by Lily George
“I have more experience of the world.” Robert shrugged. “I am more jaded. As soon as I set eyes on you—beautiful, charming, graceful—I had to hire a thief-taker to find out more about you. So, unless you break off the engagement, I will cut my brother off entirely. He won’t have a farthing left. And I will make sure Uncle Arthur knows about this, as well. I’ll tell my mother about my findings also. Some of them—particularly about your family background—are really rather colorful.”
If she broke things off with Charlie, he would be spared. He could not hope to do the work he started in Bath without his family backing him. Why, that was the whole reason for this farce to begin with. “I just want him to be happy. I believe in his work, even if others don’t.”
Robert shook his head. “If you believe in him so much, then you will let him go. The whole marriage rubbish was my mother’s idea. But I am the head of this family. And I work very hard to maintain our fortunes, and have spent years trying to make my brother realize his responsibilities. If he marries you, I will make sure he stays in Brightgate, and his deplorable work for those miscreants will cease.”
Sophie grew cold all over, and suppressed a shudder that ran through her body. So that was it, then. Their engagement was over. Charlie could not continue his life’s purpose unless she broke their betrothal. And she could not help him unless she let him go.
Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she lifted her chin and looked directly at Robert. “Very well. I will break our engagement. I—I can’t now. Give me some time. I need to...” Her lips trembled violently, and she bit them to keep from bursting into tears. “I need to compose myself.”
“I’d rather the thing was done quickly,” he responded with a listless wave of his hand. “As soon as possible.”
“May I go now?” If she was going to break down and cry, she needed to do so in the privacy of her own room.
“Fine, yes, do run along. But you must break things off soon. I prefer by tomorrow.” He turned his chair toward the window, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil.
She turned and ran blindly from the room and out of the house, tears streaming down her face. It was but a few short streets over to the inn, and she could bury her face in her pillow and weep until she had no more tears. It was the right decision, for both of them.
But oh, how it hurt.
* * *
Something was amiss. Robert appeared in the parlor, his sharpest elder-brother-knows-best look in his eyes, to inform them that Sophie had a headache and had returned to the inn to rest. Aunt Katherine rose at once, demanding to go back to the inn, as well. “Tut, tut, my poor Sophie,” she clucked. “I must go to her and see that she has a handkerchief wrung in cologne for her forehead. The best thing for a headache, my dears. I shall see you tomorrow. Adieu.”
After Aunt Katherine left, a strange hush fell over the parlor, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Robert paced the floor as Mother sat, looking at fashion plates with an absorbed yet contented look on her face. Something had happened to Sophie. Her sudden disappearance was too odd. But what had transpired?
Charlie could stand the tension no longer. “Out with it, man,” he snapped at Robert.
Robert gave him a smug grin and halted his pacing. “Right away, sir.”
“What, might I ask, is wrong with you? You’ve been looking like a cat that’s got in the cream ever since you entered the room.” Charlie eyed him, irritation mounting in his chest.
“Boys—temper,” Mother admonished absently, staring at one fashion plate through her lorgnette.
Robert shook his head, the smug grin still crooking the corner of his mouth. “I should have known, Charlie. Your taste in women is as bad as ever. In fact, beauty blinds you in a way that I find fascinating. Fortunately, I came to your rescue before you made yourself a fool again.”
Mother dropped her lorgnette. “Whatever do you mean, Robert?”
Charlie’s heart pounded in his ears so loudly he could barely discern Mother’s response. “What game are you playing at, Robert?”
“Spot the fortune hunter, little brother,” Robert replied. “Miss Sophie Handley is the daughter of an actress, one Cecile Varnay—”
“But her father was Sir Hugh Handley,” Mother broke in. “Surely that connection is worth preserving.”
“Sir Hugh died penniless, and the girls were thrown out of the ancestral home. None of the Handleys will speak to them,” Robert informed her. “I hired a thief-taker to find out everything about Sophie Handley’s past. It’s all rather extraordinary.”
