by Lily George
“Mother, have you told anyone else?”
“Well, I told the Pooles about Sophie, of course. They were very put out to not be invited to the viscount’s, you know.”
Charlie groaned. “Why did you do that? The Pooles? You might have well announced it in the middle of the Circus.”
“They are my hosts, Charles,” she reminded him severely. “Anything of import, I should share with them. And my son finding a suitable young lady is decidedly important.”
Charlie rumpled his hair with his one good hand. “Mother,” he replied in a serious tone of voice, “we’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks. If anyone gets the wrong impression, then the social consequences could be dire.”
“I’ll say it again, my son—you will be engaged to Sophie Handley in a matter of weeks. Now, what really remains is the question of your future. Obviously you will not continue to live...here...” Mother waved her hand around his small sitting room. “This is no place to bring a bride and no place to raise a family. We shall write to your brother directly, and he will help you secure a home in Brightgate—”
Charlie shoved his chair away from the table, counting to ten as he had taught himself to school his sudden and fearsome temper. Sophie had suggested the false courtship as a way to help him out—as a way, in fact, to keep him in Bath. And here Mother was, running with it, putting Sophie in potentially dire social consequences. Whatever could he do to save the young lady who had, in her turn, tried to save him?
He turned on his heel, ignoring his mother’s questions and exclamations, and rushed up the stairs to his bedroom, where he slammed the door. At last, peace and privacy. He needed time to think. He had always let his family order him about. The only way he had found any freedom was in joining the military—nearly being killed at Waterloo. Then refusing to return home and electing to stay on in Bath. It was only in putting real physical distance between himself and his family members that he was able to enjoy freedom.
Now what could he do? He needed to find a way to control the situation without flames running rampant. If only someone could help him. He couldn’t confide in anyone, for Mother would be furious if she knew the courtship wasn’t true. And Brookes and Harriet were too far away to help. Besides, they would likely shy away from the notion of a false engagement, no matter how noble the intention was. In fact, Brookes would likely plant him a facer if he knew what Charlie was about.
No—he needed to speak with Sophie. Together, they would find a way to get out of this situation without causing the social downfall of every person involved. He checked his pocket watch. He could take Mother to tea at Aunt Katherine’s to stall her. In fact, Aunt Katherine might be able to help, as well. She was kind and empathetic and knew the histories of everyone involved. Plus, she loved meddling in other people’s affairs. He could harness her love of sticking her nose into other people’s business and use it to his own advantage—and Sophie’s, of course.
That was the only answer. And they must get started without delay. He hurled open his bedroom door and hastened back down the stairs.
“Mother, I’ve a surprise for you. We’re headed to tea at Katherine Crossley’s.”
Chapter Twelve
The visit to Aunt Katherine’s would have to be delayed until later in the afternoon. From the moment she had set foot in her workroom that morning, Sophie had been inundated with tasks from his lordship. He had even asked her if she would be willing to mend a waistcoat that had been torn slightly by the laundress. She had never sewn anything for his lordship before, so the task was slightly daunting. She craned her neck and moved closer to the light, making tiny invisible stitches in the silk lining of the garment. It was a beautifully made waistcoat, finely tailored. Sewing men’s clothing was much more precise—there was far less room for the imagination. On the other hand, one did have a duty to one’s employer.
Sophie held the waistcoat up and gave it a little shake. A few more carefully placed stitches, and she would be done. Then she still needed to talk with Amelia about the month’s social calendar—her upcoming dances, her dinner parties and a hundred other gatherings that would require a special wardrobe.
A knock sounded on the door. Another servant, Nancy, bobbed a curtsy from the doorway.
“Miss Handley, his lordship would like to know if you will be done with the waistcoat in time for supper tonight.”
“I will.” Sophie tied a minuscule knot in her thread and snipped it with a pair of scissors. “In fact, I am done now.”
“Very good.” Nancy took the waistcoat, draping it over her arm. “He also wanted to know what your afternoon schedule is like.”
