Page 202 of Desires of a Duke Collection

Henry had been absent from their home for several days, and each day Sophie woke with the hope that he would return. That he would seek her out and finally hear her side of the account.

Each day she retired, disappointed and heart sore. Crying oneself to sleep was never ideal, and she was at a loss as to what to do. Her mama's time in London would soon cease, as she was leaving for Highclere tomorrow. Sophie debated going with her, leaving this town that had thrown her to the wolves, her husband included in those villains.

She could only remember one other time when she had felt so alone and lost. That the man she loved had placed her again into the shady place was unforgivable.

Why would he not listen to her?

"Sophie?" Harlow's soothing voice sounded at the door of her private parlor, and she turned to see her cousin entering the room and shutting the door firmly behind her. "Why have you not allowed me to call? I've come every day and been turned away."

"How did you get in?" she asked, ashamed that she had not wanted to see her family, other than her mama.

"I pushed past the footman and threatened him when he attempted to stop me."

The image brought a small smile to Sophie's lips, and she shuffled over on the settee when Harlow sat beside her. "What has happened? Rumors are flying all over London that the duke has left you, and you are having an illicit affair with Lord Carr?"

Sophie sighed, the thought of such a horror raising bile in her throat. "The truth is much less titillating than that. It is not pleasant. Are you sure you wish to hear it?" she asked, knowing what Harlow would learn would not be easy.

"Please tell me what happened. Lord Carr is walking around London with a blackened face, and Henry is locked up in his rooms at the Albany. Kemsley made some inquiries and found out where he was staying."

So that was where Henry had gone. At least she knew now, that was something. She had feared he had returned to his country estate in Kent. Sophie took a deep breath, met Harlow's eyes, and told her everything that had happened in Highclere, not leaving one detail out of what transpired during the rape.

When she had finished, Harlow fumbled for her handkerchief and dabbed at her cheeks, but Sophie could no longer cry. She had spilled enough tears for her lost innocence many years ago. Her hope of a happy ever after with Henry seemed destined to be ripped from her, too, thanks to Lord Carr. A future that Henry had allowed to be stolen.

"Sophie ..." Harlow whispered, pulling her into her arms and squeezing her so hard that Sophie thought she might swoon. She patted her cousin's back, comforting her in an odd turn of events.

"I do not know what to say other than I'm so sorry, my darling friend. I wish I could change what happened to you."

Sophie pulled back and threw her a small smile. "There is nothing anyone can do, and I resolved myself long ago to try to forget that night and hope for a better future, which I thought I succeeded with. You offered me a Season, such a privilege, and I'm so thankful you were so kind to a poor relation, and then I met Henry, and my limited circumstances did not seem to worry him. But Lord Carr made Henry think that what happened in Highclere was desired by both of us. I do not think he believes or trusts me. He will not even listen to what I have to say. Just left me here alone."

"Well," Harlow huffed, her mouth twisting into a displeased line. "Holland needs a good kick in the backside for not giving you a chance to explain, at least. What are you going to do?"

"I thought I may return to Highclere with Mama. I do not think my marriage is a union that can work anymore. Henry's departure and cold silence prove his disgust for me. I think it is best that I leave and do everyone a blessing and never return." Sophie paused, thinking of Henry’s bet.

“Holland loves you, Sophie, you must trust in what you feel for each other and not allow anything to come between you.”

“There is the possibility that Holland only courted me in the first place because of a bet at Whites.” Harlow threw her a confused frown and Sophie continued, “I was a wager from all accounts. One thousand pounds for anyone who was able to make me fall in love with them. How fortunate that my husband won the bet.”

Harlow gasped, her face paling. “Tell me that is not true.”

Sophie sighed, wishing it were not but unable to ease her cousin’s shock. “It is true I’m afraid, and a truth Lord Carr gleefully informed me of. It is why I think my marriage may be doomed. I do not really know for sure if Henry desired me enough to court me in the first place, or that he merely wished to see if he could win the money.”

