The Temporary Betrothal (19 page)

“Are you proposing?” She choked out the words.

“Darling, you know I cannot marry you, as your family situation
precludes marriage.” He clasped her hands more tightly, and his voice became low
and tender. “But no harm would come to you, I swear it. You would be under my
protection forever. As a viscount, I cannot marry where I choose, but I can love
where I choose. And I choose you, my dearest.” He kissed her forehead
gently.

“You cannot marry me?”

“No.” He shook his head with a rueful air. “Your status in
Society is at best questionable, my darling. But that doesn’t change my opinion
or feelings about you. You have captivated me since the moment I laid eyes on
you. It may not be what we wish it to be, but this arrangement is as close to
heaven on earth as I can make it.”

Two paths were before her, as clearly marked as bridle trails
in the park. She could say yes. She could become his mistress and live a life of
ease and luxury. She would become a renowned modiste. Every need cared for.
Every want catered to. She could still see Amelia and Louisa.

But she would be his. She would belong to Lord Bradbury, just
like these empty buildings. She would be an empty shell, cared for and pampered,
but bereft and alone.

On the other hand, she could not stay in Bath if she said no.
Refusing his lordship was a sure ticket home on the next Yellow Bounder.

Tears filled her eyes. How buffeted she felt, like a ship on a
stormy sea. Tossed about with no anchor.

No anchor...

No anchor...

“Darling, are you ill?” Lord Bradbury caught her in his
arms.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I haven’t had anything to eat today.”
It was ridiculous, but the only excuse she could offer.

“Let us go home, then,” he replied. “You shall rest this
afternoon, and have some dinner. When you feel a little better, we will talk
over the future.”

He half led, half carried her back out to the carriage, under
the frank appraisal of the coachman and footmen. Sophie burned with shame from
her head to her feet.

Inside the carriage, Lord Bradbury tucked her up beside him,
stroking her curls and murmuring words in a soft undertone. But she couldn’t
hear him. She couldn’t see anything. All she saw was Charlie Cantrill, his ashen
face and stooped shoulders when she bade him goodbye.

Chapter Nineteen

S
ophie took another fortifying sip of tea.
Lord Bradbury had insisted on sending a repast up to her room as she reclined in
bed. The servants had eyed her with repressed interest, and Nancy had even been
so bold as to wink at Sophie as she brought the tea tray. There was no use
denying what had happened. Everyone surely knew that Lord Bradbury had a more
than professional interest in her.

Even Lucy, stalwart trusted friend Lucy, was in on the gossip.
She perched on the foot of Sophie’s bed, her best schoolmarm expression pasted
on her face.

“You look rather mutinous, Sophie. I fear that doesn’t portend
well for Lord Bradbury.”

“Would you have me stay in Bath and be his mistress?” Sophie
snapped.

Lucy tilted her head to one side. “Well, he would protect you.
And you would be set for life. He’s very generous—the way he treats his
daughters, the high pay he lavishes on all the servants—he would never be stingy
or mean.”

“He offered to set me up as a modiste. With my own townhome,”
Sophie admitted.

“You see? You would never have a care in the world. And just
think, Sophie. After turning down two marriage proposals and losing out with
Charlie Cantrill, this may well be the best offer you will ever have. So why do
you look like a thundercloud? Surely this is a wonderful bit of luck. You have
nothing to lose by becoming his mistress.”

“I would lose my self-respect. I would lose everything. My life
would be just like that vacant townhome he showed me today—beautiful but empty.
I don’t love him. And I won’t debase myself by entering into a relationship with
him that cannot be sanctified.”

“But what of Louisa and Amelia? You could become like a second
mother to both of them. They adore you so.”

“I love them, too, but I cannot be a second mother to those
girls when I am a courtesan to their father.” Honestly, Lucy’s practicality and
pragmatism was wearing. She had hoped Lucy would see her side of the story, and
help her figure out what to do next. Now she was utterly alone, trying to pick
her way out of the mire.

“How are you going to tell Lord Bradbury no?” Lucy regarded her
with frank interest. “I would never, ever want to defy that man. He’s generous,
but I think he would be a terrible adversary. Isn’t he coming up to see you this
evening? What do you propose to do?”

Sophie twirled a lock of hair around her finger. The thought of
defying Lord Bradbury was not at all pleasant. And yet, neither was spending the
rest of her life as his mistress. She would not continue to be placed in
positions she did not want. The whole business of dealing with men was
exhausting, come to think of it. They all wanted something from her, and snuck
around behind her back spying on her, and insulted her family, too—her good,
hardworking family that had never, ever done anything to harm anyone.

Harriet. She wanted to go home to Hattie.

“I’m leaving.” She set her teacup down with a determined clink
on the side table and pushed her coverlet aside.

“Where are you going?” Lucy stared at her, openmouthed.

