by Lily George
Louisa and Amelia were in the schoolroom with Lucy. They would likely be occupied until luncheon. She had nothing to do this morning except darn a few stockings, and that could be accomplished quickly. If she hurried to the pawnbrokers, no one would ever need to know that she had gone. It was just a few minutes away.
She rushed to her wardrobe and pulled out her bonnet and pelisse. If she hesitated for even a moment, she might change her mind.
She dashed downstairs and through the back door of the kitchen, scurrying toward the bend in the road that connected Windsor to Bristol. She could be there in fifteen minutes if she hurried. Holding on to her bonnet with one hand, she hastened her steps.
This had nothing whatever to do with Charlie Cantrill. Once his mother departed and their faux courtship finally ended, then she would no longer seek his approval. Right? His puzzling demeanor certainly had not kept her up all night, wondering what was bothering him. He might be handsome in a forbidding sort of way, and he might have wonderfully muscled arms, but he was nothing to her. Nothing at all.
In truth, the bracelet was something of a fetter. It linked her to Lord Bradbury in a way she didn’t exactly like. And the sooner that fetter was broken, the better. This experiment would benefit so many people, and it was good training for when she had her own dress shop. She could see how well she would do at supervising the cutting and stitching of many gowns at once. It was quite exciting.
She rounded the corner and found the pawnshop. It was a pleasant-looking building with a cheerful window box full of daisies. Gathering her courage, she opened the door and stepped hesitantly inside.
The shopkeeper was consulting with a young dandy, who appeared to be selling a pair of cufflinks. Sophie squinted at them. Yes, they were very fine. Had to be rubies and gold. It was impossible not to overhear their conversation, but Sophie kept her head discreetly turned to one side. She feigned interest in a pair of ornate silver candlesticks as she waited for them to finish their transaction.
“What can you give me for them?” The young man drummed his fingers nervously on the countertop.
The shopkeeper held them up to the light. “A few hundred?”
The young man cleared his throat. “Can you make it four?” His voice was husky and low.
“Yes, but let me warn you. It’s young bucks like you who keep me in business. Stay out of the gaming hells and you will have no need to sell anything.” The shopkeeper counted out the money and handed it to his customer, who sighed audibly.
“Obliged to you,” he replied. Spying Sophie, he swept a low bow. “Miss.” He departed, slamming the door behind him.
“How can I help you, miss?” The shopkeeper turned to her with a friendly smile.
“I have a bracelet to sell.” She opened her reticule and withdrew the handkerchief. Then she parted the fine linen fabric, revealing the sparkling jewels.
“Are you sure?” the man replied incredulously. “That is an exceptional bracelet.” He turned it over carefully, examining it closely. Then he pulled out a magnifying glass and looked at it again.
“Yes, I am quite determined. How much can you give me for it?”
The shopkeeper glanced up at her. “Are you in debt?”
“Goodness, no.” Sophie smiled.
“Are you selling it for a friend?”
“No. It was given to me, but I can use the money better elsewhere.” She briefly described her intention to clothe the widows of Waterloo. “So, you see, the bracelet can do more good for these women than it could ever do merely decorating my wrist.”
He pursed his lips. “Very well. I must say I admire you. Most young ladies would rather keep the bracelet than sell it for anything. I can give you one thousand for it.”
Sophie gasped. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Quite.”
She accepted the money with trembling fingers and left the shop in haste. The shopkeeper might reconsider and decide he was giving her too much. She fairly flew down the street, holding her reticule tightly against her chest. This was more than she bargained for. Here was the start of an entirely new fund, one that could clothe all the widows and their children—not just for a Season, but for a year.
Rounding the corner of Upper Bristol, she collided with a man and fell. He grasped her elbows and steadied her just before her knee struck the cobblestones.
“Sophie.”
She glanced up, still clutching her reticule.
Charlie Cantrill. Of course. She had a way of bumping into him whenever she was trying to complete a task on her own.
