Page 32 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)

Matthew ran his fingers through his hair again.

“Well, there are our men of business who drew up the agreements, of course. I’m still undecided if it was carelessness or a deliberate choice that they only used the title in the agreement, and not my cousin’s given name.

It was he who met with the girl’s father, about a month before my cousin died.

I’ve never met Mr. Ebrington, or anyone else in her family for that matter. ”

“And you didn’t think to mention the betrothal to her when you were introduced on the beach and realized who she was?”

“Well…” Matthew tilted his head from side to side. “At first I was too surprised at running into her like that. I thought we’d be formally introduced in London at a ball, not bump into her on the beach here in the wilds of Dorset. What were the odds?”

“Your cousin could have calculated them.”

Matthew shuddered. “It might take until my son or grandson inherits to cleanse what my wastrel cousin did to the title.” He kicked a rock far out into the waves. “Wicked Wingfield, indeed.”

* * *

Struggling to keep her eyes open, Sophia pinched her thigh, hard enough to bruise.

Some of what she had written this morning was barely legible, even to her.

She needed to correct it before she forgot what was supposed to be there.

Perhaps she should ring for Kendrick to bring her more coffee, despite her distaste for the bitter brew.

Staring at the ceiling, she longed to collapse on her big, soft bed upstairs.

She envied Mrs. Digby the freedom to have a lie-down whenever she wished, as her employer was doing just now.

Sophia must have dozed off, as the next thing she knew, something tickled her cheek.

She blinked as she raised her head, which she had pillowed on her crossed arms on the desk, and tried to bring into focus what turned out to be Lord Fairfax.

He had hitched one hip on the far side of the big desk and held one corner of her paisley shawl.

As she blinked again, he tickled her cheek with it once more before letting it drop to her chest.

Her spectacles had settled crooked on her nose while she slept. That’s why she was having so much trouble bringing his face—his grinning face—into focus. Before she could adjust them, he reached across with both hands and gently removed them from her face.

As she watched, trying not to let her mouth fall open in shock, he brought the wire frames up to his face, opened his mouth and gently exhaled on one lens until it fogged over, then slowly polished it with the end of his neckcloth, without breaking eye contact with her.

She gulped.

No one but her optician had ever polished the lenses for her.

Fairfax held the lens up to the light coming in through the window to inspect his work, then repeated the process of polishing the other lens. When he twisted his torso to get more light, she saw naked skin at the vee of his shirt, revealed by his untucked neckcloth and two undone buttons.

The sudden urge to dip her tongue into the slight depression between his neck and clavicle, to kiss the bony ridge, caught her by surprise.

Mystified by Fairfax’s actions and her reaction to the hint of naked masculine skin, she primly held her hand out for the spectacles. He gave a subtle headshake, making his long black hair swing across his shirt points, and leaned toward her.

Finally grasping his intentions, she put her hands on the desk and held perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, trying desperately not to peek down the front of his shirt as he got close. Closer than if they were waltzing. Close enough to see tiny flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

He gently slid the temple pieces into place, then tipped his head and made a minor adjustment of the spectacles, carefully perched on her nose and ears.

As he leaned back, he stroked his fingertips across her cheeks, and finally gave a satisfied nod as he sat up straight and tucked his neckcloth back in.

“Tell me about the foolish former student you are protecting.”

Still processing the sensations of what had just happened, her heart pounding in sixteenth notes instead of quarter notes, she tried not to gape like a freshly landed fish on the dock.

“You have carefully safeguarded your reputation all these years but feared you may have ruined it by protecting her,” Fairfax prompted.

“That’s what you said in the cave when Matthew and the others were breaking through.

” He tugged the corner of her shawl, the corner he had held just moments ago, over her shoulder and adjusted it to his liking, arranging the folds just so, his fingertips brushing the bare skin of her neck.

“How was your presence in the cave an act of protecting her?”

Sophia longed to tell him. She opened her mouth, then shut it again.

Mildred had trusted her. Mildred’s life could be ruined by what she’d done since running away from home.

“It’s Miss Ebrington, is it not?”

It’s a good thing she did not gamble at cards, Sophia decided, as she watched Fairfax nod with satisfaction even though she hadn’t uttered a sound.

“Thought so.” He twitched her shawl higher on her other shoulder, making both sides match now, distracting her with his bare fingertips on the bare skin on the side of her neck.

It could be an innocuous gesture to a casual observer—fortunately there was no one else about—except for the knowing gleam in Fairfax’s eyes.

His touch was deliberate, not accidental.

He lightly stroked his fingertips over her ear, disturbing the fine hairs that escaped her braid, until her scalp tingled and she struggled to keep her breathing even.

What would his reaction be if he knew the lascivious bent of her thoughts a few moments ago?

How she longed to lean into his touch! Just as she’d have happily stayed in the warm circle of his embrace last night.

It was a wonder her lenses did not fog up as her cheeks flamed at the memory of sitting on his lap, his muscular thighs a surprisingly comfortable seat.

Wrapping her arms about his waist. The embarrassment of crying into his cravat, feeling relief beyond belief that not only was he not seriously injured but more importantly—much to her shame—that she was no longer alone in the darkness.

It was a good thing it had been Fairfax who tripped on her foot when she’d tried to conceal herself, not one of the smugglers.

If she’d known it was the tall, handsome lord who had landed on her, touching her in surprise, she might have enjoyed it.

