The Discarded Wife

by Camille Oster

  "Hello," she said. "Unless I am mistaken, you are Lady Aberley. Former Lady Aberley, I mean. It is such a pleasure to meet you.”

  "Mrs. Duthie is what I go by," Sophie said and lightly shook hands with the woman, who clearly was a lady. Woolwich, if she recalled right. "The pleasure is all mine. It is rare that we receive visitors."

  "Tristan locks you away like an ogre in a tower. I can see why," the woman said, smiling, and Sophie didn't quite know what her intentions were with such a statement, or how to reply to it. Obviously none of it was true, and interestingly, this woman and 'Tristan' were on a first name basis. Sophie had never called him Tristan, other than during their wedding vows.

  As per usual, Wellswar handed Sophie a small glass of sherry and Sophie accepted it with a smile. At times, she felt that Wellswar's intentions were the only trustworthy ones here.

  "I hope you are settling in nicely. The house is lovely, isn't it?" Lady Woolwich continued. "Quaint little village. And I met your son, of course, handsome little man. You must be so proud."

  "Yes, of course."

  "Tristan is positively besotted, I think, which is lovely. He's such an isolated man."

  For a moment, Sophie had to wonder if Lady Woolwich received sufficient opportunity for conversation within her friendship with Tristan, because it seemed she had finally found an opportunity to say all the things she needed to.

  "I prefer my isolation, as you say," Aberley said, sitting on one of the sofas to their side with his legs crossed. "People cannot help but be tedious."

  "Are you calling me tedious, Tristan?" Lady Woolwich said, half offended, half teasingly.

  "Never. You are always a source of amusement and understanding."

  The woman turned her attention back to Sophie and raised her eyebrows. Sophie didn't understand this gesture either. "He can be positively beastly and he knows it."

  There was no arguing that. Sophie could only agree, she thought as she took a sip of her wine. "How long have you known each other?"

  "For ages, Tristan was friends with my brother initially, but I think they fell out for some reason."

  Keeping his gaze away, Tristan refused to respond to the prodding.

  "We remained friends however," she continued.

  "So your family hail from around Dorset as well?"

  "No, not at all. Tristan and Roddy met at Oxford. There was a gang of us for a while, but we went our separate ways as everyone grew up and started their own families. None have had quite the salacious dramatics that Tristan had.”

  Feeling herself blush, Sophie took another sip. She was one of those scandals that marred his reputation. His marriage to her had probably been a scandal in the first place, then the subsequent divorce. More recently his broken engagement. It certainly would be fodder for the gossips. Perhaps her now living in his house was more so. She didn't know. Not that she could imagine Aberley being overly concerned with what gossips said amongst themselves.

  There was silence for a moment, which stretched uncomfortably.

  "But it is good to finally see Tristan somewhat domesticated," Lady Woolwich continued.

  Maybe this woman didn't have such a clear understanding of him after all. There was nothing domesticated about him.

  "Do you have children?" Sophie asked.

  "Yes, two boys. Almost becoming young men now, they are growing so fast."

  Sophie smiled, understanding the notion that children grew remarkably fast. It felt like only yesterday she was holding Alfie in her arms for the first time, and now he was learning to ride a horse. It seemed every day he needed her that bit less. Instead of being completely focused on her, he was exploring the world around him.

  "Dinner is ready to be served," Wellswar said.

  Sophie put her glass of wine to side and rose, feeling underdressed and awkward in this company. She didn't really want to be here in the first place, but it was rude not to meet a guest in the house.

  As a guest, Lady Woolwich was led to what used to be Mr. Herman's seat. "What delights shall we have tonight?" she asked.

  "Lamb, my lady."

  "I adore lamb," she said brightly. "Let's not dally with the soup course. It's been a long day."

  Wellswar nodded and directed the footmen who were serving. Onion soup was served with rich, roasted flavors. Sommerfield's cook was certainly gifted. Sophie had never eaten so well. The soup was delicious, but as per Lady Woolwich's instructions, none of them dallied with it.

