Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(83)

“He married me for my dowry, Em.” Sophie hardly recognized that bitter voice as her own. She didn’t like what she’d become.

“Your dowry?”

“It would seem I was worth a fortune. One-hundred thousand pounds to be precise,” she finished under her breath.

Emmaline choked. “Did you say….?”

Sophie nodded. “Imagine how vastly different my Seasons would have been had gentlemen been aware of my dowry.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted that, Sophie. You deserved more.”

Except, in the end, that was all Sophie had ended up with—a husband who’d wed her for her fortune.

“It’s as you said when you severed your betrothal to Lord Drake, at least I would have no grand illusions as to their motives.” And she never would have been fool enough to believe that Christopher loved her.

She looked away at the pity in Emmaline’s chocolate brown eyes. Em continued to rock baby Regan back and forth in her arms. “Is it…possible, that he did in fact come to love you? After all, there is no reason for him to lie. Not any longer. If his ultimate goal was your dowry, then he is already in possession of that.”

Faint stirrings of hope whirred in her heart. She’d considered that same thing on the long carriage ride to Meadowbrook Estate.

Regan let out a single, mewling cry, diverting Emmaline’s attention back to the baby. “Would you like to hold her?”

Before she could respond, her friend came over and handed the baby over.

With a woman’s intuition, Sophie cradled the baby close to her heart. The heart she’d thought so thoroughly shattered, warmed as Regan’s vacant eyes sought out hers. “Oh, Em,” she breathed. “She’s utterly perfect.”

She gazed at the downy-haired babe, and an age-old yearning stirred within her for a child of her own. In her imaginings the babe would possess Christopher’s dark locks, and hazel eyes. Tears clogged her throat.

“You can stay as long as you desire, Sophie but surely you’ve considered that you must eventually reconcile with, Waxham. He is your husband.”

A knock sounded on the door, saving Sophie from answering. “My lady, Cook has a question about the evening menu.”

“I’ll be along in a moment.” She looked to Sophie. “Will you stay with her until I return? I can send along Prudence.”

“We’ll be fine, won’t we?” Sophie cooed to Regan.

Emmaline sailed from the room, her garnet skirts swirling about her feet.

“It seems it is just you and I, little angel.” Regan’s wide-eyed, glassy stare wandered until it settled on Sophie’s face. “What beautiful blue eyes you have, sweet.”

The babe began to fuss, a little cry spilled from her pink lips. “Oh no, sweet. No need to cry,” she soothed. Her movement seemed to calm Regan, for the babe’s eyes grew heavy; her lids drifted closed, and then opened. “You will not miss anything, angel. I promise. Rest.”

The quiet, click of the door filled the now silent room, followed by the soft thread of footsteps, which seemed to jolt Regan. The baby let out another sputtering cry. Sophie’s gaze remained fixed on the precious bundle in her arms. “Shh, sweet,” Sophie whispered. “I have her, Prudence,” she assured the nursemaid. “I…” She glanced up and her voice trailed off as she faced the Duke of Mallen. “Your Grace.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Miss W…Lady Waxham.”

Sophie chewed at her lower lip, careful to avoid the duke’s eyes. Despite his lofty title, there had been a time when she’d been so at ease in his presence. Now, humiliation burned strong at the mere sight of him. He served as a reminder of Christopher’s indifference, and the lengths both gentlemen had gone to circumvent a marriage between Sophie and Christopher.

“You left Waxham,” he said, with bluntness that made her flinch.

She rocked Regan back and forth until her eyes again closed.

“I owe you an apology.”

Sophie raised a brow. “Just one?”

He walked over, and came to a stop in front of her. “For whatever value it has, I told him it was a deplorable idea.”

“There is no value in that,” she said. “Tell me, Your Grace. Did you truly find me so unacceptable that you sought to deceive me or were your actions motivated by boredom?”

Color crept up his neck. “It would cause me much pain if you truly believed that, my lady.”

The rancorous laugh that burst from her lips caused Regan to stir. Sophie tamped down her ill-amusement. As a duke, he needn’t answer to anyone. Let alone, her, the Incorrigible Lady Waxham. Yet Sophie said, “Tell me what I should believe?”

He made an impatient sound. “When Waxham first came to me, I thought him mad for having concocted such a plan.”

“And yet, you still agreed to help him.”

His square jaw hardened. “I don’t know how much Waxham has shared with you. He didn’t have a pleasant childhood. His father found fault with nearly everything he did. When Waxham struggled in his studies, the marquess beat him. I learned as much at Eton. I began to…assist Waxham with his studies.” He trained an unrelenting, ducal stare on Sophie. “I make no apologies for having helped him through his schooling.”