The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest (21 page)

The significance of her aunt’s words
smothered her. “But why?”

“To torture Edward. He died believing
Caroline was the product of his tryst with your mother, which made
him desperate to be near the child. I wanted your mother to pay for
her indiscretions as well.” Her voice drifted. “I never believed
Arthur would drive himself mad over it and I certainly never
thought I would be the only one left to witness my duplicity.”

“I can hardly fathom what you’re saying. So
many lies . . .”

“One lie begat another until everything
became a lie. Then Holt Langford appeared; now that I did not
expect. He was such a pitiful young man when I saw him last I would
not have deigned to believe he could actually be the same person. I
should have known though. One look into those eyes should have been
my warning.”

“You won’t,” Sophie faltered, reworked her
thoughts and said, “you won’t want to tell Caroline, will you?”

Vivian threw her a mortified look.
“Absolutely not. I’m no more capable of being a mother to her than
that rock over there. I think it best she believes her mother
died.”

“Thank you.”

Vivian nodded. “Yes, well, it is the least
I—” Her words shifted to a scream as she suddenly jerked forward
and fell to the ground.

“Aunt Vivian!” Sophie rushed to her and bent
over the older woman.

“Leave her,” a harsh voice called from behind
Sophie. “She’ll not help you now.”

Sophie turned, shielding her eyes from the
sun. A woman stood several feet away, her features blocked by the
sun’s brightness.

“I have waited years for this,
Charlotte.”

“Who are you?”

“Did you really believe I would let you steal
my husband?” She stepped forward and aimed a pistol at Sophie’s
belly. “Why couldn’t you leave him alone?” She swiped a
gray-streaked lock of hair from her face. “Answer me, Charlotte,
why couldn’t you leave my husband alone?”

“Please. I’m not who you think I am.”

A faint smile played about the woman’s mouth.
“But of course you are, Charlotte Seacrest.”

Chapter 26

The sun shifted and Sophie could just make
out the woman’s features. She was striking with high cheekbones and
a pure complexion, her gray-streaked hair caught in a twist at the
nape of her long neck. It was difficult to tell her age but Sophie
guessed she must be a few years younger than Aunt Vivian. The
woman’s eyes narrowed. “He’s mine, Charlotte.”

“Lady Westover?”
Holt’s mother!

“Indeed.”

“But I thought you were —”

“Dead? I spent ten years in an asylum. Locked
up like a common criminal.” Her voice turned low as she spat out,
“I am of noble blood, mind you. He had no right to do this to me.”
A small smile molded her lips. “Until one day, I decided I’d had
enough and found a way out.”

“I don’t understand.”

Lady Westover shook her head. “Of course you
don’t. Edward sent me away once because of you, but I assure you,
that won’t happen again.” She stepped closer and motioned toward
the rowboat tied to the dock. “Move.”

“Wait. Please—”

“
Into the boat. You shall
row, Charlotte.” Holt’s mother pointed the pistol at Sophie’s
belly, forcing her to move. “I have dreamed of this day for years,”
she said. “You and I would row to the middle of the lake with the
bright sun shining around us and finally, it would be done. I
pictured your body sinking to the very bottom of this lake.” Her
smiled turned serene. “Edward would never be tempted again. I even
dreamed of this,” she murmured, “so many times the dreams felt
real.”

“You killed my mother.”

“Why would I kill your mother, Charlotte? I
don’t even know the woman.” Her expression darkened in anger.
“You’re the one I want to kill and then I should like a cup of tea
as I wait for them to drag your bloated, lifeless body from the
dregs of the lake. Odd, but this does seem so very familiar.” She
tapped her chin and nodded. “If I had paper with me I would have
you pen a note to that fool husband of yours, telling him you were
leaving him. Why not ruin everyone’s life?”

“I’m not Charlotte.” If she reasoned with the
woman, perhaps she’d have a chance.

“Get in the boat and start rowing. Now!”

Sophie hurried to the small boat and climbed
inside, settling herself on the seat opposite Lady Westover. She
searched the surrounding lawns, trying to formulate a plan of
escape.

