Vanessa Kelly Bundle by Vanessa Kelly

Author:Vanessa Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2011-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The coming of the dawn didn’t weaken Sophie’s resolve, or lessen her sense that Simon had lied to her. Well, he could bluster away till Armageddon, but she had no intention of being pushed into a hasty marriage. And she certainly wouldn’t leave Bath until she saw Toby and Becky again, and assured herself of their safety.

Given his way, Simon would ruthlessly carry her back to her mother’s house in Mayfair, then head straight to Grosvenor Square and to Grandfather Stanton, who would agree to anything Simon asked for. In less than a month, Sophie would find herself trussed and delivered like a Christmas goose to her impatient bridegroom, who would then serve her up to the ton on a gold-leafed platter.

And trussed up like a Christmas goose was exactly how she was beginning to feel, in spite of Simon’s declarations and lovemaking. He had never before shown any inclination to marry her, though both their grandfathers and his aunts had often voiced the hope that “the stubborn lad would come to his senses and marry the poor girl.”

Sophie still winced whenever she recalled the long-suffering look on Simon’s face as he deflected the labored jests about founding a new family dynasty. He had never laughed or made a joke in return, which had made the whole thing worse. If only he hadn’t taken it so seriously, as if marrying her was the most horrifying idea he could imagine. She had put up with it for years and for some demented reason had loved him anyway, though she had always known he would rather set sail for India on a broken-down raft than take her as his wife.

But now, for some reason, he wanted her. And if last night was any indication, wanted her with an alarming, if flattering, intensity. She had slept barely a wink after she had climbed into bed, jerked from sleep by disturbing dreams of Simon’s mouth on her lips, his hands on her breasts, his—

“Sophia Stanton, you’re turning as red as a beet. Are you coming down with a fever?”

Sophie jumped inches off the carriage squabs as awareness of her surroundings came flooding back. How humiliating to be thinking of that while driving through the streets of Bath with Simon’s Aunt Eleanor. As if trying to hide the marks on her neck left by his voracious kisses hadn’t been bad enough.

“I…I don’t think so, ma’am,” she scrambled. “Although I may have eaten something last night that disagreed with me.”

Lady Eleanor’s dark skirts rustled their disapproval. “How like Lady Penfield to serve bad refreshments. I remember one of her routs in London when she served lobster patties that smelled like a goat pen. I, of course, had the sense not to eat them, and I directed everyone that night to avoid them as well. But Mrs. Groton insisted on sampling them—a decision, I assure you, she came to regret.”

The feathers on the old woman’s bonnet quivered with righteous indignation, leaving no doubt of the severe agonies inflicted by the lobster patties.

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