The Scandalous Life 0f A Betrayed Heiress (Historical Regency)

by Lucy Langton

  For Philip’s part, despite his father’s ailing health, he couldn’t help but feel pure joy inside of himself whenever he thought of Sophia. What had happened in the study was an experience that Philip would not soon forget, and if it was a prelude for what was to come, Philip couldn’t contain his happiness and desire.

  Considering that the duke was not coming out of his room, Timothy had finally assumed his duties in the House of Lords. It pleased Philip in the sense that perhaps his brother would finally get things together and make something of himself, as long as that did not include him deciding to truly make a wife out of Sophia. That would pain Philip to no end.

  Due to his new post, Timothy was out of the house and back in London quite often. And although this left Philip and Sophia with a number of delicious opportunities to encounter one another, Philip had made a manly decision that they would go no further in the tantalising business that he craved. The reason for this decision was that his respect for Sophia had grown immensely. A decision needed to be made regarding the marriage, and until it was annulled or Sophia was quite sure that she was putting an end to it, Philip would not pressure her physically. He did not wish to ruin her honour, nor his own.

  And that’s why it was so painful on occasions when they sat together in the garden, gazing into one another’s eyes. When they would have breakfast together in the morning, Philip would pretend that Sophia was his wife, coming down to the breakfast table tired and contented that they had made love all the night before. Philip delighted in these fits of imagination.

  As her garden at Willow Grange began to come to life, Philip would marvel at it and grin to himself, thinking, look at what my wife did.When she organised a fine meal for the staff, or when a guest paid a call, Philip would feel pride in that, as well, thinking, his wife had such marvellous taste.

  He indulged in these fancies so often that Philip was beginning to believe that Sophia was his wife. The thought would only occur to him late at night that it was all a dream. But Philip believed that if he continued to envision it, perhaps one day it would become a reality.

  As the days wore on and Philip was quite content, it came as a surprise to him when he received a letter from one of London’s most decorated generals, Reginald Highbrow. General Highbrow had not written to Philip in some time, not since he served in the King’s Navy. For Philip, it was almost as though his time in the military had never happened at all, he felt so detached from it by then. No more killing, no more marauding and keeping foreign people in line. Philip was devoting himself to a lovely domesticity that he had never imagined possible.

  So, when the letter arrived, Philip set it aside for the better part of the afternoon, choosing to take a stroll through town and to visit with friends. After his leisurely afternoon, Philip came back to Willow Grange and encountered Sophia on the front steps.

  “I haven’t seen you all afternoon,” Sophia said, clearly on her way out.

  “It feels like a lifetime, M’Lady,” Philip replied, tipping his hat.

  “I’ll never admit to that aloud, but you know my feelings,” Sophia said with a bashful smile.

  “I do know your feelings, but I always wish to know more.”

  “I’m going to remove myself from your charming company and pay a visit to the florist,” Sophia said, bowing her head.

  “You can tell them that the pleasure was all mine, fixing their front door.”

  Sophia laughed heartily and walked towards the coach, looking up at the sun and smiling.

  Such an extraordinary woman, he thought. Such a bloody extraordinary woman.

  Philip entered the estate and finally picked the letter up off the side table. He casually walked into the study and was again filled with delicious memories of Sophia on his lap, his hips pushing up into hers. He sat himself in the very same chair and opened the general’s hefty seal.

  Lord Philip,

  It has been some time since last we corresponded. I hope that the countryside is treating you well, but I must admit that King and Country miss having you in town. Your service to the crown has been instrumental, so that when I learned you were leaving all behind, my instinct instructed me to order you back.

  Humour aside, my reason for corresponding with you is within the nature of bringing you back, but it’s not for casual reasons. In fact, the gravity of this letter has only been hinted at thus far. It would be ideal to explain the situation with pen and paper, but the unfortunate truth is that this information is so sensitive as to make it impossible to do so. I require your presence in London just as soon as you can. We can then discuss the matter further.

  Please send correspondence immediately,

  General Reginald Highbrow

  Philip placed the letter down upon the desk in shock. What could possibly be so grave as to pull him out of his inactive service and make him active on duty again? Philip had never heard of such a thing. And for it to be so grave that it could not even be expressed in a letter was even more baffling. It was beyond question that Philip would need to leave at once.

  Although Philip had the mind to wait until Sophia returned, explaining the whole matter to her over a fine supper, it would not do. Philip would leave yet another letter for Sophia to read – it was insufficient to merely tell the footman – and be off to London within the hour. Thinking that there was little chance he’d be kept in London for very long, Philip only asked that the servants prepare a small valise of items that he might bring.

