Afternoon Tea

Cole wasn't so much taken aback as staggered by the verbal ambush – heavens knew Sophie had a temper and wasn't shy about letting him see it but this? She never asked him about Bella.

"How do you know I sent her away? Maybe she chose to leave."

Sophie laughed. "Don't be ridiculous."

Surprised at her vehemence, Cole leaned a hip against an out-of-tune pianoforte and quirked an enquiring eyebrow. He waited, watching as Sophie's lips thinned, her body canting away from him as a slipper-clad foot retreated beneath her gown. Finally, she straightened and raised a brow of her own.

"You know she adored being the Countess of Rochedale."

This, Cole had to admit, was true. Never had he met anyone who had enjoyed wielding power over others more. And if that meant Bella would be forcing someone to do something they didn't want to, then so much the better. As Cole's countess, Bella could cow and manipulate those she considered beneath her and Bella had considered nearly everyone beneath her. And when she felt her power threatened - her viciousness had known no bounds.

"She grew bored tucked away in the country here," he said. "Far too few people to play with."

"No, I don't believe that. There was no warning, we just woke up one morning and

poof!

she was in London. If she had been nursing a dislike for life here, I think we all would have heard about it. Why are you lying?"

"Lying? How dare you! If you were a man, I'd call you out for that." Cole drew himself up and spinning on his heel, marched over to the window, all offended honour and aggrieved pride. He snuck a glance at her reflection in the glass. Folded arms, tapping foot and a distinctly unworried expression.

Damn it, alright, that didn't work.

Crossing to her, Cole took her hands.

"Sophie, you're just going to have to trust me. There are some things between a man and his wife… private things… do you understand?"

Sophie nodded, her face solemn. Thank God, she's believed me, he thought, relief flooding through him. Looking down, she nodded again and pressed his hands firmly. And kept squeezing.

"Ow, Soph -"

"I

understand

that you're a lying, uncaring bastard who thinks he has a right to my every private thought while keeping two years of your life to himself."

Casting his hands from her clasp, she stomped her foot in fury.

"Two years Cole! She took you away from me for two whole years and you won't even tell me how it ended."

"Just leave it, Sophie, I mean it," Cole gritted out.

"Why.Did.You.Send.Bella.Away?" Toe to toe and yelling up into his face, Sophie punctuated each word with a stab of her finger into his rigid chest. And, brought to bay and with blood still heated from his earlier terror, Cole's fragile hold on his control snapped.

"Because of

you

! You, Sophie. She hated you. She told me that - " Seeing Sophie's face blanch as it stared up into his own, he broke off. Knowing he should stop, laugh, tell her he was jesting, instead he framed her face with shaking hands, stroking a thumb over a bloodless cheek. His cock swelled and bucked at the feel of her satin smooth skin even as he hated himself for talking of such perversion to the best person he had ever known.

Swallowing, he continued, "Bella told me that she had proof that your grandmother had not been an opera singer but only the madam of a whorehouse in London 's docks." She jerked in his hands, her eyes huge.

"Be still, my love, she was lying of course. She was scared of you, angry that without even trying, you were more admired, more beloved, than she would ever be. So she wanted to humiliate you, to force you to… she wanted to watch us… you and I… together." Cole's voice dipped and roughened, his gaze straying to her plump, moist bottom lip. "Do you understand what I am saying to you, Sophie?"

At her trembling gasp, Cole dropped his hands but couldn't quite make himself step back.

"I'm sorry, I - I'm so sorry. She was hateful and wicked and wanted to drag everyone down into hell with her," he said. Standing this close, he could feel her, the vibration of her breasts against his chest, see the brush of his breath stirring loose wisps of hair at her temple.

"But you didn't want to?" she whispered to his waistcoat.

"No, I'd never want you like that!"

Her head jerked back and as he stared down into the storm building in her forest green eyes, he realised that there was probably no servant close enough to hear a cry for help.