She received the news of her father’s move from China with mixed emotions. She was delighted at the prospect of seeing him after so long a separation, and truly overjoyed that she now had nothing to stop her from spending the rest of her life with Alex.
Except that she loved him.
She had no idea what the odds were that he might one day fall in love with her in return, but she thought they might be dramatically improved if she was actually around. It was a wonderful and terrifying thought. And one that she doggedly refused to dwell on. She was getting Whitefield and marriage to a man she loved. Alex would have an heir, and marriage to a woman he cared for. That would have to be enough. Especially on her wedding day.
Mirabelle, Kate, and Evie were delighted to be a part of the celebration. And they were positively enthralled at Sophie’s accounting of her adventures. Per Alex’s request, she left out all mention of Mr. Fletcher’s involvement and focused instead on relating the full extent of her cousin’s treachery. She felt a little guilty not sharing all the details, but she wouldn’t risk spoiling Mr. Fletcher’s future plans.
She rather liked the idea of Mirabelle and Whit.
The wedding was a subdued affair. The only excitement occurred at the conclusion of the ceremony when Lady Thurston burst into tears, necessitating Alex’s and Whit’s immediate and adorably awkward attention. It had been rather sweet, watching two otherwise self-assured men hover helplessly over the woman.
“The last time Mother cried was at Papa’s Funeral,” Kate whispered in her ear. Sophie couldn’t help noticing that the younger woman’s voice was a bit tight as well.
“Is she that upset?” Sophie whispered back in horror.
Lady Thurston dispelled that notion before Kate had the chance to respond.
“…what I have always wanted for you, Alex…” Lady Thurston hiccuped, having gotten over the worst of her sobs. “…couldn’t have made a better match myself. Your mother would be so happy.”
Sophie beamed a smile at her. Alex leaned down and whispered something in Lady Thurston’s ear that brought a fresh round of tears before she finally managed in a tremulous, but joy-filled voice, “…and you have always been a second son to me.”
The newly married couple settled into Alex’s town house that afternoon, opting to postpone the honeymoon until after Sophie’s father arrived and preferring to stay in town to reinforce their story. Lady Thurston had agreed to spread the word that the new Duke and Duchess of Rockeforte were madly in love, had been secretly engaged for weeks, and had decided to elope to Gretna Green before reconsidering and marrying by special license. It was still a scandal, but it was romantic, and provided a happy and, more importantly to some, respectable conclusion. Society was enchanted, and Lady Thurston, already popular, was thrilled to find herself one of the most sought-after guests in town.
Alex and Sophie were completely unaware of her bliss for two full days. Despite their intention to be seen as a united couple in public as soon as possible, they spent forty-eight solid hours ensconced in their bedroom instead. For her birthday, Alex took her sightseeing at all the places they’d avoided on their last outing. But most of the fortnight following the wedding they spent in idleness about the house. Taking breakfast on the terrace, reading to each other in the library, but still preferring to spend most of their time in the bedroom.
Alex took the opportunity to learn all the little habits and preferences of his new bride. He found that she liked lilies more than roses, that she always sneezed twice, never more and never less, that she liked her eggs scrambled dry, and that she never snored in her sleep, but did occasionally drool.
He was watching her do that very thing at the moment, marveling at the sweetness of it, at the wonder of her lying asleep beside him, when it finally hit him.
His wife was drooling all over her pillow, no make that his pillow, and he thought it enchanting. Nothing about this woman could ever bore him.
He loved her.
There could be no other explanation. And frankly, Alex didn’t need one. He liked being in love with Sophie. Liked the way he missed her a little when she was in another part of the house. Liked how just the thought of her made him smile at odd times of the day. Mostly, he just liked being happy. And Sophie made him very, very happy.
He’d tell her tomorrow, he decided, carefully sliding a dry pillow beneath her head. He figured a man could never go wrong telling a woman he loved her. Leastwise, not if he were being truthful.
And he’d tell the staff to bring more pillows.
Sophie eyed Alex furtively over the top of her book.
He’d been acting strangely all day.