The Temporary Betrothal (3 page)

Chapter Three

A
knock sounded on the sewing-room door.
“Enter,” Sophie called. Perhaps it was one of the servants to bring her
breakfast on a tray.

Instead, her dear friend Lucy poked her head around the
doorjamb. “Oh, good. You’re alone. I thought perhaps the girls would be with
you.”

“No, I think they are still having their breakfasts. Why do you
ask?” Sophie tossed aside Amelia’s riding jacket and rubbed her hands together.
Working the buttonholes in that stiff wool played havoc with her manicure.
Besides, a good gossip with Lucy always broke up the monotony of the day.

“Something’s happened. You’ve been distracted and vague since
you returned from shopping yesterday. And you barely said two words throughout
supper last night. What is the matter?” Lucy sank down on the settee beside her,
a grin crooking one corner of her mouth.

“I met someone.” Had she really seemed distracted? To the point
that her absentmindedness was obvious to others? Well, she had been thinking
about the lieutenant, after all.

“Really?” A broad smile crept across Lucy’s face. “Is it
someone I know? You must tell me everything.”

“No. His name is Lieutenant Charlie Cantrill.” Saying his name
aloud was difficult. It sounded so dignified and so...real, when spoken aloud.
“He is a good friend of my family’s, and he rescued me when I got lost on the
way to Guildhall Market. I literally bumped into him as I was trying to find my
way.”

“Lieutenant Cantrill?” The governess’s brows drew together, and
she looked off into space. “Why is his name so familiar to me? For I don’t know
him, but I have heard of him.”

“He does a lot of work with the veterans of Waterloo,” Sophie
added. “I am to help him work with the widows of some of the men who fell during
the battle.”

“No, that’s not it. There was some scandal when he returned
from the war—”

“Scandal?” Sophie’s heart leaped in her breast, and she leaned
forward, grasping Lucy’s hands. “Do tell!”

“I’m trying to remember. Something happened. I think he was
engaged to one girl and then the engagement was broken when he returned. As I
recall, she was rather well-placed in Society, so it was a bit of a to-do.” Lucy
smiled ruefully. “But since I don’t frequent those social circles, I cannot
recall much more than that.”

Sophie sat back. Well, this was interesting. Perhaps Cantrill
was a bit of a black sheep. That made him infinitely more intriguing. “Did he
cry off? Or did the lady?”

Lucinda shrugged her shoulders. “I cannot recall.”

Why, this added an entirely new dimension to his character.
Perhaps his moodiness and serious disposition was a mask for his true character.
Maybe he was even a bit of a rake, despite his charitable work. Sophie stifled a
laugh at the thought.

“I would watch myself around him, you know,” the governess
admonished. “Until we know the truth of what happened, you should be on your
guard.”

“I am to meet with him tomorrow,” Sophie replied, her eyes
widening at the thought. “I can’t miss it. I promised my sister I would help
with his work with the widows. The lieutenant is my brother-in-law’s closest
friend.”

Lucinda nodded. “If he is a friend of your family, then perhaps
there is no need for caution.”

Sophie nodded. “Do you know, I promised the lieutenant I would
come up with a solution to a problem he has, since he was so kind as to rescue
me yesterday. But I must confess that, even though I have been pondering it, I
have no idea what to do to help.”

Lucy shrugged. “Tell me. Perhaps we can come up with a plan
together.”

“Well, his family is very concerned with status and his place
in Society. His mother wrote that he must give up his work with the veterans and
look for a wife. His brother has ordered him to return to Brightgate and assume
some of the responsibilities of the family estate.” She sighed. “I understand
how the lieutenant must feel. I struck out on my own, and though Harriet
supported me, she was reluctant to let me come to Bath at first.”

Lucy traced a pattern on the rug with the toe of her slippered
foot. “Well, perhaps he could give the semblance of returning to Society and
status while still remaining devoted to his cause,” she replied, a thoughtful
crease marking her straight, fine brows. “After all, as long as he just gives
the appearance of being a part of Society—that may be enough to appease his
family.”

“True. But how could he compromise?”