  "Is there anything you wish to see while you are here?" Aberley asked.

  "Just my friends, of course," she replied, including both of them.

  It was a strange notion considering someone like Lady Woolwich a friend. She was obviously being courteous, but Sophie still wondered what it would be like to have a friend such as her. Truthfully, Sophie didn't have a lot of friends—other than her favorite customers. There simply hadn't been time in her life for friendship, and Doug had been the entirety of her life. Even Lord Aberley had a friend, it seemed. Maybe it was time to cultivate a few, although she wasn't entirely sure she trusted Lady Woolwich.

  In short order, the lamb course was served, and Lady Woolwich clearly enjoyed it, but after a few bites, she put her cutlery down. "It has been a such a taxing day, I'm afraid I must retire. I can't keep my eyes open." She didn't look particularly tired.

  Aberley rose to help her out of her chair and she glided out of the room, leaving both Sophie and Aberley a little stunned with the swiftness of her absence.

  The room was utterly silent now. It was as if the animation had walked out of the room leaving two people who didn't really want to be there, but they were only halfway through supper.

  "I believe there is a blackberry roulade for dessert."

  "That sounds lovely." And it really did. It felt a little like an insult to the cook if they broke off the supper early because they didn't want to be in each other's company, when in the kitchen they had worked diligently to produce this meal.

  Silence stretched in the room and Sophie continued eating. Unlike Lady Woolwich, she couldn't be satisfied with a couple of bites. But her retreating to her room was perhaps understandable considering the amount of traveling she had done.

  Sophie cleared her throat. "I have invited Reverend Narstop to afternoon tea tomorrow. I'd actually done so before Lady Woolwich turned up, but as she's here, she is more than welcome to join us."

  "She could probably use some divine guidance," Aberley said tartly. It was a sarcasm that she wasn't supposed to understand.

  If anyone needed divine guidance, it was him. "You are, of course, welcome to join us too," she said, taking another bite of the lamb.

  Aberley stopped chewing for a while as if he was searching for something to say. "I have much to do."

  Relief washed over Sophie, feeling their exchanges were awkward enough without Reverend Narstop observing them. Clergy could be depended on to never reveal a confidence, but Sophie wasn't sure that extended to their observations. There had to be a lot of people in the area who were curious about the people residing in Sommerfield. The true situation would probably not serve her well if trying to make friends.

  "Have you determined what to do about Alfie's education?"

  "Not yet. It will not suffer him greatly to do without a tutor for a month or two."

  "Then you should be aware that he will seek entertainment and diversion." Which meant he would probably seek Aberley out fairly regularly. "He could go to the school in the village."

  "Absolutely not."

  "There are other children."

  "We cannot send the heir of Sommerfield Hall to the village school. It just isn't done. Perhaps Lady Woolwich can reassure you if you won't take my word for it. We will have to get another tutor. The alternative is to send him to a school like Harrow, but it can be a brutal environment, particularly for a young boy."

  "I would never wish to send him away from his family."

  "Then we will get another tutor."


  We wouldn't have to if you hadn't sent the last one away, she wanted to exclaim, but she kept her mouth shut.

  They fell into awkward silence again. Sophie watched the man to her side, who seemed intently focused on his meal. It was as though they were already in a bad marriage. Two people who couldn't stand each other, but had to co-operate for the sake of the children. Their divorce had meant nothing, in the end. They were exactly where they would have been anyway. She snorted at the thought.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing."

  Chapter 32

  TRISTAN DIDN'T JOIN SOPHIE and Minette for afternoon tea. From a distance, he saw Reverend Narstop's carriage approach, inordinately pleased he wasn't there. Afternoon teas were not things he willingly subjected himself to. Artifice and politeness. Even the idea of it made him shudder.

  The bridge engineer he had commissioned was on site today with his plans. Today, they were to survey out the structure to be built.

