Anna Campbell - What a Duke Dares

Sadly neither he nor Sophie was fool enough to believe that nonsense. “We could go to France or Italy. Pen has friends on the Continent.”

“Friends who write letters to England.”

He flinched at Sophie’s stark assessment. She’d reached the same conclusion that he had. The Continent was both too far away and too close for them to establish themselves free of scandal.

“At least in America, they speak English,” she said in a small voice.

“So they claim,” he said drily.

Sophie studied him with an agonized yearning that made his belly cramp with denial. He saw her regret. He saw her count everything on his side and everything on her brother’s side. He already knew which balance carried the most weight.

She meant to say no. After all they’d been through, all they’d been to each other, all that had happened tonight, she’d leave him and retreat to the safety of her brother’s care. She’d marry bloody Desborough and grace high society for the rest of her life. And in a few years wonder just what madness had possessed her that she’d almost discarded a secure future for the sake of Harry Thorne’s bright black eyes.

Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.

But what did he have to offer? Love. Nothing else. Right now, he couldn’t see why she’d make any other choice but to stay with Leath.

“When do we go?”

He was so sure she’d refuse that it took a few seconds to understand what her question meant. “What did you say?”

The shadows left her eyes and she gazed at him with a trust that made his heart swell. “I’m happy to go to America with you.”

“Really?” he asked in a daze.

As if the impetus shifted from him to her, she placed her arms around him. She stared at him with that unconditional love that he knew he didn’t deserve, but which he’d do his damnedest to perpetuate. “I threw my lot in with you months ago. Let’s take the next step in our adventure.”

He was too shocked to respond to her embrace. “What about your brother?”

Sadness dulled her gaze for the first time since she’d agreed to this impetuous scheme. “I hope he’ll forgive me. I hope he’ll come to see you for the wonderful man you are. But I love you. I can’t lose you. I won’t tamely give in to James’s demands and marry a man I don’t love.”

The reality of Sophie’s concession gradually washed over him, sweeping his doubts away on a tide of purpose. His arms lashed around her. “We’ll go tomorrow night. I’ll wait outside the mews at Leath House. If you can’t get away, I’ll try again the next night.”

She laughed and if there was an edge of hysteria, he couldn’t blame her. He’d miss Pen and Elias. And some of his friends. But America brimmed with exciting possibilities. And he’d have Sophie. That above all made the future beckon bright and hopeful. She on the other hand gave up so much, including a beloved family and her reputation. He couldn’t believe that she loved him enough to do this. The fact that she did made him love her even more.

She regarded him with a slight wobble in her smile, but a jaunty tilt to her chin. “Our new life starts today.”

Harry spoke gravely, wanting her to know that he’d never take her sacrifice lightly. “I swear I’ll make you happy, Sophie. You won’t regret for one moment that you decided to come with me.”

The soft murmur of voices disturbed Pen’s troubled dreams of pursuing Cam through rooms flooded with seawater.

Her body was heavy with pleasure. And exhaustion. They’d been to the opera, then a private supper party with the Harmsworths and the Hillbrooks. She hadn’t stumbled home until two. She stirred and reached out for Cam, but his side of the bed was empty. Only recently. The sheets still held traces of warmth. She blinked dazed eyes. The door to the corridor outside was ajar and she saw the flicker of a candle.

“What the devil does he want in the middle of the night?” Cam muttered in a low voice just outside the bedroom.

“He was most adamant, Your Grace,” their butler Dixon whispered back.

“At—” Cam broke off. “What time is it?”

“Just gone half past four, Your Grace.”

Half past four? She’d been asleep an hour. No wonder she felt so groggy. Who on earth had called in the middle of the night? Curiosity struggled up through the thick-headedness of interrupted sleep.

“Tell him to come back at a civilized time.”

“I suggested that his lordship wait until morning. He responded… discourteously.”

Cam sighed with irritation. “I’ll be down directly. Please show Lord Leath into the library.”

Leath? Sick terror lurched through her belly and banished the last of her drowsiness. Pen was wide awake now and wished to heaven she wasn’t.

Leath wasn’t waiting in the library. Instead, dark eyes sparking with fury, he stood in the hall, glaring up to where Cam descended the stairs in his red dressing gown. The marquess tapped his riding crop against one palm. Cam stiffened as he recognized the action’s controlled violence.

