by Mary Nichols
Her aunt came down in a pink satin dressing gown to have breakfast with her. ‘You must come back and visit me again some day,’ she said, helping herself to coddled eggs and three slices of ham from the dishes on the sideboard. ‘I have enjoyed our little excursions.’
Sophie looked down at the bread and butter on her own plate and didn’t feel a bit like eating it. ‘So have I, Aunt, and I thank you for having me. I am only sorry that Teddy has been a worry to you.’
‘He is young and strong and can no doubt look after himself,’ her ladyship said. ‘I am more concerned for you.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘You are so obviously enamoured of Viscount Kimberley and he is too blind to see it. If you want him, you are going to have to fight for him.’
‘Aunt, I could not do that. Even I know it is not proper for a lady to make the first move, even supposing she wishes to, which I do not.’
Her hurried addendum made her aunt smile. ‘You must contrive to make him think he is doing all the running, my dear. You have a golden opportunity on the journey. I shall be very disappointed in you if he comes back to London and offers for Cassandra.’
Sophie had nothing to say to that and in any case there was no time, for the sound of the door knocker told them he had arrived.
He came, still wearing his eyepatch, doffed his hat and bowed to them both. ‘Good morning, my lady. Miss Cavenhurst. I have taken the liberty of asking your man to load your trunk on to the roof. If we are to make the journey in two days, we must not delay. I have sent Farley on ahead to arrange horses and accommodation.’
There was a flurry of activity as Sophie’s trunk was heaved up and roped down beside his own, and her portmanteau and Bessie’s stowed in the boot. Sophie put on her bonnet, but decided to carry her shawl because, even so early, it promised to be a hot day. She hung her reticule over her wrist and turned to embrace her aunt. ‘Goodbye, dear aunt. I am truly grateful for all you have done for me and for Teddy. No doubt he will come and see you when he returns.’
‘I will send him straight home when he does. Write to me when you are safely home and I hope you will have good news to tell me.’
‘Aunt,’ she protested, feeling the warmth flood her face.
Her aunt simply smiled and kissed her.
Sophie climbed into the carriage followed by Bessie and Adam and they were off. She looked back to see her aunt standing at the door, still in her dressing gown, waving a handkerchief. Then they turned the corner and she was lost to sight.
Sophie settled in her seat, wondering how they were going to occupy the long hours of travel. Ought she to say something, or leave him to begin a conversation? He did not seem inclined to do so. He sat in the opposite corner, trying not to let his long legs tangle with her skirts. The heat in the coach was oppressive. She was glad of the bottle of cold lemonade that her aunt had provided her with. She poured some in a cup and offered it to him. He shook his head. ‘No thank you, Miss Cavenhurst. I will procure a drink when we stop for refreshments at noon.’
She offered the cup to Bessie, who drank it greedily. Sophie, taking the cup back, noticed the perspiration standing on the maid’s brow and her flushed face and realised she was overcome by the heat. ‘Bessie, would you like us to stop so that you can have some fresh air?’
‘No, Miss Sophie. It will delay you.’
‘That can’t be helped. I cannot have you fainting on me.’ She turned to Adam. ‘Please ask the coachman to stop.’
He did so, and the vehicle drew to a stop beside the road where a tree offered a little shade. They all left the carriage and Bessie walked up and down a little way, fanning herself with the fan Sophie had handed to her.
‘We ought to go on,’ Adam said after a few minutes. ‘We will fall behind schedule and the innkeeper might let others have our fresh horses.’
‘Of course. I understand. Do you think the driver would mind if Bessie sat alongside him on the box? I will let her have my parasol to shield her from the sun. I am sure she would be cooler there.’
‘Miss Sophie...’ Bessie protested, but not vehemently.
‘Just until we change the horses,’ Sophie said. ‘You will feel much better by then.’
‘Very well.’
Sophie gave Bessie her parasol and Adam helped her up on to the box beside the coachman, who gave her a grin. ‘I’m Joe Brandon,’ he said. ‘Welcome to my world.’
Sophie and Adam resumed seats in the carriage, but this time he sat beside her so that he could stretch out his legs.
Sophie had only been concerned for Bessie’s comfort and had not considered the impropriety of being inside the coach alone with the viscount. She looked out of the window at the countryside through which they were passing, acutely aware of him. His broad shoulders were so close to hers, his thighs just inches from hers. He had his feet on the seat opposite and his hat tipped over his eyes. Was he pretending to sleep?
‘My lord, did you manage to complete your business?’ she queried when she could stand the silence no longer.
He pushed his hat back on his head and looked at her. ‘My business?’
‘Whatever it was that brought you to London. I hope that taking me home has not interrupted it.’
‘No, not at all. There was no more I could do in town. I had planned to return to Saddleworth soon, in any case.’
‘But you are going out of your way to take me home. I feel guilty about that.’