"No," Harlow growled. "I do not believe so ill of Holland and you will not travel to Highclere as if you've done something wrong, for you have not. Lord Carr should be the one run out of town, not you. As for the duke, he will not get away with this silence or this scandalous bet you speak of. I shall ensure that he does not continue hiding and not facing this truth. He is your husband and needs to listen to you, needs to make amends for this vulgar wager."

Sophie wished that were true, but she did not think such a prospect was feasible. After so many days of wallowing in pity, it was hard to be optimistic.

"What do you suggest I do?" Sophie asked.

"You will attend the Fox ball this evening as if Holland and Lord Carr's fisticuffs were nothing of consequence. No one knows the truth of what you say, Lord Carr is certainly not spreading such rumors, but he's also not denying the affair, which we need to heed and stop posthaste. By facing him, giving the cut direct will help people realize nothing ever was between you. And society, thankfully, will support a duchess before a viscount. We can win that part of the war, at least. As for Holland, you shall have to fight His Grace at another time."

Sophie nodded, understanding what Harlow was saying and wondering if she had the strength to face society. To rise above the rumors, laugh at their silly tales, and fight for her position that she had gained through love, not scandal or trickery as many believed.

"You cannot leave," Harlow said again. "To do so would make you appear guilty of what they're saying about you."

Sophie stood and rang for a servant. A footman appeared momentarily at the parlor door. "Please check to see if I have been invited to the Fox ball this evening, Geoffrey, and if I have, please send a note to Lady Fox that I will be in attendance."

"Yes, Your Grace. I shall inform you presently."

Sophie turned to Harlow, who appeared pleased for the first time that day. She, too, felt a little lighter in the soul, as if she were being proactive in fighting Carr instead of the opposite.

"Good, now let us go upstairs and find the most regal dress you possess. Tonight the ton will see the Duchess of Holland. See that she is not shamed or cowed by Lord Carr and his lies. Tonight you will own society, just as is your right, and I shall be beside you the whole time."

***

Henry stared out at the courtyard of the Albany and downed another glass of whisky. Piccadilly Road blurred before him, and he blinked several times before it became clearer.

He had left Sophie a week ago today, and still, the anger that thrummed through him had not dissipated. Although he could not say what offended him more, his running away from his wife or what Lord Carr had implied.

Something told him it was both in equal measure.

Shame washed through him. He had done her wrong by not listening to what she had to say or explaining the wager Carr spoke of. He could have at least afforded her that if nothing else. He closed his eyes, recalling the moment Sophie learned of the betting book and her involvement in it. Her face had paled, and he had seen the pain in her eyes. A pain that he had caused. So many wrongs between them, however were they to move forward together? That he could not answer and with the Season almost at an end, time was running out to do so.

Mayhap he could flee to Scotland. Hide away in the highlands during the winter and only return when he had controlled his temper.

He ground his teeth, knowing that should he see Lord Carr, he would call him out. The memory of besting the little beast brought a smile to his lips. He had enjoyed hearing the man's teeth crack more than he thought he would. That the bastard dared lay a hand on his wife made his blood chill to ice in his veins.

He ran a hand through his hair. What a mug he was. That he had professed his abstinence and marveled that they had given each other the sweetest gift made him shudder in disgust. How she must have laughed at him and his gullible nature.

That she was well-versed in the act of sex, the thought of all they did before marriage made sense now. Explained how very talented and reactive she had been in his arms.

She knew the nature of men and had done things to him no maid would ever have attempted. Was that because she had done those sexual things to Lord Carr?

"Fucking bastard," he bellowed, punching the wall beside the window. The cut on his hand, not yet healed from one of Lord Carr's teeth, opened and dripped blood on the floor.

He stared at it momentarily and ignored the renewed pain before walking to the whisky decanter and pouring another sizeable glass. Downing the drink, he poured another, slumping into a chair, only content when darkness overtook his vision and peace claimed him.