“I don’t know. If his mother is concerned about the lieutenant
finding a wife, perhaps he could pretend to be looking for one.” Lucy rose and
walked over to the door. “I had better go find my charges. I would wager my last
pound they aren’t in the schoolroom doing their Latin lessons.” She paused in
the doorway. “Oh, and Lord Bradbury has arrived, and would like to meet with you
this morning. If you would go down to his study in fifteen minutes or so, he
will be expecting you. He likes to meet all the servants in person and will
probably plan out Amelia’s Season with you. So be prepared.”

“Of course.” All thoughts of helping the lieutenant fled. Now
she must prove her worth to her employer. Sophie rose, gathering a stack of
fashion plates to show his lordship. “I shall go down at once, Lucy. Thank you
for your help.”

Lucy winked. “Think nothing of it.”

* * *

Though Sophie had been downstairs a few times since her
arrival, the labyrinthine corridors were confusing. And why were all the doors
painted the same color? Goodness, it was difficult to know where one was going.
The clock in the hallway tolled the hour. She was going to be late to her first
meeting with Lord Bradbury. That did not bode well for her continued employment,
did it?

In exasperation, she grasped the last latch on the right and
rushed headlong into the room. An older man with a handsome and serious face
rose in surprise from a massively carved desk. “Miss Handley, I presume?”

Sophie bobbed a quick curtsy, spilling her stack of fashion
plates and foolscap on the floor. “Yes. Oh, bother.”

He came around the side of the desk and helped her scoop the
papers into a pile. “There you are, Miss Handley. Pray be seated.” He motioned
her to a coffee-colored leather chair poised in front of the desk.

His manners were so smooth, so urbane. Droplets of perspiration
began to bead Sophie’s brow. She furtively wiped them away as he took his place
behind the desk. Then he smiled at her and clasped his hands over his ink
blotter.

“You are younger than I expected, Miss Handley.” His hazel eyes
raked over her figure as if trying to determine the exact day and hour of her
birth. “My daughters already seem to adore you.”

“Um, yes.” Sophie cast about for something intelligent to say.
Anything that wouldn’t get her sacked. “Well, you see, I am young but I have
been sewing for most of my life. I feel I am very talented despite my youth,
Lord Bradbury. And I do think I can make some wondrous creations for your
daughters.”

“Please don’t feel you need to defend yourself, Miss Handley.”
He gave her an easy smile that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Why
was she reacting so? He was much older than most of the men she knew—too old for
her by half. “I was merely commenting on the obvious.”

She nodded uncertainly. He would have to take the lead from now
on. She was in uncharted waters.

“My daughters lost their mother a few years ago, and I am being
very frank when I say that I am making up for their loss with material
pleasures.” He ran a hand through his thick black hair, ruffling it a bit. “No
girls should have to grow up without a mother. It preys upon my mind.”

Sophie tilted her head to one side. Had she come to Bath merely
to solve every man’s marital woes? “Perhaps you should remarry, your
lordship.”

He leveled a piercing gaze at her that made her catch her
breath. “I may do so someday. However, my first wife was nothing short of
remarkable. I don’t think I could find the likes of her again....” His voice
trailed off.

Sophie nodded and fell silent. Nothing she said seemed to be
the right thing to say, so ’twas better to be quiet.

He turned toward the window, looking out on the sleet as it ran
in rivulets down the pane. “You are Sir Hugh Handley’s daughter, are you
not?”

“Yes, your lordship.” Any mention of her family connections
made Sophie uneasy.

“What makes you take a position in service?” He flicked a
glance her way.

She hated having to defend her choices. If her family approved,
why should Lord Bradbury care? “I desire to make my own way in the world, doing
what I love best,” she replied, raising her chin with defiance.

He turned to face her again, an inscrutable look crossing his
face. “I see,” he replied. “Well, Miss Handley, I give you free rein with my
daughters. All of my funds are at your command. Doll them up in any way you see
fit.”

She leaned forward, grabbing the pile of papers from his desk.
“Do you wish to see my ideas, my lord?”

He waved his hand in a listless fashion. “No, I trust your
judgment. Nothing too immodest, I assume?”

Heat flooded Sophie’s cheeks. “Certainly not.”

He stood, signaling the end of the interview. “Very well, then.
I hope you enjoy your work. Do not hesitate to come to me if you need bigger
lines of credit at the shops.”

She grasped her papers in one hand and rose, bobbing a shaky
curtsy. “Thank you, Lord Bradbury. I shall endeavor not to disappoint.”

