by Emma Evans
“And yes, I shall miss them,” Sophia continued with a small sigh. “Clara became very dear to me although I cannot tell you how delighted I am for her. She deserves a life of happiness and I am sure my cousin will provide it for her.”
“They appeared to be very much in love and that always is a good start to any marriage,” Mrs. Drake replied practically, taking Sophia’s arm and leading her back towards the drawing room. “I am sure Captain Drake would say so—or, at least, he ought to!” She chuckled and Sophia laughed, her sadness evaporating as she began to grow more comfortable with her new companion.
Mrs. Drake opened the drawing room door and ushered Sophia in, ringing the bell for tea. Captain Drake, a tall, thin and somewhat spindly-looking man unfolded himself from the corner of the room where he had been reading his newspaper and smiled at them both from under his large moustache. His grey hair was thinning, although he insisted on keeping the wisps he could still claim as hair practically oiled to his scalp. There was usually some sort of pipe nearby, Sophia had been warned, although he had promised not to smoke it if she did not like the smell.
“Tea, is it?” he muttered, getting to his feet. “They’re off safely, I presume.”
“Yes, they are,” Sophia replied with a quick smile. “So it is just the three of us now, I believe.”
“The four of us, if you include Lord Guthrie,” Mrs. Drake corrected her with a broad smile. “He is coming to take you out very soon, Sophia, so once we have taken our tea, you will need to send a maid to fetch your bonnet and gloves, although I do not think you will need a shawl since it is a very nice afternoon. I have already sent a maid to prepare herself to join you, of course. For propriety’s sake, even though he is your chaperone.”
A stone dropped into Sophia’s stomach. She had not really spoken to Lord Guthrie since the ball yesterday evening, when he had been so abrupt with her, which had come soon after his refusal to dance with her. That had been a mortifying moment, where she had wished the floor would open up so that she might disappear entirely. Her cheeks had burned red and she had been unable to express herself coherently, using Lord Thackery’s words as an explanation, but still he had refused to dance with her. Then, much later, when she had tried to speak with him, he had rejected her with a few harsh words, clearly unwilling to be in her company for any prolonged length of time. She had been unable to understand why but had been hurt by his behavior nonetheless, feeling it pierce her heart.
She had seen him talking to another gentleman last evening, a look of anger, followed by upset and confusion, coming across his expression as he spoke. There had grown a concern for him in her own heart and she could not help but approach him to ask if he was alright, only for him to dismiss her with such ease that it had practically scalded her.
“I did not know Lord Guthrie intended to come here this afternoon,” she murmured, folding her hands in her lap as her stomach knotted. “Is he not joining us for the recital this evening?”
“Oh, yes, of course he is,” Mrs. Drake replied, with a smile in her husband’s direction. “Although Captain Drake is to remain absent, I think.”
“Not my kind of evening, you see,” he grunted, making Mrs. Drake tut in apparent frustration. “I am sure you will enjoy yourself, however.”
A little irritated as to how the conversation was moving away from Lord Guthrie, Sophia cleared her throat. “Well, if that is the case, why is he to come here this afternoon? Where am I to go?”
There was a short pause. “Do you dislike him, Sophia?” Mrs. Drake asked gently. “If you find him a difficult gentleman then, of course, we can find a reason for you not to go out walking with him this afternoon.”
A little embarrassed, Sophia shook her head fervently. “No, I do like him, of course, Mrs. Drake. I was just thinking of resting this afternoon, that is all.”
The confusion cleared from Mrs. Drake’s expression. “Oh, I see,” she replied with a warm smile. “Well, in that case, I would suggest you just tell Lord Guthrie that you do not wish to walk far. I believe he just wants to ensure that you are quite well after Lord and Lady Thackery’s departure.”
“And that kind of consideration cannot be deemed unwelcome, I am sure,” Captain Drake chuckled, as the door opened to allow a maid to enter with a tea tray.
