The Scandalous Life 0f A Betrayed Heiress (Historical Regency) Read online

  Lord Timothy narrowed his eyes and inspected the portrait.

  “That is my brother,” he said with a huff.

  “Your brother?”

  “Yes, unfortunately you’ll be meeting him as well.”

  “He has a kind face,” Sophia reasoned.

  “And a bastard’s heart. His name is Philip.”

  Sophia continued to look at the figure of Philip in the portrait. Although Lord Timothy was handsome, Philip could be said to be downright dashing. He took her breath away, and Sophia quickly handed the portrait back to Lord Timothy so that she wouldn’t be caught staring.

  “I must go,” Lord Timothy said, putting the portrait back in his pocket.

  “Goodnight, M’Lord,” Sophia said softly.

  “Goodnight, Lady Sophia.”

  Although a little awkward, Sophia found it touching that Lord Timothy felt the need to come to her room, even if he was a tad drunk.

  As she lay in bed that night, feeling the boat gently rock, she couldn’t get the image of Philip out of her mind. Where Lord Timothy’s eyes were steely, Philip’s were kind.

  Chapter 3

  Timothy looked in the mirror and liked what he saw. He was always chubby and frumpy as a child, and that meant that when he grew into a strapping young adult, it pleased him greatly. He chalked it up to all the meat pies he consumed in his youth and the constant biscuits. Once he reached the age of twenty, he confined himself to a life of white soup and tender slices of lamb. The spartan lifestyle had proved to be beneficial.

  There were many beautiful women on the SS Duchess of Gloucester, and Timothy had admired them all. The only one he was having trouble admiring was his future wife. It was not that he found Sophia displeasing. On the contrary, he found her beauty to be rare and exquisite. But he still couldn’t help but view the woman as a business transaction and nothing more.

  But deep in his heart he knew that was all poppycock. Sophia seemed like a good woman, and one he should be grateful to call his own. He only slightly remembered their interaction from the night before, and he couldn’t help but wish he had been able to say more to her.

  Pomading his hair with great care, Timothy took one more look in the mirror and straightened his waistcoat. There was business to attend to that day on the ship, and that meant less time to admire the rich young women and more time to bolster the Clumber estate. Willow Grange and the townhouse in London had both gone to seed. It was not his fault, of course, but rather the neglect inflicted by his father, the current Duke of Clumber. Due to ill health and poor business dealings, the great fortune that the former duke bestowed upon them had dissipated to the degree that Timothy feared they couldn’t pay even the most paltry of bills.

  What a nuisance money was, Timothy thought to himself. What a waste of time. There were much more important things in life for a gentleman to attend to, such as his general appearance and the happiness of his days. But so it was that Timothy was strapped with a lingering problem that only he alone could solve.

  Marriage to Sophia Barberry would only partially fix the problem. The Clumber family required a great deal of money to get out of the hole that they were in, and that meant that Timothy was going to need to use his cunning in order to set things straight. There were numerous opportunities in America for him to make things right, and he was capitalising on all of those things. He was sure that, with time, his intelligence and good breeding would win the day.

  Exiting his stately cabin, Timothy walked down the boat and tipped his hat to the beautiful ladies who passed. He also tipped his hat to the gentlemen, but that was for different reasons. Every lady was an opportunity for admiration and every gentleman was a chance for advancement in the world.

  Stepping onto the deck, Timothy took a deep breath of the salty air and admired the blue sky. He enjoyed being at sea. He had even made several trips on that very same boat in order to gain access to America and all of its potential revenues. Gazing to his right and then his left, Timothy spotted Sophia off by the stern of the ship, chatting with whom he knew to be her maid and her spinster aunt. Timothy’s heart sank. He had to admit that he was attracted to the woman deeply. Her features stirred something in him that he recognised to be lust, but there was something about their arrangement that made the attraction untenable.

  For one thing, Timothy was quite sure that he could never be fully enamoured by anyone he was married to. To have to see the same person over and over again seemed too much for him. How was a man supposed to sustain affection for someone he could not get rid of? In Timothy’s estimation, he was far too young to be saddled to the same woman for the rest of his life.

  What was even more vexing was the notion that Sophia had more money than he did. There was nothing attractive in the least about that. Timothy would much rather have a woman who depended upon him fully, needing him in order to live and thrive instead of the other way around. It was that kind of dominance that Timothy craved, and for that reason Sophia could not be deeply appealing to him.