Sophie grabbed her sewing basket, tucking her scissors and thread away. Then she poked her needle into her pincushion. “Well, I had planned to spend an hour discussing Miss Amelia’s upcoming Season.”
“And after that?” Nancy looked at her expectantly. “Were you expecting to do anything else?”
Sophie rubbed a weary hand over her eyes. “I would like to take tea at my friend Mrs. Katherine Crossley’s house, but I can delay that if his lordship requires my attention.”
Nancy smirked. “I think his lordship thought you had a gentleman caller coming by this afternoon.”
Oh, of course. Charlie Cantrill. Heat flooded her face, and she was unable to meet Nancy’s gaze. “No. He will call on me on Thursday, when it is time for the veterans’ meeting.”
Nancy’s smug expression deepened, and she left without another word. Botheration, was everyone keeping tabs on her relationship with Charlie? After all, this was supposed to be a simple act of kindness to keep him in Bath. Now it was gathering speed, and even the other servants were privy to it. She rolled her eyes and rested her head against the cushion. If only Lord Bradbury had been more discreet when he sent Nancy up to see her. Having another servant question her about her plans concerning a young man was beyond embarrassing.
Oh, well. Nothing could be done about it now. She needed to retrieve Amelia from the schoolroom so they could begin their discussion. The sooner she finished her tasks, the sooner she could go see Aunt Katherine. And really, conversation with the down-to-earth old woman would be quite refreshing after all the confusion and anxiety she had endured over the past few days.
She rose and hurried down the hall, where she claimed Amelia from Lucy. They enjoyed an hour of pouring over invitations, deciding which gowns would do for which occasion. Sophie drew up a list of what she still needed to do for the Season—which gowns required modifications or trimming. They agreed upon a new design for a riding habit. Her sartorial future decided, Amelia skipped off to enjoy tea, and Sophie rushed out of the house for Aunt Katherine’s. If she hung about too long, someone might put her back to work.
It was a fine day, and the ten-minute walk to Aunt Katherine’s was just the thing she needed to boost her flagging spirits. For once, it wasn’t raining. A mild sun broke through the clouds and brightened the colorful gardens as they began to bloom. Why, it even smelled like spring—the fresh scent of flowers and earth sweetened the breeze as it ruffled her curls.
She knocked on Aunt Katherine’s door, and Knowles ushered her in. How good it was to be among familiar faces that reminded her of home and Harriet. She practically ran into the library and crushed Aunt Katherine in a warm embrace.
“Goodness, child, I am so glad to see you.” Aunt Katherine patted the seat beside her on the settee. “I can’t say I’ve always thought so. When you threw John over, I should have liked to scratch your eyes out.”
Harsh words indeed, but said in such a loving and warm tone that Sophie could only laugh. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, Auntie dear. But it all worked out for the best, didn’t it?”
“Tut, tut. It worked out very well for John and Harriet. But now I wonder—how did it work for you?” The old lady’s piercing gaze searched hers.
“Very well. I like what I am doing. I like being useful. I feel myself growing, if that’s the right word.”
>
Auntie rang for the tea. “Don’t ask me about the correct words. That is your sister’s job, finding the proper expression for every occasion.”
Sophie smiled. “True. Oh, Auntie, the dinner party went so beautifully.” Settling back in her chair, Sophie described the event to the last detail, enjoying the brightened interest in Aunt Katherine’s expression.
“It sounds like you did very well by young Amelia. What a brilliant debut for such a well-connected young lady. She will be able to make a most eligible match when she has her first London Season next year. Will you go with the family to London?”
“I don’t know.” Aunt Katherine had such a way of winnowing out secrets. She pounced on the one subject Sophie thought she could avoid—the future. But now, looking at Auntie’s kindly, wrinkled face, she felt compelled to tell the truth about everything—her sham courtship and Lord Bradbury’s puzzling attentions.
They were interrupted by the arrival of tea, and Sophie took the few extra moments to gather her composure. She must be honest and open with Auntie—because the wise old woman could help her sort through her jumbled emotions, much in the same clear-eyed way Harriet used to.