“Take the oar. Yes,” Holt’s mother said,
“this is exactly how I pictured it in my dreams. We would row to
the middle of the lake. You would look at me as you are now with
desperation on your face. And fear.” Her lips worked into a bright
smile. “You should have thought of this before you slept with my
husband, Charlotte.”

“I didn’t—”

“Do not insult me. I saw the two of you at
the gamekeeper’s cottage, rutting like animals. I promised myself
then I would have my revenge.” Her voice faltered a second as she
added, “But Edward stole me away and locked me up. Why did he do
that? Did he think I would not come back? He’s my husband.
My
husband,” she jabbed her chest with her finger, “not
yours.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You fornicated with my husband and you are
sorry? No, dear Charlotte, that is not sufficient repentance. You
must plunge to the bottom of the lake where your lungs will fill
with water and you will scream, but no one will hear you. No one,”
she murmured, leaning closer. “Not even the fish.” She stood in the
boat, her eyes wild as she lifted the pistol and pointed it at
Sophie’s belly.

“Mother!”

Lady Westover jerked her head toward the
sound.

“Edward!”

Holt’s large body loomed on the shore. “Put
the pistol down and come back to shore so I can speak with
you.”

“No. You’ll lock me up again, Edward.”

“I won’t. I promise you, I won’t do
that.”

Her shoulders slumped. “You chose
her
.
Why would you do that? I bore you three children. I even let you
send my beloved Holt away. I tried to please you.” Tears trickled
down her cheeks. “Did I not please you, Edward?”

“Yes, you pleased me. Now come to shore.”

She darted a glance at Sophie. “She is quite
beautiful, is she not?”

“Please, come to shore now.”

“No,” she shook her head slowly. “Not until I
have removed this temptation from your life.” She inched closer to
Sophie, the pistol still trained on her belly. “In my dream, I
struck her on the head with an oar and watched her sink beneath the
water. It all seemed so very real but here she is, threatening to
come between us again. I won’t allow it, Edward. You belong to me.
Say goodbye to your precious Charlotte.”

“
Nooooo!” A horrific cry
smashed the air, reverberating from trees to shoreline to water.
Lady Westover jerked her head toward the sound and Sophie took that
moment to swing the oar at the woman, connecting soundly with her
legs.

Holt’s mother screamed and toppled into the
water. “Edward! Edward!” She beat her arms against the water,
fighting madly to stay afloat. She sunk once, twice, still yelling
her husband’s name before vanishing into the murky water with one
final splash.

“Sophie!” Holt dove into the lake and headed
toward her, his strong body slicing the placid water in swift, even
strokes. When he reached the boat, he hazarded a quick glance at
her before diving under the water. Once, twice, five times he dove
under, but each time he came up with nothing more than clumps of
mud. “I can’t find her.” He sucked in great gulps of air and clung
to the side of the boat.

“She killed my mother.”

Holt clutched her hand. “I’m so sorry.” And
then he was gone again, diving beneath the muddied waters in search
of the mother he thought long dead.

Sophie stared at the spot of water where her
husband had disappeared. How long could he stay under water? Hadn’t
her father told her this was a particularly deep lake? What if Holt
developed a cramp? What if he could not make it to the surface?
What if he died, never knowing he was to be a father? By the time
he resurfaced, Sophie was sobbing and clutching her belly.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry.” Holt heaved his
large frame into the boat and wiped the water from his face. Then
he reached for her. “She won’t hurt you now.”

“Holt—”

“You’re safe.” He stared at the muddy pool of
water surrounding the boat. “All these years and everyone thought
she was dead.”

“She said your father locked her up. Maybe he
knew she killed my mother and did it to protect her. She kept
speaking of dreams in which she killed my mother.”

“Perhaps the old man sent her away to keep
her from the authorities,” Holt said. “Maybe he wasn’t a complete
bastard after all.” He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her
head.

“Your mother found out about the affair . .
.”

“And decided to end it.”

“All this time,” she murmured against his
chest, “all this pain . . .”

“It’s over now, Sophie.”

“Aunt Vivian—”

“She’s alive, a bad knock to the head but
she’ll make it.”

