Behind the Courtesan: A dark Regency romance novel, page 21
“I didn’t want him to have to run with me. I was so ashamed and humiliated and terrified. I would have ruined everyone’s lives. He wouldn’t have been able to stop Blakiston from dragging me back.”
“How do you know that? Perhaps Blake would have embraced his birthright if it had meant saving you.”
“He wouldn’t have done that for me.” As soon as the words were out, Sophie knew them for the lies they were. Of course he would have saved her. Matthew and he would never have allowed anything to happen to her, but it had taken so many years to come to the realization and by then, too much time had passed. Too much had happened.
Her mind drifted back to the night she fled—the pain she was in, the humiliation that her innocence had been taken so violently. She hadn’t wanted to face anyone at all, let alone the man she would have married had he asked. And then what of revenge? What if Blake or Matthew got it in their heads to avenge her honor and wound up swinging from a rope? Yes, she’d taken the lighter fork in the road.
“He would have saved you then and he would do it now.”
“I don’t need saving.”
“Are you sure?”
Sophie looked away from the question in Violet’s eyes.
In the sense of immediate danger she did not need rescuing, but she had turned out to be her own worst enemy. Who would save her from herself? She enjoyed London. The bustling metropolis always delivered something different. No two days were ever the same and she had her life mapped out there. She had the clinic and the children they helped; she had her friends and her wealth. Everything was easy.
Except for the men.
Despite the fact her reputation was mostly gossip, she had slept with men for housing and gowns. It was a necessity she’d accepted very early on, but she was older now. She liked to think she was wiser. She hadn’t made a rash choice in years.
What do you call fleeing into the driving rain?
Blake had really hurt her. She’d never realized how much the man could hurt her. Why should she stay somewhere like that with a man like him?
The question of what she would do once she returned to London still lingered. Since there was no lower legal occupation than the one already pinned to her, she was at a loose end.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“He loves you,” Violet put forward gently.
“He certainly has a fine way of showing it.”
“It killed him when you left all those years ago. He was a wreck for months, picked fights with his uncle, Matthew, anyone who could give him a different type of pain than what you left him with. Even then, it was you he loved.”
“How do you know that? I can’t imagine Blake poured his heart out to you.”
Violet shook her head. “He didn’t tell me any of it but Matthew knew it all. What Blake told and him and what he didn’t.”
“And he just told you?” Wasn’t there an unspoken bond between best friends? Between men? Would Blake be embarrassed to know that Matthew told his wife all of his dark secrets?
“A husband and wife have no secrets.” She smiled. “Matty tells me everything.”
Sophie rather doubted it. “Even if he does love me, we can’t talk for more than five minutes without nearly declaring war. If I were a man, we would have chosen our seconds and had it out at dawn already.”
“If you were a man, he wouldn’t argue with you so. If you were a man, your leaving would have only left him angry rather than devastated.”
Devastated. The word rattled around in her head. If he was so devastated, why had he never written to her? Matthew had her address in recent years. Why hadn’t he come to the city to declare his love and bring her home? It’s what she secretly waited for all those years of men and gambling and the never-ending night life. In the back of her mind she’d replayed the fairy tales endlessly and hated the princesses and damsels in distress for their knights. She especially hated the trusty steeds for not carrying a prince to her rescue to live happily ever after.
She’d almost given up on happily-ever-afters but sometimes, when she saw a couple like Matthew and Violet, her hope would be renewed. At least until the next blow came to knock her back to reality. Like losing the babies. For a few weeks, she had been in the happiest of places, had even begun to consider her return to Blakiston as the new start she’d needed for herself and her child. But that wasn’t meant to be either. Things did happen for a reason, but the reasons were usually irrational, unexplainable, and devastating. There was that word again.
“Do you love him?” Violet asked.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. He could never respect me, he could never forget the fourteen years in between and the things I’ve done.” She looked up into Violet’s eyes, her own misting with hot tears she’d held back for days. “I’ve done things, Violet, things I could never forget or forgive, so why would he?”
“You don’t have to forget. Those years made you who you are today. You will have to forgive yourself before you can expect his forgiveness, but I suspect you don’t need his. I think he’s already given it to you. The arguments are his way of telling you he’s still hurting but I’m sure if you could understand where the pain comes from, you can take care of it. You can take care of it, him and you.”
“What if I don’t have the strength?” It was the scariest question she’d ever asked out loud. What if she didn’t have the strength? Would it all fall apart? “What if I can’t be that strong?”
“Maybe it’s time you stopped being needed and started to need. Perhaps you should let a big capable man be strong enough for the both of you?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Blake woke early the next morning with barely any sleep and a permanent lump stuck on the inside of his throat. The sun wasn’t yet up, but it wouldn’t be long and he needed to be on the road now. He dressed quickly, unaware and uncaring of what he donned. In the kitchen he made coffee. As he gulped and his stomach warmed, his gaze was drawn to the small changes Sophie had made in the short time she’d spent turning his kitchen into her domain. Everywhere he looked was neat and tidy. She’d even scrubbed the wall above the hearth, bringing it back to a warm brick color rather than the red and black grime-color it had become. He ran a tight kitchen, but he didn’t get time to do some things.