  The coach ride to London was relaxed, but Philip could not stop thinking about the general’s letter. He tried to guess at what might be the problem: Tumultuous outer territories wishing to rebel? Plagued colonies ravaged by sickness? Even the prince regent demanding a personal soldier to keep watch? Philip had been asked to perform that very task before.

  But why him? And why during what seemed like such a peaceful time? Philip’s curiosity was piqued, to say the least.

  As was always the case, Philip would pay a call to the general’s town home, which was just adjacent to a few choice government buildings. The general always preferred to meet in his private office at home. He often complained that the parliament building had walls that could hear and speak, whereas the walls of his own home were deaf and dumb.

  “Lord Philip,” the general said as Philip was presented to him.

  “General,” Philip replied, giving a salute. It was as though the nature of being a soldier came back to Philip instantly. His posture was erect, his hands were steady, and his mind unwavering.

  “Please, be seated,” the general said, seating himself again, as well.

  The office of General Reginald Highbrow was stately and serious. Taxidermic beasts lined the dark wood walls and the general’s cigar smoke filled the air. He was a portly man, very round about the middle, but this did not convey weakness, rather an ape-like sense of power.

  “I was baffled by your letter,” Philip began, knowing that the general was not one for making small talk.

  “I fear that there was no other way to contact you. As I stated, it pains me that you’re in the countryside.”

  “Sometimes a man has to live,” Philip said with dignity.

  “I always assumed the country to be a place where men went to die.”

  Philip smiled at his dark humour, then momentarily thought of his father on his deathbed. “We all have our preferences,” he added with a bow of the head.

  “To business,” the general said, puffing on his cigar. “There is a matter of great import that I have called you here to address. And I would not have you come all this way if the matter didn’t concern your family.”

  “My family?” Philip asked.

  “Indeed. Important secrets about the British government are being shared with America. The regent is beside himself.”

  “Naturally,” Philip replied, almost feeling a sense of relief. Spilled secrets seemed like the least daunting of problems to fix.

  “I’ve learned that your older brother, the futur
e Duke of Clumber, is now seated upon the House of Lords. The reason I have called you in today is because we have cause to believe that your brother’s wife is the leak.”

  Philip was dumbfounded and unable to speak. Did he truly hear that correctly? Had General Reginald Highbrow really just accused Sophia of being a spy?

  “Let me explain,” the general went on, seeing that Philip had no words. “Because Sophia Barberry has only recently come to Britain from America, the timing is what gives cause for concern. These very clear and specific breaches of intelligence began nearly as soon as Sophia stepped on British soil.”

  “Preposterous,” Philip finally said.

  “Whether it is or no, investigation is required. I ask you on behalf of the prince recent and the Royal Navy to investigate your brother’s wife. Will you do so?”

  “I . . . ” Philip faltered with his words.

  “This is for your country, Lord Philip. Remember, you’re still a soldier.”

  “Yes,” Philip replied. “Yes, I will do it.”

  “That’s a good man,” the general said, reaching his hand across the table and giving Philip’s a strong shake.

  Philip left the office of the general speechless. All of a sudden, he felt weary and decided to rest his head for some time. Proceeding to his favourite inn in London, Philip decided that he would retire to his room in order to think about things.

  Unfortunately, this seclusion only led to a torrent in Philip’s mind. Was it all true? Had Sophia not only betrayed him, but the whole Clumber lineage? It was impossible for her to gain access to such information in secret. It would require Timothy to relay the information in order for Sophia to share it with America. Was her friend Kitty Carmichael in on the deceit? Her rich father and mother back in America? How could it possibly be that the woman who stole his heart might have stolen much more, and from an entity much greater than herself?

  Philip could scarce sleep that night, and he considered how on many other nights thoughts of Sophia had led him to be sleepless. But those were very different nights, where Philip thought of Sophia in a very different way. In light of the accusations, Philip couldn’t help but wonder if he had been deceived by the woman.

  Should Timothy not be involved, was Sophia stealing documents from his study? His library? Surely she was in the study quite often. And considering that Timothy had only begun attending the House of Lords, there was a good chance that Sophia was stealing the duke’s documents, which he never took pains to hide. Oh, the enormity of it was tearing away at Philip’s soul. It was one thing to be in doubt of a family member, and quite another to be deceived by someone that you love without compare.

