What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

“Mr. Potts, I think he’s here, Mr. Potts.”

Sophie Beaufort watched the old woman scurry out through the door behind the glass counter and then continued to examine the box of ribbons.

“Your mother seems rather excited today,” she said, pulling out a length of red satin.

She did not need new ribbons, or threads, or buttons, but her regular walks to the village made the days seem shorter.

“She has been like it all morning,” Emily said shaking her head. “She thinks the marquess is going to come in and buy her whole stock of gloves. I’ve told her he probably buys all his apparel in London, but you know how she gets.”

Sophie swallowed a few times hoping it would help to correct the problem with her hearing. “I thought I heard you say the marquess,” she chuckled. She really was spending far too much time on her own.

“I did.” Emily bent down, removed another draw and placed it on top of the glass counter. “I know how you hate to tie it up, but I think the forest green would look wonderful with your ebony hair.”

Feeling an odd flutter in her chest, her mind oblivious to whatever it was Emily had just said, Sophie placed her hand on the counter and inhaled deeply through her nose.

“Why … why would your mother think that?”

Emily glanced back over her shoulder and then leaned forward. “Mother said it’s the least he can do. She’s spent the last six years moaning and complaining about him and there she was yesterday morning, a smile spread right across her face, waving her handkerchief at him as his carriage rattled by.”

A hard lump formed in Sophie’s throat, forcing her to swallow deeply. “The marquess has come home?”

“Yes,” Emily beamed. “Isn’t it wonderful? Lord Danesfield has returned to Westlands.”

“Wonderful,” Sophie repeated, fear and loathing hiding within that one feigned word.

Emily gave a teasing wink. “He’ll probably call on you today, what with you being his closest neighbour. Course, he’ll be expecting your brother to be home.”

Sophie’s stomach twisted into gut-wrenching knots as she recalled her last encounter with Sebastian Ashcroft. The image conjured was so real that she smoothed her hand down the front of her dress, expecting to feel the evidence of the dumpy fourteen-year-old girl.

“Just make sure there’s someone with you,” Emily said as her gaze drifted over Sophie’s hair. “You know what the gossips say about him. Though I don’t believe it myself.”

Sophie smiled and nodded in acquiesce: a bid to maintain her fragile composure. Her heart thumped violently in protest, desperate to tell the world that he was everything people imagined him to be: a coward, a rake, and a debauched fool.

“He’s here, he’s here. I knew he’d come,” Mrs. Potts said running up to the front window. She turned to Emily. “Don’t just stand there. Make yourself presentable, girl.”

Emily skittered over to the window. “Mother’s right,” she said as her eyes grew wide. “The marquess is here and he is heading in the direction of our shop.”

The world suddenly tipped off its axis and Sophie gripped the counter to steady her balance. Little lights flashed before her eyes

and the room melted into a hazy mist.

Emily rushed over to her. “The marquess is here,” she said, her mother’s excitement obviously contagious.

Sophie thought to put her handkerchief to her mouth lest she catch it, but there was no danger of that. Excitement was definitely not what she felt.

She gripped Emily’s hands, the blood rushing from her face and pooling at her feet as though expecting an army of heathens to suddenly burst through the door. “I don’t want to see him,” Sophie cried. “You must hide me, Emily.” Fearing she sounded like a raving lunatic and in a bid to infuse an element of logic into her plea, she added, “I don’t want him to ask about my brother. I don’t want him to know I am on my own. At least not yet.”

Emily gave her a knowing look. “Well, there’s no sense in taking chances,” she said. “Quick, you can hide behind here.” She directed Sophie to the concealed dressing room, pulled back the red curtain and ushered her inside. “Wait in here until I come and get you. Mother is too busy flapping to even notice.”

Emily closed the curtain, leaving her alone in the shrouded space and Sophie could hear the heavy beat of her heart thumping in her ears.

The sound of scraping wood and the tinkling of a bell preceded the heavy thud of booted footsteps.

“Good day, my lord,” Mrs. Potts chirped. “May I say, what a pleasure it is to have you home at last.”

“Good day to you, Mrs. Potts. It is certainly a pleasure to be back.”

Sophie closed her eyes tight and placed the palm of her hand over her stomach in a bid to stop her traitorous body responding to the warmth of his tone, to the slow, purposeful drawl.