Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(65)

Only now did he accept the guilt of his rash actions that day.

He pressed his lips to the corner of her temple. She shifted but remained sleeping.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. At last, he’d found peace in their past but the lies of their present prevented him from knowing any true happiness.

Christopher closed his eyes.

What felt like mere moments later, his eyes snapped open. He glanced around, struggling to adjust to the dimness of his surroundings.

“You fell asleep,” Sophie said.

Christopher rolled his tight shoulders to ease the ache there. “How long have you been awake?” he asked Sophie.

She stifled a yawn behind her fingers, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. “Awhile.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked too peaceful to rouse.”

Christopher could name more than a dozen things he would have preferred to do in the carriage than sleep while his wife watched on. All those things involved Sophie with her skirts up around her hips and the bodice of her gown lowered to expose her plump breasts to his eyes.

She pulled the curtain back. “We’ve arrived.”

He looked out the window at Milford House, the family seat of his father. The cobalt blue dusk sky, streaked with purple and violet hues framed the Palladian-style country house, which looked out over landscaping by the late Capability Brown, England’s greatest gardener.

A servant rapped on the door, and then opened the black lacquer panel.

Christopher exited the carriage. He reached up to help Sophie down.

Sophie stepped out, her gaze trained on the red door framed between the six pillars of the impressive estate. “I’ve always loved Milford House,” she said.

He frowned and looked at the enormous stone structure, trying to see the monstrosity through Sophie’s eyes. His father hadn’t spared any expenses when it had come to Milford House. Rumor had purported that the wood furnishings had been Chippendale’s largest commission to date. The art collection itself contained great works of the Italian Renaissance.

Yet, to Christopher, this place had represented a hell he’d been consigned to as a young boy. He’d been mocked and jeered for his failings. As a result, he’d wanted to leave Milford House and never return…and he wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for Sophie.

She loved this bloody place. And he was beginning to find he was wont to deny her anything.

He took her hand, and placed it upon the crook of his elbow. “Come,” he murmured.

Sophie fell into step alongside him. They front doors were thrown open.

“Lord Waxham.” The wizened butler greeted Christopher and Sophie.

“Barker,” Christopher said with a smile.

Barker had been with the family since Christopher had been a boy of just ten. He figured the old servant was somewhere close to his seventieth year. His shoulders were more stooped, his frame more gaunt. Yet, it seemed the man had little intentions of abandoning his post.

Barker’s gaze strayed to Sophie, and then back to Christopher. “I received word about your nuptials. If I may be so bold as to congratulate you, my lord?”

Christopher inclined his head. “Of course.” The old fellow had always been a stickler for propriety. It mattered not that he’d known Sophie when she was in leading strings or Christopher since he was running around the halls of Milford House, terrorizing his tutors.

“I took the liberty of having the State Bedroom prepared.”

The rooms usually reserved for the most distinguished guests were resplendent in ice blue and silver hues and Chippendale furnishings. “You of course, have seen to everything.”

The butler fairly preened like a proud peacock and then seemed to remember himself. His mask of formal decorum was back in place.

“Lord Waxham! What is this I hear of marriage?” The plump, gray housekeeper, Mrs. Marsh came running over. She’d been employed nearly as long as Barker, but had managed to retain a greater hold of her youthfulness. Mrs. Marsh clapped her hands. With her garrulousness and rosy, dimpled cheeks and perpetual smile, she made a perfect foil to the staid butler.

She claimed Sophie’s hands. “I’ve readied the State Rooms for you. Old Barker said not to,” she said in a none too quiet whisper. “But I wouldn’t hear of anything else. Why those rooms haven’t been used in years and years.” Mrs. Marsh guided Sophie abovestairs. “Now come along. I imagine you are tired from your travels, and your wedding. Goodness, I can’t believe Christopher has finally wed. Never thought I’d see the day. Not that he won’t make you an excellent husband, just…” Her words faded into silence as she and Sophie reached the main floors, and disappeared from sight.

The butler sighed. “Welcome home, Lord Waxham.”

Christopher stared up after his wife. Home.

For the first time, it did feel remarkably like he’d come home.





Lady Ackerly’s Tattle Sheet





While attending Mary Linwood’s exhibit at the Pantheon in Hanover Square, Miss S.W. wandered entirely too close and knocked down a number of the finest needlework reproductions. In her attempt to prevent further pieces from falling, she managed to knock down the remaining of the fifty nine pieces of artwork.


19

Sophie sat at the edge of the bed in the State Room. Her maid, Lucy had turned down the blue and silver coverlet and Sophie now plucked at the gold tassels that bordered the fabric.