Page 20 of Seducing Sophia (Scholars of Seduction)

He nodded. “And now I shall effect a rescue.”

He pulled off his jacket and threw it to the ground.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going in, of course.”

“No!” she cried. “You don’t know how deep it is.”

“Then I’ll soon find out.”

Before she could respond, he jumped into the water.

“Oh I say! Look at that!” a voice cried. A couple at the opposite side of the water had stopped to watch him.

“Well—I never saw the like!” the man said. The woman on his arm shook her head. “Come along, Phillip. We don’t want to stare at their sort.” She wrinkled her nose and tugged at the man’s arm and he complied and led her away.

Now, there was a man ruled by a woman. Not like Adrian. He preferred his women to be screaming with pleasure and writhing underneath him—not henpecking him at every turn.

The waterline reached the top of his boots and seeped in, and he let out a gasp.

By the saints, it was freezing!

“Are you all right, Colonel?” Mrs. Black asked, concern in her voice.

“Yes,” he replied, “but it’s considerably colder than I would have expected.”

He waded toward the boat. Progress was more difficult than he would have imagined—the bottom of the Serpentine was covered in a thick layer of mud and silt that clung to his boots and swirled around his legs. His valet would likely have a heart attack—but it mattered not.

What mattered was the eager little boy, who looked at the boat with longing, and at Adrian himself with admiration and friendship.

He reached for the boat and lifted it out of the water.

“Success!” he cried.

“Oh, thank you, Adrian!” The boy screeched in delight, and Adrian turned to see him leaping up and down, clapping his hands, pure joy on his face.

His mother, rather than admonish her son for his lack of decorum, looked at the boy with such love in her eyes that Adrian’s heart ached. A young widow on her own, forced to earn a living, might have yielded to hatred and resentment. But he saw nothing but love in her—love for the son who was her world.

And in turn, he felt nothing but shame at himself—shame for the part he was playing in Dominic’s game, and shame for his plan to seduce her. She was not a target to be debauched. She was a living, breathing woman, capable of passion and love.

Most of his friends and companions were rakes—they saw women as vessels from which to drink their pleasure. Wives were an unfortunate necessity from which to procure an heir. And that heir was only a means to further the longevity of their title. Will Blackstock, God rest his soul, was the worst of them, and it had driven him to ruination at the bottom of a bottle of brandy and the hands of some hoyden who’d tried to entrap him into marriage.

But, as the little boy at the water’s edge reached out for the boat, his eyes shining with gratitude and pride, Adrian found himself overcome by a sense of longing.

A child—a son—a young soul to nurture and shape into a fine man. What more could any man want?

Adrian retraced his steps to the water’s edge, and his boot became stuck in the mud on the riverbed. He cursed as he nearly lost his balance

“Perhaps now you can see the folly in your behavior, Colonel FitzRoy.”

He looked up to see Mrs. Black staring down at him, arms folded, her brow creased into a frown, and her lips forming a straight line.

What the devil did she have to be so angry about?

“What on earth possessed you to jump in?” she cried.

“Henry needed his boat.”

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