“Sir,” she panted. “I had no idea you were there. I beg your pardon.”
“It’s all right,” he responded, letting go of her as abruptly as he would a snake. “I was coming to see you. What are you doing here? I expected to call on you at Lord Bradbury’s.”
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had received pilfered goods. Her face heated to her hairline and she could only stammer. “It—it was s-such a pretty day...” She had to get control of herself. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “What did you need to see me about?” Was he going to offer an explanation for his strange behavior yesterday?
“I’ve had a letter from Uncle Arthur. He’s making me his heir, if we wed. And Mother wants us all to journey to Brightgate together.”
* * *
She was hiding something. That much was certain. As she turned away from him briefly, Charlie bent and retrieved a piece of paper that had fluttered to the ground when they collided. He tucked it into his jacket pocket and looked at her expectantly.
She was blushing, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “So, our faux courtship has gotten rather...out of hand.”
He nodded, tightening his mouth into a grim line. “It would appear so.”
Her face, normally so open and so inviting, was like a window with the curtains drawn. He could discern none of her thoughts or feelings. It was rather disconcerting, to tell the truth. “What do we do now?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He passed his hand over his brow. “I don’t know what to do.” The words rushed out of him like water in a stream. “This courtship was supposed to fix one problem. Instead, it’s created a host of others. I have no idea how to proceed. I am a career soldier, Sophie. And I have no idea which direction to go.”
“Why does your mother want us to journey to Brightgate?” She placed her hand on his arm.
He coughed, spluttering out the words. “For...the...wedding.”
Her complexion turned a deeper shade of pink. “Isn’t that rather hasty? We aren’t even engaged yet.”
“For the time being, Mother wants you to meet my family.”
She shook her head. “I am not sure I could get away. Amelia’s Season will start in earnest in a few weeks, and I am expected to be on hand.” She pursed her lips. “Although, Lord Bradbury has made it quite clear that if I become engaged, I will be relieved of my position in his household.”
Charlie’s head snapped up. “I surmised as much.” She was in as untenable a position as he. Worse, even. She stood to lose everything. He clenched his teeth together.
Her lips were trembling. Despite his best efforts, his heart softened. He could not bear to see a woman cry, even if he were completely unsure of said woman’s motives. “Oh, Charlie, what are we to do?”
“Don’t cry,” he admonished her. “We will think of something.”
“If I go with you to Brightgate, I will lose my job. If I don’t, then you will lose your inheritance,” she replied in that same trembling tone, unshed tears darkening her eyes to sapphire. “It’s a terrible situation with no escape.”
“What if you came with me to Brightgate?” he reasoned. “Perhaps his lordship could be persuaded to let you stay on. I could speak to him. I will ask him to release you for just a fortnight, and then you would return.”
“But then our arrangement would be made public. He would know we were courting, and that your mother expects us to wed. Otherwise,
there would be no reason for us to go together. And it would be quite indecent for me to travel with you if we weren’t betrothed.” Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
Against his better judgment, he reached out and traced the path of her tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded in a husky tone. She was entrancing him, and he was helpless against it. At any moment, he would promise her anything. Beauty was always his weakness, and beauty in distress was irresistible.
There had to be some way she could journey with him to Brightgate without causing any commotion. They could leave their engagement unannounced. Once in his brother’s home, without the distractions of Bath, he could reason with his family. Find some way to make everyone happy. And then Sophie could return to her position, just as she needed to...
Aunt Katherine.
Aunt Katherine would arrange matters with Lord Bradbury, and the Cantrills would not even be a part of the equation. If they happened to journey at the same time—or close to it—then no one need be any the wiser. Of course. Unbidden, a grin broke across his face.
“I have the answer. If Aunt Katherine journeyed with you, then you could go as her companion. You are relatives, after all.” Hastily, he explained the rest of his strategy to her.
“But once we are in Brightgate, everyone will expect us to be engaged.” Her brows drew together in confusion. “I only see how this gets me there and back without losing my position. I don’t see how this benefits you, Charlie. You still have to find a way to make your uncle happy so you can be his heir.”
