Badcock by Debra Glass

and bosom and the pebbled path under her feet. When she came upon a concrete bench, she arranged her skirts and sat.
    She suddenly heard something stampeding through the thick bushes. Startled, she looked up to discover one of Jack’s dogs loping toward her. At once, the animal was upon her, his massive gray head nuzzling her hands, begging to be petted.
    Sophia scratched the dog’s ears. “Which one are you?” she asked. “Murphy or O’Malley?”
    “Murphy.”
    Sophia’s gaze shot to Jack who stood admiring her from the path.
    “That’s enough, Murphy,” he said, coming closer. The dog bounded away.
    “I’m sorry,” Sophia blurted. “I didn’t know Lady Huntingdon —”
    “Neither did I,” he said, taking his seat next to her on the bench.
    Instinctively, Sophia tensed. His heat radiated, warming her bare wrist. His proximity caused tingles to skitter up and down her spine.
    “Your home is…lovely,” Sophia said.
    “You don’t find it too shabby?” he asked.
    “Not at all,” she said. “I find it…comfortable.”
    A little smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I didn’t appreciate this place until I returned from Europe.”
    “Ah, yes, I recall you’ve been abroad.”
    “I toured the continent for several years…until my father fell ill.” He sighed. “Shortly after I returned, he died.”
    “I’m sorry,” Sophia said, not knowing what else to say to comfort him. Boldly, she placed her hand over his.
    The muscles and bones in his hand tensed but only for a brief second before he twisted his hand and laced his fingers with hers.
    Sophia’s heart thundered.
    “Have you reconsidered my offer?” he inquired.
    Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I will take whatever little piece of yourself you can give to me. “No,” she replied. “There are my parents to consider. My father has gone to tremendous lengths to see that I am well married.”
    Jack snorted. “What about Wisbech ? Where does he fit into your considerations?”
    “ Wisbech is a brute.”
    “A brute to whom you are engaged to be married,” Jack said. “Why did you choose him? Why did you agree?”
    “Agree? I had no say in the matter. My father’s lawyers and Wisbech’s lawyers drew up the contract and I was told I would be marrying him,” Sophia said.
    “When is your wedding?” he asked.
    “Saturday.”
    “And you are resolved to go through with it?” Jack asked.
    “If I don’t marry Ralph, no one else will offer for me. I’m spoiled goods. Remember?” What good was arguing with Jack when she wanted so desperately to feel his mouth on hers? Sophia’s head ached.
    His lips set in a grim line and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “If you accept my offer, I will provide for you and—”
    She cut him off. “If I accept your offer, I will be shunned by my family, my friends. I will be a pariah in society, unfit to attend parties or balls.”
    “You could live in Paris. You could have a marvelous life there if you would but accept,” he offered, caressing her palm with his thumb.
    It all sounded so wonderful. So right. But then, she recalled that he would be married to another, beholden to another. It would never be enough for her. Even though mistresses and lovers abounded in the lives of married men and women, the thought of sharing him was unthinkable.
    “Sophia, you do know that if circumstances were different, that if you and I were both free, I would—”
    “Don’t say it,” she whispered urgently. She couldn’t allow herself to hear the words, not when exhilaration and heartbreak vied for prominence within her soul.
    He inhaled. “Don’t let Lady Huntingdon taunt you. She’ll tell you vile stories about me.”
    Sophia parted her lips to protest, to tell him that she would never believe anything bad about him but he continued before she had a chance to speak.
    “Before I returned here, before my father died, I lived a reckless life,” he confessed. “I drank heartily. I loved whomever I