Sophie stilled. Mama’s many conquests attested to her skill in flirtation, and Sophie had little experience with enticing young men. Though her mother’s words sent a discomforting skitter along her spine, Sophie could see the wisdom in listening to someone more talented than she.
“Even with your plain toilette and coiffure, you are far more handsome than Miss Caswell, but that will only do so much. The Kingsley men are especially strange creatures, and you may lose him if you do not tread lightly.” Mama shook her head with a sigh. “His father once broke my heart because I overestimated my hold on him. He loved me for years, pining after me even after he married that woman.”
Though her expression remained impassive, her tone conveyed a sneer as she spoke of Mrs. Kingsley, and Sophie pulled her hand free as Mama continued speaking of a past that had Sophie’s insides churning.
“I had all but won—even his wife recognized her defeat and fled to lick her wounds—but I approached him too eagerly, and he tossed me away in disgust.” Mama’s tone remained low, but her body tensed, her voice coming out in a hiss. “Years of adoration were for naught because I was too confident in his affection.”
Mama rested a hand on Sophie’s knee, her brows pulling together. “You must learn from my mistakes, sweetheart. If I can lose his father to that portly creature, then you can yet lose his son to Miss Caswell or some other young lady.”
Though Sophie had sense enough not to show it, her heart shuddered at Mama’s description of Mrs. Kingsley and the callous manner in which she had attempted to destroy the Kingsleys’ marriage. In such a situation, words would do nothing to correct Mama’s opinion, so there was only one course of action left to her.
Getting to her feet, Sophie abandoned her book and the ladies. Tossing behind a scant farewell, she fled the parlor. She may not be able to mount a proper defense for Mrs. Kingsley, but neither did she need to be party to such a discussion.
***
With arms rigid at her side, Victoria marched down the hallways, trying to sort out what she should do and what she could do when the sound of male voices carried to her ears. Pausing outside an open doorway, Victoria heard the impassioned debate that always followed Mr. Flemming and the rest of the political set. Her feet pulled her towards it, her heart begging her to set aside her burden temporarily and join the others in the study. A few hours of lively debate was precisely what she needed.
But before she stepped through the threshold, an all-too-familiar pair of light blue eyes met hers. The others were likely gathered closer to the desk, out of her line of sight, but Elijah sat in an overstuffed armchair at the edge of the room, framed in the doorway.
Those eyes of his! They held her captive, filling Victoria with all the love of his heart—and she knew just how great that was. His expression gave no other sign of his thoughts, but she felt him in her mind, whispering those tender words and promises; like a bellows, they fanned the flames in her heart.
And yet…
Mama’s voice crept into her thoughts, speaking of futures and finances. Miriam’s own joined in, begging Victoria not to condemn her and their sisters to penury. They doused the fire, leaving Victoria’s heart wrung out.
Elijah’s eyes dimmed, sensing exactly where her thoughts had led her. Victoria’s chin trembled, and she turned away from that temptation, hurrying down the hall as she forced herself to remember that which was most important: her family needed her. And Victoria knew precisely where she ought to be.
***
With quick steps, Sophie returned to her bedchamber and fetched her satchel. The skies had cleared enough for her to venture forth, and she couldn’t stand the thought of being trapped inside a moment longer. Rushing out into the gardens, Sophie wound her way through the grounds and escaped into the countryside.
They had no plans to meet up this afternoon, but Sophie’s feet wandered to their usual haunts, her eyes hunting the landscape for any sign of Mr. Kingsley. He’d become such a stickler for propriety, she doubted he would be waiting out there, hoping to chance upon her, but a young lady could dream.
The clouds above her were breaking, the sunlight streaming through in great shafts that colored the fields in mottled gold. The remnant rain and dew were drying, though the edges of her skirt and petticoats were wet with them, and the chill morning was giving way to a warm afternoon.
