Page 4 of How to Lose a Dowry in Three Bucks (A Few Good Bucks #3)
Sophia knew the moment she heard steps on the stairs that the earl was coming for her. She should have yanked up her underthings, pulled down her dress, and gone scurrying down those steps before he discovered she was upstairs.
And then she heard him recite a bastardized version of “Jack the Giant Killer,” and she could not move.
It took her back to the delighted terror at childhood fairy tales, and how they combined with her late mother’s admonitions to be careful of men who might take Sophia, as they’d taken mama hoping to gain her dowry.
The trouble with electrifying stories about giant men was that they morphed in the minutes before sleep as Sophia’s terror gave way to curiosity.
She was so often reminded of the danger men posed that her head was full of them.
And Peverel was the biggest and most dangerous man she’d ever encountered.
When he turned the corner to the small sitting room, Sophia tried to freeze, but her hand kept working her quim.
She took in his colossal form in the doorway, then her eyes fell to his enormous cock, now so very close to her.
A bead of liquid rolled from the head, and Sophia licked her lips, imagining what it would taste like.
“Oh, fuck,” said Peverel. And then she felt something splatter on her bare cunny and fingers.
Sophia froze in shock.
“Fucking fuck,” he muttered, stationary, his eyes on her spread body.
She yanked her dress to the side and saw that her quim was wetter, now glazed with his pearly essence. She moved her fingers to feel it and he sprang into motion.
“No!” he cried, and she pulled back in fear. “No, just, careful. Don’t press it inside. Or there might be consequences.”
Sophia nodded in shock, her book-acquired knowledge of anatomy and reproduction filling in some gaps while others remained mysterious.
He stood with his manhood in one hand and his sack in the other, just staring at her body where he’d marked her.
“I could use some help,” she finally said, and he jumped into action.
He tossed a handkerchief on her quim as if that would clean up the mess. Sophia laughed to herself; with a man like Matthew Bohun, that was likely as much cleaning as he knew how to do.
She took charge and scooped their combined wetness from her cunny, then moved to collect her underthings from the floor.
“No!” he said, reaching for them and the handkerchief. “As a gentleman, I should see to the laundering of these items. I’d hate for the staff to talk.”
Sophia nodded and adjusted her skirts until they fell into place.
Silence. He finally tucked his manhood back into his trousers.
“We should—” he said.
“Might you have some tea?” she said at the same time.
***
“So, you see, I simply need to reach my twenty-fifth birthday, convert my dowry to an annuity, and I’ll be on my way. In the meantime, I must show the solicitor charged with executing my grandfather’s will that I’ve put forth a good faith effort.”
Sophia sipped her tea and watched the earl’s reaction to her confession. Shame bubbled in her stomach, and the only way to settle it was a good quantity of Assam.
They were in his study, the tea tray on his desk, with him behind that expansive slab of wood. Would he be upset that she sought his hospitality to stage a false attempt at marriage?
His eyes roved over her, as if never having truly seen her before. Then he broke into laughter.
“So your whole…” he said, waving his hand, “…dress and demeanor. It’s intended to repel men? You set out to do that? So you wouldn’t need to marry?”
Sophia puffed up, indignant at how he described her fashions. “I should think not, sir!”
He settled back in his grand chair. “What purpose do the lace and high collars serve if they aren’t meant to repel men?”
“This is the fashion,” she said, her voice trailing off. “In Albany. We prize modesty in the New World.”
He squinted at her. The earl somehow looked even bigger than usual, slumped in that chair, a small teacup in his hand. Sophia could see that she wasn’t convincing him, and his patience was wearing thin.
“Maybe…” she started.
He raised his brows.
“My mother handled my wardrobe before she passed last year.”
Peverel’s eyes pierced her above his teacup.
“I don’t know if you met her?”
“I may have had the pleasure once or twice, but I did not have an extensive acquaintance with her, I’m sorry to say,” he replied.
It was a pretty speech that glided past the truth of things: Sophia’s mother lived in mortal fear of men and would have been loath to encounter such a virile man as the earl for more than the briefest, most perfunctory exchange.
“I understand you to be a man of honor.”
“I make every effort to deserve such a distinction,” he said, leaning forward.
“My father was not my father.”
The earl took in her words and then nodded. She was trusting him with an enormous secret. Somehow, he seemed to be the only man worth entrusting with it, though he’d done nothing before now to inspire such confidence. Perhaps it was his size; he’d be able to protect that shameful kernel.
“He was a great man. I miss him dearly. When my mother needed a friend, he was trustworthy and true.”
Peverel poured more tea, as if he knew there was more to the story that she’d need to divulge.
“He married my mother to protect her. You see, men of the worst sort kidnapped her several times and attacked her, and she needed to be rid of the dowry that exposed her to all of this misfortune,” she said.
“By attacked, you mean…”
Sophia nodded, her nose suddenly watering as she thought of her late mother. “I was the result.”
He settled deeper in his chair; the leather creaking as he shifted. She braced for him to say something flippant or callous, dismissing a pain older than Sophia that had changed several lives dramatically.
The earl looked up, his brows pinched in confusion. “Mr. Stafford — your father — conducted himself humbly for a man married to an heiress.”
Sophia waved her hand. “My grandfather denied my mother the use of her dowry. It all passed to me.”
Peverel steepled his fingers before his chin. “Now you carry the same burden that hurt your mother.”
Sophia nodded yes and stirred her rapidly cooling tea.
“I will assist you.”
She paused, then looked across the desk at him. His face was stony, terrifying to regard.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked faintly.
“I will ensure that you do not share your mother’s fate,” he breathed.
Those words were like a blow to the chest. Here, this man acknowledged the danger to her and vowed to protect her from it. Sophia had known few men in her life, so her only point of comparison was her dear papa.
Peverel compared favorably. He had all the conviction and moral certainty of papa with the added benefit of a towering size that might warn off anyone who sought to hurt her.
Then why was she imagining him being the one to take and use her?
She couldn’t stop thinking of what that desk would feel like against her cheek if he were to bend her over it, lift her skirts, and push himself into her quim.
He didn’t deserve to star in this fantastical vision, not when he was honorable!
Sophia huffed a laugh to clear her thoughts and cover for her prolonged reverie. “I thank you, sir. Fortunately for both of us, my birthday approaches, and I should be able to complete my business here forthwith.”
“You mean to sail back to the colonies?”
She thought of her home, now sold. The dog she’d given to a boy next door rather than subject her to the long voyage. The carrot seeds she’d planted, knowing they’d never grow in time for her to harvest them. Suddenly, she felt so alone and sad.
“I don’t think I will,” she said, trying to sound breezy. “Even old women with annuities are prey for evil-doers, so I suppose I’ll go somewhere new and live quietly, with the hope my neighbors never know who I am.”
“It sounds like a smaller life than you need to live,” he said.
Sophia thought of her cosseted childhood and layers of fear insulating her from the outside world. Her poor mama, handing down a cursed inheritance. For a brief time, she wouldn’t need to feel that way. Not in this house.
“That’s the truth for all of us, is it not?” she asked him brightly. “I’ll be twenty-five and independent soon. After that, I can puzzle through the rest.”