‘There is no need, Miss Cavenhurst. I had already promised Mark I would go to Hadlea before going home. I have yet to meet my cousin-in-law and the baby.’
‘Harry,’ she said. ‘He is a sturdy little chap, all beaming smiles and wet kisses. He will be walking soon, I think. He already crawls everywhere and is full of curiosity.’
‘Mark and Jane are fortunate to have him.’
‘You have no children?’
‘No, unfortunately. My wife died in childbirth, along with my son.’
‘I am so sorry. I did not mean to make you sad.’
‘Please do not apologise. So many people avoid mentioning her as if the subject is forbidden, almost as if she had never existed.’
‘Would you like to tell me about her?’ Why she asked she did not know; learning about his wife would not make her feel any better, but it might help her to understand him. Perhaps it would ease his pain, too.
He hesitated, and she wondered if she had overstepped the mark as she so often did, but then he seemed to gather himself to answer her. ‘I met her in Saddleworth. Her father, Silas Bamford, owned a wool mill and employed about a thousand workers, some in the mill, some as outworkers. He and Anne were out in their carriage one day, returning from a morning call when they were met by a hostile crowd of workers who threatened to overturn their carriage. Mr Bamford was not one to be intimidated and tried to stand up to them, but Anne was terrified. I had charge of the local militia and had heard about the demonstration and arrived with my men just in time to rescue them. Fortunately no one was hurt, but I escorted them home safely and, well, the rest you can imagine. I was a frequent visitor to their home after that and Anne and I married in 1816. We had just a year together before she was taken from me.’
‘It must have been dreadful for you,’ she murmured, noticing the faraway look in his eyes, as if he were in some other time, some other place.
‘It was. She was so beautiful, so full of life, so affectionate, it seemed cruel of God to take her so young. The baby was beautiful, too.’
‘I cannot begin to think what that must have been like.’
‘I pray you never need to.’
‘You could marry again and still have children.’
He looked sharply at her as if she had gone a step too far. ‘So I could, but I could not bear to go through that again.’
‘Is th
at why you were not at Mark and Jane’s wedding?’
‘Yes. I was not in a fit state to rejoice at anyone else’s happiness.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘But now I go to meet my cousin-in-law and make the acquaintance of young Harry.’
‘And then you will go home to Yorkshire?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not back to London?’
‘No, did you think I would?’
‘I wondered. I thought perhaps Miss Malthouse...’
‘Oh, so this is what the quizzing is about? You would divine my intentions so that you can relay them to your friend. You may tell Miss Malthouse that Adam Trent is not interested in marrying again, not to her, not to anyone.’
‘No, no, you misunderstand me,’ she said quickly.
‘Then, please explain yourself.’
But she could not, could not tell him the real reason she wanted to know more about him, and now she felt mortified and wished she had remained silent and let him go to sleep if he wanted to. ‘I was just making idle conversation.’
‘Then I would hate to be the object of a real interrogation from you, Miss Cavenhurst.’ He paused. ‘Shall I quiz you now?’
‘I am not very interesting.’
‘Allow me to be the judge of that. For instance, what were you doing fleeing from a jeweller’s shop with a member of that establishment after you shouting, “Stop, thief!” I am immensely interested in that.’
She gasped. ‘Why ever would I do such a thing?’
‘You tell me.’
‘Whoever told you must be mistaken. I am not a thief.’
‘I have not accused you of it. But I see you do not deny it was you. I am glad because I should not like to think you are a liar.’
She could feel the heat in her cheeks and knew she could not prevaricate with this man who seemed to witness or hear about every one of her indiscretions. He was looking closely at her now, waiting for her to explain. ‘I did not know...’
‘That you had been observed. I am afraid, my dear, you were.’
‘By whom?’
‘My man, Farley. He was on the way back from the docks after locating your brother when he saw you running and being bundled into a carriage. I feared you had been kidnapped, though it was Farley’s opinion that the occupant was an accomplice.’
‘That’s silly.’
‘I am not accustomed to being called silly, Sophie. Who was in the carriage?’
‘A friend.’
‘Had you arranged for him to be there?’
‘Certainly not! It was pure coincidence, but I own I was very glad to see him.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I had better tell you the whole.’
‘It would be best.’
‘I went to Rundell, Bridge and Rundell to sell my necklace, but they started questioning me about where I had got it and I realised they thought I had stolen it, so I ran.’
‘But surely you could have answered their questions?’
‘Not without naming Jane, and it would have hurt her to think that I would sell her gift to me.’
‘Why didn’t you think about that before you went?’
‘I don’t know. I was so anxious...’
‘I assume it was that scapegrace of a brother you were thinking of. Had he come to ask for more money to see him safely aboard a passenger ship? Were you supposed to meet him by the docks with it? Was this friend going to take you to him?’
‘Certainly not! I had no idea where he was. You know that. You were looking for him for me. It is my belief you got that black eye in the course of your enquiries.’