* * *

Charlie Cantrill opened the door to his club with a
sigh. As the son of a wealthy merchant, there were certain things you could give
up, though the other fellows might sneer about it. Liquor and light skirts, for
example. He had been living as simply as could be following Waterloo and Beth’s
rejection. And yet, one thing remained eternal and unchanged. Devotion to one’s
club remained constant, no matter how one might cut corners in other aspects of
life.

He nodded as a valet scurried forward to take his coat and hat.
Then, scanning the open hallway, he spied one group of gentlemen playing a game
of whist in the next room. He made his way to the lounge, where Lord Bradbury
lay before the fire, deep into a glass of Scotch.

“Cantrill! What ho, man. It’s good to see you.” Rising,
Bradbury extended his hand toward Cantrill.

“Bradbury, good to see you back in town.” Cantrill shook hands
and then sank into the opposite chair. “Tea, if you please.” He smiled briefly
at the hovering butler.

Bradbury took up his Scotch with a laugh. “Never could
understand how you make do without spirits, Cantrill. They’ve kept me sane these
years since Emma died.”

“I find myself saner without them.” Time for a change of
subject. He never enjoyed talking about his abstinence with anyone who wasn’t a
close friend. Just as he kept his faith close to the vest, he kept other parts
of his life from public scrutiny. It was a private matter, after all. “I
understand that a friend of mine is recently in your employ.”

“Really?” Bradbury leaned forward, cradling the glass in both
hands. “Whom are you speaking of?”

“Miss Handley.” He found it difficult to speak the words. Why
was it so hard to say her name?

“Ah, yes.” Bradbury sat back, a satisfied smile crossing his
face. “I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Handley today. What a lovely creature.
I was quite surprised to find she was seeking employment—because she is a
Handley, and because she’s so beautiful.”

“I believe she wants to establish some measure of
independence,” Cantrill remarked. He didn’t like the light that was kindled in
Bradbury’s eyes. The man looked too satisfied and pleased with himself.

“Oh, I am sure she would be happy to give up that much-vaunted
independence when the right offer comes along,” Bradbury said with a laugh.
“Pretty young ladies like that needn’t stay employed for very long.”

The tea arrived, giving Cantrill the distraction he needed to
calm down from Bradbury’s comment. After all, wouldn’t marriage be an excellent
thing for Sophie Handley? She was a lovely girl, and would likely get an offer
of marriage from someone soon. He flicked a glance over Bradbury. The man was
older than him by a decade, and yet retained a distinguished and sportive air.
His name had been linked to at least one high-born widow in the past year. Might
he be in the market for a match? And if so, why did Charlie’s stomach revolt at
the thought? It was none of his affair, surely.

Bradbury glanced over at Cantrill. “How is she connected to
your family?”

Cantrill busied himself with pouring tea into his cup. “Her
elder sister married a good friend of mine—Captain John Brookes. Really, he’s
almost a brother to me.”

Bradbury sipped his Scotch with a meditative air. “I see. And
she is Sir Hugh Handley’s daughter, is she not? Why on earth would she be
working to earn her daily bread?”

“Well, as I am sure you heard, Bradbury, her father died
bankrupt. The family estate was sold at auction and the two girls and their
mother went to live in a small cottage in Tansley. After her sister’s marriage,
Miss Sophie came to Bath. And that’s really all I know of their story.” He
hadn’t meant to sound rude, but the look on Bradbury’s face was raising his
hackles. ’Twas none of his affair, and yet...well, he had an obligation to
Brookes and to Harriet to make sure that Sophie was protected during her stay in
Bath.

“Well, my daughters adore her, but I must make sure she is the
proper kind of young lady for the job, you know. I have acquaintances in
Liverpool—I will ask around to find out more about the Handleys and what
happened when her father died.” He polished off his Scotch and rose. “Funny. I
expected a spinster. Imagine my surprise when Aphrodite burst into my office
this morning.”

Cantrill peered up at the older man, trying to read his
thoughts. On the one hand, he seemed to regard Sophie in more than just the
usual master-servant manner. And yet, he also seemed unwilling to believe that
she was a genuinely good girl, one who was seeking her way in the world in a
manner that was admirable. He rose, setting the teacup to one side, as Bradbury
began to stroll out of the room.