But Sophie did not remark the gorgeous coloring of the landscape or the golden edges of the clouds (though it was truly remarkable). She did not notice the pair of birds pecking at the grass as she passed. Nor the butterfly that took flight when she strayed too close to its resting place. For there, on the crest of the hill, stood Mr. Kingsley.
Though a fair distance away, she knew him in an instant. The sunlight highlighted the reddish hue to his brown hair, and a smile broke across his face when he caught sight of her. Raising a hand in greeting, he jogged down the hill, his steps outpacing her own. For all of Mama’s warnings about displaying too much eagerness, Sophie could not restrain herself—especially when he made no effort to hide his feelings.
“Miss Sophie,” he said, stopping just short of her. Sophie would rather have thrown herself into his arms, and the fellow gave her an appraising look that hinted he felt the same. Instead, he took her hand in his, bowing low over it as though she were a noblewoman in court. With no one else to witness it, he pressed his lips to her knuckles and then straightened, weaving her arm through his.
“Mr. Kingsley,” she said, her greeting far breathier than intended.
“I have come to issue an invitation,” he said, leading her back the way he’d come. With a questioning raise of her brows, Sophie prompted him to continue. “I have a picnic set up for us on the banks of Bryer’s Pond. Would you do me the honor of joining me?”
Sophie’s grin was already stretched wide across her face, but his invitation lightened her heart as though she might be able to fly the half-mile there. But then Mr. Kingsley added a further addendum that brought her back to the ground with a thud.
“My parents are going to be there.” From the slanted look he gave her, it seemed he knew she would find the prospect daunting. Her fingers dug into his arm, and Mr. Kingsley laid his hand atop hers. “They wish to know you better. That is all. And they have promised to be on their best behavior.”
“You make it sound as though they were planning on gobbling me up.” Sophie attempted a lighthearted tone, but the pair knew too much of their families’ history and his parents’ objections to think this a small matter.
He led her up and over the hill, and the couple strolled along as Mr. Kingsley attempted to calm her fears, though the stream of assurances may have been as much for himself as for her.
“They harbor no ill-will against you in particular.” He gave her a warm smile. “Given the chance, I know they will adore you as Lily does. This has been a shock to them. That is all.”
“But…” Sophie didn’t know what protest she would make, but the thought of forcing a wedge between Mr. Kingsley and his loving family chilled her heart.
Mr. Kingsley pulled her to a stop and turned to face her. Holding her hand in his, he held her gaze with utter conviction. “They are afraid only because they do not know you, but given the chance, they will love you. They won’t be able to help themselves.”
Sophie drew in a breath, holding it there as she gave him a wobbly smile. Taking his arm once more, she said, “Then I have no choice but to join you for a picnic.”
***
Having spent little time in the Long Gallery, it took Victoria several minutes and wrong turns to find it, but the distant sounds of braying laughter guided her steps. It grew louder and more obnoxious the closer she got, and Victoria gathered her determination around herself. Straightening her spine, she clasped her hands before her and stepped through the doorway.
The room spanned the length of the building, making its name both apt and uninspired. It was mostly empty, allowing its master and mistress to use it for any numbe
r of functions, but at present, a billiards table stood at one end with the gentlemen gathered around it. A strike of cue against ball was followed by a chorus of cheers and groans as the fellows began shouting over each other during the ensuing discussion of the players’ form and strategy.
Victoria took a deep breath as she glided across the length of the room. With her footsteps muted by the rugs, the gentlemen gave her no notice until she stood directly behind them. One straightened, and the others all turned to spy her. The younger Dosett hurried to put out his cigar, waving away the smoke, as young Mr. Julius Nelson hopped up from his nearby armchair.
“Are you interested in a new opponent?” asked Victoria, her eyes drifting over each gentleman in turn.
“You play?” asked Mr. Allen Banfield with an arched brow and a smile that was too sweet to be trusted.
Infusing a touch of self-derision in her tone, she said, “In truth, I am not terribly proficient, but I do enjoy an opportunity to test my skills.”