“I’m going home to Tansley, where I belong. I’m leaving right
now, through the back door. And don’t you breathe a word of this to Lord
Bradbury.” She scurried about, changing out of her chemise and into a dark wool
riding habit. “I’ll take one small bag with me so I can travel quickly. You can
have the rest of my clothes.” She opened a carpet bag and tossed a few garments
inside.

Lucy leaped from the bed and knelt beside her on the floor.
“Sophie, are you mad? There is no way for you to travel alone. Have a little
sense. At least stay the night and start fresh in the morning.”

“I have my own money. I shall hire a Yellow Bounder and leave
right away.” That was the beauty of having a bit of money. She was her own
person, beholden to no one.

“If you do that, I shall tell Lord Bradbury. Right now.” Lucy
stood and walked over to the door. “It’s simply not safe for any young woman to
travel alone.”

“Botheration, are you on his side or mine?” Sophie snapped.

“Neither. But I would never forgive myself if you were harmed,
Sophie.” Lucy’s hand rested on the doorknob.

Sophie sat back on her heels. “Stop. Don’t tell him. I shall
think of another way.” She paused for a moment, racking her brain for a
solution. Aunt Katherine, of course. Auntie would send her home without delay.
And she would be safe in the Crossley traveling Berlin. “I shall leave right
away and go see Aunt Katherine, and she and I will arrange my travel
together.”

Lucy removed her hand from the doorknob. “That’s more sensible.
She will travel with you, or send a servant.”

Sophie resumed her packing. Goodness, it would never do to have
Auntie come along. “She’ll have to send a servant,” she muttered. “I refuse to
travel at her poky pace.”

She tucked her hairbrush and hairpins inside the bag and
cinched it. There was no more room to pack anything else, and besides, she
wanted to leave as much of her life in Bath behind as she could. “Will you find
a way to tell Louisa and Amelia that I am all right, and that I send my love?
Without alerting Lord Bradbury, of course.”

Lucy nodded, her brows drawing together. “I don’t relish the
task, but I will.”

As she closed the drawer of her dressing table, a small leather
bag caught her eye. She reopened the drawer and withdrew the leather pouch.
Inside was her thousand pound treasure for pawning the bracelet. She weighed it
in one hand and looked at Lucy.

“I pawned the bracelet Lord Bradbury gave me.”

Lucy nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Did everyone know? Good gracious, she had no privacy at all.
“Do you think the money I received from pawning the bracelet is mine?”

“Are you asking on moral grounds? Do you mean, should you
return the money to Lord Bradbury?”

“Precisely. He bought the bracelet back. Perhaps I should repay
him.”

Lucy paused for a moment, giving the matter some thought. “Why
did you sell the bracelet, Sophie? For material gain?”

“No. I sold it because it seemed like such a fetter. Even then
I was being tied to Lord Bradbury in a way I disliked. I was going to use the
funds to make clothes for the widows and children of the veterans’ fund. I never
had a chance to do so.”

“Oh, Sophie.” Lucy came over and folded her in a warm embrace.
“Of course it’s yours. I would keep it and do whatever you want with it. Lord
Bradbury has plenty of money, and besides, he gave that gift to you. It’s yours
to keep.”

“Then this is what I want you to do.” Despite everything, she
wanted to give Charlie the money for the widows in Bath. He had opened her eyes
to a reality that she never knew existed. And she could never turn her back on
it again. “After I am gone—several days after I am gone, in fact—I want you to
take the money to Charlie and say it is an anonymous gift for the widows. Then,
if you don’t mind, try working with the women to create a sort of sewing class
or ladies’ group, one that would allow its members to sew dresses for each
other.”

Lucy accepted the leather pouch from Sophie and opened it. “My
goodness, there is enough money in here to feed and clothe several families for
a year or more. Sophie, are you sure you want me to do this without telling
Charlie anything?”

“Do not tell him it came from me.” She hefted her valise in one
hand. “When I came to Bath I had every intention of striking out on my own. And
over these few months, I have failed at every turn. I failed with Charlie, and
now with Lord Bradbury. I haven’t even begun to shepherd Amelia through the
rigors of a London Season. And I never had a chance to do anything for the
widows.” She patted Lucy on the shoulder and crossed to the door. “Perhaps if I
stay far removed from it, the widows of Waterloo will become a success.”

“Sophie, don’t feel that way. None of this is your fault.” Lucy
turned and watched her go, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

Sophie blew her a kiss. “I shall write when I get settled at
Brookes Park.”

And with that, Sophie fled down the stairs and through the
kitchen, which was blessedly empty, as most of the servants were employed with
serving supper to Lord Bradbury and his daughters. As she opened the back door,
a gust of warm August wind ruffled her hair. It felt good to set foot on the
porch and stomp out of the yard—every footstep forward was a step toward
freedom.

