Always the Rebel, page 6
Sophia sat beside Isabella and smiled. “Miss Lymington,” she said politely if a little stiffly. “How pleasant to finally make your acquaintance.”
She inclined her head gracefully. She was very pretty, Sophia had to admit, but there was something…cold in her manner.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Miss Lymington. Her sister glanced at her with pink cheeks but said nothing as her twin continued, “and I have heard much about you, Miss Worsley. A great deal.”
Sophia smiled mechanically. So, it was to be like that, was it? “Your wedding plans with the Duke of Larnwick continue, I hear?”
It was a safe subject. Surely Miss Lymington would wish to talk about it—everyone was.
“I would have thought you would not wish to talk about matrimony after your two debacles.”
Sophia swallowed. She was entertaining guests, and more importantly, her parents’ guests. She needed to stay calm.
“I do not mind,” she said, keeping a smile plastered on her face. “I can talk about it easily enough.”
“My word, I admire your fortitude,” said Miss Lymington with just a hint of sarcasm. “That is indeed impressive. I mean to say, two gentlemen have decided they have no wish to marry you after engagements. What about you decided them against you, do you think?”
The absolute cheek of the girl! How dare she speak like that to her, and in her own home, too!
But it was clear Miss Lymington, unlike her younger twin, believed she could say whatever she wanted, and Sophia was not going to dishonor and disgrace her parents.
“Each situation was so different,” she said quietly. “I hardly know where to begin. It is more pleasant to talk of other things. Have you visited the Larnwick estate in Scotland?”
But it appeared the nosey Miss Lymington had no interest in her own life. “Tell me all about it, Miss Worsley, I must know. Did they not like you wearing breeches? I was fair shocked, seeing you at Almack’s. Did they rescind your vouchers, tear them up?”
Sophia took a deep breath and remembered why she had not wanted to entertain the Lymingtons in the first place. Miss Olivia was perhaps a little foolish, a little too easily swayed by prestige—but her sister?
Miss Olivia was to be preferred over this one. The elder twin was mean, selfish, and did not seem to have any comprehension of what an appropriate question was!
Sophia would not let her get the better of her. “I may be a little rebellious, but—”
“A bit!” Miss Lymington’s words were so loud that her father glanced over from the fireplace. “Quite a lot, I would say. I am not surprised no gentleman wants to marry you.”
Sophia had a retort ready, but while it would have been acceptable at the Queen of Hearts, it was not one she could voice here.
Besides, she had been rebellious enough this week. The image of Philip—the Earl of Marnmouth—appeared in her mind, and she smiled, all the tension from her irritating conversation with Miss Lymington fading anyway.
She had to put him out of her mind.
“I always think,” she said airily, “some gentlemen like a little rebelliousness.”
Was that a pout of irritation from Miss Lymington? “Not my intended. The Duke of Larnwick is a very handsome, wealthy man, and…”
And that was when she utterly lost Sophia’s attention. Finally able to find a topic that did not disparage her hosts’ daughter, Miss Lymington started talking away, and Sophia nodded a few times to keep her on the same foolish topic.
Anything to avoid more personal criticisms of all her life choices. Besides, she had plenty to think about.
Philip. The Earl of Marnmouth, she corrected silently. Here was a gentleman who desired her, and desired her for…her. She had a pleasing dowry, that was true, but Robert had needed far more, and Jacob had only been attempting to fulfill the requirements of that strange codicil.
But Philip…he saw her and wanted her.
She must not allow herself to be alone with him again, or she may ask him to kiss her again—and where would that lead?
Chapter Six
The dart that flew from Marnmouth’s hand soared across the room and stuck firmly into the wall.
He did not even look around to see what he had hit. The dartboard had been taken down weeks ago after it had almost collapsed, pricked with holes from his years of accuracy. Now he just threw his darts at the wall. What did it matter? He had plenty of money to have the wall replastered.
Bored, bored, bored.
Three days. Three days since he’d seen Sophia, since he’d pinned her against that wall and drew out of her that honest request.
And that kiss…
Marnmouth fell onto the sofa in his study. A vision crowded his mind of Sophia, the woman panting under his touch, desperate—despite her fine words—for another kiss.
He had been certain she would have sought him out by now. Yes, she had protested about not wishing for matrimony, but he had felt her quiver under his touch. She had reached out for him, asked for the kiss he had bestowed so willingly.
And yet, she had not appeared. It was maddening!
So here he was, stuck at home. It was not exactly a hardship. The Marnmouth London house was finer than most in the city.
He had friends, acquaintances, even enemies who would all welcome him to their table.
Wasn’t it foolish of him, a man she probably laughed at, to think that she would call?
Idiot man. The night had fallen hours ago, and candles flickered in his study.
Well, thought a sarcastic part of his mind he ignored at every opportunity, there was always Emma.
He pushed the thought away. Yes, it was tempting to fall back into the tender arms of Emma Tilbury. When one knew the pleasure she could give, it was indeed enticing.
But he could not go back. He had stuck to his principles in the two years since he had broken with her, and he would not rescind his word.