“Allen and Peter have only one point to go before a winner is declared—” began Mr. Charles Dosett.
“But we needn’t stand on ceremony when we are presented with such a lovely opponent,” said Mr. Banfield.
Victoria held up her hands, giving them a smile that was all sweetness. “You needn’t interrupt your game for me, gentlemen.”
The opponents returned to their match, and Victoria shuddered against the sickening feeling dripping down her spine and the bitter tang filling her mouth. Forcing her thoughts to focus on the task at hand, she turned away from the self-directed revulsion; this needed to be done.
Smiling at the gentlemen, Victoria ignored the invitation steeped in Mr. Banfield’s gaze and examined the others. But there was little point in belaboring the issue, for even without a quick inventory of their prospects, she knew only one of the gentlemen had a fortune to speak of and an interest in marrying.
“Mr. Dosett,” said Victoria, sidling up to the elder of the brothers. “How do you find Essex?”
Tucking his hands behind him, Mr. Charles Dosett slanted a look in her direction. “It’s lovely country, though I miss Town.”
Breaking into a wide grin, Victoria looked at him from under her eyelashes; she hoped it was as demure as she intended it to be, for she’d never excelled in such coquettish behavior. “It’s a shame we haven’t met in London before, though I am very pleased to make your acquaintance now.”
Mr. Dosett’s brows rose as he examined her. Reaching a hand around, Victoria intended to rest a hand on his arm or some such nonsense, but her heart shuddered at the thought of it. Not only for her own sake but for that of her friend. This was Phyllis’s beau. If not in fact, it was near enough to the truth that Victoria could not ignore the betrayal rife in even this mostly innocuous conversation.
But neither could she stand to pass by another opportunity. The Season was over, and when the Caswells returned to London, most of the eligibles would be gone until next year. Miriam would make her grand entrance then, and Victoria needed to be better positioned to assist her.
Mr. Dosett said some inane thing to which Victoria could not turn her thoughts, but she smiled and replied in kind, allowing the conversation to wind its merry way through a wasteland of nothings.
Victoria’s insides felt as though they were tearing themselves apart. Her head and heart waged war one against the other, pressing their point home with equal fervor. Her family needed this. Her sisters were relying on her. Eligible bachelors were not plentiful enough for her to turn her back on a possibility simply because Phyllis had set her cap at him.
But Victoria did not want to be that lady. The huntress. Every ballroom and parlor sported at least a few of them as they prowled society for their husbands. Such ladies had no loyalties but to themselves, and Victoria shuddered at the thought of joining their ranks. Was that what she had become? Desperate? Conniving? Heartless? Duty may ease the pain of sacrificing a loving marriage for her family’s sake, but Victoria doubted it could do a thing for her if she gave up her very self.
“Miss Caswell?” Mr. Charles Dosett held out a cue. Though he did not broadcast his interest as clearly as Mr. Banfield, Victoria recognized the spark of appreciation in his eyes.
Chapter 30
“I do apologize, but I fear I promised to go walking with Miss Nelson, and it completely slipped my mind.” The words flew quickly from Victoria’s lips as she took a step towards the door. The lie came easily, but such little white lies to cover social niceties were so easy to spin.
“Do stay, Miss Caswell,” said young Mr. Peter Dosett.
“It is always more interesting with a lady in the game.” Mr. Banfield spoke off-handedly but with a tone that made it sound the barest bit wicked.
The elder Dosett brother straightened, his gaze turning to the doorway as he addressed the newcomers. “Miss Nelson. We were just discussing you. And Miss Thompson, how delightful for you to join us this afternoon.”
Victoria tensed, her muscles clenching as she fought to relax. Though her original intention had been anything but innocent, there was no reason for her to feel ill at ease anymore. Turning to face the doorway, she smiled at the pair; Phyllis met it with a cold look, but Hettie’s brows were pulled tight with a question in her gaze. Phyllis’s eyes darted between Victoria and the elder Dosett, who stood too near for Victoria’s comfort, even if he was a respectable distance away.
