by Lily George
Sophie’s cheeks heated. Here she was, calling up to Charlie’s brother like a hoyden, when she was supposed to be making a good impression. Surely she was off on the wrong foot already.
Robert disappeared from the upstairs window and reappeared at the front door as they finished winding their way up to the house from the curbstone. “I must say, my brother knows how to choose them.” Robert welcomed Aunt Katherine with a kiss and then drew Sophie inside. “Though what you see in my brother’s ascetic nature is beyond me.”
“I adore Charles for his simplicity. I only wish I were as good as him.” She looked Robert straight in the eyes. It was the truth, after all.
He threw back his head and laughed. “Well, if you can entice that hermit back out of his cave and have him rejoin Society, I shall be indebted to you forever.”
Something was a little off. Surely brothers, just like sisters, enjoyed teasing each other now and then. But there was an edge to Robert’s banter that seemed mean—as though he enjoyed saying hurtful things about his brother. And when he kissed her hand, his lips lingered longer than she felt was appropriate. Thank goodness Aunt Katherine was nearby. She wasn’t sure she liked Robert at all.
He ushered them into a drawing room decorated in exceedingly good taste, and went to fetch his brother and mother. Sophie glanced at the paintings on the wall—portraits, mostly. She walked over to one and peered closely up at it. No resemblance to Charlie stared back at her. How very strange. She turned back toward Aunt Katherine. “This room is lovely but lifeless,” she whispered.
“Moriah has professional assistance with her decoration,” Aunt Katherine murmured back. “She has retained the services of several impoverished members of the gentry to help her.”
Impoverished gentry. Just like her family.
The door opened, and with a rush of gratitude, Sophie spied Charlie. He had a shuttered look on his face. No light shone from his eyes. He looked absolutely miserable. He wandered in behind his mother and brother, bowing to Aunt Katherine.
Sophie walked over to him, her arms outstretched. “Charlie.”
He clasped her hands in his good one. “Sophie.”
“I was just asking this lovely creature what she saw in the likes of you,” Robert said with a laugh. “She said she adores you for your simplicity.”
“I do,” Sophie retorted, schooling her tone so it remained light and breezy. “I find Charlie the most attractive man in Bath, because he cares so much for the welfare of others.” If she kept her tone bantering, perhaps Robert would get the message and leave Charlie alone.
Charlie stared deeply at her, a spark of life lighting the depths of his brown eyes.
Mrs. Cantrill sank onto the settee, next to Aunt Katherine. “Of course, when they wed, they will soon rejoin Society. They would never raise a family in that dank apartment of Charlie’s in Bath.”
When they wed? Mrs. Cantrill was assuming quite a bit, wasn’t she? Once more, Sophie felt the urge to defend Charlie against his own family. “I would live in a mud hut in Timbuktu with Charlie if he so ordered it,” she replied with a saucy grin.
“Ah! Young love,” Aunt Katherine warbled, breaking into the conversation. “When I married Mr. Crossley, I was quite prepared to cross the world with him on his merchant ships. We old women forget how love overrides comfort when you are young and besotted.”
Sophie cast a grateful look at Aunt Katherine, then turned to Charlie. “Shall we take a turn about the room?”
“While we plan your futures, of course,” Aunt Katherine added.
Charlie offered her his good arm, and she squeezed his elbow as they began strolling around the perimeter of the room.
“Handsome portraits, but I don’t see a likeness.” She waved her hand at the walls.
“They are none of them family members,” he murmured in an undertone and shrugged. “My mother bought them all at a country home that was in the process of being dunned.”
Just like her home had been. “Oh.”
“They lend a certain cachet.” He cast his voice in perfect imitation of his mother.
Sophie giggled. “We can make up stories about these people if you wish. Perhaps that old man over there collected fine teacups.”
Charlie smiled for the first time in ages and entered the spirit of the game. “Very well. Then his wife was that sour-looking woman over there, and she never approved of his hobby.”
