Folding her hands in her lap, Sophie tried to think of what to say. She could see that he was very upset but had very little idea of what to do or what to say in order to help him.
“If I had not your company, then mayhap I would now be writing a rather different letter in response,” he said quietly, resting his head back against the chair. “And then I would have been a fool twice over.”
“It is not foolish to be in love,” Sophie replied slowly. “I thought myself closed to such a feeling, refusing to allow myself to ever even consider such a state, but that was when the pain of what my sister had done was fresh and new. The wound was ragged, but slowly, it has begun to heal.” Her lips tugged upwards, as he rolled his eyes. “My sister has tried to pierce that wound afresh, but with your help, she has not quite succeeded. Instead of grieving over the loss of the man I thought I loved, I now grieve the truth that I shall never have the kind of sister I once hoped for.” Tilting her head, she looked at him carefully, wondering what was going on in his heart. “Can you truly say that you are as closed to love as you were before?”
“Yes, I can,” he replied harshly, not looking at her. “To love another is foolishness indeed. One can never truly know what is going on in their heart; one can never truly believe that their loyalty is true.”
Something pierced Sophie, making her draw in a sharp breath. That was not the response she had hoped for. The happiness she had once felt on seeing him slowly began to die within her, her hands clasping together tightly in her lap.
“I see,” she said softly, hoping that he could not hear the way her voice wobbled. “I am truly sorry to hear that, Huntington. How strange it is that you have been instrumental in helping me move past what has occurred whereas you seem determined to cling to your own pain.”
“I am not clinging to it,” he replied, rather angrily. “It is a part of me now, a part I cannot simply let go of.”
Sophie got to her feet, accidentally leaving her book behind. She could not stay here, not when he was in such a strange mood. His words were cutting and harsh, although she knew he had not intended them to be so.
“I will leave you, I think,” she said quietly, crossing the room. “I shall see you at dinner, Huntington.”
Slipping out of the door and walking up to her room, Sophie felt fresh pain bubble to the surface. Lord Huntington’s determination never to open himself up again to the possibility of love had cut deeply. From the times they had spent together, particularly when he had been reassuring her at the time of Juliette’s letter, she had thought that it was he who had a bright hope for the future, that it was he who was already able to move beyond the hurts of the past.
How wrong she had been.
14
Sophie did not go down to dinner that evening, choosing to take a tray in her room. Claiming a headache, she knew that the truth was simply that she could not face being in Huntington’s company. His earlier demeanor had given her pause, forcing her to examine her own heart.
The tray of food in her room was now half eaten. She was not hungry, not when she had so much to think about. The despair she had felt when he had first uttered those words had given her much to think about, for there could be no despair if there had not been a hope of something first.
What had she hoped for with Lord Huntington?
Putting her head in her hands, Sophie finally gave in to the tears she had been battling since she left the library. Finally, she could see what she had been hiding from herself. Her heart was open and filled with none other than Lord Huntington.
She could hardly believe it, for when she had first arrived, there had been nothing but pain there. She had promised herself never to consider another gentleman, vowing that none would ever take her affections again – only for her to begin to care for Lord Huntington. They had grown close over the course of these last weeks, finding solace in the knowledge that he understood the pain she was in. They had talked so often and shared so much that she felt as though she knew him better than she had ever known Lord Crawford.
He had been the one to urge her to speak openly about what had happened, secure in the knowledge that he would understand fully. She had done so and felt a burden lift from her shoulders. He had spoken to her of the agony of his bride-to-be deserting him, being more vulnerable with her than Lord Crawford had ever been. This was no shallow acquaintance. This was a deep-rooted intimacy, the like she had never experienced before.
And yet, it seemed that it was to come to an end. She should have expected it, of course, for after all, they would each return to their own homes at some point, but for whatever reason, she had never truly considered it. It was as if she expected their acquaintance to continue on and on, ever deepening and never-ending.
Had she hoped for something more?
Wiping her cheeks, Sophie sniffed indelicately and shook her head in frustration with her own foolishness. She had begun to hope for something more but yet had dampened down that desire to the point that she had refused to acknowledge it. And now, having examined her heart, she saw that all she wanted was for Huntington to hold the same deep affection she finally realized she held for him. Her skin prickled, as she recalled how tenderly he had held her when she had first received the letter, how his hand had touched hers and held it so tightly. The way she had leaned into him had spoken volumes about just how much she trusted him, how much she needed him to be there.
Closing her eyes, Sophie recalled how she had run her hand down his cheek and how something had sparked in his eyes. Even then she had been drawn to him but had not considered it until now.
Getting up to splash some water on her face, Sophie realized that she had been mistaken once again. There could be no future between herself and Lord Huntington, not even a prolonged acquaintance. They could share their thoughts and feelings, but there would be nothing lasting between them. In the end, they would go their separate ways, and she would fade from his memory.
Drying her face, Sophie took in a shaky breath and tried to strengthen her quailing heart even though her mind was filled with how Huntington had appeared that afternoon.