“No, indeed,” Sophia murmured, feeling almost nauseous at the thought of going out walking with Lord Guthrie, even with a maid in tow. She tried to drink her tea and converse contentedly, but all she could think of was just what she was going to say when Lord Guthrie came to collect her from the house. Would he give any explanation as to his abruptness last evening? Or would they just act as though it had never occurred, pretending that all was well between them?
When Sophia rose to go in search of her bonnet and gloves—even though Mrs. Drake had told her she could easily send a maid to fetch them for her—her mind was caught with questions. After what Clara had said to her about Lord Guthrie and his entrance back into society, after Lord Guthrie’s harsh words and clear upset, was she really to believe that she knew the man well at all? She had thought that since they had spent some time together during the last few weeks, she knew him quite well, that there were the very beginnings of a friendship between them, but now she realized that she did not know him very well at all. There was clearly a lot he was keeping from her, keeping to himself so that she did not find out. Perhaps that was just as she should have expected, for she had no right to know anything about him, really, not when he was simply a friend of Lord Thackery’s who she had been introduced to.
And, yet, there was deep within her the desire to get to know him. She wanted to find out what it was about him that society disliked, why he had been upset last evening and why he had spoken so harshly to her. The small fire of affection burning within her heart had not been blown out by last evening’s behavior. It still remained there, burning steadily, even though it might never burst into flame and turn into something more. Sophia knew she ought not to fan those flames, ought not to add more fuel to it when it came to how she felt about Lord Guthrie.
She should not be feeling anything but gratefulness for him, and yet…
“You are quite foolish, Sophia,” she told herself, looking in the mirror as she tied her bonnet strings. “The man is your chaperone, that is all. You need to think of him as such and nothing more.”
There was the truth of it. It stung her even though she welcomed it, telling herself that she did not need to know anything more about Lord Guthrie since she was meant to be finding herself a suitable husband. There was no need to pry, no need to look for an explanation for his behavior. He would do all he was meant to, and she would turn her face and her thoughts away from him and look towards another. Lord Guthrie was her chaperone and could never be anything more. Had he not already said that he would not be courting or even so much as dancing? That he would not so much as look twice at the ladies of the ton? So why would she let herself have any kind of feelings for him when he was clearly determined not to allow anyone into his affections—not even her?
Pulling her bonnet ribbons tighter, Sophia saw her eyes flash with something like anger as she pulled her gloves on, checking her reflection in the mirror as she did so. She was nothing more than a foolish girl who was letting her heart and mind be caught up with the one gentleman she had grown closer to more than any other. That meant nothing, she realized, her blood filled with ice as she clung to the cold, painful truth. The only reason she had any kind of affection for Lord Guthrie was because she knew him better than any other gentleman in London. That would change over the course of the next few weeks, she was quite sure. If there came any thoughts of Lord Guthrie to her mind, then she would hurry them away, push them aside and forget about them entirely.
“He is your chaperone,” she told herself firmly. “Walk with him, talk with him, but do not dwell on what you felt last evening. That was nothing. It can only be nothing. Your future is not with him.”
The words wer
e forceful and yet rang with truth. Lifting her chin, Sophia gave her reflection a small smile, closed up her heart, and made her way down the stairs to wait for Lord Guthrie’s arrival.
Chapter Five
Hector cleared his throat and put a wide smile on his face as Miss Newton—as he must now refer to her at all times—came to the front door of the manor house. He had been feeling somewhat nervous about her arrival ever since he’d returned home from the ball last evening, realizing that he had been both rude and uncharitable to her gentle enquiries as to whether or not he was quite well after his exchange with Lord Larchmont.
“Good afternoon, Lord Guthrie,” she murmured, coming towards him. “I think the maid is ready to join us.”
“The maid?” Hector repeated, realizing with a jolt what she meant. “Ah, yes. Of course. Thank you.”