“I don’t care overmuch for being an heir,” he responded. “I still want to live simply, and I still want to continue my work in Bath. If I were my uncle’s beneficiary, I would give almost all of it away. This ruse merely buys us time. Time for me to reason with my uncle, and time for you to be away from work for a while. You’ve been quite busy—surely a respite is in order?”
“I suppose.” She rubbed her temples. “I must go back to Lord Bradbury’s, Charlie. Louisa and Amelia may notice I am gone, and I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“Of course.” He offered her his arm. “Come along.”
On the way back to Lord Bradbury’s, Sophie was silent. Her normally effervescent manner was dulled, and the spark was dimmed from her expression. It was most unusual for her to be so solemn. He patted her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Don’t fret, Sophie. It will all work out fine. I will speak to Aunt Katherine and we will arrange matters so that your position with his lordship is secured.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I am worried about.”
“What is troubling you, then?”
“I don’t know. I wish my life were simple. I wish I could just help others, as you do. It seems like every time I take a step to help someone, all I do is muddy the water.” She paused and turned toward him. “Oh, Charlie, I am sorry that I caused you so much trouble. I was honestly trying to help. Whatever you think of me, I think of you as a friend.”
He blinked. Her candor never failed to knock him back a few paces. “Think nothing of it,” he responded. “You are a good friend.”
Tears filled her eyes again, and she blinked rapidly. “I must go.” She waved her hand toward Lord Bradbury’s home. “Luncheon will be served soon. Will you let me know how things progress? How shall I know when Aunt Katherine has spoken to his lordship?”
“I will have her send word. I will try not to contact you, to avoid raising his lordship’s suspicions.” He bowed over her hand. “I shall see you soon.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy and rushed toward the rear of the townhome, clutching the reticule closely. As he turned to go, the rustle of paper in his pocket stopped him. He drew it out and unfolded it.
A receipt from a pawnbroker. For a diamond bracelet. His eyes widened at the sum listed.
Whatever was Sophie about? What game was she playing? Was she an innocent girl and a good friend? Or was she a siren luring men to their doom? Could she use her pretty face and easily shed tears to get exactly what she wanted?
Whoever she was, he intended to find out. Away from Lord Bradbury and Bath, he would at last find out who Sophie Handley was—and what kind of woman she really was, under this facade of beauty and grace.
Chapter Fifteen
Sophie smoothed her hands over her gown, a creation of taffeta embroidered with tiny purple roses. The fabric was discarded with a shrug by young Amelia, so Sophie had quickly saved it for a gown of her own. And now, as she surveyed her reflection in the mirror, she was heartily glad she’d done so. One wanted to look one’s best when meeting the prospective in-laws.
She crossed the floor of her room and peered out the window into the yard below. The inn bustled with activity. Every moment, it seemed, a new traveling coach pulled up or another one took off. Brightgate wasn’t as busy as Bath, of course, but it buzzed with more energy than Tansley. And even after her few months in Bath, she still wasn’t accustomed to the sight of so much activity.
How had she come to be here, after all? The past week had whirled by in a blur. Aunt Katherine, in her usual imperious way, had secured the trip for Sophie, without Sophie being privy to the conversation she had with Lord Bradbury. In fact, it was Amelia and Louisa who broke the news, as they rushed into the sewing room crying one afternoon. Amelia was particularly upset, for she was to attend her first dance at the Assembly Rooms that week, and was distraught that Sophie would not be there to guide her. Instead, Lucy had been pressed into service as a chaperone, borrowing a pale pink satin gown of Sophie’s for the occasion.
A knock sounded on the door. “My dear, are you ready? The carriage is waiting.”
Sophie turned from the window. “Come in, Auntie.”
Aunt Katherine opened the door, resplendent in a rich gown of deep purple velvet. “My dear, you look lovely. The Cantrills will be quite besotted with you.” She came in and kissed Sophie on the cheek. “Well, shall we go?”