She had given him so much in the past week and not all because of the bargain he’d trapped her into. After their accident, she’d stepped up and done everything expected of a publican and more. But at the end of the day, she wasn’t made for this life. Running a tavern wasn’t going to keep her in Blakiston and he doubted he would be enticing enough on his own. No. He had to offer her something. Something more than a farmer’s wife and more than love.
In reality, with Sophie being so logical, love would not put a roof over her head. It didn’t matter how he offered it, she would need more.
Would she stay for a duke if not for a tavern keeper? If it came down to it, he would sell his soul for a roof over her beautiful head.
He walked back into the tap, and using the tip of his mud-crusted boot, he kicked Matthew awake and thrust a coffee into his hands, his energy more renewed now than when he’d first woken. “Drink up and make it quick,” he said. “I ride out in ten minutes with or without you.”
“Is it still raining?” Matthew asked as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.
“Rain stopped around three. It’ll be slippery but at least not so cold and miserable.”
“Speaking of miserable,” Matthew said with a small smile. “Where do you plan to start looking? It’s going to be treacherous going, even if the rain does keep off.”
He’d been thinking on that all night. The closest property over the bridge was Matthew’s. But why she would have gone there when her brother was at the inn, he wasn’t sure. Regardless, they had to start somewhere. “I’m going to backtrack to the bridge on the other side and you are going to go straight home. Check on your wife and then come and find me. The mud will be so deep on the other side that, with luck, I’ll see footprints. Hopefully the other two bridges are still standing.”
Neither man said it but the bridge to the south was sure to have taken the full weight of the fallen bridge and likely had been washed away as well. Hopefully, if luck did smile on them that day, the old and rotten timbers would have sank, snagged or broken up in the three miles of bends and banks before the next bridge. His hopes were pinned on sank or snagged.
“We’ll take Daemon’s horses.”
“Will you now?” A sleepy voice asked from the doorway.
Blake spun and faced his brother, already dressed in high boots, breeches and a sturdy shirt, waistcoat and coat, the very picture of a powerful duke. “You’re going to help?” he asked.
Daemon gave him a don’t-be-daft-look before walking further into the room. “The Duke’s horses will be faster. I had Dominic collect three of the best last night. They should be saddled and ready right about,” he pulled out his fob and examined the face, “now.”
“What are we waiting for, then?” Sophie could be out there, hurt, desperate or in danger. Fourteen years was more than enough time to forget how dangerous the wild countryside could be. The night they were stranded, she’d wanted to start walking back to the inn on her own. The woman had no idea.
Blake didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and marched through the muddy yard and into the stable. They’d wasted enough time.
Dominic handed him the reins to a towering chestnut and with barely a nod, he swung up into the saddle and took off north. The horse mustn’t have seen exercise for some time in Blakiston’s yard, and sensing his eagerness, took the lead and lengthened his stride, quickening his pace until the only sound was the thunder of his hooves. The wind whipped past, stinging his cheeks.
Blake leaned over his neck, only putting the slightest pressure on the reins to keep the beast to the solid parts of the road rather than the slick mud. One of them was going to wind up with a broken neck if even one hoof was misplaced.
When the northern bridge came into view, Blake looked heavenward and gave thanks, reining in hard.
“I thought you were never going to slow,” Daemon said as he brought a midnight horse to a stop next to his.
“I would rather find Sophie than die trying,” he said.
“You could have ridden past her and never noticed.”
Blake shook his head. “She won’t be on this side of the river and the current is going to the opposite way. “ He swallowed hard. “If she went in, she’ll be down Matthew’s end.” As soon as he said the words, he groaned. He should have taken the south.
“Don’t even think it,” Daemon ordered. “We will find her safe and sound. That woman has more lives than an alley cat.”
“I hope so,” Blake muttered before crossing the bridge with care. If the water had been strong enough to take the other, then this one could have sustained damage also.
By the time they got to where the footings from the old structure stood, naked and lonely, the sun shone bright on a day of torment. He saw small boot tracks sliding about before ceasing in the harder part of the roadway.
“Thank the Lord she made it over,” Daemon breathed, echoing Blake’s exact thoughts.
With more hope than he dared feel an hour before, they set off again, this time in the direction of Matthew’s house. There was nowhere else to go out here.
“Do you think she was wrong to react the way she did?” Blake asked as they rode. “After what I said?”
“I would have punched you, myself. Or called you out. She did what any woman would have done. But for God’s sake, she should only have fled to the kitchens or barn in this weather.”
“Why are you helping me now? You don’t think I deserve her anymore than I do.”
“It’s not about who deserves whom or even how you treat each other. It’s a question of whether you can make her happy. I believe you can. If you can keep your mouth shut.”
But the problem wasn’t going to be his mouth. Even if they found her, how could he tell her everything in his heart before she ripped his head off?
