Tag: #HistoricalRomance

He headed to the drawing room.

While Sophie continued to hold his heart, he could not bring himself to marry another. Yes, he had wasted his days living off his brother while indulging in a life of idleness and pleasure-seeking. Now he had no option but to pray his aunt left him her fortune. Perhaps then he could offer for Sophie. She will never marry a rake, you fool. As usual, he tamped down the bitter truth, but the tiny flicker of hope that one day she may be his was the only thing that prevented him from sinking further.

His aunt dropped onto the sofa before the crackling hearth. “It does not help your cause that you continue to associate with that scoundrel, Mr Crawford.”

Sophie carried out her duties in efficient silence, pretending not to hear the details of his scandalous associations. How he longed to take her away from this life of servitude. Someone so good, kind and selfless deserved better.

After pouring the tea, she handed her employer a cup.

Without a word of thanks to her companion, his aunt continued, “There is still talk about his scandalous affair with Mrs Rushworth. You should end the connection, for it will only sully your name further. Your reputation as a rake does not help matters, but being associated with an adulterer will not earn you a respectable bride. What must my dear sister think of her favourite now?”

He accepted his cup from Sophie with his head down and muttered his thanks. Shame gnawed at his insides. If his mother had not died of typhus before he reached his tenth year, she would have been sorely disappointed in him.

Why could he not be a better man? He should have sought a profession after university. If he had done something useful, perhaps, he may have earned Sophie’s good opinion and won her heart. Instead, he had wasted his life. He was a hopeless rake beyond salvage, in love with a woman far above him in noble character. Even if he were rich, she would always be too good for him.

Sophie sat on the sofa next to his aunt and twiddled with a delicate curl at her nape.

He had to ask again. “Are you certain you are well, Miss Woodforde?”

“Stop trying to misdirect the attention from yourself, Trevethan.” Aunt Hammond sipped at her tea.

Wispy tendrils of steam rose from the beige liquid in his cup, and he tamped down the urge to ask for something stronger. Liquor would have to wait. Even though nothing eased the painful longing within him lately.

He could not resist being drawn to the source of his yearning while she stared at the flickering flames in the hearth. What had happened to the woman who enjoyed lecturing him about the latest philanthropic project she wished to support or teased him following the gossip surrounding his misadventures? Not that he had many these days unless one counted spending the evenings drinking brandy with Crawford while they both pined for the women they loved but could not possess.

“Trevethan!” he jerked his head towards his aunt. Her narrowed gaze bore into him. Had he given himself away?

She glowered, then said, “Miss Woodforde has received some surprising news today that has unsettled her.”

Sophie’s head shot up; her wide gaze directed towards her employer.

“I hope it is nothing serious?” My God, she was ill. “Is there anything I can do?”

Aunt Hammond scoffed. “It is not unwelcome news—well, not for Miss Woodforde.”

“Mrs Hammond.” Sophie pleaded, but as usual, his aunt could not be silenced.

“Miss Woodforde is now an heiress with twenty thousand.”

His breath stuttered.

On the opposite sofa, Sophie’s head lolled forward, and she ran a palm across her forehead.

Sophie was a wealthy woman—a single, wealthy woman. That meant she no longer needed to work for his aunt. He would not see her when he visited.

Aunt Hammond asked, “Will you not offer your congratulations?”

He glanced at his aunt before returning his attention to Sophie, whose shoulders slumped.

A burning sensation spread down his gullet, and he swallowed. “Congratulations, Miss Woodforde.”

His aunt sniffed. “She is almost maudlin; anyone would think a beloved family member had died.”

Sophie continued to stare into the teacup in her lap. She would leave, and he would never see her again.

Aunt Hammond prattled on. “Heaven knows why, but she wishes to keep it a secret. She should marry, yet she insists she will remain in my employment.”

Of course, her sense of duty would not allow her to abandon his aunt. Selfish thoughts about her leaving had distracted him from the more pressing issue. Another man would steal her from him. His heart skipped a beat. He could not allow it.

Bianca White writes passionate and spicy historical romance.

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