‘They had discovered who you were, that you were a duke.’
‘No. They had not. No-one knew and I never told them. Madeleine had no idea that she was a duchess until she was dying. I told her then to reassure her about Isobel’s prospects. If they had known, then I think I would have walked away from it and to hell with honourable behaviour.’
‘Why didn’t you? The fact that they had no idea who you were does not make their behaviour right.’
‘Because apparently she had fallen in love with me.’ He shrugged, still looking out of the window. ‘We were introduced at some reception or another, not that I can recall it. I had made acquaintances in good Boston society soon enough. I was obviously an English gentleman of some means, so very acceptable, even though everyone thought I was Mr Thorne of nowhere in particular. I was invited to all kinds of events. Apparently I snubbed her. I’m not aware of it, it certainly wasn’t deliberate, but they were merchants and I was fresh from the London ton.’
‘And we do not mingle with cits,’ Sophie said ruefully.
‘Exactly. So she decided to make me take notice. I think she assumed that once we had made love, once I had properly got to know her, I would want to marry her. But her father wasn’t so hopeful, so he precipitated matters.’
‘She must have felt dreadful.’
‘I have no idea. I wasn’t feeling too wonderful myself. I was cold and I was angry and I made it quite clear that I was a gentleman – hence my agreeing to marry her – but they were inferior, as demonstrated by their behaviour.’
Cal paced back from the window and resumed his position propped against the bedpost. ‘Jared tried to talk me out of it, said we should just walk away, catch the next boat to Buenos Aires, but I was on my high horse by then. I would show these colonials how an English gentleman behaved and so on and so forth and so idiotic.’
‘If you had not married her you would not have Isobel,’ Sophie suggested tentatively.
Cal smiled, a quizzical twist of the lips. ‘Very true. And it wasn’t all rows and sulks and frosty silences, as Isobel is evidence. We learned to co-exist and she had courage. She thought she had caught a well-off Englishman visiting America and that I would take her back home and she would live in the lap of luxury. In fact she ended up travelling the globe in luxury one week, in extreme discomfort and some danger the next.’
And the whole experience has left you with no sympathy for girlish dreams of romantic wedding days, or blushing brides and their wedding nights. But he does seem to value honesty. Sophie took a deep breath. ‘I would like to make our wedding night the first time, for us.’
Cal shifted to sit beside her on the end of the bed, took her lightly by the shoulders and turned her towards him. ‘I like that you are honest with me, Sophie. That you tell me what you want, what you think is right, not what you imagine will please me.’
‘It would please me to make love with you now,’ she admitted. ‘But I think I would always regret it, just a little.’
His smile was rueful. ‘I am not certain that I like the results of all this frankness though. Would a kiss be a cause for regret?’
She had been at arms’ length when he had begun speaking, now, by some magic, she was against him, both of them twisting to face each other where they sat. It would not take much to fall back onto the bed, to twine themselves together, to find themselves at the point of no return. ‘Not a kiss, no,’ she said, as much to herself as to Cal.
He was holding himself back with an effort that was palpable, now she was coming to know him. His body where she pressed awkwardly against him was tense, the body of a fit man, a horseman, a swordsman. His hands, one splayed on her back, one in her hair, betrayed his urgency and his desire by their very stillness as much as his mouth on hers by its heat.
Even though her experience with Jonathan had been unpleasant it had been an education and her body knew what was happening, knew what it wanted from his. And, heaven help her, so did she and if she knew that if she yielded, if she leaned into him, let her hands stray from his shoulders down his chest, down to his waist, his hips, then they would both lose control of this.
Sophie freed her mouth, let her head drop to rest on his shoulder and finally allowed herself to encircle as much of his torso as she could. Cal gathered her tight against himself, his lips moving in her hair.
Finally he released her, set her on her feet between his knees. ‘I want you.’
‘I know. I want you too.’
‘Don’t look so grim about it, we will remedy the situation soon enough. Your hair is coming down.’
It broke the spell as it was doubtless meant to. Sophie went to the dressing table and managed to restore some order. At least when she rang for her maid it wouldn’t look as though she had been embracing a duke on the bed.