Even though the moment was thrilling and liberating and
exhilarating in an odd sort of way, her heart beat heavily in her chest. She was
leaving Bath for good. There would be no more gossip about the fund, no chance
to overhear any tidbits about Charlie from Lucy when she returned from reading
to the ensign every Thursday afternoon. And even the slightest opportunity of
seeing Charlie in the bustling, crowded streets was now over. She was headed
home. She was a failure in everything, but she was, at least, still her own
person.

It was rather a cold comfort, but it was all she had.

* * *

Sophie had stopped coming to the Veterans’ Club
meetings. In fact, she seemed to have vanished from Bath altogether. Any
possible sight of her blonde curls and graceful figure at St. Swithins or out on
the street simply disappeared. Her friend Lucy still came to the meetings, but
was so wrapped up in Ensign Rowland that she barely spoke two words to
Charlie.

What was wrong with Sophie? Had she fallen ill?

He could ask Aunt Katherine, but how much of the tale did she
know? Did Sophie tell her that his family had behaved in an infamous manner? And
if so, how would the old woman feel about the matter? After all, she and Sophie
were now related. Any slight on Sophie could be construed as a slight on
Auntie.

He could barely discern anything the reverend was saying, but
whatever it was, the veterans agreed with him. They sat in the pews, nodding in
agreement as the reverend continued his lecture.

He really should be paying attention. This was his purpose in
life. Not Sophie Handley.

“We must all work together for the common good,” the reverend
said, breaking through the haze of Charlie’s jumbled thoughts. “As a band of
brothers, we must stand together and help one another through these difficult
times. No matter what others may say, we are one.”

The veterans nodded and harrumphed their agreement.

Solidarity. It’s what he tried to offer Sophie. He would have
gladly stood with her in defiance of all his family. Why then, did she push him
away? For she had. The love that shone in her eyes during those few blissful
days in Brightgate—that was not the work of an actress.

He scanned the crowd once more, but Sophie’s bright golden head
did not appear among the women working in the back of the church. He would go to
Aunt Katherine this afternoon and talk with her. Surely Auntie would help him.
Surely she knew where Sophie had gone.

A hand tugged at his elbow. Charlie spun around. But it was
only Miss Williams standing before him. He fought to maintain a placid
countenance. “Miss Williams. How do you do?”

“May I speak with you privately for a moment, Lieutenant?” A
frown furrowed her brow.

“Yes, of course.” He led her to a small cloakroom off the altar
area. It was empty save for a few robes and one rickety wooden chair. “Please,
sit.”

“No, thank you. I would rather stand.” She turned to face him
squarely. “I am going expressly against the wishes of my dearest friend by doing
this, but I must be completely honest with you. I have a feeling it’s the only
way to save you both.” She extended her hand, which grasped a small leather
pouch. “This is for the widows of Waterloo. From Sophie.”

He took the leather pouch and ripped it open. There was money
in there—a huge amount of blunt. He looked up at Miss Williams, his eyebrows
raised in question.

“Sophie sold the bracelet Lord Bradbury gave her. It was her
intention to use the funds to help clothe the widows and children in Bath. As
you can see, it was a dream that could have come to fruition, except she left
Bath in haste.”

“She has gone?” All the air was sucked out of his lungs. It
must be true, for Miss Williams’s face betrayed no sign of jest. Yet hearing it
from Miss Williams was unbearable. “Where is she?”

“She left for Tansley Village three days ago. She wanted me to
wait to give you this money until she was settled there, and she wanted me to
give it to you anonymously. But I cannot do so. You must know the truth. I do
not know what transpired in Brightgate, but I have some idea that it happened as
a result of that bloody bracelet. And I cannot have you thinking ill of Sophie
any longer, though it pains me to break my promise to her.”

“I don’t think ill of her. She pushed me away.” Just a few
short months ago, he never would have admitted something like that to anyone.
But he was hanging by his fingertips to a cliff. Unless he was completely
honest, he might plummet into the depths.

Miss Williams grasped his hand and pressed the money into it.
“Then you should go after her.”

Something didn’t fit. She was holding back. “Why did Sophie
leave so quickly?”

“Lord Bradbury made her an offer—not of marriage, but of a
different kind.” She gave a discreet cough, and her cheeks pinkened in the dim
light of the cloakroom. “Sophie refused, and fled to Tansley that very
evening.”

“He made her an offer...?”

“Lord Bradbury was going to set her up as a modiste, with her
own townhome and everything.” Miss Williams sighed. “Really, it was impractical
of her to refuse. Especially such a powerful man. But you know our Sophie, she
would never do anything of the sort, no matter how ridiculous it was to refuse.
She went to see her Aunt Katherine and arrange her passage home. She was going
to take a Yellow Bounder, but I made her see reason in that, at least.”