Lord Harrington did not seem in the least perturbed, simply shrugging as he rose to his feet. He picked up the parchment, skillfully managing not to drop a single spot of ink, and threw the entire thing in the fire.
“Nothing to worry about,” he said, cheerfully, as though everything was at right. “Just a few small splashes to clean up.” He walked back to sit at his desk, leaving her to clean up the remaining drops.
Sophie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. She simply had to get herself out of this room and away from him so that she might have a few moments in which to calm her mind. Her limbs were heavy, and her lack of strength made it difficult to even move them.
“Is everything quite all right?”
“Yes, yes,” Sophie murmured, trying and failing to put a smile on her face. “I am just a little embarrassed, that is all. Do excuse me.”
Lord Harrington regarded her for another moment before turning his attention back to his correspondence. Managing not to be sick, Sophie made her way to the door, her hand shaking so badly that she could barely grasp the door handle.
“Are you quite sure you are all right?”
Sophie could not look back at him, afraid she was going to burst into a flood of tears, from which could stem a great deal of confusion.
Tell him the truth.
Once again, the small, insistent voice in the back of her mind prodded her to do what she could, to beg him to save her from her cousin. Her hand slipped as she tried to turn the door handle, her palms too sweaty to grip it.
“Might I talk to you, my lord?” she whispered, wiping her hand on her dress as surreptitiously as she could. She managed to twist her head just enough to look back at him, seeing him study her with some concern.
“Yes, of course, Sarah,” he replied. “About the accounts, is it? Or is it about … what we shared?”
He still thought she was upset about either the kiss or what she had found and, at the present moment, she could not find the words to tell him anything else. Besides that, clearly he was good friends with Malcolm, having invited him to his home. Oh, what were the chances? Her heart was pained in her chest, her body still shaking with fear at seeing her cousin again. She could hardly speak as she told herself to breathe deeply. Stars spotted in her vision, warning her that she was close to fainting.
Finally, the door handle turned beneath her fingers. “The accounts,” she managed to say, quite flustered by now and simply needing to escape. “It can wait.”
“Later then,” he said, as though he were having quite an ordinary conversation, unable to see her distress for anything more than being puzzled about something in the accounts. “I am due to go out to visit my tenants this afternoon, so I shall speak to you later this evening.”
Sophie did not respond, even though she knew she ought to. She could not talk to him now, not when her mind was all of a muddle and her composure more than lacking. She would need to have a calm mind were she to tell him everything with clarity.
Managing to slip out of the door and shut it behind her, Sophie found strength from somewhere, forcing herself to move forward. She could not exactly collapse in a heap in the hallway, only to be found by Lord Harrington or one of the servants, who she was finally winning over with kindness. Get yourself together, girl, she told herself. Gritting her teeth and trying her best to control her shaking, Sophie forced her legs to move. They took her to the servants’ stairs and then down below into the kitchen where she finally felt safe. She collapsed at the table, putting her head on her arms and taking deep breaths. She steadied herself as she tried to determine whatever she was to do now.
14
By the time Sophie managed to regain her composure, both the cook and the housekeeper had found her in the kitchen, horrified to find her in such a state. Sophie attempted to reassure them that all was well, only to let her tears fall once more when the cook hugged her. Luckily, they had an hour or so until preparations for dinner had to begin in earnest, which allowed them to sit with her, determined to assist her in whatever way they could. Sophie could not have been more grateful for their company and support.
She had no other choice but to allow the words to tumble from her mouth, as she was devastated by Malcolm’s pending arrival. The housekeeper, Mrs. Martins, looked distressed, although her expression grew resolute as Sophie spoke.
“Then you shall simply have to stay away from him,” she declared when Sophie had finished her story. “We shall make sure you are not to be in his presence at any time.”
“But Lord Harrington – ”
“Lord Harrington will have no opportunity to request your presence in any sphere other than that in which you are already in,” Mrs. Martins interrupted, putting a firm hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “He has made good use of you, to the point that I see very little of you, so I should be very surprised if he expected you to do as the other maids do, just because he has guests!”
“And they will not be in his study either, I should say,” Mrs. Potts continued, quietly, her eyes ablaze with sympathy. “The study is for work and Lord Harrington will not be working when his two friends are present, that is for certain.”
“You shall find yourself quite alone for the most part, I believe,” Mrs. Martins finished, evidently trying to be encouraging. “And, if you are to have company in the study, it will just be Lord Harrington and not his two companions. Gentlemen have no reason to enter another man’s study, not unless they wish to aid him in his work in some way – and, believe me, that is not why your cousin and Lord Haversham are coming.”
Sophie drew in a deep breath or two, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “Yes, I can see that now,” she replied, as Mrs. Potts hurried away to start making up a tea tray for her. “But I am still filled with dread, knowing that he will be here.” She took a steadying breath, pushing down the panic that threatened to fill her. “I have nowhere else to go, otherwise nothing could induce me to stay here, despite how kind you have all been to me.”
