Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(24)

He stared after Sophie until she’d disappeared from sight. His reservations with the plan he’d concocted stirred yet again.

When he’d sought out Mallen, he’d done so with thoughts of that fateful night Sophie had snuck up on him with a lantern in her hands. She’d set it down upon a mounting block and searched the stables until she’d found him attempting to read to his horse, Resilience; a pure-blooded Arabian who didn’t judge.

Sophie had giggled, mocking his efforts, and raced from the stables. Christopher still recalled the burning humiliation in his chest, as it licked at his insides. He’d thrown a nearby saddle against the stable wall, and stormed out, not having realized until too late that his rash actions had upended the forgotten lantern. The barn had been ravaged by fire, and though most of his father’s horses had been saved, a stunning Arabian and her foal had perished. The suffering Christopher endured at his father’s hand was no match for the despair and sense of responsibility Christopher carried for the loss of those loyal horses. Sophie Winters’ cruelty had become inextricably tied to the great loss suffered that night.

He shook his head, displacing the troubling memories.

Now, Sophie was more than that girl who’d wreaked havoc upon his life. She was a woman who battled wild geese to defend an undeserving mongrel of a dog.

As Christopher started home, he had the niggling thought that his scheme might prove more problematic than he’d originally considered.





Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet





Miss S.W. was observed entering London Hospital. To what ends, still remains unclear.


7

Sophie stepped down from the carriage, and glanced up at the sign welcoming one to London Hospital, before returning her attention to the note she’d received from Emmaline. She scanned it once more.





Dearest Sophie,

Oh, I do miss your company and all the good fun we had. Since my dearest husband, Drake, learned I am enceinte, he’s been a stodgy boor. I take great delight in telling him this. Drake assures me that once I’ve come out of confinement I can return to dashing all over the countryside. In the meantime, I’ve a request to make, Sophie. My confinement put a temporary end to my visits with the wounded soldiers at London Hospital. Would you be willing to pay these brave men periodic visits?

You are a dear.

Ever Yours,

Emmaline





Her maid cleared her throat. “The viscount will be most displeased. It isn’t seemly for you to enter a hospital, especially—”

“That will be all,” Sophie said. “Please take the remainder of the morning for yourself.” Not allowing Lucy an opportunity to protest, Sophie pressed ahead, climbing the stone steps. Since the moment she’d made her come out and been labeled a wallflower, she had made fast friends with Emmaline, the Duke of Mallen’s cherished sister. Emmaline had filled Sophie’s lonely, uncomfortable evenings at many balls and dinners with laughter and friendship. As a result she was wont to deny her friend anything.

Sophie’s dog, Duke, gave a happy yelp and bounded ahead of her. He stopped at the front door, barking excitedly.

“Do behave,” she tried for her most stern voice but Duke rubbed against her skirts with another little yelp, and knew she’d failed deplorably.

The door opened and an older, reed-thin woman clad in modest brown skirts greeted her with a smile. “I am Nurse Whiting. You must be…” Her gaze wandered downward. The woman’s kindly brown eyes went wide in her face. She cleared her throat. “Miss Winters,” she finished, recovering from the shock of Duke’s presence. She motioned Sophie forward.

Sophie smiled. “I hope it is no trouble that I’ve brought Duke.”

The nurse paused, head cocked at an angle.

“My dog,” Sophie said by way of explanation. “I thought it would do the men good to see him. He’s well-behaved.”

As if he sought to prove the inexactness of his mistress’s words, Duke bound ahead. His short legs pumped furiously as he climbed the stairs.

Good Lord. Sophie groaned. “Duke, no!”

Apparently God was not inordinately busy that day, for Duke stopped, and raced back to Sophie’s side.

“Ah, that is a lovely idea.” The note of hesitancy in Nurse Whiting’s eyes belied her words. “Lady Emmaline tells me you play pianoforte.”

Sophie’s cheeks warmed. “Uh—I…” Not one comfortable discussing her own accomplishments, her response went unspoken.

“She says you are quite remarkable,” the nurse continued.

“She is just being kind,” Sophie murmured, as they walked down the long, stark white halls.

Nurse Whiting cast her a sideways glance. “My lady mentioned in her note that you would say as much.” She stopped and opened a door, allowing Sophie to enter first. Sophie glanced down the row upon rows of hospital beds, her heart squeezing painfully at the sight of so many men forever wounded for their heroic deeds. Nurse cleared her throat, calling Sophie’s attention. “However, she must have a good deal of appreciation for your skills, for she and Lord Drake purchased this,” she motioned to a pianoforte at the center of the room, “for you to play when you visit.”

Sophie froze, and took a step backward. Emmaline had mentioned nothing of Sophie playing pianoforte for these men. She didn’t perform for audiences. “I can’t,” she said, around the lump in her throat.