“No.” Sophie sighed. “I am not ready. In truth, Auntie, I am afraid.”
“Afraid?” The old woman sank onto the window seat. “Of what, may I ask? Surely there are no ghosts or monsters at the Cantrill home.”
Sophie managed a weak smile. “I must disagree. There is the specter of our faux courtship, and of course, the monstrous lie we have concocted to fool his relations. How on earth am I to behave tonight?”
“You must behave, first and foremost, in a manner that is a credit to yourself and your family.” Aunt Katherine patted Sophie’s shoulder, her many rings glistening in the late-afternoon light. “I have enjoyed watching this false wooing from afar, so to speak. It’s all very exciting and glamorous for an old woman like me. On the other hand, I worry about you, just as I would worry about one of my own. What of your heart, Sophie? Is helping Charlie enough for you?”
Sophie bowed her head. “I want only the best for Charlie. He is a good man.” That was all she could manage. For weeks now she suspected her feelings for him might be deepening, but it was so difficult to know one’s own mind.
“Then show him the real Sophie while you are in Brightgate. You have such a gift for inspiring love and warmth in others, my dear. You make it easy for us to love you. Even I, stubborn old woman that I am, was determined to hate you for throwing John over. And I couldn’t. You are just too sweet.” Aunt Katherine gave her a stinging peck on the cheek. “You must know that above all else, Charlie is determined to be right. He needs to feel that he is always correct, and that explains his confusion with you. Away from the distractions of Bath, you have the freedom to make of this whatever you wish. And I shall cheer you on. I vow everything will turn out well.”
“Do you really think so, Auntie?” The pressure of Auntie’s hand felt good. It was almost as nice as being at home with Harriet, when their problems were simple. They needed food and shelter back then. Now things were so much more complicated. False entanglements, diamond bracelets, viscounts and veterans—how deeply troubling everyth
ing seemed.
“I do.” She rose, beckoning Sophie with an imperious gesture. “Come, Moriah Cantrill is waiting. And so is Robert and so is Charlie. Show the Cantrills what a lovely creature they are getting for an in-law.”
The carriage ride from the inn to the Cantrill home was short—too short. It would have been nice to have more time to prepare. And yet there was nothing to be done. The sooner she met her faux in-laws, the better. At least it meant one more hurdle she had cleared. No matter what Auntie thought, she would never prove anything to Charlie Cantrill. That stern expression, those dark eyes...she gave an inward sigh. If only she could prove herself to him. Being his...wife—she could hardly bring herself to think the word—was a mere dream that would never come true.
The carriage pulled up next to a lovely home done in the Georgian manner, all redbrick and symmetrical windows with white sashes. The front door was painted a glistening snowy white, framed by a Palladian window and side lights that reflected candlelight from indoors. It was quite a massive square block of a home—a bit on the new side, with none of the weathered beauty of Brookes Park or the stately grandeur of Lord Bradbury’s townhome.
“My goodness,” Sophie breathed, as she stepped out of the carriage.
“Yes, Sir George did quite well as a merchant. They built this home not long before his death. This was their third home in nearly a decade. Moriah wanted bigger and better homes, so they kept rebuilding and tearing down. She finally commissioned this one from a London architect,” Aunt Katherine said, gazing up at the windows.
The door opened and a servant appeared. “Come, let us go inside before they send the entire household out to greet us,” Aunt Katherine muttered.
Sophie laughed, tilting her head up toward the second story. One of the windows opened and a handsome face, remarkably like Charlie’s, but more florid and less serious, ducked out.
“Are you my new sister-in-law?” he called.
“Not at all,” she called back. “I am merely being courted.”
Aunt Katherine beamed. “Robert Cantrill, do stop monkeying about and come down to greet your guests as a gentleman should.” She turned to Sophie. “The hold you have over men is quite remarkable,” she whispered. “I like basking in your glow.”