“Miss Caswell was telling us you plan to go for a leisurely walk,” said Mr. Banfield, running his fingers along the wood of his cue with a calculating grin. Victoria let out a huff. Could the fellow not say a thing without giving it some undertone?
“A walk?” Phyllis murmured, not moving her gaze from Victoria.
“But that seems like a waste of time,” said Mr. Charles Dosett, abandoning his place by the billiards table to stand at Phyllis’s side; the lady relaxed a touch, the hardness in her gaze softening before she turned her attention to him.
“Only in the wrong company,” said Phyllis with a coy smile that was far more natural and appealing than anything Victoria had managed.
“Ah.” Mr. Dosett smiled and leaned closer. Not enough to raise brows but enough to raise speculation—as if there wasn’t enough of that already in this house party.
But Phyllis took Hettie by the arm and gave him a sweet smile. “Which is why I am going with Miss Nelson.”
Mr. Dosett straightened with a laugh. “Might I be able to persuade you to join me for a ride?”
Phyllis met that invitation with an imperious raise of her brow.
“You are dressed for a ride,” he said, casting her an appraising look that had little to do with her clothes.
“I do not live far from here, and I came to visit my dearest friends,” she said, squeezing Hettie’s arm. To Victoria’s great surprise and relief, Phyllis smiled at her as well. “But the fields are still muddy from last night’s rain. I hardly think your company is worth subjecting myself to such a messy ride.”
“I am certain I can find a way to make it worth the sacrifice.” Clearly, Mr. Dosett had been taking lessons from Mr. Banfield, for he infused that with far more meaning than the words themselves conveyed.
Phyllis raked her eyes up and down him, her brows twisting in disbelief. Turning away with Hettie at her side, she sauntered off with her head held high. Mr. Dosett shoved his cue aside without looking at the fellow who took it and followed after Phyllis.
Victoria stood there, blinking like the silent fool she was. Apparently, Phyllis’s lures were working as well as the young lady had anticipated. For her part, Victoria did not understand desiring a person solely because they feigned indifference, but she wished the pair good fortune and was grateful her actions had not done any damage.
Dosett’s brother followed them out with young Mr. Nelson close on his heels. Not sparing a second glance at Mr. Banfield, Victoria hurried from the room; nothing good would come from a further acquaintance with that fellow. And nothing good would co
me from any of this set, for not one fit Victoria’s needs.
Wandering the corridor, Victoria did not know whether to seek out company or avoid it. Somehow neither sounded pleasant. Where passing an hour in good conversation usually lifted her spirits, Victoria couldn’t bear the thought of rejoining the ladies, with all the pity directed towards herself and poison spewed at Miss Banfield. Nor would the gentlemen provide any solace—not with Mr. Dixon present. And Victoria could not bring herself to face the younger set after what had just transpired.
Victoria’s hands clenched, wrinkling her skirts as she paced the empty hallways.
***
Sitting on the ground was not the most comfortable of positions at the best of times, and with her nerves strung tautly, Mina could not face reclining on the blankets spread out on the grass. Standing with her hands clenched in her skirts, she stared at the sunlight glinting off the water’s surface, the lily pads dotting the edges as the ring of grass around Bryer’s Pond dipped and swayed in the breezes.
All will be well. Mina repeated those words like a prayer, hoping the Almighty might give her the peace and reassurance she needed. Either Miss Banfield was everything Oliver believed her to be or he would see the truth on his own. One way or another, it would come to rights.
Please let it come to rights.
Mina looked over the spread, shifting cushions this way and that before moving a selection of tartlets to the other side of the blanket. Bless Mrs. Witmore for including those delectable treats. Though Mina had not told the housekeeper of their current troubles, Mrs. Witmore was observant enough to know what was going on and intelligent enough to give the exact show of support needed to bolster Mina’s spirits.
Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love Book 3) Page 21
