Miss Sophia's Spirited Spinster's Society

by Charlotte Stone

  She was right. She had to be.

  "Miss."

  Sophia turned around and found a maid standing there. She straightened and cleared her throat. "Yes?"

  "This was supposed to get to you immediately."

  "Who is it from?" She took the note and opened it. Lord Helsby. He wished to meet her as soon as possible. Without paper or pen, she had no other way to respond except verbally. "Please tell Lord Helsby that I will be with him shortly." She hoped that the meeting would be the last. The man had been watching her like a kicked puppy for days. She couldn't bear it anymore. She couldn't bear any man anymore. She simply wished to be left alone. She needed time to grieve.

  The maid left and Sophia turned back to Morris' door.

  Then she started down the hallway. It was a bad idea to approach him in his room. One thing might lead to another and she didn't wish their talk to lead to his bed. He could be quite convincing when he wished to be.

  She walked down the stairs to the foyer and smiled as an older couple stopped her to tell her how much they were enjoying themselves. When they walked away, she was getting ready to retreat to a chair so that she could rest for a moment when a hand touched her arm.

  She turned around and let out a breath. "Oh, Dr. Barton." She put on a smile. "I'm so glad you could join us."

  The doctor chuckled. "I don't recall you giving me a choice." It was obvious that he was resting heavily on his cane so Sophia called for a footman and in seconds, they were sitting by a chair in the drawing room.

  "I do apologize for forcing you if you didn't wish to come."

  He waved her away. "No. Since Betty died, I've been alone most holidays." He stared at the flames. "This is lovely. I can hear all the laughter and happiness, feel it flowing through the rooms. It's been a long time since I've been around such joy."

  Sophia smiled sweetly and took his hand. "I'm so glad I could do that for you."

  Morris' words played in her mind of when he accused her do doing for everyone else while never taking for herself.

  She shook them away and joined in looking at the flames, begging herself to continue to feel as little as possible until she could return to the safety of her room.

  "I don't think there's been this many people in his house since the viscount’s first marriage."

  "His first marriage?" Sophia had heard nothing about her uncle having a wife before the last one.

  Barton nodded. "They were so much in love. She was from the village. Her name was Sarah Bell."

  The name was familiar to Sophia in some way. "Sarah Bell." She tried the words on her lips and a feeling of unease settled over her.

  "She was a wild girl." Barton smiled at her and tilted his head as he stared at her. "You know, if I didn't know better, I would say you look like her. It could simply be the fact that you have such young features like her. She was beautiful like an angel and had the voice of one as well."

  Sophia wanted to ask him another question but their conversation was quickly ended when the front doors slammed open. Sophia rushed from the room and witnessed a group of men burst through the doors, dragging something in. There was shouting and great commotion.

  The noise was attracting attention and she gasped as she noticed it was not a thing that the people brought in but a who. Actually, there were two whos—her father and her uncle. The men were wet and even from the distance, she could tell they were cold.

  "What happened?" She moved told them and placed a hand on her father. His skin was nearly frozen.

  "They were skating on the ice," one of the men said. "They both fell in. Had the group of us not been there to save them..."

  Sophia pressed her lips together to suppress her fear. She couldn't lose her father. Not now or ever. He meant more to her than anything in the world.

  "Is there a doctor?" someone asked.

  "Yes!" Sophia straightened and began to take charge again. "Take the men to the drawing room and place them by the fire. Dr. Barton is an elderly man so I'm unsure if he can make a journey up the stairs." She turned to a maid. "Go and get all the blankets and towels you can find." She turned to a footman. "I'll need you and three others to remove their wet clothes. Get someone to bring them new ones."

  Everyone did as she said, and she directed the other guests to the parlor and had the staff members serve wine until dinner was ready.

  She started back down the hall to see to her father and heard the commotion through the door before she could get it open.

  "What is this?" Dr. Barton asked in outrage.

  Sophia moved across the room and found both her uncle and father sitting up by the fire with blankets around them. She moved around them to face them and her father looked up with a grin. They had on fresh pants but still lacked shirts. She'd never seen her father shirtless before and thought both be and her uncle had stayed mostly in shape.

  "Sophia." His lips were still blue.

  She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. "Father, I was so worried."

  "That's not your father." Dr. Barton's word broke through her happiness. She leaned away and stared at the maddened doctor.

  Her heart raced and her fingers tightened on her father's shoulders. "What do you mean?" She stared into her father's eyes and found his expression to be unreadable.

  "That man," Dr. Barton pointed his cane at her father, "is not Mr. Ned Taylor."

  A voice from the door said, "His first name is Ned? No wonder he only goes by Mr. Taylor."

  She looked up to see that some of the guests had come in.

  Dr. Barton continued, still pointing at her father. "That man is Nat Taylor, the Viscount of Dovehaven."

  There were some gasps.

  Sophia swallowed and looked at her father, pleading with him to deny the doctor's words.

  The tailor lifted a brow and whispered, "It seems the truth is out, my dear. We can't hide it anymore." He didn't seem upset at all by the prospect, about the tragedy that could befall them if the truth was out.

