Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(82)

“You are daft. I’ve been away in the country for months. Drake forbade me from doing nearly all physical activity.” A blush stained her friend’s cheeks, and Sophie now having known Christopher’s touch, understood the subtle meaning to Emmaline’s words. “I’ve missed your company.”

Sophie swallowed. “Oh, Em. I’ve missed you so.”

They reached the front of the house.

She curtsied to the duke and duchess. “Your Grace, please forgive me for intruding. Lord Drake,” she turned to Emmaline’s husband, “my apologies. Though, please allow me to congratulate you on the birth of your daughter.”

“You’re always welcome to visit,” Lord Drake said.

A generous smile formed on the Duchess’ lips. “Hello, Sophie. I understand congratulations are in order.” Her brow wrinkled. “Where is Christopher?”

Sophie’s heart contracted. Then the blasted tears flooded her eyes. She blinked them back. She’d thought she didn’t have any more to shed for her husband.

The gentlemen were gracious enough to glance away from her tell-tale misery, but not before Sophie detected a flicker of guilt in the duke’s eyes.

“Come,” Emmaline murmured. Taking Sophie by the elbow, she guided her inside. “We must talk. And you must meet my sweet Regan.”

The enormity of her selfishness hit Sophie all at once. “Forgive me. I should have asked after her. I…I…” Her words tapered off.

Emmaline gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Don’t be silly. I’m certain Waxham has done something absolutely horrid.”

“Why do you say that?”

Emmaline stole a sideways glance at Sophie. “You forget. I had my heart broken once, as well.”

Yes, she had. Betrothed as children, Lord Drake had taken great pains to avoid Emmaline over the years. There’s had been a turbulent courtship.

“Would you like to visit the nursery? If you’re too tired from your travels…”

Sophie expected she should be exhausted, but whenever she closed her eyes, Christopher’s pleading face surfaced and robbed her of rest. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than meet Regan.”

“Are you certain?”

At the thought of seeing Em’s new daughter, Sophie felt the first stirrings of something other than grief. “Absolutely,” Sophie assured her.

They made their way abovestairs, to the main living quarters, and down the hall to the nursery.

Em opened the door.

“Hullo, Prudence.”

A stunning woman with dark brown hair, and a smattering of freckles along her high-cheekbones stood with a tiny bundle in her arms. “Hello, my lady. She’s just asleep.”

Emmaline waved her hand. “How many times must I insist that you call me Emmaline?”

Color suffused the woman’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Bah, I’m not one for proper. Isn’t that right, Sophie?”

Sophie managed a smile. “Neither of us are, Em.”

“Forgive me,” Em said. “Allow me to introduce Regan’s nursemaid, Prudence. Prudence, this is my dearest friend, Lady Waxham.”

Sophie hugged her arms at the chest, a meager attempt to protect herself from the pain of that reminder. “Please, just Sophie.” The reminder that she would forever be tied to Christopher, a man in love with another woman, a man who’d wed her for her fortune made her heart drop.

Prudence rushed forward with the silent babe, and handed her over to Emmaline.

Emmaline’s entire face lit like she’d been bathed in a summer sun. “Sweet baby,” she cooed, rocking Regan in her arms.

For one ugly, awful moment, envy gripped Sophie in an unrelenting hold. Her friend had a husband who loved her and a beautiful baby. What did Sophie possess? Nothing more than a sham of a marriage.

Emmaline pat Regan on her back. “That will be all for now, Prudence.”

The nursemaid dipped a curtsy. “Very well, my lady.”

Emmaline didn’t speak again until Prudence had gone.

“Now tell me everything, Sophie.”

A porcelain doll with golden curls and a white dress trimmed in pink rosettes caught Sophie’s notice. She wandered over to the child’s toy and picked it up from the bureau, studying the fragile doll. It was hard to remember a time when her life had been so blissfully uncomplicated. Sophie set the doll down. “I fell in love with him, Em.”

Emmaline rushed over. “Oh, Sophie that is wonderful.” Lines creased her brow. “Or it should be wonderful. What happened?”

Sophie hesitated and told her friend nearly everything. She went all the way back to the night of Lord Thomas’s masquerade and her mystery Odysseus. The only part she took care to leave unmentioned was the Duke of Mallen’s role in helping Christopher. She didn’t want to create tension between brother and sister and Sophie knew without a doubt that Emmaline would have words for the duke if she learned the truth.

Nor did Sophie mention what Christopher had shared with her about his difficulty reading. For all the pain he’d brought her, she still would never bring herself to break that confidence. Whenever she closed her eyes, she still saw the shame, exposed in every tortured line of his face. She tamped down all sympathy for her husband.