“She told me things Holt, sad things that
actually made me feel sorry for her. I’d like to offer her a home
with us. Perhaps she can find some peace.”

“Whatever you like. I just thank God you’re
safe. If anything had happened to you,” his voice cracked. “I love
you, Sophie. With every part of my being.”

“We’re going to have a baby.”

“A baby?”

She nodded. “Are you happy?”

“More than happy.” He planted a soft kiss on
her mouth and said, “About that ridiculous bargain I made with you
. . .”

She brushed her lips against his and said,
“If you think I’m leaving your bed because I’m going to have your
child, you are grievously mistaken. You’ll just have to get used to
the idea of making love to a wife with an expanding waistline.”

“Thank you, my love. Thank you for the
greatest gift a man could ask for.” They settled into each other’s
arms, lazily drifting toward the shoreline when Sophie suddenly
remembered the earth shattering scream she’d heard earlier.

“Holt, what was that horrible scream I heard
earlier? Was it you?”

“My God. Caroline. I forgot all about her.”
Easing Sophie from him, he turned the boat around and headed for
the opposite shoreline and the small figure huddled on the
bank.

“Caroline?
She spoke?”

“Good Lord, I believe she did.”

“We’re coming, Caroline!” Sophie shouted.
“We’re coming!”

“Poor thing, she’s seen too much.”

“What if Caroline witnessed your mother
killing mine? Here on the lake?”

“Dear God.”

When they reached the shore, Holt jumped out
and dragged the boat onto the grassy bank. Sophie scurried out of
it and rushed to Caroline, who lay huddled in a ball, her long hair
covering her face. Sophie clutched her sister to her. “It’s all
right now. It’s over.”

Holt eased onto the grassy bank and lifted
the child into his arms. She raised her head and tightened her grip
on Sophie’s hand. “Soooo-ppphhhieee.”

“You spoke!” Sophie threw her arms around her
husband and her little sister.

“Yes,” Holt said softly, “she spoke.”

Sophie met her husband’s gaze as he lifted
his right hand and moved his fingers in the familiar sign,
I
love you.

She smiled and imitated his finger movements,
I love you, too.
Then she flung her arms about him and held
on tight, reveling in the glory of her husband’s love — today,
tomorrow, always.

Epilogue

He stood in the doorway, watching her as the
tiny infant suckled her breast. It had been two months since Steven
Alexander Langford, future Earl of Westover, joined the world with
several lusty wails. Holt recalled the night well. He’d ignored the
doctor’s raised brows and insisted on staying by his wife’s side.
Of course, he’d vowed never to touch her again if only she would be
spared. Her moans of pain had driven him crazy and in the end it
was Sophie who reassured him all would be well.

Holt stepped into the nursery, his gaze
intent on his wife and son. Sophie looked up and greeted him with a
tender smile, so full of love and devotion his chest tightened at
the sight. She was beautiful in motherhood with her auburn hair
trailing freely down her back, her emerald eyes touched with gold.
The ruby medallion hung from her slender neck and rested on the
swell of her breasts. Motherhood had nicely rounded the curves of
her already splendid figure. Damn, but he never should have made
that vow to leave her alone. He knew he’d never be able to keep it.
From the look on his wife’s face, it would appear she did not want
him to honor his promise; at least not
that
promise. Holt
leaned forward and kissed the hollow of her neck. “I want you.”

“Do tell.” She ran a hand down his arm and
onto his thigh.

“You little tease. You’ll pay dearly for
that.”

“Oh, I do hope so,” she sighed. “Caroline
should be here soon to see to Steven. She wants to read to
him.”

“Good.” The child had not stopped talking
since she’d regained her ability to speak. “She and Julia can
occupy him while I occupy you.”

Sophie slid a long, slow smile over him and
whispered, “And I have much to occupy you with, dear husband. So
very much to show you.” Her lips touched his, hot and burning with
need, and as their baby nestled between them, they pledged their
love to one another, deeply, fiercely, eternally.

***

The late afternoon breeze sifted through the
clouds, swirling about the scantily clad couple as they nestled on
a large blanket beneath a towering oak tree.