  Right now he wanted something practical to occupy him, something that got him away from his thoughts. For some reason, Lady Woolwich's comments had started to turn uncomfortable and even biting of late. He didn't like it.

  He also didn't like the idea that Sophie and Minette were now spending time together. For some reason, it felt dangerous—as if they were conspiring together. But for what purpose? There wasn't a reason for this discomfort. There was nothing of significance that was to be determined, except perhaps deciding on a new tutor.

  It could perhaps be said he was dragging his feet a little, as he hadn't even looked at any adverts. What he needed was some knowledgeable and skilled elderly man. That would be the perfect tutor for Alfie. Someone who had decades of experience forming young minds.

  Alfie had wanted to come with him today, but Tristan had forbidden him from coming, as there were engineers, piles and foundation stones being delivered. Large cart horses. It was not the place for a six-year-old. He would have to be content with entertaining the vicar, which was a role a young master should know anyway.

  On the site, they busied themselves, the engineer ordering wooden stakes being hammered into the ground where the foundations needed to be strengthened. Laborers were brought in to start the digging. This project would take quite some time to complete, but it was necessary. Not having a reliable bridge here put a good portion of his harvest at risk, and that was simply bad management. Aberley abhorred incompetence.

  When it started to rain, making it difficult to dig much more that day, he headed back to the house, arriving just as the vicar was leaving. Both Sophie and Minette stood under the covered area of the entrance and waved goodbye to the man.

  Seemingly, no one had strangled anyone.

  "Shame I missed you, Lord Aberley," the vicar called from inside his carriage. "Some other time."

  Tristan smiled tersely. Not if he could help it.

  Taking the steps up, he joined the women. "Pleasant afternoon?"

  "A very amiable man," Minette said, but his attention was more on Sophie, who was watching the carriage slowly drive down the road. The chill made her cheeks rosy, matching the rose blush of her lips. Did the vicar think her beautiful? He'd be dead if he didn't.

  "How is the bridge-building faring?" she asked, turning her attention to him. He felt her eyes on him like a physical pressure. A curl had escaped from its hold and was gracing lightly over her shoulder. Had the vicar noticed that too?

  "Digging has started and ceased with the rain," he responded.

  Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but stopped. "There is still tea in the morning room if you wish." It had to be cold for her outside, because the peaks of her breasts showed through the material, giving his imagination a good image of her form. The vicar better not have seen that.

  Tristan pursed his lips together and looked away, before he positively stared at her chest. Minette, damn her nosiness, was observing them.

  Sophie turned and walked back into the house and Minette took his arm, but then let go when she discovered how wet he was. "You must change. Then we'll have tea. I will tell Wellswar to brew a new pot. Chop, chop. Don't make me wait."

  "You order me around like a servant."

  "It gets things done."

  A small part of him felt like rebelling, but he also knew it was juvenile. In reality, he could use the distraction, because headiness weighed down his body, sending rivulets of tension through him. Because the truth was that the unreasonable part of his mind wanted him to follow wherever Sophie went. Wanted to draw her scent in and feel her soft body next to his.

  How could his body betray him like this? How could his mind? Maybe he needed a stiff drink instead of tea.

  In his room, he drew his shirt over his head and draped it over the back of a chair. The currents of the air shifted across his skin.

  There was a clear downside to being out here in the country. There was no release for his baser instincts, but then he'd been driven back here from the moment he'd left. There was no victory to be had.

  It wouldn't surprise him if Minette knew that he lusted after his houseguest. He wasn't made of stone. With her beauty, it wasn't perhaps surprising, but it wasn't her beauty that drove it. She was headstrong and she challenged him at every turn. While supremely annoying, it also got deep under his skin, urging him to challenge back.