  Yet still, there was the question of the marriage bed, and that would be answered shortly. Timothy would need to consummate the marriage and he did not find that to be too daunting. After all, everyone on that ship wished to deflower Sophia Barberry. He knew it deep in his bones and could see it written on every man’s face. So, Timothy would relish the job, but he wasn’t quite sure what would happen after that. Perhaps they would enjoy the marriage game for a time, but then he would need to stray. It was the way of the world. A man needed what a man needed.

  Walking along the deck, Timothy decided that it was high time that he paid another call to little Sophia. And by ‘little’, he really did mean little. Sophia was diminutive in size, and that was comforting to Timothy. Had she been a tall woman, his attraction would be less. But her petite frame ensured that he could at least assert some kind of dominance over her, at least in the physical sense.

  “Good day,” Timothy said to Sophia, tipping his hat.

  “Good day, M’Lord,” Sophia replied.

  He liked that she called him lord, because that’s what he was, after all. He was her lord and everyone else’s lord for that matter, because he was to be a duke in good time, and hopefully sooner rather than later.

  “I trust that you slept well,” he said, continuing his pleasantries.

  “Very well,” Sophia replied.

  For a moment, the thought struck him that perhaps Sophia slept in the nude. He greatly hoped that it might be so, and he wished to see it in good time.

  The previous evening, the two of them had danced and Timothy had to admit that he enjoyed it. It gave him a good vantage point to gaze down at Sophia’s ample décolletage, and he enjoyed the way her breasts moved when she was in motion.

  Lost in thought about Sophia’s chest, Lord Timothy looked over to Sophia’s maid, who was scowling at him. It was as though the woman knew what he was thinking in that very moment. He looked over at the spinster aunt, who was smiling at him. Yes, he could tell that the aunt had special feelings for him. He’d let her indulge those feelings in the bedroom were she not so bloody old.

  His mind was getting the best of him. Why did he think such horrid thoughts? He must be sure to ask the vicar.

  Timothy made a point that morning of sitting next to his future wife at breakfast. He had been avoiding that courtesy for the entire trip because he did not wish to get too close until he had to. But he was feeling benevolent that morning and so he watched as Sophia buttered her bread and sipped her tea. He found it pleasing enough, yet he would still look away from time to time so as to not appear too interested.

  “Do you enjoy being at sea?” he asked her, tapping onto the shell of his boiled egg with his spoon.

  “Very much so. Though I must admit I have not experienced it much,” Sophia explained. “I have not had a great deal of travel in my life. My mother and father much prefer to stay in New York than to venture out.”

  “Such a pity,” Timothy replied. “There’
s so much to see in the world. I take every opportunity I can to venture forth.”

  “That sounds promising,” Sophia replied.

  Timothy watched as a crumb from Sophia’s toast fell onto her chest, and he wished to reach over with his fingers to remove it.

  “I hope that we’ll travel a great deal,” Sophia went on.

  “We shall,” he replied.

  And by ‘we’ he meant ‘me’. Timothy assumed he’d be travelling far more after he was married, if only for the privacy.

  “Where is your favourite place you’ve travelled to?” Sophia asked, looking genuinely interested.

  Timothy liked her interest. In fact, he liked any woman who was interested in him. But in general, he became far more heated for women who showed a lack of interest in him.

  “China.”

  “You’ve been to China?” Sophia asked.

  “Several times. On business,” he said.

  Of course, he was lying. He did not go to China on business but rather to purchase rare artefacts for Willow Grange, and also to visit the bath houses.

  “I would imagine that it is very exotic there,” she said wistfully.

  “Their customs are far different. But they enjoy a rare and rich history,” Lord Timothy explained.

  “I hope to experience it one day,” she replied.

  “You shall.”

  A thought struck Timothy that was rather surprising: he actually liked Sophia. Perhaps they could be friends? Maybe she would forgive him when he strayed, or better yet, turn a blind eye. Maybe they could come to an arrangement that they could both find suitable. He’d enjoy her money, and her bed when he chose, and Sophia would be free to do as she chose. That would not include sleeping in anyone else’s bed, naturally.

  “Do you enjoy sport?” Sophia asked.

  “I relish in the hunt,” he replied.

  “That’s very British,” Sophia said with a laugh. “In America we enjoy all kinds of sports, but hunting is not as common.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Timothy said.

  How very uncivilised for Americans to not hunt on a regular basis. They had the space, after all. There was so much land in America, and exquisite beasts that one could shoot.

