London, 1840

One week later

The arrow hit the target with a loud thud, catching the very outer rim of it and quivering there pitifully. The men near Blake laughed and pointed their fingers at him for his incapacity.

James' jaw dropped and he swiveled toward Blake. "Blake, you missed all of the shots. This is someone who has won every archery competition we have ever been to, ever. You managed to hit a bulls-eye for all of them and now," he waved vaguely towards the target, "you do this. I had my bets on you!"

"I am not feeling inclined to shoot arrows today, but keep talking and I might put one through your head." Blake turned away from him, making a move to leave the field.

James' brows shot up. "Herrick! What in the devil's blazes is wrong with you?" He grabbed Blake's arm, preventing him from departing. Blake shook him off.

"Nothing, James. Leave me alone." His fingers toyed with the string of the bow, plucking at it. He let it slap the pad of his finger again and again until it turned raw and red.

James narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What happened between her and you?"

"Me and who?" Blake's voice was unusually nonchalant and James snorted.

"Lady Sophia Brighton and yourself. Do not play the fool, Herrick. It does not suit you."

"Nothing. Nothing happened." Blake's fingers curled around the bow grasped in his hands, his knuckles turning white. James's eyes followed Blake's movements, watching the blood drain from his hands with disbelief. Before Blake could stop him, he yanked the bow from him.

He pointed at the sudden rush of color to Blake's knuckles, red blooming against a pallid white. "This is nothing?"

Blake's nostrils flared, the nerve in his jaw ticking. He tried to stare James down, but James only arched his eyebrows. Blake sighed. "All right. Something happened. She used me for her own purposes and then told me to stay away from her."

"She was probably scared, Herrick."

Blake stepped up to James until their noses were almost touching. "She blamed it on me. Granted I might have started the whole...thing, but she continued it! And the little witch had the nerve to blame me! Me!"

"I wonder why." James gasped dramatically. "Could it be because," another gasp, "you are an infamous rake?"

Blake could not help the small chuckle to escape from his lips. James had a knack for always getting his spirits up. "Yes, but...she was at fault too. But she painted me like a bloody-"

"A killer of the ladies' virtues?"

Blake gave his friend a long look at those words and James shrugged. "Well, yes. Like that, James. I wouldn't have quite put it like that."

"The only thing you can do in confront her why she did so. Women, from my experience from six sisters and plenty of other women in my life, is that although they are emotional creatures, a good lot of them don't admit it so."

Blake scoffed.

James held his hands up in surrender. "I wish I could say something profound, but I am not God, just James. Although, it would be interesting to be God. Nonetheless, you have taken an immense liking to her and she has taken an immense liking to you. You should not let insipid emotions like anger and pride in the way. Besides, you nearly bore me to tears talking about her at the ball and moaning about her afterward. Just talk to her, apologize."

"For what? I didn't do anything wrong."

James sighed. "Have you heard a word I have said? Yes, from my experience from my six sisters, even if the woman is in the wrong, you should apologize. Always a rule to abide by, Herrick." He shuddered. "I have enough moments in my life when I have not headed to these words and the consequences.... God, how dire."

It was sound advice and Blake grinned cheekily at that. "James, when did you manage to obtain a semblance of knowledge?"

When a rotund man suddenly yelled out James's name, he picked up his bow, cocked an arrow and shot. The arrow landed on the very edge of the bullseye. Pushing his golden curls from his eyes, he wolfishly grinned. "Some say I have always been intelligent. You have just been impervious to it, Herrick."

Blake looked at James' shot. "Well, done, Addington. You're almost as good as me, but not quite there yet." He punched James' arm.

James smirked. "Even a dead horse could have a better aim than you today. Which reminds me...do you remember the day you were so drunk, you tried to shoot a target from atop a horse? You had said if I ever beat you in archery, you would give me a hundred pounds. Now, you can add fifty more for the life-changing advice. Pay up now."

Blake shot him an incredulous look. "I don't remember that."

"That is because you were a drunken fool. I remember, so you must take me at my word." James curled his fingers, trying to draw the reward forward.

Blake grumbled noisily but thrust the hundred pounds money in James' hand. When James looked at him pointedly, Blake produced another fifty. "That's only because I am not in the right state of mind and you know that." He started to walk back towards the house when something was thrust back into his hand.

"Have your money. I have enough of it already. It was to spur you on." James's eyes twinkled.

"I am not in the best of moods, James, for this nonsense. Be careful or I might shoot you." Blake grabbed his bow from the ground where James had discarded it. He reached his arm up to get an arrow from his quiver-- to only find it bare.

"You are certainly not going to make good on this promise. It is the second time you are making it in the span of a few minutes, and it will never be done with that lousy aim and no arrows." James winked.

The stare Blake returned was cold enough to freeze fires.

James guffawed at that. "You're one sore loser, Herrick. Lighten up."

Blake just shook his head.