  "No." Sophia pulled her father's blanket further up his body and glared at Dr. Barton. "You can't know that to be true."

  "I do so!" He hobbled over to them and pulled back her father's blanket with a strength she hadn't known he possessed. Then he used his cane to point at the back of his shoulder. "There. I told you they weren't identical. The viscount was born with a mark the shape of a heart on his shoulder. Nat Taylor is the heir and was born with the mark. Ned Taylor is your uncle."

  Sophia stilled and slowly went around to stare at the mark on her father's back. She had a twin mark of her own. She touched it idly and realized how her father had known she was his. She'd thought herself done with crying for the next few hours but it appeared she would never stop.

  And she'd known all along that he was the heir to his father's title. Nat had told her when she was old enough and had given her decision on whether or not she wished him exposed, swearing there were ways to get it done and remain free of trouble. If he’d exposed himself long ago, she would have had a debut into society as his daughter.

  In the end, she'd turned it down, knowing that her father would have to give up his passion for tailoring if he became a viscount. He'd already done enough for her and she treasured nothing more than his love. She didn't need anything else.

  And she hadn't wished her father to expose himself as he'd just done in front of many of the homes of the ton. What he and her uncle had done would come with a heavy cost. Her uncle had sat in Parliament all these years, voting on bills he had no business being a part of.

  They would be lucky if all they had to pay were fines, but prison sounded more likely.

  Her uncle stared into the flames with a peaceful look on his face. His back did lack a mark. They were not identical, just as the doctor had said.

  Her father gave her a sad little grin.

  "Why?" she asked. "Why have you done this to us?"

  Her uncle turned to her. "You're all I have, Sophia. I've no children and no wife. What
is the point in going on when you suffer?" He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "I know what happened earlier today. You deserve to be happy. Don't suffer for us."

  "Suffer?" She was beyond caring what anyone thought of their family argument. She was facing the end of everything she knew. "This was all pointless. I'm still illegitimate whether my father is a viscount or not."

  “Not so,” her father said. “I was married to your mother, Sarah Bell. My brother and I switched after I fell in love.”

  “What?” Dr. Barton asked. “I was at the wedding. It must have been the only time I've ever been fooled by you and your brother’s tricks.” He turned to Sophia then. “Apparently, I was wrong earlier. It was not your uncle's wedding but your father’s. I see now why I saw a resemblance to Sarah Bell in you."

  Sophia stilled and looked at her father. "I'm legitimate?" That was a secret she'd not known.

  Her father nodded and wrapped the blanket around him further as he came to his feet. "She didn't wish to be a viscountess. I gave it up for her. She wanted to be a singer and succeeded to the point that eventually I had to let her go. She later changed her name to Savia Bellini."

  Savia Bellini. That was why her mother's name seemed so familiar to her. She'd added a few letters but the name was still there. Her mother had been an opera singer and from what she'd heard, a very good one.

  Whispering by the door drew her attention and she realized just how exposed she'd felt. In one day, she'd lost the favor of the man she loved and found out she was not illegitimate.

  "I wanted to tell you," her father told her.

  She shook her head. "No, I didn't wish to listen. I understand now." She didn't think being the daughter of a singer was any better than being illegitimate but she was glad for the truth.

  She turned to a footman to have the door closed and the guests taken to dinner. Lady Cort and the doctor remained. She turned to the two men she'd loved the most in life once they were all alone. "What have you done?"

  "It will be all right." Her father began to slip his arms through the shirt he'd been given. "Lady Cort will accompany me and Ned to London. She knows a few lords who have His Majesty's favor. We shall plead our case." He turned to the doctor. "I would like you to come with us if you could make the journey. I wish to ensure that Sophia's place in society is solidified."

  "I'd gladly go." Dr. Barton said, now seeming sad once he realized what his revelation might cost them all.

  Her father must have sensed his despair and took mercy on him. "I set you up, Dr. Barton. I knew you could tell us apart and took my chance when I was informed you were coming over."

  Barton smiled sadly but said nothing.

  Lady Cort crossed the room and wrapped her father in her arms as she stared up at him. "I’ll use every favor that’s owed me to make sure you don’t spend a day in prison."

  He smiled down at her. "We'll find a way to be together. After all, I do plan on making you my viscountess."

  The duchess smiled up at him with tears in her eyes.

  Sophia's eyes widened. "You're getting married?" She smiled, happy for her father yet at the same time realizing just how much of Morris she would have to see in the future.

  Her father turned to her. "I gave up my title for love, and I'm gaining it again for love. It's more important than dreams, Sophia."

  "But she left me in an orphanage," she reminded him and shook her head. "No, let's not discuss it."

  He walked out of Lady Cort's arms and went to her and grabbing her shoulders as he’d done a million times before. “She did but her choices don’t reflect Morris. Do you believe they reflect mine?”