“So she smashed the teacups—”
“And he tore her favorite tapestry to bits,” Charlie finished. She laughed, her heart aglow. Charlie could be very jolly company when he wanted to be. If only he would enjoy life more—allow himself to love and be loved.
“All right, you two, that’s enough giggling for now,” Robert interrupted. “Miss Sophie, do you play?” He indicated the pianoforte with one hand.
“Not very well. Harriet practiced more than I did,” she admitted. “But I will try.”
She selected a simple country tune and began playing note by note. “My, it’s been years since I’ve played.”
“You are doing quite well.” Robert applauded. “Will you sing, too?”
“Only if I must,” she rejoined with a laugh.
* * *
Charlie had no idea Sophie could play and sing, but she did both with such effortless enjoyment that it was impossible not to be fascinated. Robert sat next to her on the bench, turning the pages for her. So he stood and leaned against the instrument, feasting upon her with his eyes. Away from Bath, she was delightful, with none of the complexities that her association with Lord Bradbury roused. And her simple defenses of him against his brother and mother were also charming. It was difficult indeed not to be completely besotted with her.
Robert was. He was oozing confidence, trying to woo her in the same way he had tried to win over every girl Charlie had ever shown an interest in. Some brothers were physically competitive, but not Robert and he. Instead, Robert tried to assert his authority by winning over every female Charlie ever came into contact with. It was a ridiculous rivalry, and one he had lost interest in long ago. And yet, when Robert scooted closer to Sophie on the bench and she backed away, triumph surged in his breast. She liked him better than Robert. It was as simple as that.
She finished her song and looked up at him. “I shall play one especially for you, Charlie,” she said with a small smile. Then she launched into a plaintive, captivating little tune that bewitched him.
“Lully?” he responded.
She nodded.
As she sat there, playing and smiling, he watched her. That indefinable feeling that lingered in the back of his mind, and in the depths of his heart, now rose to the surface. What would it be like to be married to Sophie Handley? To have a beautiful, enchanting woman by his side for the rest of his life? Someone to defend, and someone to defend him. A real helpmate.
Aunt Katherine called over to Robert, who bowed and quit the bench. Now was Charlie’s opportunity. He sank down beside her in the spot Robert had just vacated.
“Your brother is rather pushy,” she whispered.
“Elder brothers. What can I say?” He gave a bitter laugh.
“I like younger brothers better.”
He said nothing, but warmed himself in the glow of their companionship. Was this the missing piece in his life? Everything in his life was so staid and orderly—but lonesome. Would welcoming Sophie in give him that final feeling of peace he so desired?
“Sophie, thank you so much for coming to my rescue.” He was fighting a rising feeling of panic, as though if he didn’t say the right thing at the right moment, Sophie would vanish from his life forever.
“Aunt Katherine arranged it. Just as you said she would. I can hardly believe I am here myself.” She trilled her fingertips over the keys.
“I haven’t been a very good friend to you.” Dash it all. What was he trying to say? Why would the feeling not subside?
“Oh, Charlie.” She gave him a sweet smile as the song trailed t
o an end. “I understand. Really I do. Families are very complicated. I love Harriet, but we have had a mixed-up life together. And most of my family members don’t even speak to us. So I do understand how you feel.”
“I don’t want to be alone.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them.
She merely turned and regarded him with those large, china-blue eyes. She was waiting patiently for him to continue babbling.
“Sophie—” He broke off. The feeling of panic was overtaking him completely. It was like fading in and out of consciousness on the battlefield as his men carried him into the farmhouse at La Sainte Haye. He had control no longer. “Thank you.”
Her eyes were fathomless pools of blue. “You are welcome, Charlie.”
That wasn’t the conversation he meant to have. His feelings about her were still so uncertain. And yet, away from all the false trappings of Bath, he was seeing the real Sophie. He liked what he saw. No, that didn’t do justice to how he felt. He loved her. And like a fool, burned too many times to count, he was going to place his hand too close to a candle flame. His heart was thumping so heavily against his rib cage, surely she could see it through the fine lawn of his shirt.