The housekeeper patted her hand gently. “It is most unfortunate, I confess, but we will do what we can to keep you safe.”
Mrs. Potts put the teapot on the table, and Sophie smiled gratefully as the steaming brew was poured.
“I had thought of telling Lord Harrington everything,” she confessed, once they were all seated. “If he knows all, then he might be able to help me.”
Both the housekeeper and the cook looked more than a little astonished at the suggestion but, after exchanging a glance, Mrs. Martins began to nod, slowly.
“It may be a good idea,” she murmured, after a time. “However, the only thing I would caution you is that your cousin is obviously Lord Harrington’s friend. Do you think he would be inclined to believe you over him?”
The thought gave Sophie pause. It was what she had contemplated earlier.
“My cousin never spoke of any of his acquaintances to me,” she confessed, pressing one hand to her brow. “I cannot tell how close they might be. Nor do I know Lord Harrington particularly well but, should he discover that I have lied to him without confessing to it, then I think he might very well be more angry with me than if I told him all when I had the opportunity.”
Mrs. Potts bit her lip. “We cannot advise you in this, my dear. Only you can make that choice.”
“But we will do whatever we can to assist you, no matter what you choose,” Mrs. Martins added, with a smile of encouragement. “You have done a wonderful job thus far and I know that Lord Harrington is pleased with your work.”
Sophie drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. It was time to return to that work. “I must go,” she said, quietly, getting to her feet. “I know Lord Harrington is out but he requested I continue with the accounts.”
“And we have much to be getting on with here also,” Mrs. Martins said, briskly, also rising. “Do come and talk to me again if you need to do so, Miss Carmichael.”
“I thank you,” Sophie replied, her voice a little hoa
rse as she looked at the two ladies who had proven to be dear friends in such a short time. “You must call me Sophie. You are both so very good to me.”
And so it was that, many hours later, Sophie found herself still working hard on the accounts. Lord Harrington had not returned to his study and she had only taken a short break to eat with the rest of the household staff. She had caught the concerned glances of both Mrs. Martins and Mrs. Potts but had smiled in response, pretending that all was well, even though her stomach churned every time she so much as thought about her cousin.
The accounts, however, gave her something to think and focus on, instead of Lord Dunstable. There were these small, intricate errors that seemed to occur. The transactions were not always particularly large ones, but, when Sophie compared them to the receipts Lord Harrington had given her, she found inconsistencies. The receipts were for a smaller amount than the accounts showed were paid for by the estate, which could only mean one thing. Whoever was doing these transactions was taking a few extra coins for themselves.
Her heart grew heavy as she noted yet another discrepancy. This was no mistake. This was a regular event, and obviously whoever it was had hoped not to be discovered.
Clearly, with the Harrington master away from the estate for a prolonged period of time, it meant that the thief had become a little bolder as the months went on. Instead of the transactions taking place once every two months or so, they began to increase to once a month and lately even twice. Sophie could not account for the losses otherwise.
The door opened and, much to Sophie’s surprise given the hour, in walked Lord Harrington – who looked just as astonished to see her as she was to see him.
“My, you are working late,” he mumbled, stepping inside and closing the door. “I know I pay you, Sarah, but this is beyond your requirements. It is gone midnight!”
“Is it?” Sophie asked, surprised. “I hadn’t noticed. I did want to talk to you, my lord, but it can wait until the morning.”
“Oh yes,” he said at once, his eyes widening a little. “The accounts. My goodness, you are fastidious indeed!”
Sophie could not help but blush at the compliment, despite his incorrect assumptions.
“I have a great deal to learn from you, I think,” he continued, walking towards the large Bergere chair by the fire. “Come, Sarah. Sit here for a moment and tell me what you have found.”
Sophie did as he asked, walking over to the fire, staring into its orange blaze as she thought of what she should say. She wanted to tell him that, while she did want to discuss the accounts, she had something of an even greater importance to tell him, but she could not quite find the words. She thought on what Mrs. Potts had suggested, on him being friends with her cousin. He indicated the comfortable matching chair to his left, and she found her legs a little wobbly as she sat down.
Once more, she felt as if he were treating her like an equal, even though he probably had no intention to do such a thing and was simply lonely, requiring someone to talk to.
“How do you find the stamina to focus on a thing as boring as the accounts for such a prolonged period of time?” he asked, taking the sheaf of papers from her hands and setting them on the table between them.
Sophie laughed softly. “Because I must, my lord,” she answered, still smiling. “You cannot think that I have anything else to entertain me or to distract me from my work.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “No,” he muttered, passing one hand through his hair. “No, I suppose not. You do very well, Sarah. As you know, I find it difficult to concentrate on such things at the best of times.”
“You seem to be catching onto it. You will improve with time,” she promised, seeing the flush of embarrassment in his cheeks. “After all, I believe this is your first time running an estate?”
Lord Harrington’s eyes shifted to hers, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips. “The staff are talking about what a failure I am, I suppose.”