There was no particular smile on her face as she turned back towards him, her blond curls bouncing around her temples whilst the rest of her hair remained hidden under her bonnet. There was a slight coldness to her gaze, a coldness that unnerved him as he offered her his arm, as though he had unintentionally managed to build a wall of ice between them.
“Did you find it difficult to say goodbye to Thackery and Lady Thackery?” he asked as they began to walk along the road towards the park. “I know how close you were with Lady Thackery.”
“Yes, it was difficult, but I am quite all right now,” she replied curtly.
There was nothing more to be said for a time and Hector struggled to think of something to say, troubled by her lack of conversation. This was never how things had been between them before, for they had known one another some weeks when there had been all that difficulty with Lord Thackery and Miss Dynes, as Lady Thackery had been then. They had never struggled to converse, and he found himself growing frustrated over her quietness, a prickle of shame creeping up his neck.
“Miss Newton,” he said, feeling a tinge of sadness that he could not refer to her in the same, friendly terms he had once done. “I must speak to you about last evening. I was unpardonably rude to you.”
“Yes, you were.”
He paused, biting his lip and looking down at her as they walked. Her face was half hidden by her bonnet, her cheeks a little red but her gaze fixed on the road ahead of them. There was no hint of the friendly, vivacious young woman he had once known, and Hector took the responsibility for that change entirely on himself.
“It was wrong of me to be so harsh with you, Miss Newton,” he mumbled, feeling somewhat foolish. “I would ask you to forgive me.”
She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug as her breath came out in a long sigh. “You were not the gentleman I knew last evening,” she said softly. “I think now that I do not know you so well at all.”
It was something that Hector could not refute. Miss Newton did not know him and certainly did not need to know the myriad of confusing and downright improper events that had taken place in his past. Even he found it still to be a very painful memory and it was quite clear from last evening that the ton had not forgotten it all either.
“But I suppose it is not necessary for me to know you all that well, Lord Guthrie,” she continued in a calm voice. “After all, you are to be my chaperone and I ought not to spend my evening conversing with you—or asking you to dance, only to be refused.” She let out a harsh laugh, her features twisted. “I have learned my lesson, Lord Guthrie. You need not worry that I shall do such a foolish thing again.”
Hector felt as though all of his breath had been squeezed out of his body, such was the frustration and the agony that ran through him. He did not want to have to explain to her as to why it was best for her not to dance with him and certainly could not inform her of the way his heart had quickened at the mere thought of holding her in his arms.
“I hear you are to come to the recital with us this evening,” she continued when he said nothing. “Do you enjoy recitals, Lord Guthrie? Or are you doing it only because you must?”
Her eyes flickered to his, cold, hard blue orbs that held none of the happiness he’d once seen.
“I will come to the recital as your chaperone and because I do enjoy a good song or two,” he replied quietly, wondering if she was always going to be this brittle when it came time for him to speak to her. “The truth is, Miss Newton, I am entirely at your disposal. I intend to do my duty as your chaperone to the best of my ability, you understand, and that means that, wherever you wish to go, I will accompany you alongside the maid or Mrs. Drake, whichever is more suitable.”
She nodded, her eyes turning away from him again. “I see. Are you willing to discuss with me what events you yourself enjoy?”
He sighed inwardly, thinking hard for a moment. “Well, I enjoy the theatre—for I find that it is an opportunity to be almost anonymous amongst the beau monde and actually enjoy what is going on within the performance. And, of course, the card games and the like that take place after such events.”
Miss Newton glanced up at him for a moment, her lips thinned. “Then do not let me stop you from going to such things, Lord Guthrie,” she said firmly. “Once you have done your duty, I am quite sure Mrs. Drake will accompany me home. We will not require your presence all the way to our door, you understand.”
“Of course,” he replied, feeling almost hollow inside. “I do not want my presence to be unwelcome, Miss Newton.”
She turned her head away from him again and said nothing, her expression fixed into one of pained indifference.