  As Timothy returned to his breakfast, he noticed that Sophia was perfectly content carrying on with her aunt, who sat on the other side of her. Lord Timothy could not recall what the woman’s name was, but he remembered that it started with an ‘E.’ He found it mildly vexing that Sophia seemed to be perfectly content when his attention was not on her. In fact, she seemed happier. He would need to amend that, somehow. He wanted his wife’s light to only shine on him, and when he returned to Willow Grange after a long weekend in town, he wished to be fawned upon.

  “Do pass the salt,” he said to Sophia.

  “It’s not good for your health,” she replied.

  And so it begins, he thought to himself. Was Sophia going to be the kind of woman who nagged him all the time about such trifling things? She’d need to learn to hold her tongue.

  “What is your favourite cuisine?” he asked her, veiling his annoyance.

  “My mother loves all things French, and therefore that is how I was raised.”

  “There are worse things,” Timothy replied.

  “What does your chef de cuisine prefer?” Sophia asked.

  There was much to say on that point. For one thing, Willow Grange had not employed a decent chef in years, due to financial want. And the chef they did employ was Prussian, and to explain that chef’s preferred cuisine would be insulting to anyone.

  “Our chef prefers traditional British fare,” Timothy replied, thinking that Sophia would merely need to discover the truth when it was placed before her on a plate.

  “I hear that is boring and dull.”

  Timothy was offended. Did Sophia really just say the first thing that came to mind? He’d have to instruct his wife on the value of decorum and holding one’s tongue.

  He had considered for a moment asking Sophia if she wished to take a stroll around the ship’s deck after breakfast, but now he had changed his mind. Instead, he would use his energy to forward his business efforts and that was that.

  ***

  This did not trouble Sophia in the slightest, as she sensed she had frustrated the future duke in some way. But she was quite accustomed to frustrating men and she saw no reason to change that.

  “You’re radiant this morning,” Aunt Emily said.

  “I’m feeling well. And I’m happy that you have recovered.”

  In truth, Emily had made a solid recovery and Sophia was pleased to have her company yet again.

  “I never thought I could be so ill,” Emily lamented, still having difficulty swallowing the food that was placed in front of her.

  “You’re not used to sea travel. None of us are.”

  And so the rest of the day was spent in good company. Emily and Sophia strolled around the galley, with Arabella close behind. The three of them would giggle and tell funny stories, and Sophia was filled with a temporary bliss. It was the first time in her life that Henry and Martha weren’t breathing down her neck, and Sophia was finding that she greatly enjoyed having her freedom. However, as her bond with her aunt grew, Sophia knew she would lose her soon.

  Sophia found the topic of her future marriage to be overwhelming at best, and so she indulged instead in the company of her companions. Emily had stolen a piece of bread from the breakfast table and was pulling it apart into pieces, throwing the crumbs at the birds. Arabella was checking her mistress’s hair every time the wind blew, ensuring that no curl was out of place. Sophia wished she didn’t do so, because she didn’t mind the wind-swept look in the slightest. In fact, she was feeling so free that she wished to undo all her curls and let her hair fly for the first time in her life.

  “The wedding will be grand,” Emily said with a smile.

  “It should be impressive. It’s Father’s money, after all.”

  “And then . . . ” Emily went on, a frown coming to her face, “I’ll be shipped back home.”

  “You can stay if you would like,” Sophia said.

  “No, I can’t,” Emily said. “How pathetic would that be?”

  “It wouldn’t be pathetic at all. What if you like living in England? You could find a husband.”

  “What would I want a husband for?” Emily asked. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.” She gazed off towards the sea.

  Sophia wasn’t entirely sure that Emily was telling the truth. Was she indeed perfectly fine without a husband, or deep down did she harbour regrets? Sophia herself wondered if marriage was even necessary. Of course hers was necessary, merely as a business transaction. But could one be happy on their own for a lifetime, if money permitted?

  Sophia did think that she could be happy on her own. There was nothing more pleasing than sitting in a grand library by herself, reading all day long in the silence and enjoying a nice fire. A man was not required for Sophia’s happiness, but there were other things that men could provide that Sophia could not get anywhere else.

  She thought about those things when she looked at Lord Timothy. Sophia had never taken a lover and was still confused about the relations that took place in the bedroom. She would learn in good time, but what if she didn’t enjoy that act with her future husband? That would be a sorry state of affairs indeed if she was physically repulsed by him. But Sophia had heard stories of such things. Women who didn’t want to be touched, men who felt no inclination to even be in the same room as their wives. In Sophia’s estimation, these were horror stories and she’d much rather be alone than find herself in such circumstances.