“Everyone knows about the Handleys,” Charlie responded, tightening his mouth grimly. “She has sought a position in service. Doesn’t that make it obvious that her family connections no longer serve her well?”
“Ah, yes, her position in service. Rather unusual, that. Does no one else find it odd that Lord Bradbury has employed such a pretty seamstress to live in his household and obey his every whim?”
Charlie curled his hand into a fist. “What are you insinuating?”
Mother rose from the settee, her face an ashen shade of gray. “Yes, Robert, I must protest. You are making some rather bold insinuations. After all, it is well-known that Lord Bradbury spoils his daughters dreadfully. It is not unusual that he would employ someone to cater to their needs.”
“Oh, Lord Bradbury spoils everyone. Including his servants. He bestowed a rather valuable diamond bracelet on Sophie, Mother—which she kept and then later pawned in Bath.” Robert rolled his eyes. “Once again, Charlie has picked a woman who is destined to make him a laughingstock. First Beth Gaskell. Now Sophie Handley.”
Mother grasped the chain on which her lorgnette hung. “Charlie—is this true? She said that bracelet was a gift from a dear friend.”
“Oh, it was a gift from a dear friend,” Robert interrupted. “Just rather later than we all suspected.”
“You aren’t telling me anything I don’t know already,” Charlie ground out between clenched teeth. His anger ran so high, a whistling sound rang through his ears. “I knew about her family and I knew about the bracelet. What of it?”
“What of it?” Mother gasped. “Charlie, if it’s true—if she truly accepted such a gift from Lord Bradbury and then pawned it—why, that’s simply unacceptable.”
“It seems like nothing connected to me is welcome within this family,” Charlie spat. “My work with the poor is ridiculed, my aspirations for my future mocked. And now you insult my fiancée. Perhaps it is time I begin asking whether I want to be a member of this family or not.” At the moment, a life without family members sounded inviting.
“Oh, Charlie.” Tears streaked down Mother’s face. “How could you say such a thing?”
“Well, what do you propose? You can’t marry a fortune hunter. I won’t allow it.” Robert stalked over to Mother and laid his hands protectively on her shoulders.
“I am not making a single move until I talk with Sophie,” Charlie retorted. “She may not even want to be a member of this esteemed family after what you likely said to her, Robert. Headache, indeed. I knew you were up to something the moment you entered the room.”
“I was merely protecting our interests—and yours. I would think you would thank me.”
“Remind me to thank you properly later, when our mother isn’t present,” Charlie replied, jabbing his finger at Robert’s arrogant smile.
“Oh, boys,” Mother wept. “Do stop arguing. This is dreadful. A brilliant match, dashed to pieces.”
“Nothing is dashed to pieces.” Charlie turned swiftly toward the door. He needed to see Sophie—talk to her, see her face once more. Robert’s accusations had charred something sacred. He needed to gaze into her clear blue eyes again, to convince himself that he was right and his brother was wrong.
“Guard your pocketbook, brother,” Robert called after him as he raced out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
“Tut, tut. No more crying. My cologne remedy is a proven cure fo
r the worst of headaches.” Aunt Katherine pressed the cold, damp handkerchief against Sophie’s temple.
Tears oozed out of the corner of Sophie’s eye, but she said nothing. Trying to explain Robert’s behavior to anyone at that moment was a task she could not face. Better to have Aunt Katherine believe a lie. She simply could not bring herself to tell the old woman the truth.
Her heart ached for Charlie. Why did he not come? Had Robert told him nothing? The moments ticked by in agonizing silence, broken only by Aunt Katherine’s occasional murmured platitudes.
Surely Charlie would never believe Robert. He had been dreadfully wronged by Beth Gaskell, but that was years ago. And Sophie had spent every moment trying to prove her good intentions to him ever since she started helping with the widows’ fund in Bath.