“Sophie. I—I ask you this not because of any entailment from my uncle, but from a deep and abiding feeling that will not be denied...” He trailed off, taking her hands from the piano keys and clasping them in his good hand. “If what you think of me is true...” Dash it all, he was babbling again like an idiot. “Will you marry me?”
Was that a hesitation? Her eyes lowered for a moment, and he was that she would refuse. Most kindly, of course.
He bowed his head, steeling himself for the inevitable refusal.
But it never came. Instead, Sophie’s clear voice whispered, “Yes, Charlie. I will.”
Chapter Sixteen
Everything had changed, and yet on the surface, nothing was different. Moriah Cantrill, Sophie’s future mother-in-law, was effusive in her congratulations and reminded them all that she had predicted that Sophie’s courtship would, in time, lead to a betrothal. Aunt Katherine had beamed over the assembled company, warbling her best wishes and pressing Sophie’s hand so hard, her rings left imprints on Sophie’s palm. And Robert had kissed her cheek, his eyes flashing with something that wasn’t entirely pleasant.
But after the congratulations and celebration of the engagement were over, it was as if the faux part of the courtship simply never existed. As far as Charlie’s relatives knew, their affection had always been genuine. And so their engagement, sealed with a diamond ring that had belonged to Charlie’s grandmother, seemed not entirely remarkable, but planned.
She had accepted him with such speed it left her dizzy. She wanted, more than anything, to marry Charlie and spend the rest of her life with him. Why? She loved him. He was as essential to her being as air and water. He gave her a purpose beyond mere existence.
And now, as she strolled down the village streets on Charlie’s good arm, she had been dropped into a world of plans and dreams for the future. Aunt Katherine and Mrs. Cantrill waited for them back at the house, but Charlie had insisted on going out for an airing with Sophie. What a relief to finally be alone with him, after two days of endless wedding talk with family.
“Would you like to live in Brightgate?” Charlie asked her. “Robert says there are a few lovely estates for rent out in the country.”
“What of your work with the veterans?” She paused, turning to look at him. “Won’t we continue to work with the widows’ fund?”
“You would do that—with me?” His voice held an incredulous tone. “I thought perhaps you would rather establish a home out in the country, something more in keeping with your previous style of living.”
“My previous style of living was in a poky old cottage in Tansley Village,” she reminded him with a laugh. “We had a chimney that smoked and a garden that could only grow potatoes.”
He smiled. Charlie’s smiles were becoming more plentiful now that they were engaged in truth, and it warmed her heart to see his sweet, crooked grin. “I meant the style of life you were used to as Sir Hugh’s daughter. Or even as Lord Bradbury’s seamstress.”
“Oh, Charlie.” She reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “Those ways of life seem so distant now. Why, I can hardly remember life with Papa. And though I will miss Amelia and Louisa, my tenure at Lord Bradbury’s has not given me a taste for the finer things in life.”
“Then...you would be happy to settle in Bath?” He was blushing a deep shade of red. It was entirely captivating.
“‘Whither thou goest, I will go,’” she whispered, tucking her arm under his.
They rounded the bend of the road, and the Cantrill home, squat and square and prosperous, loomed in the distance.
“There’s bound to be a fight about it, you know,” Charlie muttered. “Mother and Robert have very little patience for my work in Bath.”
“Don’t bother your head with what they think,” Sophie admonished him. “After all, your work benefits many people. Surely that must mean something to them.”
“It does not.” He sounded so defeated. Tired, almost.
“Well, I should like to talk to you about the fund,” Sophie replied. Perhaps her plan to clothe the widows in Bath would make him brighten up. After all, she had never told him about selling the bracelet. “I have a few ideas about the widows that I have been mulling over for some time.”