If she had hoped to divert him from his questions with that, she was disappointed. ‘Then why did you need the money? Are you a gambler, too?’
She stared at him. Did he really think that? ‘My lord...’
‘Come on out with it. How much do you owe and to whom?’
‘I don’t know the exact figure, my lord, but my debt is to you.’
‘Me?’ he asked, astonished.
‘Yes. You paid Teddy’s debts and as far as I am concerned it is only a loan.’
‘It is his debt, not yours. Why do you have to burden yourself with his problems?’
‘He is my brother. I love him in spite of his gambling. In every other way he is the best of brothers. We have always been very close. And I know he tries not to gamble.’
He was silent for some time. She wondered what he was thinking, but his face was inscrutable. She sighed and looked out of the window. They were deep into the country now. Fields, trees, farms, hovels, livestock went by in a flash as the horses cantered on. The carriage pulled up at the coaching inn in Epping where they were to change the horses. Adam went off to pay their dues and Sophie got out and asked Bessie if she wanted to return inside. ‘If it’s all the same to you, Miss Sophie, I’ll stay here. It is so much cooler and Joe has been telling me all about his adventures as a coachman. I had no idea it could be so interesting.’
Farley had done his job well. Fresh horses were ready and waiting and they were soon on their way again, cantering northwards once more, this time through the forest, which made the inside of the coach cooler. Sophie was far from cool. She had been glad of the stop, wondering how much more Adam would have managed to worm out of her but for the interruption. She really must guard her tongue or before she knew it he would know exactly how she felt about him, and how much more mortifying would that be?
Chapter Ten
While the swaying coach negotiated the rough road, made rougher by tree roots making their way up through the hardened track, Adam contemplated the young lady beside him. For the first time since Anne’s death he found himself drawn towards another woman. Sophie was as unlike Anne as it was possible for anyone to be—perhaps that was her attraction. Anne had come from working-class stock. Her father had worked his way up to become a mill manager and then had taken over the mill when the owner retired. He had been blunt and down to earth, at the same time bringing up his motherless daughter to be the epitome of genteel behaviour. He did this with the help of the daughter of a nobleman fallen on hard times who needed a home and a way to earn a living.
Anne had been loving, obedient, trusting and he had adored her. She would never have dreamed of behaving in the hoydenish way that Sophie Cavenhurst behaved. She would never have flouted convention, wandered about town unaccompanied, dressed in a man’s garb, played cricket or ridden astride. Was that why he found Sophie so endearing? She did not try to be anything but what she was: maddening, intensely loyal and outspoken.
At nineteen she had already turned down three suitors. Was she so very hard to please? Or was she playing one against the other while she made up her mind? Did she know about that preposterous wager her brother had made? The irony of that was that Cavenhurst could not lose that one. If she married one of them and he had to pay up, he would still have collected from the other two and been a thousand pounds in pocket, although that would not have helped him much, considering what he owed Toby Moore. What infuriated Adam most was that they appeared to treat it as a game. None of the men needed money.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Sophie’s voice was close to his left ear and startled him.
‘Was I smiling?’
‘Yes. Come, share the joke with me.’
‘It is not fit for a lady’s ears.’
‘Then it is uncivil of you to think about it in a lady’s company.’
‘I beg your pardon. I was thinking about Bertie Gorange.’
‘Lord Gorange. Why?’
‘It was he who rescued you from being apprehended for a jewel thief, was it not?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I collect your aunt saying something about Lord Gorange calling yesterday. I surmise he brought you home.’
‘He happe
ned to be passing near the jeweller’s shop.’
‘Just happened to be passing?’
‘Yes, and I was grateful for it.’
‘How grateful?’
‘My lord, you are as bad as everyone else, thinking I am going to marry one of those three. What I cannot understand is why they persist in wanting me. I have no fortune and I am always falling into scrapes and, according to some, I am a hoyden and a flirt.’
‘Flirt, Miss Cavenhurst? I have seen no evidence of it. And no doubt the gentlemen have their reasons.’
‘Do you know what they might be?’
He was tempted to tell her, but decided she might be hurt by it. ‘No, but you could always marry someone else. That would put a stop to it.’
She gave him a sharp look. He was still smiling. ‘I would, if someone loved me as much as I loved him.’
‘Are you in love?’
‘No, I was speaking generally,’ she said, feeling the colour mount in her cheeks. ‘Shall we change the subject?’
‘As you wish.’
‘Tell me about the business that took you to London, if it was not to look for a wife.’
‘I went to speak in the House of Lords about the problems of the workingman and what I thought should be done.’
‘What do you think should be done?’
They were on safer ground now and he outlined his ideas on the subject. She listened carefully. ‘Unfortunately, they were in no mood to listen and I fear the workers will take matters into their own hands,’ he said.
‘Riot, you mean?’
‘Perhaps. They are certainly planning another large meeting.’
‘And you mean to stop it?’
