The Rogue Not Taken (Scandal & Scoundrel #1)(107)

Sophie took a deep breath, eyeing the adjoining door as Sera moved to leave the room.

“Sera,” Sophie called, staying her sister as she opened the door.

Seraphina turned back.

Sophie did not know what to say, but the eldest Talbot seemed to understand nonetheless. Her hand moved to her swelling midsection, stroking over it. Protecting it. “Tell him. And let the road roll out before you.”

Sophie nodded.

She would. For her sister.

For herself.

The door closed behind Seraphina with a soft click, and the sound propelled Sophie across the room, to where she’d been standing before her sister had arrived. Her heart pounded nearly unbearably; she’d never been so nervous in all her life.

If she did not knock now, she would lose her nerve.

She’d promised Seraphina she’d knock.

What if he doesn’t love me?

What if he does?

She lifted her hand, willing herself to knock.

Perhaps he wasn’t even in the room.

Perhaps he was a sound sleeper.

She wouldn’t like to wake him.

Stop being a cabbagehead and knock on the ruddy door.

Sophie took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop its racing, and knocked.

The door opened instantly, as though he’d been standing on the other side, waiting for her. She gave a little yelp of surprise at the instantaneous response, and he raised a brow. “Did I scare you?”

“A bit, yes,” she said, taking him in, his dark curls fallen haphazardly over his brow, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbow, boots off, feet bare. So desperately handsome, it was difficult to look at him.

He was too much for her.

She was not enough for him.

“You do know that the normal response to knocking is for one to open the door?” His casual teasing made her immediately more comfortable. She knew this man. She’d spent days on end with him.

She smirked. “You do know that most people don’t linger on one side of a door and wait for knocking?”

“Most people don’t share a door with you.” Her heart skipped a beat and he used her surprise to take her in, top to toe. “Christ. I know I’m not supposed to say it, Sophie, but you are beautiful.”

This time, she believed him. Somehow. She looked down at the dressing gown. “It’s Sesily’s.”

“I’m not talking about the gown.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she asked, “Were you waiting for me?”

“Hoping more than waiting.”

Her brow furrowed. For what could he be hoping? He’d said good-bye to her earlier in the day. He’d made it clear that they were not to be. “But this afternoon you said—”

“I know what I said.” He paused. “Why did you knock?”

There were a half-dozen reasons, and only one that mattered.

Tell him.

“I . . .” She couldn’t. “. . . am leaving tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I assumed your family was not planning to take up residence.”

“I don’t imagine your father would like that.”

“The idea does have its charms.”

Silence stretched between them, the thought of his father reinforcing everything she knew about this man and their nonexistent future. He wouldn’t marry. He wouldn’t have children. The line ended with him.

Whether or not she loved him.

Tell him.

She took a deep breath. “I wished to say . . .”

Good Lord. It was difficult.

“What is it?” She couldn’t meet his eyes, her gaze falling to his hand, where it was fisted at his thigh, knuckles white, as though he was holding something tightly.

She spoke to that hand, beginning again. “I wished to say . . .”

I wished to say that I am not sure I can live without you.

I wished to say that I will always be yours.

I wished to say . . .

“Sophie . . .” Her name was more than a prompt and less than a question.

She looked up at him then, his green eyes utterly focused on her. “I wished to say that I love you.”

For a moment, the universe stilled. He did not speak. He did not move. He did not look away from her. Sophie’s heart stopped beating. Indeed, the only evidence that she’d spoken at all was the heat that flooded her cheeks in the aftermath of her confession.

When she could not bear the silence a moment longer, she added in a flood of words, “I’m leaving tomorrow. And I’m not going back to London. I’m going to find my freedom. And earlier . . . we agreed that tonight might be ours.” She paused. “I know I said I couldn’t bear to be with you any longer . . .” She looked down at that hand again. “But I changed my mind. I should like to be with you. Tonight. Just this once. I should like you to ruin me. Because you’ve ruined me anyway, really. For all others. You once asked me how all this ended. And I don’t know, honestly. I don’t know that happily is viable anymore. But I know that tonight . . . with you . . .” She trailed off, then whispered, “I could be happy tonight.”

He remained still, but when he spoke, the words came like gravel, pulled from somewhere deep and dark inside him. “Say it again.”

She shuffled her feet, feeling like a child on display, suddenly uncertain of her words.