They walked for some time towards the park where Hector knew the fashionable hour would only just be beginning. He did not want to stay for long and, in fact, did not want to be there at all, but it was important for Miss Newton that they appear. She would have the opportunity to speak to ladies and gentlemen from all parts of England and would, he was quite sure, charm them all.
“Oh, there is Lord Hartley!”
Miss Newton wrenched her arm out of his, turning towards him for a brief moment. “May I?”
“Of course,” he mumbled, seeing the group of gentlemen and ladies waving delightedly at Miss Newton. She beamed in delight as she turned away from him, hurrying towards them and beginning to laugh and chatter with them all the very moment she reached them.
Hector was left feeling quite at a loss, his eyes drifting from one group of gentlemen to a group of ladies, seeing the various carriages beginning to turn into the park. The fashionable hour had always seemed to him to be somewhat dull, a chance to be seen and to show off, which had never come naturally to him. His wife, however, had loved it, which, of course, had grated on his very soul.
Ambling along the path for a few minutes, and well able to keep Miss Newton in view, Hector sat down on a quiet bench away from the growing throng, quite glad to be on the fringes of society for the moment. It meant that he was not required to go and talk to as many as he could, did not need to make sure that his acquaintances were all well, press his compliments on various ladies or promise to attend various events so that he might have more time in the company of said ladies.
It was all just one big show and he despised having to return to it.
His eyes drifted back towards Miss Newton, seeing her throw her head back and laugh at something one of the gentlemen had said. It felt as though he had been punched hard in the gut, feeling his stomach tighten as he watched her. He did not want to have any kind of feelings for the girl but there it was, regardless. It was foolishness in itself, to allow his heart to hold any kind of affection for her and, whilst aware that it remained there, Hector knew he could never allow it to turn into anything more. He would not marry again and certainly could not so much as contemplate a marriage to someone like Miss Newton. Anyone who sought to marry him would be tainted by his past, would be whispered about until their heart grew cold towards him and they turned away from him, just as his wife had done.
“Lord Guthrie.”
Twisting his head around, Hector saw none other than Lord Larchmont approaching hi
m, his hands held up in a gesture of wariness.
“I am not coming to argue with you or the like,” Lord Larchmont said as he continued to walk towards Hector. “There is something of great importance that I must speak to you about.”
To Hector’s surprise, there was no spurt of anger bursting through his soul, no frustration or upset. Instead, there simply came a calm acceptance that, mayhap, whatever Lord Larchmont had been doing at the time of Hector’s difficulties with his wife, they had not been connected to him in the least.
“I was overly harsh with you yesterday, Lord Larchmont,” Hector muttered as his friend came to stand in front of him. “I was rather on edge given that it was my first re-entrance into society since… since Elizabeth.”
Mentioning his wife’s name out loud brought him such a flurry of pain that it caught his breath, making him gasp for air.
“I quite understand,” Lord Larchmont replied, with not so much as a hint of reproach in his voice. “A difficult thing, I think.”
“Very,” Hector replied hoarsely. “Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?”
Lord Larchmont frowned, his eyes growing dark. “Nothing good, I’m afraid, and something that will, unfortunately, make you more than a little angry.”
Chuckling, Hector shook his head. “I doubt anything could make me more frustrated and irritated than I am with myself at the moment, Lord Larchmont.”
There was no mirth in Lord Larchmont’s expression, no smile of any kind. Instead, there was just a grave seriousness which told Hector that this was, in fact, something of great significance.
“I hoped you would be here this afternoon so that I might speak to you in person and, in fact, had you not been here then I believe I would have called on you and insisted on waiting until you returned,” Lord Larchmont continued, shaking his head. “I would not have believed this as anything more than rumor had I not seen the man myself.”
Growing a little frustrated with the way that Lord Larchmont was speaking, Hector let out a long breath. “Do be clear, Larchmont. Of whom are you speaking?”
