What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

A war began to rage within, as an array of emotions scrambled for supremacy: jealousy, fear, and pride — each one challenging the other for the right to breach the walls of her heart. But as the images faded and the dust settled, she was left with one formidable emotion — love.

She loved him. She had always loved him. Charlotte had been correct in her observation.

Fear began to claw at her heart — if it was so obvious to Charlotte then perhaps it was obvious to Dane. Oh, what had she done? She had tasted the forbidden fruit, she had felt his lips on hers, had felt what it was like to be held in his arms. Now the memory of him would be all the more painful. She should leave. She should go home to Marchampton, move into the cottage and pretend he had never come back.

“Sophie, are you well?” Charlotte’s voice broke her reverie. “You look rather pale. Come let us return to the house. I think we are both in need of a distraction.”

Sophie helped Charlotte to her feet and slipped her arm through hers. They had entered the garden as relative strangers and they would leave as trusted confidants. Sophie would have liked nothing more than to remain friends. But she could not bear to hear stories about Dane, and Charlotte spoke about him with such affection it would probably break her heart. Perhaps when she had settled into the cottage, she would write to her.

“I am so glad we have had the chance to speak privately.” Charlotte turned and smiled warmly at her. “If my experiences have taught me anything these past few years, it is that life is like the weather – unpredictable. When it is dark and miserable, we must have hope. But when it is warm and sunny, we must rejoice. We must embrace it and trust that its memory will sustain us when the rain comes again.”

“How philosophical of you,” Sophie replied feeling a little better than she had a few moments before.

“Well, Dudley did not just marry me for my money,” she giggled. “Now, let us go inside, treat ourselves to a slice of cake and see if we can find a way for you to meet your Madame Labelle.”

Chapter 19

After some gentle persuasion and Dudley Spencer’s promise to help devise a plan, they all agreed that the meeting with Madame Labelle should go ahead.

The discussion lasted no more than twenty minutes, but it had been the most awkward twenty minutes of Sophie’s life. She had barely acknowledged Dane throughout the whole exchange, believing that if she appeared aloof she would be able to disguise her true feelings.

She had never stopped loving him.

The thought left her feeling exposed and vulnerable and her stomach did little flips every time she thought of it. The carriage ride home had been just as challenging. Dane had mistaken her stony silence for anxiety and so spent the rest of the journey trying to convince her he would risk his life to protect her — which only made her heart race all the more.

The opportunity to spend time upstairs with Amy had been a welcome relief.

With her arms folded firmly across her chest, Sophie stood with her back to the bedroom window as she examined Dane’s maid. “I know the coat is a little on the large side. But if you would just straighten your back, it would not look so bad.”

Amy offered a weak smile, revealing her reluctance to participate in their charade. “I don’t know how you do it, miss,” she said shrugging her shoulders as though she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. “I can hardly breathe with this thing wrapped around my neck.” She tugged at the ends of the neatly tied cravat and Sophie rushed over, patted her hands away and pushed the ends down inside the waistcoat.

“The more you think about it, the worse it will be,” Sophie replied placing her hand on Amy’s arm to offer some comfort. Sophie had worn breeches many times whilst roaming around in the countryside, but had also struggled with the feeling of being slowly suffocated by a cravat.

Amy turned her head and sniffed the shoulder of the coat. “Does this thing smell musty to you?” she asked, her nose wrinkled to the size of a button.

Sophie bowed her head and inhaled before jerking back sharply. It smelt like a wet dog. “It’s just a little damp,” she reassured, wondering where Dane had found it. “Let me find something to mask the smell.” Sophie wandered over to the dressing table, removed a few dried lavender stalks from the vase and crushed the heads in her hands. “There that should do the trick,” she said, smoothing her hands over the coat in the hope the scent would linger long enough to placate Amy. “Now, do you remember what it is you must do?”

Amy nodded. “I’m to wait in the square until Haines brings your madame.”

Sophie nodded. “You must sit with her for at least ten minutes and

then —”

“But what am I supposed to say to her,” Amy blurted, forgetting it was rude to interrupt and in other houses, maids had been dismissed for far less.

Sophie’s mouth curved into a mischievous grin. “You are going to have the mistress of a brothel at your disposal. I am sure you will think of something.” She had a few questions she would not mind asking herself.

Amy went a little red in the face. “I don’t expect she’d know much about affairs of the heart, what with her being in a different sort of business. Besides, Mrs. Cox says you can always tell when a gentleman’s interested in a lady.”

Sophie struggled with the idea of Mrs. Cox being so knowledgeable when it came to gentlemen. “Really?” she mused, her interest piqued. “And how does one know when a gentleman is interested?”

“Well, Mrs. Cox says that men like order. They usually have a routine and the Devil himself couldn’t change it, even if he had a mind to. She says you can always tell if a gentleman is interested as they start doing things they wouldn’t normally do.”

“I see,” Sophie said with a teasing smile. “You mean like Haines suddenly eating lunch in the kitchen instead of taking it out to the mews.”

Amy blushed again. “Well, I suppose,” she shrugged. “Or like his lordship letting you stay here without a chaperone. Mrs. Cox said that ladies don’t usually stay overnight. His lordship always escorts them home in the early hours.” She stopped abruptly and put her fingers over her lips. No doubt aware that her tongue had run away with itself and such comments were not to be repeated outside the kitchen.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Sophie tried desperately to maintain a passive expression. It was no business of hers who Dane entertained. So why did she feel so angry, so disappointed, so humiliated? When she had questioned his need for two townhouses in London, he’d told her he used the one in Red Lion Square for business. It had not occurred to her that business meant clandestine meetings with his mistresses.