This visit would clearly be short—Leath hadn’t even removed his topcoat. Why the hell was he here? The Neville Fairbrother scandal must have turned his mind.

“Where is she?” Leath barked as if addressing a slovenly groom in an inn yard.

“Good evening, my lord.” Cam spoke calmly, despite his urge to toss the bumptious rogue out on his ear. “Or perhaps I should say good morning.”

Leath’s heavy brows lowered and he took a menacing pace forward. “Don’t play with me, you condescending bastard. Where’s my sister?”

“How the devil should I know?” His sister? What in Hades was this? Impatience roughened Cam’s question. “If you can’t keep track of your dashed relatives, why on earth should I?”

Leath’s voice vibrated with rage. “According to her maid, she left the house after dinner and hasn’t been seen since.”

“I still don’t understand what I can do about it.” Cam walked down the last steps to face down the fuming marquis. Few men matched Cam’s height, but Leath was well over six feet. “If she’s missing, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation.”

Leath’s snort conveyed no amusement. “Innocent explanation, my arse. She’s with that blackguard Harry Thorne.”

Ah, at last he knew why Leath had singled him out for this visit. Cam’s voice dripped hauteur. “The duchess isn’t her brother’s keeper.”

Leath’s attention skimmed past Cam. His glittering eyes narrowed. “No, she’s his accomplice.”

Pen spoke before Cam could dismiss the mad accusation. “I don’t know where Sophie is.”

Cam whirled around in surprise. Pen poised in frozen immobility a few steps above, one hand resting on the gilt banister. In her rich gold brocade dressing gown, with her shining black hair flowing around her, she stood like a queen.

He expected her to look appalled and shocked.

She looked appalled and shocked. And unmistakably guilty.

His heart slammed to a disbelieving standstill. “Pen?” he asked uncertainly, fleetingly forgetting their audience. He stepped back so he could see both Leath and his wife.

Pen didn’t glance his way. Instead she regarded Leath with a horrified comprehension that spoke volumes about her deceit. Her grip on the banister tightened until her knuckles shone white.

“Pen, go back to bed,” Cam snapped, feeling as though the ground crumbled beneath his feet.

“No, she needs to stay and tell me what she knows,” Leath demanded. “Sophie’s not at the Russell Square house. That’s the first place I went.”

“Cam, I’d like to help,” she said shakily.

“Haven’t you helped enough?” he muttered furiously for Pen’s ears only. When she flinched, he hardened himself against any guilt. She’d brought this on herself.

Cam saw a crack in Leath’s rage as he stared at Pen. He might be angry, but beneath his anger he was worried sick. “For God’s sake, if she’s here, tell me. I won’t punish her. I just want to know she’s safe.”

“Pen, just what have you done?” Cam growled.

She cast him a desperate glance, then focused on Leath. “Sophie’s not here. On my honor, I’d tell you if she was.”

“Madam, I wouldn’t trust your honor if my life depended upon it.”

Blind rage bubbled up and Cam lurched forward to land a solid punch to the marquess’s jaw. Whatever his wife had done, Cam wouldn’t stand for anyone insulting her.

Leath must be built like an ox. The bugger staggered but didn’t fall.

“Cam—” Pen gasped in horror, rushing down to hover behind him. Thank God, she didn’t touch him. Right now he was so enraged, he didn’t trust himself not to lash out at her too.

“You will apologize to my wife,” Cam said in a voice that shook with outrage. He curled his stinging hand at his side. Leath had a jaw like rock.

Rubbing his chin, Leath glared back with unconcealed hatred. “Like hell I will.”

“Please, I can explain,” Pen said desperately.

“Don’t bother,” Cam said coldly. He was so livid that he couldn’t look at her. Sick anger twisted in his belly like hissing cobras.

He clung to his rage. Beneath anger heaved an ocean of anguish. He’d believed Penelope Thorne was true gold. He’d trusted her in ways he’d never trusted anyone, not even his closest friends. And she’d betrayed him.

If those young idiots had eloped with Pen’s connivance—and every sign indicated that they had—there would be an almighty scandal. The kind of scandal that would dog their families for years. Pen’s interference had in the space of weeks undone Cam’s years of work to restore honor to the Rothermere name.

Once, that might have counted as her greatest sin.