  Pulling on a new set of breeches, he dressed again and went downstairs, refusing to entertain these thoughts further. Because if he did, there was the question of what to do. He couldn't sit here forever lusting after his nemesis. Returning to London was the only course of action. But the bridge. In reality, the bridge didn't need him there every day. It was perfectly possible to correspond with the engineer on all important matters.

  Stroking down his chin, he tried to make a decision, but found his mind refused to. Lust undermined him. It always had, and he'd always known it. But it had never driven him like it did now. He couldn't sleep; he couldn't focus.

  Minette was in the morning room, sitting prettily on a sofa. She wore a light green dress today.

  "Perhaps, if you are amenable, you could accompany Sophie to a dressmaker in Bournemouth and advise her on appropriate fashion."

  "Her dresses are rather on the plain side. Have you seen fit to deprive her?"

  "She will not take my charity."

  "I'm not surprised if you put it that way. She is a prideful girl."

  "She's an obstinate mule."

  A smile slid across Minette's lips. "She is angry that you got rid of her son's tutor."

  "Our son. Not as angry as she is that I am breathing, I think."

  "Perhaps. You two do seem to rub each other the wrong way."

  "I think it's fair to say she brings out the worst in me. Perhaps I need to return to London at the earliest opportunity."

  "Why?" Minette said, turning her head to the side and considered him.

  "I think it would be a more peaceful existence for all involved."

  "The young vicar would probably appreciate that."

  Tristan blinked, not quite understanding what she was insinuating. The vicar wanted him out of the way? Of course he did. Tristan had more or less known it.

  "Seemed positively enthralled with her."

  Did all men fall under her spell, he thought grimly. The notion sent heated urges to strangle through him.

  "Don't be jealous, Tristan. She is a young woman, a widow. It is only natural that she enjoy the freedom of that status."

  Freedom? What freedom? To seduce men. "Not under my roof."

  "Don't be unreasonable. You are not her father, or her husband. She is a woman free to make her own decisions. Much too young to be locked away in a house. Men notice her. That is simply the way of it. She will let them, and eventually she will pick one as either a husband—or simply a lover."

  "I cannot have such behavior modeled for my son," Tristan said darkly. Anger was positively boiling inside him now. That damned vicar shouldn't be allowed anywhere near the h
ouse.

  "Come now, Tristan. You are not a puritan. Sophie is a beautiful woman in the prime of her life. This will all happen very naturally, and it is unconscionable for you to stand in the way. You have no right to."

  "She is living in my house."

  "Now you are being unreasonable. In fact, we invited young Reverend Narstop for supper in a few days' time."

  Tristan rose sharply from his chair, feeling a sting of betrayal. The need to move was so urgent, he couldn't sit there any longer. "I must see to things." With sharp steps, he left the room, seeking the solitude of his study.

  Minette called after him. "It should be a lovely evening. You need to get past your objection to men coming to the house. You cannot, after all, send this one out of the country."

  The vexating woman was enjoying this all too much. Perhaps he was reacting a little too harshly to these things. Even he could see it, but it didn't stop the way he felt. Yet another man enthralled by Sophie's welcoming smile and pleasing figure. It seemed every damn man she came across fell under her spell—including him. Seeing them was like a red flag to a bull, and he knew it. He fully knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help it.

  His enemy had reduced him to an unreasonable hothead that flew off the handle every time a man went near her. But Minette was right—there wasn't much he could do about it. Unless he married her, which would have him tied to a woman that drove him out of his mind. Not that she would ever agree to that, even if he could bring himself to invite such chaos into his life. It was chaos now and they weren't even friends, let alone married.

  Chapter 34

  FOR SOME REASON, Lady Woolwich simply needed a new morning dress, and Sophie was pressed into joining her on a trip to Bournemouth. It was a city she had never been to, so it was interesting in that regard.

  It had been a long day and they were now returning. Having gone to get Lady Woolwich, or Minette as she insisted Sophie call her, a dress, the seamstresses had ended up turning their gazes on her and without her being able to stop them, she was coming away from this affair with three dresses.