“If you just give me a few minutes, I am sure I can convince you.”
Marnmouth sat up and sighed heavily. No, he would not permit himself to fall back into old habits, even now he was past his fortieth year. Life was nothing if one did not move forward to new things, and he was determined to do just that.
New things like Sophia.
Sophia had wanted him. She had taken his kiss, then left him.
For all his fine words about needing and wanting, Sophia sparked a strange mixture of both in him whenever he was in her presence.
He almost laughed. The two times he had been in her presence! This was wild, this was madness. When had a miss ever done this to him?
He felt useless. Most ladies her age were desperate for husbands. He had heard the rumors. He knew from her own lips that she had been jilted. But how many ladies endured that and turned up to Almack’s in breeches?
She was one in a million. Perhaps rarer. Miss Sophia Worsley was going to crowd his mind and haunt his dreams if he did not get what he wanted.
The study door opened, and McCall appeared, looking rather stiff. A flicker of guilt moved through Marnmouth. He really should look into getting some sort of pension sorted out for his old butler. The man had served almost forty years. The poor thing needed a break.
“Most of the servants have returned from their days off, my lord,” said the butler formally. “I was going to lock up the property now. Are you about to retire?”
Marnmouth glanced at the clock. It was just past ten o’clock in the evening, and yet already he could feel the tug of tiredness around his eyes.
By God, there was a time when he would consider ten o’clock in the evening the time to start an adventure!
A spontaneous choice rushed through his mind. “No, McCall, I am going out. Lock the door behind me. I will take a key.”
Gambling would take his mind off her, he decided as he pocketed a front door key and strode out into the chilling night. A few hands of cards would do him nicely, allow him to settle, and then when he came home, he could go to bed.
“God save the Queen,” he muttered to the faceless doorkeeper behind the slat, and within a minute, he was down in the belly of the place—where a terrible scene unfolded.
A table had been overturned in the middle of the room, with cards and coins scattered all over the place. Two men were jeering at a third man holding someone in his arms.
Marnmouth’s heart went cold. Sophia. She was struggling against the man, but she was not strong enough to cast him off entirely. The other gentlemen in the Queen of Hearts were laughing, viewing her as their entertainment for the evening.
He reacted before he was able to think. Roaring like a lion, Marnmouth ran forward and pulled the man from Sophia, pushing him to the floor.
“I will kill you,” Marnmouth panted heavily, his eyes narrowed as he glared at the miscreant, “if you ever touch her again. Do you hear me? I said, do you hear me?”
The man nodded hastily, backing away.
Marnmouth was only then aware that Sophia had clung onto him, tucked into his arms. If he had not decided to come here tonight…
The thought was not to be borne. It was intolerable. Would he have to set up an armed guard around this woman?
As though able to hear his thoughts, Sophia pulled away. He could see genuine fear in her eyes, but there was no quiver in her voice as she spoke. “I do not need your help.”
“Like hell you don’t,” Marnmouth snapped, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door to outside. It was time for Miss Sophia Worsley to leave this gambling den, and this time, for good.
The night air cooled his skin but did nothing to calm his thundering heart. The thought—the very image of seeing someone touch Sophia without her consent was insupportable. What would have happened if he had not decided to go to the gambling den?
Sophia pulled away, rubbing her wrist pointedly as a reproof. “I said I could manage things by myself,” she said coldly, eyes flashing. “I did not need your help. I had everything under control.”
“Like hell,” Marnmouth repeated, fire in his tone. “And what in God’s name were you intending to do, pray, if I had not turned up at that exact moment? Christ alive, Sophia—”
Was that a look of pleasure as he said her name, or had he imagined it?
It was gone before he could say anything. Sophia turned and started walking away.
“Oh no, you don’t,” muttered Marnmouth. It took only three of his strides before he was right at her side again.
“I had a plan,” she said stiffly without looking at him.
It was impossible not to laugh, and so he did. “A plan? God give me strength. What did it involve—shouting or merely struggling?”
She at least had the grace to blush. “That is none of your concern.”
She was correct in a way, but Marnmouth could not accept it. She was his concern—at least, he was concerned for her, and that amounted to the same thing.
Not just concerned, but utterly captivated.
“A young lady should not be going to places like that,” he said in a chastising tone.
He was not surprised when she laughed. “I am not just any young lady, and I will go where I please.”
Marnmouth nodded. “I can see that. Do you have any idea where you are going?”
Sophia stopped. It was only then that Marnmouth could see the color in her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes, suggesting tears only just held back, and the quiver of her lip. She had been genuinely afraid, perhaps for her life. Why could she not just admit that, thank him for his rescue?
“No,” she admitted quietly. “No, I was just walking.”
Something softened in Marnmouth’s heart. His anger came from fear—fear for her. But she was safe, and she would hardly thank him for preaching at her.
“Sophia—Miss Worsley, I mean,” he corrected hastily. “Do your parents know you are out here?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Firing up again, Sophia snapped, “My parents do not know half the things I get up to because I am old enough to care for myself. I don’t need a nursemaid looking after me!”