Blake's fingers curled around the yellow edges of the parchment containing the invitation, crushing the edges. It had arrived the day after the ball, and it had been on the back of his mind ever since.

He ran his other hand through his dark hair, twisting it sharply.

The Duchess of Carlton took his appearance at Sophia's ball to mean he was wholly invested in pursuing her niece. He would be an excellent catch for Sophia and she would be free from the nuisance she called family. For as long as Blake had known the Duchess, the one thing she despised was problems and solving them.

She had clearly sensed their connection as well and thought Sophia would be happy with him. She was killing two birds with one stone.

She was being delusional, was what she was being. He could not marry Sophia.

His father would never allow him to, and Blake was not sure if he could be tethered to her for life. The things she did to him, it...scared him. He had his fair share of women, but none of them had been like her. None of them.

Blake had never liked the uncertain, which was why he had never gambled in his life. He had rarely ever doubted his own conscience, his own thoughts, his voice of reason. But Sophia Brighton was made him hesitate, pause, wait. He never knew how he would be around her. Happy? Pensive? Angry? She was his first ever gamble.

Was he ready to play?

The words jumped off the page, taunting him. He could decline her, for it would be rude. The Duchess did not seem like a woman to take a rejection warmly.

His father would be enraged if he knew Blake tried to demolish relations with the Carltons; even if his father was inadvertently playing with them. After all, he was letting them believe he would allow Blake to marry Sophia.

Yet, it was not his father's trickery that was not what truly saddened his heart and pulled it to the gallows nor was is it the reason for his indecisiveness about attending the gathering.

I never want to see you again.

Days later, Sophia's words still haunted him, plaguing his every thought, his dreams, his peace. Try as he might, he could not get Sophia out of his mind. She was like a harpy, constantly calling out to him, entrancing him in her web of beauty and seduction. He was too engrossed to resist.

And he had to see her again.

James was right. This moping around, this was not him. Blake went after what he sought. And this invitation was perhaps the key to do so. Perhaps the Duchess was a blessing in disguise—the only time she ever would be.

He wanted to see that smile again, the one so full of joy and happiness, bemusement, and innocence. And how wanted to hear the tinkle of her laughter, accompanied by an endearing snort or two.

He knew he should not go to the Duchess's home. Knew it was stupid and wrong. Knew it was going to be a disaster. But he had to see Sophia again, see those beautiful, expressive eyes of hers, those sinful lips that spoke words of compassion that twisted his gut. He just had to, perhaps for one last time.

Just to say goodbye. Just that.

Just a final goodbye.

Darius, his father, the Duke of Cambury, and Sophia's father had told Aunt Dahlia about Darius' intention to marry her the eve before. Her aunt had been relieved beyond measure. It was and would be the only time she would ever look the Earl of Conway with gratitude and not disgust. Darius would start courting her any time this week, and all other suitors gradually pushed away.

It was foolish holding out for hope that her Aunt would come to her defense, say her niece and herself were responsible for Sophia's future, not them.

Sophia should have known by then that hope was a thing that wormed into your heart, nestled there providing comfort, until one day you realized it had all turned to rot.

Darrius Shaw from across the room gave her a small smile. The furniture had been pushed to the side of the white walls, to make a small space for dancing at the evening tea gathering. At any time. Darius would cross the open space and approach her.

She should be happy she landed herself a husband—a wealthy one too. It was her intention from the very beginning and without even an ounce of effort, it had fallen into her lap. The man clearly held a note of wanting her as well. What more could she hope for?

But those green eyes continued to haunt her. Those damn green eyes that snaked into her dreams, roused her from the realm of sleep and left her panting for more. That smile, those slight dimples, that mussed hair. Him.

She could not get Lord Herrick out of her mind, however much she wanted to or tried. Everywhere she turned, she saw him—in the slope of another man's nose, another man's green eyes, another man's dark brown curls. But no man's eyes could compare to his. It was like a light had fractured emeralds and shattered its pieces in those abysses.

It was unfathomable to lust after someone who she had broken things off with because of inappropriate advances, more than she had endorsed. However, it did not mean her heart wanted to obey.

Then there was the guilt. His accusations that he had thrown her way that day was not far from the truth; to some extent, she had used him to fulfill her own passions.

However, more than that guilt, she could only feel bliss when she thought of him. He had treated her like an equal, asked about her, genuinely wanted to know her, her heart. Even Colette had rarely endorsed in asking Sophia how she was doing or what she wanted.

Damn her little heart. Damn her soul for caring too much about him, even if they had only met once.

And she condemned it to hell when it skipped merrily when he entered the room with his unruly hair and a smile that made his dimples curve into his skin.

Her throat tightened and her breathing turned slightly raspy. She knew she should stop gawking at him, but her eyes would not stop appraising his perfect physique, would not drag itself away from his green, green eyes.

Sophia tried to turn away from him, ignore him to the best of her abilities, but her own traitorous body rebelled.