“Can we talk about it this evening, after supper?” Charlie replied distantly. “We’re almost there, and I have to get into the proper frame of mind to see my family. It requires work, you know, to remain pleasant around them when they are so against everything I say and do.”
“Of course, darling,” Sophie murmured. It felt wonderful to call him darling. Her reward was the deep shade of red that flushed across his handsome face.
As they entered the house together, the sound of Aunt Katherine’s warble and Moriah Cantrill’s quavering soprano practically reverberated off the walls. “Oh, dear, more wedding plans,” Sophie sighed. “And I haven’t even written to Hattie yet.”
Charlie shrugged out of his cloak and removed his hat, dropping both on the hall tree.
“Is that you, Charlie? You must come and give your opinion on this estate at once,” his mother commanded shrilly. “Robert has found a perfectly lovely place in Derbyshire for you, and yet Mrs. Crossley says you must stay in Bath.”
With a roll of his eyes and a sigh, Charlie walked down the hallway to the parlor.
Sophie removed her bonnet, taking her own time about it. There was certainly no rush to enter the fray and have to choose sides in the great Bath versus Derbyshire debate.
“Sophie, if you don’t mind, I wish a word with you in my study.”
Sophie jumped at the sound of Robert’s oily tones, and then pretended a laugh. “Oh, dear, you caught me off guard.”
“Beg pardon,” he replied smoothly. “But I have a need to speak with you privately.”
“I—uh—” Surely there was some escape. She didn’t exactly relish the thought of being alone with Robert, and she missed the warmth and security of Charlie’s presence. “I believe I am wanted in the parlor. Wedding plans, you know.”
“Oh, but this will only take a moment.” Robert linked his arm through hers, propelling her into the book-lined room. He pushed the door closed but didn’t latch it, then indicated a chair by his desk. “Come, sit.”
“Was there something you needed from me, Robert?” Perhaps they could hurry things up a bit. And then she could seek the safety of Charlie’s protection in the parlor.
He leaned back in his chair, surveying her as he would a fleck of dust on the carpet. “Your position in the Viscount Bradbury’s household is rather...unique, is it not?”
This line of questioning, so abrupt, was rather unsettling. “I don’t think it’s very strange. His lordship wants the very best for his daughters, including a personal seamstress at their beck and call.�
�
“But his lordship gifted you with a very expensive bracelet. Is that true?”
“Yes.” She fought the bile rising in her throat. How did he know this about her? And why did it seem so distasteful when he said it aloud?
“But according to the investigator I hired to look into your past, you sold the bracelet at a pawnshop in Bath. Why not keep it? Such a bauble from his lordship is quite a feather in your cap.” He shrugged and looked at his fingernails, picking at one cuticle. “Have you any vices you must maintain that require a good deal of money? Perhaps, like your mother, you are addicted to laudanum.”
She shoved her chair back and rose. “It’s not like that. I assure you, Robert.”
“Miss Handley, you must understand my position as head of this family and as the manager of my family’s estate. My brother has been most unlucky in his choice of young women. The first woman he chose threw him over the moment he returned from the war. And since then, his ascetic lifestyle has made most decent women turn away from him.”
“What has that to do with me?” Her voice was trembling violently, and she cleared her throat to steady it. “Why I sold the bracelet is no concern of yours. But I don’t like your insinuations. I am your brother’s betrothed, after all.”
“I am only protecting my brother’s interests. He’s soft-headed when it comes to women, especially pretty ones. Our family is wealthy beyond measure. I can’t simply allow Charlie to marry anyone he chooses. Besides, his marriage was a condition of my mother’s, and not of mine. I’d rather he come home and get to work than marry anyone, especially anyone with such a troubling past.” Robert’s tone remained even and reasonable, his face impassive.
Red spots appeared before Sophie’s eyes. She was trembling so, she had to grasp the back of a chair to keep from falling over. “You think so little of your brother, to say nothing of me.”