As a confirmed spinster, she might never again have the opportunity to experience the sensation of a man’s body atop hers.

When the smugglers had shown up, interrupting their conversation, Sophia had followed Fairfax into the tunnel without thinking it through, intent only on needing to know what he’d find. Like Mildred.

Seeing the two men from the inn had not been on her list of likely possibilities.

Being trapped in a cave-in had not been on her list, either.

“Miss Ebrington has an over-developed sense of adventure.” Sophia nodded, pleased with herself.

The truth, but not too much of it. “After we found the cache of contraband goods yesterday afternoon, I feared she might try to identify the smugglers on her own. I intended to try to talk her out of it. When you and Mr. Huntley arrived last night, I was worried she might already be in the tunnel.”

“Which explains how you ended up trapped in the cave with me. You followed me into the tunnel so that I would not be the only one to stumble upon her.”

Happy she wouldn’t have to divulge anything more, Sophia nodded.

“But she wasn’t there. You ended up being the one who was compromised.”

Sophia froze, then her heart started pounding double time.

“Nothing untoward happened between us.” The memory popped up of her sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped around his torso, feeling safe and protected.

She quashed it. “Everyone who helped us escape believes that you were unconscious until Mr. Huntley climbed into the cave. No one is going to spread any rumors.”

“Ah, Mr. Huntley. He’s an observant fellow.

” Fairfax held his hands up and turned them so she could see both sides, adorned with tiny scratches.

“He noticed the abrasions on my hands. He’s under the impression I got them from handling rocks last night, trying to clear the cave-in.

Which I could not have done were I unconscious the entire time you and I were trapped. ”

Sophia felt one of those rocks sink to the pit of her stomach. “Oh dear,” she whispered.

“Fortunately for us, he’s good at keeping his own counsel.” Fairfax mumbled something else, too soft for Sophia to hear, as he slid off the desk and straightened his waistcoat. He held his hand out as though inviting her to dance. “Join me on the window seat, cara ?”

As if they were promenading at a ball, Fairfax tucked her hand through his crooked arm when she came around the desk and led her to the window seat.

She perched on the edge of the cushion at an angle that allowed her to see the crashing surf in the distance and the door to the hall.

As if in tune with her thoughts, Fairfax sat at the opposite angle so that he could see the beach and the entrance to the secret passage by the fireplace.

Once they had settled, their knees almost touching, he reached for her hands and gently swept his thumbs across her knuckles.

“You and I both know what happened. As a gentleman, I must—”

She shocked herself by putting her finger against his lips. Once uttered, the words he was about to speak could not be taken back. “No.”

He raised his eyebrows.

She dropped her hands to her lap and smoothed the light brown cotton skirts. “I will not—” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words trap you — “alter my life’s path because of foolishness or apparent trickery on my part, or a misplaced sense of chivalry on your part.”

Fairfax dropped his eyebrows and tilted his head to look at her sideways. “Alter your life’s path?” he faintly echoed.

“I am going to complete the transcription of Mrs. Digby’s memoir and then resume teaching music at an academy for young ladies.

Or some other post teaching music.” Watching Mildred play the other night had forcefully brought back how much she enjoyed sharing her knowledge of music, of teaching someone so they, too, could experience the same wonder and awe in a beautiful composition.

When a student finally grasped a concept, when they developed a mastery over their instrument—whether their voice or pianoforte—she felt as much or more joy and sense of accomplishment as they did, at being a part of their journey.

In between dealing with Mildred and handling Mrs. Digby’s memoir, Sophia intended to redouble her efforts at finding another teaching position.

She didn’t merely want to not rely on her cousin Claire’s husband or some other male for her survival after she finished here.

She would support herself in a manner that brought her joy as well as self-sufficiency.

Fairfax glanced at the incoming waves as if seeking inspiration. “It’s not just chivalry, misplaced or otherwise. Miss Walden, I—”

“You’re on your way to Italy to meet your paternal grandmother,” she interjected.

“It’s an important plan, a goal you’ve had for quite some time if I understood Mrs. Royston correctly.

One that will bring you and your grandmother great joy.

” Sophia made sure Fairfax was looking directly at her.

“Nothing should stop you. You should not let anything stand in your way of finally going to Italy.”

He drew breath to argue, she was sure, but they heard footsteps in the hall coming closer.

Sophia scurried back to her chair at the desk and had just picked up her quill pen when there was a light tap before the door opened, and Mrs. Nelson stepped in.

“Sergeant Kendall said you might like another pot, Miss,” the housekeeper said, setting a tray on the corner of the desk.

Instead of a delicate porcelain teapot, the tray was laden with a silver coffee pot, milk and sugar bowls, clotted cream, blackberry preserves, and a plate of scones.

And only one cup and spoon. “Oh, beg pardon, my lord,” she said as she spotted Fairfax on the window seat.

He’d leaned back against the wall and stretched out on the cushion, arms loosely folded across his chest, long legs crossed at the ankle, as he stared out the window.

The housekeeper glanced between the two of them. “Shall I bring another setting?”

The clock on the mantel chimed the hour.

“Thank you but that won’t be necessary, Mrs. Nelson,” Fairfax said, rising. “It’s time to win back my blunt from Matthew at the billiards table.” He tossed a look at Sophia over his shoulder as he left, silently assuring her their conversation was unfinished.