed heavily and withdrew downstairs to his study.

A hastily built fire took the chill out of the night’s air, but did little to lift Arthur’s mood. He sat comfortably in a chair across from the
duke. He swirled his drink in his hand and took a sip.

“I thought we had already come to an understanding,
Your Grace.”

“I believe there is more we need to discuss.” The
duke paused, as if giving the matter consideration. His mouth stretched in a thin-lipped line. “We can agree that we don’t want more of a scandal.”

Arthur breathed in deeply, calming himself. “It has been bad enough. I have taken responsibility for my actions. If you are expecting me to apologize once more, you are sadly mistaken.

“I have recognized Sophia is an innocent victim of the travesty my grandfather and you created. Despite my feelings, she is my wife.”

The
duke nodded. His lips tightened with his own aggravation. “The deception, as you call it, is what I want to address. I know you believe that it was your grandfather and me who decided the course that was taken.”

“I know well my grandfather felt titles marry titles. The blueblood line would continue. I also understand well enough that my grandfather hated Major
Burke because he blamed him for his best friend, your brother’s, death. I’m certain my grandfather thought he was doing best for the Hammett name.”

“There is more that you need to know and understand. It wasn’t your grandfather. I came to your grandfather. I am the one
who set in motion the
treachery,
as you call it.”

“You? I thought…”

“I know what you thought. The blame lies with me. My nephew informed me of the condition in which you found Miss Burke. That was not my intention. I wished her no harm…”

“No harm
? She could have died! Bloody hell! She…”

The
duke gestured for Arthur to quiet. “Please, Arthur, allow me to continue. I’m confessing to you because I’m worried about my daughter. She is the reason that I went to your grandfather.”

Arthur sat a little straighter, attempting to contain his impatience. “Sophia? You have me confused.”

Looking grim, the duke nodded. “I will tell you in short order.” He sighed. “It is not a secret your grandfather and I hoped for the union between the two of you since you were small. Sophia… Sophia, too, set her cap towards you. She has loved you for a long time. When your engagement was announced, Sophia was quite distraught.

“I confess my only child has been spoilt. It is not often she has been denied what she has desired. She desired you. When the news came of your misfortune, the misperception was quickly cleared up. I was there when your grandfather received the good news
, as was Sophia.

“She pressed me to interfere. She had come up with a wild scheme of keeping up the façade that you had died and used it to her advantage…”

Arthur listened to the whole of the story in awe. It was diabolical; never had he suspected the lengths Sophia went to ensure their marriage. Nor had he imagined Sophia capable of such deceit, but he began to better understand what had happened… moreover, why it had happened.

It explained Sophia’s connection to Bessie
… Bessie, too, had coerced a groom to marry her. Although, if the duke was to be believed, he had no knowledge that Harriet’s family had embezzled her inheritance.

For the
duke, he wanted to expel the demons that gnawed at his daughter’s soul. He feared guilt and remorse tortured Sophia.

“Arthur, she believes God is punishing her. Losing the baby has sent her over the edge. Please, have patience with her. Pulling her off the laudanum totally will kill her.”

Concern oozed from the duke. Arthur found he had no sympathy for the man, but his daughter was another story. Something bothered her… tortured her. Perhaps it was his conscience, too, that gnawed at him.

If he hadn’t been the jealous sort
… if he had trusted Harriet… he would have sought her out after his return. No, he wasn’t blameless… and he well understood loving someone you couldn’t have.

No matter Sophia’s actions, he had
married her. They both mourned the loss of their son. She was desperately ill. He would not turn his back on her.

Yorkshire—1810

Harriet panicked. She had let go of her daughter’s hand only a moment and the little one was gone. She had briefly stopped to talk with Mrs. Holt. Walking to the green, relief flooded her when she spotted her daughter. She smiled.

Victoria ran around the maypole
, leaping upward on her little legs and trying to grasp one of the colored ribbons fluttering in the breeze with the other children of Danbe Dale. The normal calm of the village green had transformed to enjoy the first of May’s welcome of spring. It seemed the whole of the village and the community had turned out for the festivities.

In the warmth of the sunlight and cloudless blue sky, the turbulence of the years before seemed a distant memory. Carlisle had been true to his word. He had created a new life for her and her child far away from London, Beebe Manor
… and Arthur. She had left all behind, never to look back.

Harriet thought back to the day she had left with Carlisle
, not knowing what was before her. For a short time, she had stayed in an inn outside of Manchester until Carlisle had made all the arrangements necessary for her new identity.

Four years had passed since Carlisle had bought her to Danbe Dale under the guise of Mrs. Nigel Whitmore, widow of a lieutenant killed during the ongoing war against Napoleon. She had found a quiet existence here in Danbe Dale, a village in a remote part of Yorkshire with the aunt
 of her departed
husband
.

“You will find Mrs. Eleanor Stuart a lovely woman. I know her personally. To be honest, she was a dear friend of
both my mother and my godmother. Her husband passed many years ago. Childless, she lives alone in a large manor home and is in need of income to help in the upkeep.

“As I told you, your inheritance was lost, but I found that your grandmother left a small fund. I have arranged that the fund be diverted to you. Your uncle understood the magnitude of my request.
Although not all you have lost, it will allow you to live independently with your child. I have taken care of the arrangements in the exchange so you will not be found. It will allow you the independence you desire and also to live in the manner you are accustomed.”

It was not perfect. The hurt from the loss of Arthur still lived in her heart. She would never be able to forget him, not looking into the eyes of his child every morn. The epitome of her father, the golden hair
ed child’s eyes glistened with mischief, life, and fun, much as her father must have been as a child himself.