  As the morning light came, Philip rubbed his eyes and threw his head back on the pillow again, not desirous to face the day ahead. He would need to return to Willow Grange at once in order to begin his investigation. What pained him the most was that he could not be honest with Sophia ever again. If she was discovered to be guilty, it would end communication between them, and if she was innocent, Philip would be unable to live with the guilt. No one could win in such a situation. Philip was plagued by thoughts that their secret love affair had abruptly ended in one afternoon.

  The carriage ride to Willow Grange was not nearly as relaxing as the one the previous day. Philip was tense, his square jaw set tight and his shoulders pained. The man returning to the country was not the same man who had ventured to town.

  Pulling up to the estate, Philip took a breath and opened the door, his thick boots pounding into the ground as he descended. Willow Grange looked immaculately beautiful. Sophia had done so much in her short time to transform it, and although Philip would oft admire it before, on that occasion all he could see was treachery – in the shrubs, the fountains, the blossoms, and the well-trimmed topiaries.

  Entering the home, Philip was of two minds. He wished to locate Sophia immediately in order to see her beautiful face and smile. And he also wished to avoid her at all costs. Philip was unsure how he would behave in her presence, what he would say or do. Because of this uncertainty, he did not wish to subject Sophia to his volatility, which could be quite pronounced in such situations.

  ***

  Sophia came out of the garden and returned to the estate, a delighted smile on her face. The garden filled her with joy, and the more she worked on it, the more it fed her with indescribable happiness. She hoped that Philip might have returned from town, but there was no word when he might do so. She read the letter that he had left her over and over again, merely because she missed him so: his voice, his words, his expressions.

  Thinking it ridiculous, Sophia couldn’t help but sit on the edge of the fountain and read the letter one last time.

  Garden Nymph,

  The reasons are still unclear, but I must pay a sudden visit to London. You’re well aware of how unhappy that makes me, mostly because Londoners have no taste and more specifically because you will not be there.

  When I am gone, try not to think of me at every turn. Try not to miss me at table. Don’t look down into your teacup and spot your tears creating reverberations in the dark drink. And do not, I beg of you, do not think about me before you fall asleep at night.

  Be back shortly,

  Philip

  Sophia folded the letter and smiled to herself once more. Her skin was tingly. Even though Philip had only been gone for one day, she still missed him as though he were water or air. Amazing how such a short amount of time could precipitate such longing. Should Philip be unable to return that night, nor send word, Sophia might have to open and read that letter yet again.

  So it came as a remarkable shock when Sophia entered the house, the sun still clinging to her skin, and she saw Philip standing there. She wished to run towards him and throw herself into his arms like a child might do. There were several things that prevented this, but the most significant was the look on Philip’s face.

  Was he angry? Upset? Perhaps just tired.

  “I marvel at how much more productive I am in your absence,” Sophia said humorously, wishing to endear herself to him. There was no response at first, and Sophia was left to wonder if she had said something amiss. “I trust that the trip was well?” she asked, in a slightly different tone.

  “It was merely business,” Philip replied curtly.

  Similar to how he was speaking to her right now. As though it were only business. “You must be tired. May I order us some tea? It’s lovely on the veranda,” Sophia said cheerfully, motioning out towards the sunny, inviting patio.

  “Yes, I’m afraid that I’m quite tired from my journey,” Philip replied, looking away from her.

  “Is anything wrong?” Sophia finally asked, cocking her head to the side.

  “Sophia, I can’t endure a thorough line of questioning at the moment. As you can see, the journey has left me fatigued,” Philip said, sighing to himself.

  “Very well,” Sophia replied softly, not wishing to push him any further.

  Philip looked up at her and she detected something akin to compunction, until he looked away and left the room.

  Sophia felt like crying. Philip had never snapped at her before in such a way. In fact, she’d only ever seen his temper when he was speaking with his brother. She was terrified. Mortified. What had she done? Had she been too forward in her communications with Philip upon seeing him? Perhaps her excitement had got the better of her. She vowed to be more reserved around Philip when he was tired. She’d be more respectful of his space and privacy.

  Looking down at his letter in her hand, Sophia wondered how someone could change so quickly. But alas, he did say he was tired from the journey, and Sophia would take him at his word. If only to not obsess in her mind over what the devil had just happened between them.

  Chapter 17

  The following week was spent in London, seeing as Timothy was constantly attending the House of Lords. Although Sophia thought it better to be with her husband, she did not think it right that they should leave Willow G
range during the duke’s time of need. Despite her entreaties, the head footman insisted that the duke wished to be alone, and Timothy insisted that he wanted his wife by his side.