“Now why all these tears? Tell me, pretty Sophie.” Aunt Katherine removed the cloth and looked deeply into Sophie’s eyes. Her wrinkled, kindly old face glowed with a fondness that made Sophie’s heart ache. Aunt Katherine loved her, even if others didn’t. “You are giving this old woman quite a turn. I have never seen you so upset. Usually you have such a lovely, sunshiny way about you.”
Sophie sighed. Perhaps she could talk around the matter, without breaking down completely. “That dratted diamond bracelet has caused me no end of trouble,” she whispered.
“Why do you say that?” Aunt Katherine replied, folding the handkerchief and placing it in her lap.
“Because it is a driving wedge. It has separated me from what I want.”
“And what is that?”
“Peace of mind. Simplicity. Goodness.” They were mere concepts, of course. But they all meant one thing to her—Charlie Cantrill. Her lips trembled, and she bit down to keep them still.
Aunt Katherine’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand you. Speak sense, my girl.”
“I can’t, Auntie. Everything is topsy-turvy.” Homesickness washed over her like a wave, leaving an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, I miss Hattie. I wish she was here.”
A knock sounded on the door, and a servant poked her head in. “There’s a Lieutenant Cantrill here to meet Miss Handley. He’s down in the parlor, waiting.”
“I’ll be right down,” Sophie replied. She sat up, trembling all over. Goodness, how dizzy and out of sorts she felt.
“Are you sure, my dear?” Aunt Katherine asked as the door closed behind the servant. “You look dreadfully pale. I can go downstairs and tell Charlie to come back tomorrow, after you’ve had a decent rest.”
“No. I must go.” Sophie rose on unsteady legs. She would keep her promise to Robert so Charlie could continue his life’s mission. “I must see Charlie.”
She walked down the stairs slowly. Her legs might give out if she rushed. She opened the door to the parlor and saw him—tall, proud, untouchable. His brown eyes had darkened to black, and he was as pale as death. The stubble of his beard stood out in dark relief. He looked haunted—and hunted.
“Robert spoke to you.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement of fact.
“He did.” She sank onto a chair. Her legs would no longer support her.
“I know about everything. Your family, your mother’s past.” He was staring at her, his gaze burning her skin, but she could not raise her eyes to his. If she looked at him, her resolve would crumble. And that would mean the end of her noble decision.
“Yes.”
“I know about the bracelet. I know that you pawned it. I saw the receipt the day I ran into you in the street.” His voice had a catch in it. “I’ve known for some time that Lord Bradbury admired you. I don’t know why you accepted the gift. I don’t know why you sold it. But, Sophie—none of that matters. I would defy all my family’s objections if you will be mine.”
Her heart surged with bitter triumph. Despite everything, he loved her. And least she had that. But still, she had to free him. She had to free them both. It was the only way.
“I cannot, Charlie.”
“Why?” Charlie grasped her shoulder with his good hand, bending down to peer in her face. “Because of how Robert treated you? Oh, Sophie, don’t listen to him. He’s a blackguard, a ne’er-do-well—”
“He’s your brother.” The words fell like shards of ice from her lips. “You cannot outrun your family. I know that only too well.”
“What are you saying?” His hand tightened on her shoulder, as though he was afraid she was going to disappear.
“I am releasing you from our engagement. I’m releasing you from everything associated with me. The faux courtship, the trip here to Brightgate—all of it was a miserable farce.”
“It wasn’t.” He knelt on the floor in front of her, compelling her to look him in the face. She turned her head to one side. “Surely you must see that.”
The situation was becoming unbearable. Another moment of him kneeling before her, so sweet and tender, his handsome face clouded with fury and love, and all hope would be lost. She would succumb, and they would spend the rest of their lives rejected and mocked by the Cantrill clan, just as the Handleys had rejected and mocked her family.
There was but one way to end things forever. It was hateful, but it would work. She could pretend to be as flighty and fast as Robert believed her to be—as Charlie had believed her to be when she first met him. She must manipulate the flaw in his character—the need to be right, to always be right. It was the only way to rescue them both.
She was the daughter of celebrated actress Cecile Varnay, after all.