He had been so angry, so callous, so cold. She saw the truth of it now: Polly had damaged his heart so badly that there was no hope of it ever recovering. Huntington had closed his heart entirely, sealing it up as though it were in a buried casket. She could not reach it, no matter how close they became.
Perhaps it was time for her to leave.
She shook her head, sinking down onto her bed. She could not return to London, not with her sister’s wedding so close. Would her father allow her to return to his country estate and stay there alone for a few weeks? Would he have to know?
A quiet knock at the door had her lifting her head, her stomach tightening. Was it Huntington? Had he come to tell her that he had been quite wrong in what he had said that afternoon?
“Sophie?”
Her sister-in-law opened the door, looking rather worried.
“Come in, Catherine,” Sophie said at once, hoping she did not look as though she had been crying. “I’m sorry I could not join you for dinner.”
“I was just about to retire, and I wanted to ensure that you were quite all right,” Catherine replied, looking at Sophie carefully as she came closer. “This is more than just a headache, I think.”
Sophie swallowed hard, trying to ignore the ache in her throat. “I do not know what you mean.”
Catherine smiled gently, taking Sophie’s hand. “I think you do. I will tell you now that Huntington said very little during dinner and glowered at both myself and Victor practically the entire time.” She squeezed Sophie’s hand. “I would suggest that whatever was his reason for appearing so miserable is also the same reason that kept you from dinner.”
Sophie shook her head, not able to look at her sister-in-law. Her vision blurred, as tears began to brush her lashes.
“Come and tell me all about it,” Catherine said, leading her to sit by the fire. “Mayhap I can hel
p you with your troubles.”
“Whatever is the matter with you, Huntington?”
Leonard looked up from where he had been nursing his port, finding Victor giving him a rather knowing look.
“Nothing is the matter,” he mumbled, knowing all too well that he was not telling the truth. “I apologize. I am not good company.”
“You have been staring down at that port for most of the evening when you have not been glowering at nothing in particular,” Victor continued, not letting the subject go. “Has something upset you? Last we spoke, you appeared to be in rather good spirits.”
Leonard snorted. “That was before I discovered that my betrothed did not quite manage to make it to Scotland and that now I am expected still to wed her.”
Victor stared at him, before chuckling loudly. “I am quite sure I know what your answer was.”
Rolling his eyes, Leonard topped up his glass with port. “Indeed.”
“But that does not explain your melancholy,” Victor said quite calmly. “Is it something to do with my sister, mayhap?”
The blood froze in Leonard’s veins. “Your sister?” he repeated, as nonchalantly as he could. “No, not in the least. Why do you ask?”
Now it was Victor’s turn to roll his eyes. “You must be something of a fool if you think that I have not noticed how much time you have spent in her company, nor how much that has lifted your spirits.” He tilted his head and studied Leonard for a moment. “Is the fact that you care for her frightening you?”
“Frightening me?” Leonard replied, mockery touching his words. “No, nothing like that. I…I do not care for her.”
“You do,” Victor replied firmly. “I can understand why you are denying it, but I would not be a good friend if I did not tell you that you are behaving rather foolishly. Pushing away such an opportunity for love simply because of one rather-dreadful experience simply does not make sense.”
Leonard did not reply and chose—instead—to take a rather large sip of his port. Ever since he had spoken to Sophie that afternoon, he had been tormented with thoughts of what he had said and done. The look on her face was something he did not think he would ever be able to forget. It was as though he had taken her heart and stomped on it, tearing it apart all over again.
“Love is not worth the pain,” he replied, seeing Victor still looking at him with expectation. “I cannot trust that such a thing will not happen again.”
Victor frowned, his jaw tightening just a little. “I hope you are not suggesting that my dear sister is anything like Polly, Huntington, for if you are, I shall have something to say about that.”
Leonard cleared his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable. “No, of course not,” he muttered, not quite sure what else to say. “I did not mean that in the least.”
“Then what is your concern?” Victor challenged, his gaze growing speculative. “My sister is not like Polly in the least, which I know you are more than aware of. She is honest and true, and whilst not without fault, she will never be dishonest with you. If you care for her, then what is it that holds you back?”
There was a long silence, as Leonard struggled to find an answer. He could find nothing that could conflict with what Victor had said, far too aware that his thinking was awry. There were no similarities between Sophie and Polly, for he knew that Sophie was being entirely honest with him when they spoke. There was that frankness about her, that vulnerability that was given to him almost as a precious gift. It had taken a great deal for her to speak to him so openly, that he knew, and now here he was trying to find a way to pretend he had no feelings for her in the least!
Groaning, he put his head in his hands, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.
“What am I doing?” he muttered, feeling guilt rush all through him. “I am such a fool.”
Victor chuckled, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “Yes, you are. An understandable fool, at least. I can see why you have pushed away your feelings for my sister, but I can promise you that she will never turn from you as Polly did.”