“Auntie, I made a blunder. A stupid blunder, which could cost me dearly. I dreamed up the idea of a faux courtship with Charlie, so his mother would stop pestering him to return to Brightgate.” Now she had Aunt Katherine’s full attention. The old woman had even put aside her interminable knitting once she began to speak. “And I am not sure what Lord Bradbury’s intentions are, but—he gave me a diamond bracelet.” The words tumbled out in a rush.
“Well, really.” Aunt Katherine’s gaze was bright, and she smiled. “Now this is all quite exciting. So you have two young men interested in you?”
“Yes. No. Not really. I don’t know.” Sophie placed her teacup on the mahogany side table. “My courtship with Charlie is merely a ruse, and it’s possible that I received the diamond bracelet as a simple thank-you gift, as Lord Bradbury implied. On the other hand, the two of them were squaring off like two rams at the dinner party.”
Aunt Katherine laughed and clapped her hands. “How delightful.”
“Not really. Oh, Auntie, I am so confused. I don’t know what to do. I was trying to help Charlie, but I made such a cake of myself.”
“How so? It seems to me you have done beautifully. You were trying to help a friend, were you not? And so what if Bradbury gave you a diamond bracelet? The man can well afford a diamond carriage, from what I hear.”
Sophie massaged her temples. Her head was beginning to pound. And she wasn’t making her meaning clear.
“I just—I just don’t know. It all seems to be wrong, somehow. Just when I think I have Lord Bradbury or Charlie figured out, they begin behaving in a different manner. It’s all so confusing.”
Aunt Katherine clasped Sophie’s hand. “The most important thing for you to determine is how you feel. Let’s begin with Charlie. Now, you threw my John over when he returned from Waterloo with a missing leg. Do Charlie’s injuries offend your sensibilities?”
Sophie paused. How to explain the difference between the two situations without hurting Auntie’s feelings? Drawing a shaky breath, she began, “Well, it was not so much that John’s injury offended me. It was more than that. You see, Auntie, when he came back from the war, he had changed altogether. He was a different person.”
Aunt Katherine nodded, her keen eyes resting on Sophie’s face. “Go on.”
“But I didn’t know Charlie before the war. As I know him now, well, that’s the only way I have known him. So his injury is merely a part of him. Does that make sense?”
The old woman folded her hands in her lap. “I believe so. Do you love him? Or do you love Lord Bradbury?”
Sophie paused once more. It was too soon to know for sure, wasn’t it? She enjoyed Charlie’s company, esteemed him for the work he did—she liked him very much indeed when his guard came down, and he permitted himself to joke about.
But love? After her experiences with John Brookes and Lieutenant Marable, she was reluctant to admit to love, or even permit herself to fall in love.
“I esteem Charlie greatly, but I don’t love him—why, I hardly know him.” It was difficult to say those words. Something inside her resisted them.
“And what of Bradbury?” Aunt Katherine patted her back with a gentle hand.
Sophie heaved a great sigh. “I am hoping that, in time, I can have his recommendation so I may start my own couturier. That is what I want—I want to become more than just a flighty young woman—a flibbertigibbet.”
Aunt Katherine leveled the same assessing gaze on Sophie that she had before, and cocked her head to one side, causing her corkscrew curls to shake.
“A diamond bracelet, even from someone as wealthy as Bradbury, is a very extravagant gift. You should know that his lordship may have designs on you, too, pretty little Sophie.”
“Surely not, Auntie. I’m just a lady’s maid to him. But then—it’s hard to tell what his designs may be. He’s so secretive, Auntie.”
“Well, if he offered for you, would you have him?”
Sophie paused. She loved Amelia and Louisa like sisters. It would be wonderful to stay with them forever, watching them mature into women with families of their own. If she married his lordship, she would never worry about money again.
But she disliked the cold and calculating way he assessed her, the way he ordered her about. Would a life with Louisa and Amelia be worth it?
“I couldn’t say,” she replied flatly. “I don’t love him, but I love his daughters.”
Aunt Katherine sat back, appearing well pleased. “I shall help you, Sophie. But you must trust me.”
