Never Desire a Duke

Having removed his coat but not his cravat, he looked very much like a gentleman at ease.

“It has been a long time. I’m certain I’ve forgotten how.” Sophia had intended after the meal to immediately retire to her room.

“Oh, I can’t believe that,” he answered wryly, tilting his head downward and giving her a suspicious eye. “One doesn’t forget how to play chess.”

A familiar heaviness filled her chest, one formed of hurtful memories.

“Perhaps that is true,” she agreed. “It’s just that I was the only one in my family who would play with my father. Neither Daphne nor Clarissa could sit still and pay attention for that long. I haven’t undertaken the game since his death.”

She and her father had shared a love of chess and books and had spent endless hours together, just the two of them. Those were special times that she’d always remember. She could not help but wonder for the thousandth time what he would think of her present difficulties with Claxton. She often yearned for his gentle advice.

“It was a terrible thing, your father’s death,” he said quietly. “Such a terrible stroke of chance.”

“Who would ever have thought? Struck down by a rearing horse. He was always so good with them.”

Claxton remained silent, watching her intently. “You told me, after we first met, but we’ve never talked about how it happened. I always felt that even after two years, the tragedy was still too fresh in your mind. For all of you, including Wolverton, of course. You were there, weren’t you?”

With careful precision she arranged the white pieces on her side of the board, so as to disguise the tremble in her hand. Claxton was right. A stroke of chance. More than three years had passed, but it still felt as if the tragedy had struck just yesterday.

“We’d been outside for hours, watching Daphne and Clarissa at their riding lessons when the skies suddenly darkened.” Sophia paused, remembering the fateful moment that had changed her life and the lives of her mother and sisters forever. “Daphne was having so much fun, she didn’t want to ride in. She told us later that she pretended not to hear us calling. So my father walked out to fetch her. At the first faint rumble of thunder, the animal went skittish. Daphne couldn’t control him, and so my father reached for the harness. That’s when an enormous thunderclap seemed to break the sky in two.” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “It wasn’t Daphne’s fault, but I know she’s never forgiven herself. She’s never ridden again.”

“I’m sorry it happened.” He shook his head. “And just two years after Vinson was lost on the Charybdis.”

“Yes.” Her eyelids lowered at the mention of her elder sibling, who had been lost while on a scientific expedition to the South Seas. “I don’t believe I ever told you, but Havering was on the same expedition. The night Vinson died, Havering was ill and kept to his cabin. It’s why he hovers about so. He believes things would be different had he been there.” She shrugged. “As if he could have done something to stop the sea from claiming my brother.”

“Do you find your cousin, Mr. Kincraig, a worthy heir to your grandfather’s title? I met him only briefly at our engagement ball and had no opportunity to form any sort of opinion as to his true character.”

Inwardly she flinched. Mr. Kincraig was a sore subject in the family since being named heir to the Wolverton title and estates. Until then, he’d been a stranger to them all, and to their dismay, he seemed determined to remain so. The idea that he should take possession of the ancestral history that they had all for so long tended with honor and revered seemed a travesty.

“Hmmm. What a question.” She threw a glance at the ceiling. “Shall I answer with diplomacy or with truth?”

“Always truth with me, Sophia,” he answered solemnly.

She ran her fingertip over the crenellated crown of the king. “He strikes me as arrogant and cold, and he has made no effort whatsoever to seek my grandfather’s good graces or approval or to become part of our family, though we have sought on numerous occasions to make him welcome. He just seems to be waiting. Waiting until—” She could say no more, for a sudden rush of emotion closed her throat. She exhaled miserably and lowered her lashes to conceal her tears. “I just wish my father was still alive and my brother. Once my grandfather is gone, everything will change.”

“Yes, I know.”

“It is his greatest wish that his two remaining granddaughters marry before his death so that their futures are secured.”

“Oh yes.” Claxton sat back in the chair and glared into the fire. The leather of his Hessians glowed like onyx. “Because marriage will solve everything. You and I know that better than anyone.”

She sighed again. Oh, the folly of words and falling into traps laid by one’s self. Their marriage. She had thought all day on the subject in the back of her mind, while they were visiting with the Kettles, and shopping, and baking, and sledding. Oh, and while they were kissing too.

He tilted his head aside and peered at her. “I apologize if I have pressured you too greatly to accept me. I believed we were growing closer. Enjoying our time together. Clearly this afternoon I overstepped. I could sense your discomfiture when I touched you, and after all my silly talk about going over edges—”

“Claxton, I have come to a decision about our marriage.”

He blinked, then straightened, instantly serious and attentive. His expression conveyed a mixture of dread and hope. He was afraid, she realized. Afraid of what she might say. “A decision. Yes?”

“I will agree to withdraw my demand for a separation.”

“Sophia.” He leaned forward, his long legs bending between them, his larger boots planted on either side of her smaller ones, and grasped her hands in both of his. “You don’t know…I can’t explain what that means to me.” He exhaled sharply, as if suddenly unable to form words.

“You are happy with my decision?” she asked.

“Yes.” His eyes widened. “Yes. And you?”

“I am content.” She wouldn’t lie. Happy wasn’t a word she could use to describe her feelings on the matter. Since last night, she’d felt as if she were standing on the edge of a dangerous precipice—with the growing desire she felt for her husband threatening to drag her over to a place from which she could never return. She had to step back.

Making love to her husband wouldn’t be like before, when she’d given herself to him freely. It couldn’t be. Rules had to be put in place, so as to safeguard her heart. She wouldn’t be able to proceed with having a child otherwise.

“Only content?” He leaned closer and with his hand brought her face to his for a kiss.

She gave him her cheek before his lips could touch hers.

“But this should stop,” Sophia said.

He froze. “What should stop?”

“The kissing. The efforts to seduce me.”

“You’re my wife. I want to seduce you.” He reached out to touch a tendril of her hair. “More importantly, goose, you’re the only woman with whom I’ve ever sledded.”

“Don’t tease.”

“Who is teasing?” he asked incredulously, his eyes widening to reveal a glimmer of temper. “I’m half out of my mind with wanting you. I want you in my bed. I want to make love to you.”

“Truly, Claxton, there is no need to say such things. I’ve agreed to remain in the marriage, and yes, to have a child, and we shall do what needs to be done—” She blushed and primly averted her gaze. “In a straightforward fashion. However many times it must be done, and hope for the best.”

He sank back against the cushion, his expression mulish. “How utterly romantic.”

“Don’t you see? That’s what I’m saying. While I had such a nice time this afternoon—” The memory of what had taken place in the kitchen between them even now made her cheeks go hot. “—and I’m glad we can enjoy each other’s company, I don’t require romance or wooing, or even kissing.” It was that degree of intimacy that terrified her. That took away her ability to reason. “A parody of falling in love, just because we happen to be married. Indeed, I don’t want it.”

“That’s what you think this is between us?” He pointed to the narrow space between them. “Even before we lost the baby, a parody?”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about before.” She’d lost a baby before, and she’d lost Claxton.