“I know that,” Leonard mumbled, his hands over his face. “I have been all kinds of a fool, trying to prevent myself from feeling what had begun to take hold.” He looked up at his friend, feeling as though his world was slowly being restored to its full brightness, the way it had been before he had met Polly. “I hurt her, Victor.”
His friend shrugged. “Then you must fix it.”
“How?”
Victor grinned broadly, as though he were rather enjoying Leonard’s torment. “How should I know? That is entirely up to you, although I will say that you have my blessing as regards my sister, and I am quite sure my father will be more than pleased as well.”
Leonard held up his hands, shaking his head. “Victor, I am not even sure she will even wish to talk to me, never mind consider marriage! You are moving much too fast.”
Tipping his head, Victor studied him for a moment, a sly grin on his face. “Am I?” he asked innocently. “It is just that I have known you both very well and rather consider the match to be an excellent one.” He shrugged, although his grin remained intact. “That being said, she may turn around and refuse you entirely, in which case I shall be proven quite wrong.”
Closing his eyes, Leonard sighed heavily. He had known that he had spoken untruths when he had talked to Sophie in the library, for he did not really believe that he would never love another again – but such had been his anger and frustration over what had been contained in the letter that he had allowed those emotions to speak for him. And now, it was much too late to speak to her and apologize for what he had said and done, which meant that he would most likely spend his night tossing and turning, desperately waiting for the morning.
“I am glad for you both,” Victor finished, getting up from the table. “Two broken hearts have melded together, and I think it a delightful prospect. My closest friend and my dearest sister! Who would have thought it?!” He chuckled as Leonard made to protest again, waving his concerns away. “I had best retire and see to Catherine. Good night, old boy. I shall see you come the morning.”
15
Sophie turned her pillow over and tried to get a little more comfortable, wishing sleep would come. She and Catherine had talked for a long time – and she had shed a great many more tears, but still, Catherine had urged her not to lose hope. Sophie could not see where such a hope might come from, given what Huntington had said, but Catherine would not hear of it. She had reminded Sophie that Huntington had been rather upset when he spoke to her and that such emotions might have easily made him say things he might now regret. It had ignited a spark in Sophie’s heart, and even though the thought of leaving her brother’s home remained in her mind, she did not speak of it.
But knowing that she would have to face Huntington in the morning did not make for a restful night. She had been turning over and over for the last hour, and still, her eyes refused to close. All she could think of was him.
The hope that Catherine had ignited would simply not go away, pressing against the harshness of what Huntington had said. She wanted to believe that he had not meant it, that he had been rather angry and had spoken carelessly, but a part of her believed that he had meant every word. After all, to have gone through such a great torment as he had gone through would have caused a broken heart.
Throwing back the bedcovers, Sophie swung her legs onto the floor and went in search of her slippers and dressing gown. It was no good trying to sleep when sleep would not come, so instead, she would find something to read. It always took her mind off things—although she realized that she had left her novel in the library.
Her fingers shook as she lit a candle, taking it with her as she crept from the room. The last time she had done this, she had met Huntington in the library. Would he be there again? Would he be waiting for her in the desperate hope that she might be unable to sleep either and come down in search of him?
Pushing open the door carefully, Sophie stepped inside �
� but the room was dark save for the glowing embers of the fire. Shadows jumped across the walls, making it difficult to see. Hurrying towards it, she quickly added some logs to the fire, waiting until they caught before turning to light a few more candles.
Then she turned around, her breath catching in her chest.
Huntington was not there.
Sophie’s shoulders slumped, her heart slowing its rapid pace. Her hope had been for nothing. Huntington was not here.
“Foolish girl,” she muttered to herself, going in search of her book. Now that she had added logs to the grate, she may as well sit and attempt to read by the light of the flames instead of returning to her room. Once they had burned through, then she would return to bed.
Settling herself in the chair, Sophie turned to the page she had last been reading and tried to concentrate, ignoring the growing ache in her heart. Time to forget about Huntington. Time to lose herself in a completely different story.
A hand touched her shoulder.
“Sophie!” Huntington exclaimed as she jerked violently from her seat, the book toppling to the floor. “I am terribly sorry, I thought to waken you so that you might return to your bedchamber.”
Realizing she had been asleep, Sophie blinked up at him, her face burning. “I was asleep?”
Huntington nodded, taking a few steps back from her chair. “You were. I apologize if I frightened you.”
She shook her head, her heart beating so wildly she was sure he could hear it. “It is quite all right.”
He looked away from her, clearing his throat. “Since you are here, might you permit me to speak for a moment?”
Sophie saw him look away, and her own anxiety rose. Was he about to confirm to her that he could only ever be an acquaintance to her? If that was the case, then Sophie was not sure she wanted to hear it. “What is it about?” she asked, trying to stay calm. “I think you said enough this afternoon, and I do not require any further detail from you.”
Regency Engagements Box Set Page 54