Sophie shrugged, gazing at the old woman in wonderment. “Help me? How?”
At that moment, Knowles entered after making a discreet scratch on the door. “Lieutenant Cantrill and Mrs. Moriah Cantrill, Mrs. Crossley.”
* * *
Mother had done nothing but prattle on the way over to Aunt Katherine’s, wearing Charlie’s nerves to a frayed edge. What a relief to enter Aunt Katherine’s salon, to be braced by the old woman’s indomitable spirit. But wait— Charlie stopped short in the doorway. Sophie was there. The very woman his mother had been chattering on about for the entire morning was now before him, as radiant as the morning sunshine. She was confiding in Aunt Katherine; he could tell by the way they sat closely together, bent forward like two willow branches on opposite settees. But whatever the confidences were, they fled as Sophie sprang into social action. Charlie held out his hand. Hers betrayed not a tremble. She was so very good at handling the social niceties with grace and poise.
She really was made for Society, that was certain. His heart gave an extra beat.
“Mrs. Crossley, I believe you met my mother some years ago in Bath,” he began, attempting to rise to the occasion as Sophie had done.
“Mrs. Crossley, so good to see you again,” Mother effused, before turning to exclaim over Sophie’s gown and her hair. Then she immediately launched into a recounting of the evening for Aunt Katherine’s benefit. “If only you could have been there, Mrs. Crossley,” she breathed. “It was a brilliant occasion, and Miss Bradbury handled herself so well. Of course—” she turned a dazzling smile in Sophie’s direction “—she owes it all to her tutor. Miss Handley was exquisite.”
Sophie returned the smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Mother rubbed her hands together briskly. “Now, Mrs. Crossley, I am sure you enjoy hearing the latest news as much as I do. So I shall not hesitate to inform you that my son and Miss Handley have been courting. Is that not famous? I am beside myself with delight.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie caught a glimpse of Sophie as she started in her chair. Color bloomed in her cheeks, making her look like a rose in full blush. But she said nothing. Only the corners of her mouth turned downward slightly. She appeared not to feel Charlie’s gaze upon her.
Aunt Katherine pursed he
r lips in an amused fashion. Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Was it supposed to be a secret courtship?”
“Charlie mentioned that they had been keeping it quiet,” Mother replied with a chuckle, “but I am too delighted to keep the matter to myself. I have already written my brother, Arthur, about it. Do you remember Arthur, Mrs. Crossley? He, too, is a veteran.”
“Of course I do. He settled somewhere abroad, did he not?” Aunt Katherine asked the question in a polite tone, but kept her eyes fastened on Charlie. Under such close regard, his face began to heat. Dash it all, he was tired of Mother and of any more talk. He stood so quickly that his chair scraped across the floor with a teeth-jarring sound.
Mother ignored him. “Yes, he settled in Italy. He’s made a fortune in shipping. Vinegars, wines and all sorts of similar goods.”
Charlie strolled over to Sophie’s chair. They needed to formulate a plan. “Would you like to take a walk in Aunt Katherine’s garden?”
She looked up at him, an expression of gratitude in her china-blue eyes. “Yes. I should like that very much.” She rose and tucked her arm into the crook of his right arm.
“You two children run along,” Aunt Katherine warbled. “It is too fine a day to spend indoors. Mrs. Cantrill and I shall have a nice chin-wag while you enjoy the splendors of my garden.”
Mother smiled too brightly and shooed them toward the double glass doors with a wave of her gloved hands.
Once out on the veranda, Charlie took a deep breath of the balmy spring air. Gathering his courage, he turned to Sophie. “I’m sorry. My mother is an incorrigible gossip. I should have known she would take our ruse and run with it.”
Sophie patted his arm. “Honestly, Charlie. It’s all right. I am not offended that anyone would think our courtship was real.”
His heart beat faster. Really? Was that so? Not that it mattered, of course. She was merely being polite. Still, every sense he had strained against reason, and he crushed a desire to gather her in his arms and kiss her breathless.
