Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke (29 page)

With anyone else, Adam would have been annoyed. Supremely annoyed. No one kept him waiting, and no one shut a door on his face. With Sophia, however, he was mostly curious about what the deuce she was doing in there. And so he waited outside her door, wondering who was most likely to stumble across him standing there, and what he would say to shut them up.

The door opened again. When he didn’t move, she eyed him. “Well? Come in before someone sees you.”

He walked into the room, and she swiftly closed the door behind him. Nothing looked different, up to and including her clothing; whatever she’d been doing in there, it hadn’t been redecorating. Or pulling off that dress, for which he was grateful. He wanted to do that himself.

His borrowed footman’s greatcoat had been left behind in the kitchen, so he sat in one of the chairs before the fireplace as Sophia divested herself of her coat and boots. Mrs. Orling the seamstress had outdone herself. If this all hadn’t been a secret, he could likely have half the chits in London purchasing her skills.

Finally Sophia padded over to him in her bare feet and gracefully draped herself onto his lap. “If we’re ignoring the inevitable, I think you should kiss me,” she said, her light green eyes glinting emerald in the firelight.

“I would be amenable to that,” he returned, sliding an arm around her waist as he lowered his mouth over hers. His sprite, who refused diamonds because the bauble would bring her attention and more trouble than its sale would alleviate. His heart, who wore trousers with the same joy she did the most elegant and expensive gowns in the north of England. His peace, who’d soothed his soul as no one else had ever been able to do.

One by one he pulled the pins from her hair, until the heavy waves fell in a glorious scarlet cascade through his fingers and down her back. The fire added bronze and gold to the color, alive and lush and mesmerizing. Fisting his hand in the waves, he gently pulled her head back, baring her throat to his kisses.

She untied his cravat and dropped it to the floor, then leaned in to run her tongue along the curve of his ear. Just the lemon scent of her intoxicated him. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t simply claim her in public and order every other male who looked in her direction to keep their distance because she belonged to him.

Except that she didn’t. She belonged to some faceless vicar who would only try to kill everything joyous about her. Adam placed a palm on her ankle and slid it slowly up her leg, drawing her skirt with him as he ascended. If Hennessy hadn’t specified that anything other than a wedding would spell both her ruin and that of The Tantalus Club, the Reverend Loines might well find himself in the Royal Navy and on his way to the Orient. It couldn’t be wrong simply to want to protect her, and to make certain no one else but him ever touched her.

Sophia wiggled her bottom, grinding across his aroused, constricted member, then grinned. “This is a very comfortable chair, isn’t it?” she asked, her breath hitching.

“I’m glad you think so, because we aren’t going anywhere.”

He lifted her, and she swung her left leg over, straddling him. Catching her mouth in another deep, tongue-tangling kiss, at the same time he slid his hand between her legs and pressed a finger up inside her. She was damp and hot and doing the most exquisite wriggling, and it took him a moment to brace himself against her soft assault.

While she unbuttoned his waistcoat, he went to work on the buttons at the back of her gown. “Lift your arms,” he ordered once he had that done. She complied, and he drew the silk and lace over her head and dropped it to the floor.

Immediately he pulled her forward, taking her left breast into his mouth and sucking. With a gasp she dug her fingers into his scalp, and in response to that he flicked his tongue across her nipple.

“You are a very naughty man,” she groaned, gasping as his fingers entered her again.

Adam grinned up at her, and moved his attention to her right breast, shifting his fingers at the same time. “Should I stop?”

“Oh! Oh, definitely not. In fact…” She reached between her legs, pushing his hand out of the way and opening the fastenings of his trousers.

When he lifted his hips a little, she pushed his pants down to his thighs. Because she clearly knew by now that he tended to arrive at her door prepared, she reached into his pocket for a French condom and tied it in place. “Very impressive,” he noted, his jaw clenched against the tugging and pulling on his cock. “You didn’t even look.”

“I have you memorized,” she breathed, sinking down on him until he was deeply inside her.

That seemed a profoundly resplendent thing to say—not about his body, but about her regard for him. His ability to think about it logically, however, was severely impaired at the moment. She lifted half off him, and he pushed up with his hips as she lowered herself again.

