Page 59 of Seducing Sophia (Scholars of Seduction)

Oxton leaped to his feet, then threw his brandy over Peterton.

“You bastard. How dare you insult me!”

“It was just a jape,” Peterton said, wiping droplets of brandy from his face.

“Bollocks!” Oxton cried. “You strike out at anyone who doesn’t bend to your whims. Your obsession with bringing down Mrs. Huntington will be the end of you. She’s smarter than you think. If I were you, I’d leave her be.” He gestured toward Adrian. “And I’d leave our friend here alone, as well.”

Oxton turned his back, and strode out of the room.

Dom drained his glass. “Old Georgie has a problem,” he said, “and it’s something to do with redheads. You see, FitzRoy, this is why there’s no merit in listening to the calling of your heart. It only leads to despair. In Georgie, that despair is manifested in an unhealthy obsession—a need that will never be satisfied. Take care, my friend, never to have your heart ensnared by a wench. Though, from your countenance today, I suspect you’re already a lost cause. And, for that, you have my sympathies.”

“I’ve been a bloody fool, haven’t I?” Adrian said. “Will was a womanizer—and drink was his excuse for his own poor behavior, though he painted it as being the comfort he drew as a result of the poor behavior of others.”

“Ugh,” Peterton said. “I’ll always maintain that a man who gives his heart to a woman is a fool, for he risks his peace of mind.”

“But what if, by taking that risk…” Adrian said, “…if by taking that chance—he stands to achieve true happiness?”

“Then I wish you all the luck in the world.” Peterton drained his glass and waved the footman over for a refill. “For you’ll need it.”

Adrian finished his water, then took his leave, glancing over his shoulder as he reached the door. The last thing he saw as he exited the clubroom was his friend, seeking solace in the comfort of brandy, while striving to convince himself that the evils of the world were down to the female sex.

But, as any rational being knew, the world was ruled by men. And therefore, men must shoulder the responsibility of the evils of the world, rather than blame them on the fairer sex.

Dear God, Sophia, what have I done?

He’d been a fool—a bloody fool. He’d had the perfect woman in his grasp—beautiful, intelligent, and responsive, with a body ripe for pleasure, and a heart for the taking.

Seven times he’d tried to gain access to Summerton Hall. And each time he’d been summarily sent away.

The last time he’d turned up, Mrs. Huntington herself had shooed him from her doorstep. But as he had stepped away, he’d spotted a face at the first-floor window—a familiar face—pale, with soft features and wide, hazel eyes. His heart had tightened at their expression, and his blood had warmed at the memory of how their color had darkened as he’d driven himself inside her body, claiming her as his.

And she was his. No matter what that Huntington woman had said as she’d turned him away—and no matter what Peterton had said as he’d ridiculed him.

Sophia was his. And so was little Henry. And he’d be damned if anyone tried to keep them from him.

Whatever it took, he’d win them back.

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