“No, not in the least!” she protested, leaning forward in her chair. “They are saying no such thing, my lord.”
He snorted. “You cannot expect me to believe that they do not talk of me, Sarah. It is good of you to try to protect them – and to protect me in doing so.” Something in his eyes flickered. “You are very good. Too good.”
Sophie’s mouth went dry as he caught her hand, squeezing it lightly. Her heart began to quicken in her chest, beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She had no fear, no dread that he would force himself on her as her cousin might. When they had kissed this afternoon, he had waited for her. She knew he would only take what was freely given. She found in herself there continued to be a deep-rooted desire growing for him.
“Please don’t slap me again for my forwardness,” he rumbled, dropping her hand and sitting back with a somewhat rueful smile on his face. “I should not have touched you again. In fact, I should not have such feelings for you, Sarah.” He groaned and shook his head, passing a hand over his eyes. “I should not even be speaking to you so….” His voice trailed away, his expression confused.
“I – I want to be of assistance to you,” she answered softly, her heart going out to him. “I can see that there are things that trouble you but you have no one to speak to.” Realizing that she was being too bold, she pressed her lips together and tried to smile. “Although I am sure your companions will be a great comfort to you.” She wanted to determine his closeness to Malcolm, to decide whether she should broach the subject of the nature of her true identity.
“They will be very little help, I assure you,” Lord Harrington muttered with a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I have been looking forward to their company, but I do not think they will be of very great assistance, I must confess.”
“Oh?” Sophie asked, unable to help herself. “I thought they might aid you with some of the more difficult aspects of running the estate.”
He laughed softly. “You think too well of people, Sarah. When I invited them here, at first I thought perhaps they would have advice for me, but I am realizing that will not be the case and I was simply creating an excuse for myself. No, they are men who enjoy the pleasures of life and … well, as you likely are aware, I am one of those men, though I am trying to change as of recently. I would have remained the same if it were not that certain circumstances – which I shall not embarrass myself by telling you of – required me to leave town. If my father had not forced this situation onto me, then I would not be here now.” Lifting his brandy glass to his mouth, he took a large draught while Sophie waited for him to continue.
“I should not judge them for I am just like them. I am not a good man, Sarah,” he finished, looking down at his glass. “Yet, I am trying to be. I want to mend my ways and to prove to my father that I can be a man who is respected by others. However, I fear the task may be too great for me to overcome. My friends, while good company, will most likely attempt to pull me from my responsibilities and return to a life of frivolity, even in my own estate.”
Sophie saw the confusion in his eyes, the pain in his expression, and could do nothing other than reach forward to take his hand, even though she knew she ought not to be doing anything of the sort, but rather should be staying far away from him. Her compassionate heart, however, yearned to bring him comfort, to assure him that he was not the man he feared he was.
“No, my lord, do not say such things,” she exclaimed, her eyes focusing on his, which now regarded her in surprise. “I have seen you struggle to do what you must, even though I know you find the accounts particularly complex. You have shown remorse and done exactly what is expected of you in visiting your tenants and already beginning to plan improvements. You are of strong character. No matter what your companions wish of you, I know you will be able to withstand such lures. Your determination does you credit, my lord. Do not think so little of yourself, I beg of you.”
His expression grew pained, as though he was struggling to accept what she said. Sophie kept her grip
on his hand, doing her best to ignore the tingling that was already beginning to spread up her arm. She wanted nothing more than to bring him a little comfort, to encourage him to believe in his own strong character.
“I will be here whenever you wish to talk, my lord,” she finished, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I know it is not my place, but –”
“It is your place,” he rumbled, placing his other hand over hers. “My goodness, Sarah, your presence alone brings me more comfort than I could ever imagine. I think I shall have to keep you here with me forever.” His lips lifted in a small smile, making Sophie catch her breath.
“I can be too forward,” she murmured, making to pull her hand back. “Forgive me, my lord.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Sarah,” he whispered, refusing to allow her to leave him. He leaned his head back against the chair, letting out a long, frustrated breath. “Good God, how you tempt me! Your gentle spirit simply adds to your loveliness.” He looked back at her, his fingers lifting to brush her cheek. “Whatever am I to do with you?”
Sophie could not stop herself from rising from her chair and coming closer to him. When he tugged her onto his lap, she went willingly, her heart thundering in her chest and causing her to breathe in short gasps. She should not be doing this. She should not be allowing herself to become so caught up, particularly when he did not know the truth about who she was.
“My dear Sarah,” he murmured, his eyes burning into her soul. “You may slap me again if you wish, but I find I cannot help myself.”
Sophie could not answer and, when his lips pressed against hers, she felt herself melt into his arms. She let him draw her head back and angle her towards him, feeling as though she were clay in the hands of a master potter. Heat seared her skin as she wound her hands around his neck and, as he began to pull the pins from her hair, Sophie drew him closer, not wanting this moment to end.
Hearts of Trust Page 9