“Mm,” she chuckled breathlessly, and grabbed his open waistcoat to shove it in bumps and starts off his shoulders.

When she sat forward to kiss him, he shut his eyes, reveling in the sensation of her. Then her warm hands slid up under his shirt, caressing his shoulders and running down his chest to pinch his nipples.
Sweet Lucifer
. Adam groaned, moving his own hands to her hips. Increasing his pace, he pulled her down over his rising hips again and again.

With a loud moan, she caught his mouth again. As he felt her come, he shoved up hard into her, bringing himself to climax and joining her.

Sophia sagged against his chest, sliding her arms over his shoulders and lowering her head against his neck. He held still, taking her weight, and wishing he could take on all her burdens so easily. While he appreciated irony, he didn’t find the way he held no sway over what he most cherished in life terribly amusing.

Finally she took a deep breath and straightened. “Are you in a pleasant mood?”

“I am now.”

She kissed him. “Good. I need to ask you something.”

His heart skittered, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. “I’m listening.”

“Don’t be angry.”

That didn’t sound very promising. “I’ll make an attempt,” he hedged.

Making a face, she climbed off him and picked up her pretty dress. Carefully she folded it and set it across the opposite chair. “Your servants,” she said, walking naked and lovely to climb beneath the covers of her bed.

Adam pulled off his boots and shrugged the rest of the way out of his trousers. “What about my servants?” he asked, disposing of the condom and sending his shirt after his trousers.

“They adore you.”

He crossed the room and slid beneath the blankets beside her. “I pay them. I pay for their loyalty.”

“Don’t be so cynical. Everyone at least attempts to pay their servants enough to be assured of their discretion. Loyalty is different.” She snuggled up against him, her back to his front.

“Why are we discussing loyalty, then?” he murmured, putting an arm around her waist and tucking her hand into his. He liked holding her hand; it was actually a new experience for him. Previously he’d never cared for the sensation. It made him feel trapped. With her, however, it gave him a sense of connection. Of not being alone.

“I think you should reward their loyalty by giving them a very nice bonus for Christmas,” she said, her voice sleepy.

After he’d seen Udgell dump food all over Aubrey Burroughs earlier, he’d been thinking the same thing himself. And yet, he didn’t need—didn’t like—other people telling him what to do. Last year when Eustace had suggested he sack one of his grooms for some offense or other, he’d told her in no uncertain terms to stay out of his bloody business.

“How much do you recommend?” he asked, mostly to hear what she would say.

“Ten pounds each,” she returned promptly, and yawned.

“That’s quite a bonus.” If he gave out that amount and any other households learned of it, there was likely to be a riot across Mayfair. Hm. That could actually be amusing. “I’ll see to it. With something additional for Udgell.”

“And for Milly Brooks.”

“And for Mrs. Brooks,” he echoed. Clearly she was nearly asleep, and he took a breath, mentally crossing his fingers. If she told him what had transpired with Aubrey, he could openly take action. “It was a shame Burroughs’s nice jacket was ruined at dinner,” he ventured.

“And his trousers,” she put in, and snorted. “It’s a shame no one dropped the snapdragon bowl on his lap.”

“Did his lap offend you, then?”

Sophia sighed. “He’s very full of appreciation for himself. It’s tiresome.” With that, her breathing slowly deepened and leveled out.

Damnation.
Even when someone injured her, she shrugged it off her shoulders. It was exasperating, and at the same time he felt … proud to know her. Proud that she considered him not just a lover, but a friend.

All he needed to do now was figure out how to be rid of Mr. Loines, save the Tantalus, and remove her from her father’s influence—and somehow keep her in his life while he planned his own bloody wedding.

Cornwall in the winter would be at least three days there and three days back—a week, at least, once he’d hunted down this Loines fellow. He would miss Christmas, he would miss days with Sophia, and he would be taking a chance on offending not only Caroline, but all the other chits he’d invited to attempt to win his hand. Damnation.

He could send Keating, but there was half a chance that Blackwood would refuse to leave his wife on their first Christmas together, and he wasn’t about to risk a pregnant woman—or losing Sophia’s main allies here in an increasingly unfriendly house. Sliding carefully from beneath Sophia, Adam sat on the edge of the bed.