Sophie inhaled deeply. “I’ve changed my mind, that’s all,” she replied, forcing a light and breezy tone into her voice. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life working for the poor or living in poky old Brightgate. I love the glitter of Society, and I want to spend the rest of my days in Bath, working for Lord Bradbury.”
“This is very sudden.” His voice was a low growl that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. “This doesn’t sound like you at all, Sophie.” He leaned toward her, and traced her jawline with the tip of his finger. “Only today you told me, ‘whither thou goest, I will go.’”
She could not suppress the shiver that ran through her at his touch, and her shoulders jerked. “I—I was joking,” she breathed. “La, how you take on so. I vow, you are so easy to fool.”
“Either I am easy to fool, or you are a consummate actress,” he snapped. “I do not believe this charade, Sophie. I only wonder why you are acting in this manner.”
To save us both.
“I suppose I finally saw what Beth Gaskell saw upon your return.” It was so hard to say the words. She forced them out between clenched teeth. “And I thought I could stomach your defects, but I find I cannot. Robert merely made it easier for me to say goodbye.”
He sucked in his breath as though she had punched him in the stomach. A terrible silence descended over the parlor. Sophie’s heart pounded in her ears. What a cruel, wicked thing to say. She never would have done it—but she needed to. Surely he would go now and leave her in peace.
“Very well, Miss Handley.” He rose, and a draft of cool air replaced the warmth of his body, leaving Sophie sick and cold. “Our engagement has ended. I trust I can still depend upon you to help with the widows’ fund? You are, after all, your sister’s liaison.”
“Oh, I can’t be bothered with that.” She waved her hand listlessly. “I shall be too busy with Lord Bradbury’s family. I will write to Harriet and ask her to make other arrangements.”
“See that you do.” His voice was laced with polite warning. He was leaving, his boots thudding across the parlor floor. “I should hate to ever see you again.”
The door slammed shut, rattling the pictures on the wall. Sophie laid her head against the back of the chair. She was too heartsick to cry anymore. She only felt an icy sense of dread and loneliness, a feeling that would probably never go away.
In a moment, she would go upstairs and tell Aunt Katherine that she was ready to return to Bath. She’d
have to field the old lady’s prying questions. She’d have to pack. She’d have to endure the several days’ coach ride back to Bath, for Aunt Katherine traveled at a leisurely pace that set one’s very nerves on edge.
But at the end of her journey—what then? Sophie closed her eyes, conjuring the sweet faces of Amelia and Louisa. She would have those dear girls. And she would have Lucy. If she couldn’t have Harriet, at least Lucy was a good second. She’d nurse her wounds privately and pour everything she had into those trusted friendships.
And perhaps she could give her money to the widows in Bath without ever letting anyone know where it came from. Yes, that was the best thing to do.
She rose from the chair. There was no use feeling sorry for herself. After all, she had shoved Charlie away. He had come to her full of tenderness and love, ready to cast his family aside for her sake. What she did, she did for him, though he must never know it.
With leaden feet, she crossed the parlor and trudged up the stairs.
* * *
“So?” Robert was waiting for him, lurking on the landing as Charlie strode in. “Did she deny everything?”
Charlie was in no mood for Robert and his mocking ways. In fact, Robert was the cause of all this misery. “I’ll thank you to get out of my way.”
“So, then, will we be welcoming this fast piece into the bosom of our family? Will the Cantrill fortune be spent faster than I can make it on a blonde chit with blue eyes?” Robert shook his head. “I expected better of you, brother.”
“Our engagement is over.” Charlie shouldered past his brother and mounted the second flight of stairs.
“What a relief.” Robert followed close on his heels. “Now perhaps you will see reason and come to live in Brightgate. I cannot manage all the family’s wealth on my own, you know. It’s time for you to take an active role.”
Charlie paused, turning on his brother. “Aren’t you afraid that I am not competent to manage anything? After all, you pointed out that I cannot seem to find a decent woman to share my life with. Surely you cannot entrust me with the finer details of estate management.”