  “Never. You’ve been very good to me. I tried to keep my feelings for him hidden so you wouldn’t do this, reveal yourself in an effort to give me what I wanted.” Because of what he’d done, Sophia would be able to marry Morris without the fear of him resenting marrying for love later and wishing he’d married for politics. Now they could have it all. She was the daughter of a titled man and apparently legitimate but the price for it was too high.

  Her father sighed. “You deserve love and you also deserve your birthright.”

  “And a father.” She gripped his arms. “I want you in my life as well, don’t you understand that?”

  Dr. Barton whispered, “Had I had thought about the amount of trouble I would cause, I’d have kept my mouth shut.” His face aged with his grief.

  Mr. Taylor turned to him. “Perhaps there is some mental excuse we can find that won’t make our switch treason?”

  Barton nodded and gave a small smile. “There might be something, an accident you both suffered in your past. Perhaps the cold of the lake managed to return you to your senses? You’d definitely have to have His Majesty’s favor for him to accept it. Luckily, I do.” He smiled and Sophia calmed, knowing it would take more than the promise of more clothes from her father to see this through. Recalling that Dr. Barton was in favor of the king meant a lot.

  She stared at the group as everyone seemed to give their opinions, working together in an effort to save the situation. Between Dr. Barton’s favor, Lady Cort’s control over a few gentlemen of high ranking, and the combined power of the Men of Nashwood, she believed it would be all right.

  She stared at the door and recalled that Morris had not been amongst the group that had witnessed the event. She wondered what he would say once he heard the news and a part of her wanted to tell him herself.

  She excused herself from the room and quickly found herself surrounded by the Spinsters. She also noticed a few of the Nashwood men also standing in the foyer.

  “Is it true?” Genie asked with wide pale green eyes, her red curls bounced with excitement. “Is your father really the viscount?”

  Sophia sighed. “It is true.” She gave a wary look to the rest of the group.

  Alice smiled at her. “Now I truly know who can hold the best secrets. It amazes me that you never said a word.”

  “Yes, but I can understand why.” Lorena grabbed her arm with a sympathetic look. “Your father could be in great trouble.”

  Her heart raced and she nodded. “He gave up his title a long time ago and no one was the wiser. He’s never regretted it until now.”

  “Until you fell for Morris,” Alice whispered.

  Sophia lowered her eyes.

  Francis’ voice made her lift her head. “Don’t worry. There are plenty of us to plead your father’s case, enough lords and wealthy men to impress kindness on the king. The men will stand behind you both.” There was the strength of conviction in his blue eyes that seemed to give Sophia strength of her own.

  Morris had been right when he’d said she was one of them. Thinking about Morris reminded her of where she wished to go. “Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” She left the foyer and had to stop herself from moving in a full run on her way to the family apartments, which was where they’d placed their closest friends.

  She stopped at the door she’d not dare enter just a few hours before and knocked. She was met without a response and knocked again after another moment. When she was met with silence again, she pulled in a breath and pushed the door open.

  Inside, the room was cold and she wondered why a servant hadn’t kept the fire going. “Morris?” She stood at the door and from the light in the hall could see that the room look undisturbed in a very unsettling way. She moved to a lamp and quickly made it glow.

  She stumbled back at the bareness of the room. There was not a single personal item on any of the surfaces and not a trunk in sight. She moved to the wardrobe to find it was empty as well. She pulled the bell and a maid appeared.

  “Yes, Miss… I mean, Madam.” The girl curtsied.

  Sophia ignored the change of address and got straight to the point. “Where are Lord Cort’s belongings?”

  The maid curtsied again. “I will go and inquire.”

  Sophia waited in an empty room, feeling the cold more than before and realizing that the empty feeling wasn’t
only in the room but her heart as well.

  The maid returned to tell her what she already expected. “His Grace departed an hour ago, Madam.”

  “But Christmas is tomorrow.” Pain made her words tremble. “Where did he go?”

  The maid’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I don’t know, Madam, but I was told he took his private carriage and all his things. Perhaps he’s gone home or to London?”

  She didn’t know where he’d gone but the result was the same. Her decision to remain silent about her feelings had driven him away. She dismissed the maid and searched the room again, looking for any note he might have left behind for her but saw nothing.

  He was gone.

  “He went back to Kidd Castle.”

  She looked up to find Calvin. “He told you?”

  His arms were crossed and his expression was guarded. “You didn’t expect him to stay, did you?” Calvin moved further into the room. “He’s not ready to give Lord Ashford the only answer you left him with.” His words held a coldness she’d not heard from him before. Usually, Calvin smiled no matter the occasion. He was obviously quite upset.

  Her stomach fell as she slowly lowered her body onto the bed. “I…” She covered her face. “You must hate me.”

  His hand settled on her shoulder. “No, I understand now more than before but the secret is out, so the only thing I wish to know now is what you plan to do about it?” His golden-green eyes remained hard. “Are you truly going to damn us all with Lady Beth’s presence for the rest of our lives?”

  “Dear God.” It did sound horrible. She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. He’s gone.”

  “Then go to him.” He settled onto the bed next to her. “Tell him what happened. Tell him how you feel.”