From across the room, Blake gave her a soft, vulnerable smile that made his face alight with divine happiness and nodded politely. Even from across the room, she could see his eyelashes fluttering against his beautiful bronze skin, see the faintest shadow of stubble on his jaw.

Smiling? Nodding? What kind of game was he playing now?

She was not going to let him toy with her again. Not after last time. Not after what he almost did; not after what she unwillingly endorsed.

As discreetly as possible, she made her way across the room to Viscount Herrick, taking careful measures to avoid bumping into anyone that might deter her away from her mission. Her feet urged her to practically run to him, but she forced herself to slow her gait, forced herself to approach him as serenely as possible.

Her purposeful stalk was halted when Darius stepped in her away. Sophia clenched her teeth. God, for a man she was to marry, the least he could do was allow her some freedom before she was shackled to him indefinitely and surely. Why had he picked this very moment to accost her? She tried to brush him off with an indifferent glance, but he would not budge.

She focused the full iciness of her blue eyes on him. "My lord. You must excuse me. I have some lady issues to deal with. I am heading to the powder room. You understand, don't you, my lord?" She batted her eyelashes at him, flashing him a sugary grin. She knew she probably looked like something was squeezing her insides out but he tentatively gave a large grin of his own in return.

His two silver eyes on either side of his too-sharp nose beadily glanced down at her. His lips curved up. "Of course, anything for my future wife." He bowed deeply, kissing her pink-gloved hand.

Sophia barely stopped herself from recoiling under his lips. Even through the satin, she could feel this sliminess of his kiss. Giving him another polite smile, she slipped past him.

Eventually, she reached her destination and stood next to Lord Herrick as close as it was proper and hissed, "What are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again."

A couple of people shot them a glance, their eyes wide with unabashed curiosity. Immediately, Blake bowed his head, kissing her hand and whispered rather loudly, "A pleasure to meet again, my lady. I am charmed."

Thinking it was a regular conversation, the people turned away from them, bored. Sophia snatched her hand away from his when the busybodies went back to their business.

"Nice to see you too, angel."

That endearment again, the same one he had said at the ball. She liked it, liked it so much that it caused heat to pool at the pit of her stomach, but she would not tell him so. His eyes met hers with a blazing expression and her heart missed a beat. Too bad he already knew.

"Don't call me that." Her voice was more breathless than she wished. What was it about him that rendered her so...fragile? Made all her barriers come crashing down, her resolute and fierce spirit melt?

"Of course, my angel."

Her eyes cut into him like knives, but all he gave her was a wink and a cheeky grin.

"Why are you here?"

Her words were ice, but her body in such proximity to his, was aflame and goosebumps rose all over her arms. Shivers of excitement trembled through her slight frame and from the gleam in his eyes, Sophia knew he was aware of it too. She puckered her lips to avoid smiling.

"I just had to see you again. I am sorry. I couldn't help myself."

Before she could object, he produced a parchment from his jacket. "And your aunt invited me a few days ago, my lady, if you think of accusing me of hounding you."

A few days ago. A few days ago, when Lord Herrick was still a viable option for marriage. Not now. Not ever now.

Sophia gulped, but she could not say that yet. Darius had not made his courtship public yet.

"I don't care that my aunt invited you for whatever purpose. You came because you wanted just see me again? After what you almost did last time?"

Her cries caused a few members in the room to momentarily stare at her again. They resumed their duties when she gave them a flattering, easy-going smile.

"Actually, I...I came to..." He gulped, licking his lips. Suddenly, he seemed very nervous, sweat beading on his temple and slinking his way down his brow. "I...came...to...say...umm..."

"I am sorry." She cut him off before he could say more, the words just spewing out of her lips without any push. "We don't have to have that conversation because you were right. I did use you. You don't have to apologize, which is what I assumed you were here for."

He let out an audible breath of relief, and the strain in his eyes immediately disappeared. Was he really that relieved at not having to apologize?

Before he could say anything else, she stopped him with a raised palm. "We can't continue this conversation here about what happened that night, although I sense you need to say something." She tilted her head towards all the people. "Too many ears."

"Actually, no...I must be leaving soon. I came to say-"

She did not listen to his pleas. "Meet me at the entrance of the maze in the back gardens in ten minutes. Alone. I will find a way to slip out under from the Duchess's gaze and wait there. Make sure you are not seen." Sophia ordered and he gave her a bemused grin, the edge of his eyes tightening perceptibly.

Her inner sense detected that he did not wish to accompany her as he seemed to be gearing himself up to reject her proposition.

Yet, all he said with his intense gaze still fixed upon her face was, "I shall." 

A/N: OOH! Things are heating up again ;)? What do you think of the characters and plot so far? Like, love, hate? What do you think is going to happen next?

Readers! Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter! Be sure to vote, comment and share it with others! Every single thing means the world to me! I love you all!