“Well, I am no nursemaid!” Marnmouth snapped back. It was infuriating having this discussion with her on the pavement, and he tried to keep his voice down. The last thing they needed was more gossip. “I would have done the same for any lady in distress!”
“I know, and that is why it doesn’t matter to me. If I want heroics, I want them for me, not because of duty.”
God, he could not work out this woman. As he looked at her, fiercely staring as though daring him to contradict her, he attempted to unpick what had just occurred.
So did she want him? Did she even like him? It was impossible to tell, and the longer this conversation continued, the more irritated she appeared to become!
Marnmouth laughed and shook his head. “The more I know of you, the more I like you—I would not change you for anything.”
Sophia looked curious. “Truthfully? You are in earnest?”
It was, save for her adventure in the Queen of Hearts, the most vulnerable he had seen her. He nodded. “I would change the danger you put yourself in.”
“Well, as I am nothing to you,” she said delicately, “I am not your concern.”
Marnmouth swallowed. How could he put into words the way he felt about Sophia? If he knew himself, perhaps he could articulate it better.
“I know I am nothing to you, and you are nothing to me, at least in society’s eyes,” he said in a low voice, “but that does not mean I feel nothing for you. I think you feel the same way.”
The glare she shot him was worthy of a queen. “How do you feel about me?”
It was not an unfair question, but Marnmouth hesitated before attempting to respond to such a direct question. “You are…you are precious to me.”
Sophia shook her head. “Do not give me that rot. Precious? Like a full purse or a well-shod horse?”
She started walking again. Marnmouth cursed under his breath. One day he was going to have a conversation with Sophia in which he did not make a fool of himself!
“No, like—like a piece of music played with passion.”
His words, this time, and not his hand, were sufficient to stop her. Sophia turned, her elegant face looking at him as though attempting to discern whether he spoke the truth.
Marnmouth swallowed. This was his chance. “Like a poem capturing desperate love. Like a portrait of a loved one accurately made that brings joy to the beholder.”
He had never been much good at all this, but for the first time in his life, his words were able to convey something of the stirrings of his heart.
This time, Marnmouth was able to take his time when kissing Sophia Worsley. It was a deep and slow kiss, and he pulled her into his arms as though she belonged there. She resisted, he could feel the tension in her, and he immediately released her.
Sophia was glaring. “You take liberties, sir.”
Marnmouth grinned. “You gave them to me, and I want more.”
“You cannot have me, so you can just—you can forget that!”
He swallowed. Outside someone’s house was not the place to have this discussion. He needed to get her home safely. Then, at least, he could attempt to woo her.
“Let me walk you home,” he said aloud, “so I know you are home safely.”
He should have known something was up when she turned to the door behind her and smiled broadly. “Well, what do you know? I am at home. It looks as though I know my way about London, after all.”
Sophia had shut the door in his face before he could say anything more, and he leaned against it, unable to comprehend what had just occurred.
What had he got himself involved in? Whatever it was, he was not going to allow her to have the last word. Not again.
“Miss Worsley,” he yelled, banging on the door with his fist.
As he predicted, it opened within seconds.
“What do you think you are doing?” Sophia hissed, her hair already down past her shoulders, pins removed. “You will wake my parents!”
Marnmouth swallowed. If he had thought her enticing before, it was nothing to seeing her like this, pelisse removed, hair let down for the evening.
“Looks like you will have to let me in, then,” he said with a grin. “Otherwise, I shall just stay out here, knocking on your door.”
Sophia bit her lip. She was obviously considering the lesser of two evils, and though it prickled Marnmouth’s pride, he was relieved to see she eventually opened the door a little further, albeit with awful grace.
He smiled. “Thank you, Miss Worsley.”
The hallway was silent, and its stillness made him wonder what on earth was he doing. Gone were the days when he crept into ladies’ bedchambers without their parents’ knowledge, and if he knew Miss Worsley—and he was starting to—he should not be aspiring to such a feat this evening.
“This way.”
Her voice was a mere whisper, but he followed her and found himself in a beautifully proportioned drawing room with the remnants of a fire still in the grate.
“Well, this is what you wanted,” Sophia said, throwing herself on a sofa. “What now?”
Marnmouth whispered, “Will your parents not hear?”
She shook her head. “No, their bedchambers are on the other side of the house. Above is my own—and do not say a thing about it, Marnmouth, or I shall get very irritated with you.”
He grinned. “My name is Philip.”
“And mine is Sophia, and yet you will call me Miss Worsley, and I will call you Marnmouth,” she said smartly, but there was a hint of a smile. “So. What did you intend once you had stormed the barricades?”
If Marnmouth was honest with himself, he had no idea. It had been a reckless hope to be allowed entrance into the Worsley home, and now he was here…
Well, he knew what he wanted to do.
“You know, you are so unlike the other gentlemen I meet,” said Sophia lazily.
Marnmouth raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
She looked him up and down carefully before she continued, and he felt a prickle of discomfort settle on the back of his neck.