The list of men he trusted to meet with the vicar, to determine whether he could be kinder than Hennessy had portrayed him, whether he would be someone worthy of Sophia’s warmth and wit or could be … persuaded toward the light, as it were, was very short. Nonexistent, in fact. Or rather, almost nonexistent.

Swearing beneath his breath, Adam rose, pulled a spare blanket from the back of a chair and shrugged it over his shoulders, and padded barefoot to the room’s small writing desk. Finding paper and ink, he moved over to the table beneath the window and cracked the curtains to make use of the moonlight.

There was a time when he’d considered Oliver Warren, the Marquis of Haybury, his closest, dearest friend. And then because of his own inflated sense of importance and a large degree of shortsightedness, he’d destroyed the friendship and nearly destroyed the man, himself. But Oliver was one of Sophia’s employers now, the co-owner of The Tantalus Club. And because he knew Sophia, he would have to care what happened to her. It was impossible not to.

Swiftly he wrote out the note, emphasizing the importance to Sophia rather than to himself, hoping Haybury would do a favor for one if not for the other of them. Then he pulled the bell for a servant, handed the missive and his instruction over at the quiet scratch on the door, and returned to the warm bed. If he couldn’t outright save her, perhaps he could at least make her path easier. It didn’t seem adequate, but at the moment all he owned was hope and a rapidly spinning pocket watch. Time was running out—for both of them.

*   *   *

Sometime later he awoke to the sound of curtains opening. “Good morning, Soph— Oh, good gracious! Your Grace!”

Adam snapped his eyes open. Mrs. Brooks, his housekeeper and Sophia’s maid, stood at the edge of the bed, her hands in the midst of stripping off the blankets. At the same moment Sophia lurched upright beside him.

“Release the sheets and step back, Mrs. Brooks,” he stated.

She squawked a few more times, but belatedly backed away from the bed. “I apologize, Your Grace. I certainly didn’t intend—Oh, heavens. And Sophia. Miss White. You’re well, yes? I could—I—”

“I’m perfectly fine, Milly,” Sophia answered, the stirrings of amusement in her voice. “Thank you for your concern.” Then she thwacked him on the arm. “Say something reassuring.”

Inwardly shaking his head at the abuse she heaped on his shoulders and that he continued to tolerate, Adam made certain the blankets remained tucked around his hips, and then sat up straighter. Evidently he was about to test the loyalty Sophia claimed his servants felt for him. “Please give us twenty minutes, Mrs. Brooks,” he said in his mildest tone. “And I shall trust to your discretion.”

The housekeeper curtsied so deeply that for a moment he wondered whether she would be able to return upright. “You may rely on me, Your Grace. I shan’t breathe a word.” She backed toward the door. “I brought you a cup of tea, Soph— Miss White, just as you like it.” With a last squawk she vanished through the door and closed it behind her.

“I thought you locked that,” he commented, lying back again.

Sophia flopped across his chest to kiss him. “So did I. What time is it?”

Nudging her head aside, he lifted up a little to look at the small clock on the mantel. With the curtains open, he could just make out the hands against the white background. “Damnation. It’s past nine o’clock.”

They were going to be seen.
He
was going to be seen, still wearing his evening clothes and leaving her bedchamber. Swearing again, Adam slid to the edge of the bed and stood, striding over to grab up his trousers.

“You can’t allow Lady Caroline to see you here.”

Still fastening the front of his breeches, he looked over at her. Sophia sat on the edge of the bed, her disheveled hair covering her breasts and making her look very like a lithe version of Botticelli’s painting of Venus rising from the clamshell. “I told you that she knows I’m not a virgin.”

“It’s one thing to know a thing, and a very different one to actually see the evidence of it.” She stood, going to her wardrobe and pulling on a shift. “And we need to stop doing this.”

“I have no idea why Lady Caroline’s feelings concern you,” he retorted, beginning to be bothered that she couldn’t even be stirred enough to be jealous. They were discussing his future with another woman, after all.

“Because they do.”

She actually approached to button his waistcoat and tie a loose knot in his wilted cravat, which he accepted as proof that she wasn’t angry. Even so, he caught hold of her arm and pulled her up against his front to kiss her. “Will you go ice fishing with us today?”