Before he could think further about the angle of his approach, she appeared. Just like that. She walked with long strides over the crest of a hill in the middle of the road on the hard packed dirt and she was...smiling. Vibrantly. The sleeves of her ruined dress were pulled up to her arms and stains darkened the front, but she smiled as she walked.
Blake kicked his heels hard to the sides of the horse until the beast surged with power beneath him. When he was close enough, he reined in, but before the animal had stopped, he kicked free of the stirrups and leapt from his back.
Blake was so unashamedly glad to see her, he threw his arms around her and lifted her from the ground. She fit in his arms as if she was made to be held by him and only him. It was a few seconds before Blake realized how he held her and went to put her back on her feet. It was only a second more until he realized she held him just as hard.
“Thank God you’re all right. You could have died.”
“You’re here,” she whispered.
“Where else would I be?”
The thunder of hoof beats brought them back to the fact they stood in the middle of the road. Daemon averted his gaze, his horse shifting after sensing her rider’s discomfort.
Matthew pulled the reins hard and finally came to a stop, looked Sophie from head to toes and back again. “Where the hell have you been?”
“You were supposed to be downstream, Matthew,” Blake pointed out.
“I did go that way, but then I found the remains of the bridge and the tree branches are completely blocking the bend down by the Patrick place. I figured if she had been in the water, the tree would have stopped her swim.”
“How nice of you to put it that way,” Sophie commented with a shiver. “As you can see, I didn’t require a swim at all.”
“Is that blood on your dress?” he asked, ignoring her attempt at sarcasm.
“It’s not mine.”
Matthew stared at her for a moment, his gaze shifted from her face to the road she had walked down. “Violet?”
~
Sophie didn’t get the chance to answer before he’d kicked his heels to his horse’s side and took off down the lane.
“Do I need to go after him?” Daemon asked.
“She is fine, as are the babies.”
“Babies?” both men echoed.
“A boy and a girl.”
Blake blew out a breath before speaking, “Are they all right? Jesus, Sophie, what happened last night?”
“After I left the inn, I headed to say my goodbyes to Violet and found her in labor.”
“Do I want to know the rest of this story?” Daemon groaned.
Sophie laughed. “Perhaps not.”
“Then I’ll go and make sure your brother doesn’t kill himself on his way home.”
“Blake, I-”
“Sophie-”
Sophie thought Blake would do the gentlemanly thing and let her speak first but when she opened her mouth, he clapped a hand over it and shushed her. He shushed her?
“I have to tell you something before you ruin the moment and distract me from my purpose. Will you cease your noise?”
She nodded and he took his hand away a heartbeat before she would have tried to bite him for manhandling her. “What-”
“Sophie!” His warning was received. She nodded again and snapped her mouth shut.
“You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met. Even as a girl, you had to have everything your way. If you could have controlled the sun rising you would have told it to give you an extra hour in the day to get your hands dirty.”
He was right.
“You also never listen. You hear, but you don’t listen.”
“Are you going to stand there and list my flaws? I’m tired, Blake, I want to get back and wash and rest.”
“Will you shut up? I’m trying to tell you that I want you to stay. I want you to stay in Blakiston.”
“Why?” She wasn’t going to tell him she’d already decided to stay. She wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Because I don’t think I could live through losing you again. Because this past week has shown me that life with you is a hell of a lot more interesting than without you.”
“But we fight. All the time. Interesting isn’t a word I would associate with our friendship.”
Blake stepped toward her and cupped her dirt-smudged cheek. “What if ours isn’t only a friendship?”
She blinked. Held her breath.
“I love you, Sophie, and I want you to stay here with me. I want you to work alongside me, sleep alongside me, live with me.”
She gulped. Gulped again. Sophie racked her brain trying to think of a reason he would have to say all of the things he was saying. Was it because she’d been gone and he’d worried for her? Did he mistake fear of loss with love? The look on his face when he’d seen her was one of pure relief. Perhaps he thought he owed it to her to keep her safe? His idea of safe anyway.
“You don’t have to do this.” She stepped back. Instantly her cheek was cold from the loss of contact. His contact. “You don’t have to try to save me.”
“I’m not trying to save you. I’m trying to save me. No woman has ever lived up to your image in my mind. I stopped looking and hadn’t even realized I had until you came back into my life and turned it inside out. I didn’t know how miserable I was without you.”
Sophie was torn. Did she believe him? Trust him? Or did she trust as she always had, only in herself and no one else. Then she wouldn’t be let down, she couldn’t be hurt or left out in the cold.
Blake must have taken her silence as refusal as he forged ahead. “I’ll be anyone you want. I’ll be a duke or a tavern owner or even a farmer, just as long as you stand beside me.”
“As your what? As your maid or your mistress? Perhaps your close friend?” She had to hear the words. She wouldn’t believe it until she heard it from his mouth, checked the sincerity in his eyes against the reaction in her body. What if his relief at her safety and gratitude over her help this week coerced this declaration? She wouldn’t know if he offered her a life out of guilt and he wouldn’t know if she accepted out of desperation.
