Karen Harbaugh (18 page)

She had seen his former betrothed, Sophia Amberley, and knew she, Linnea, could not hold a candle to her in looks or grace of movement. How could he care for her? A despondent ache grew in her chest, but she bit her lip and dismissed it firmly. What could not be made to happen had to be lived with. That was all there was to it.

Yet she could not help wishing, wistfully, that somehow her husband would come to love her.

Chapter 10

Sophia could not help feeling a little anxious. It was afternoon, they were nearing Rothwick’s estate, and the coach did not seem at all as if it were going to break. She was not sure how a vehicle should feel when it was about to collapse, but she thought it should be less comfortable than this. It was all Rothwick’s fault, she thought, twisting her new lace handkerchief about in her hands.

“He and his interest in new innovations—I am sure he is behind this stupid—what is it called?—macadamed road! Why, it has been almost entirely smooth since our last stop,” she grumbled under her breath.

As she gazed out the carriage window, she turned over her problem in her mind. Perhaps she should have had the axle sawn halfway through instead of only one-quarter of the way through. But the wheelwright had been such a bore when he’d demanded almost all of her pin money to do it, and she’d felt just a trifle uneasy when his arguments had begun to draw attention from outside his shop. Then again, she did not want the coach to break down
too
soon; how awkward it would be to walk a great distance!

She cast a discontented glance at her brother, who sat across from her, sleeping as usual when traveling—indeed, with great comfort on this stupidly smooth road. She felt a terrible urge to pinch him if only to evoke some response; but at last the coach gave a huge lurch, and she was flung onto his chest with such force that his response was everything she could have wished for in the last boring hour.

“Gaaaak! Huuuuh!” wheezed Richard. His eyes bulged, and he gasped for breath.

Sophia scrambled off him, but the coach listed in such a way that she moved with far less than her usual grace. She shrieked as her hand encountered broken glass. “Oh! Oh! Richard! Now look at what you’ve done!”

“Haaak! Whaaah... What the devil do you mean,
I’ve
done?” snapped her brother, his lungs having finally recovered.

“If you hadn’t been so beastly as to—to
sit
there making stupid noises instead of
moving,
I would not have cut my hand, and, and oh, oh, oh! I am
bleeding
on my pink muslin!”

“Well, get your handkerchief and staunch it,” Richard replied unfeelingly. “And as for it being
my
fault—let me tell you, Sophie, that if you hadn’t insisted on making this harebrained journey into the country, we dashed well never would have had this accident in the first place!” Gingerly he reached past the scattered glass and pushed open the coach door.

“Where are you going?” cried Sophia. “Out of the coach, of course! We can’t sit here like a pair of loobies. Lord, but I hope Bobs hasn’t been hurt.”

Richard stretched his long legs out the door and clambered out inelegantly. The coachman was nowhere near the coach that Richard could see, and the carriage was badly wrecked, not the least because of the horses’ frantic bucking. Quickly he went to their heads and soothed them before they did any more damage. When they quieted, he looked about him. A low moan came from a ditch but a few feet from them. Bobs was indeed hurt.

“It’s right sorry I am, Master Richard,” whispered the man when Richard kneeled beside him. The groom closed his eyes in pain, then opened them again. “I don’t know how it happened. We were going merry as you please, and then—”

“Never mind that, man!” exclaimed Richard. “Where are you hurt?”

“My leg, sir.” Bobs smiled weakly. “I’m in a mort bit of pain all over, truth to tell.”

Richard looked down at the man’s legs and paled. One was bent at an unnatural angle, and blood smeared both. “Good God, you need a doctor—and as quickly as we can find one. And Lord only knows when that’ll be.” He looked back at the coach, where he could hear his sister complaining. “Damn! I wish I could leave my brat of a sister and get you to a doctor, but my father would have my head on a platter if I did.”

“I’ll do fine, Master Richard—”

“None of that nonsense, Bobs! I’ve known you since I was first breeched, and I know when you’re pitching it rum. Come now, man, I’ll help you.” He did his best to make his servant comfortable by putting a carriage blanket around him and then turned back to the carriage.

He hesitated a minute before extending his hand to pull Sophia through. For just one moment he savored the idea of leaving her in the coach. But no. He remembered that little bill from the jeweler’s for the sapphire set. Sophia still had it somewhere—which meant she still had him securely in the palm of her hand.

As witness this coach ride. Suddenly Sophia had had a desire to travel the roads, and of course Richard—dear brother!—simply
had
to accompany her. Certainly she could not travel alone and defenseless—it was not seemly! Richard privately thought his sister was more than a match for anything she might come across on the road, but then she had mentioned how the night sky reminded her of sapphires. Richard had sighed and given in.

As Richard pulled Sophia from the coach, he braced himself for an onslaught of recriminations, for her expression was one of extreme discontent.

But Sophia said nothing. Richard dared look at her again, and instead of the petulant glances she had been casting him, she was looking over his shoulder in positive delight.

“Oh, Sir James! Sir James Marlowe! How wonderful that you should be on the same road as we! Oh, please help us! We are in a terrible state!”

Richard turned around and saw a horseman riding at an easy pace toward them. When he came near, the man descended from his mount with effortless grace, and Richard could see he was indeed Sir James. Richard was not sure whether to be thankful or vexed, for though he was glad of any aid, he was not at all certain he wanted Sir James to be their rescuer. He eyed the man uncomfortably, for there was something about him that reminded Richard of Sophia, and Richard never felt comfortable around his sister—ever. Marlowe, meanwhile, was bowing over Sophia’s hand.

“What is this, fair one?” he asked softly. “It seems you are in considerable distress.” He put a quizzing glass to his eye and surveyed the wreckage.

“Oh, Sir James! It is quite vexing! I have cut my hand and bled upon my muslin dress, and the carriage axle broke!” Sophia gazed up at him, her round blue eyes filling slowly with tears.

She did this well, Richard thought disgustedly, for her eyes never reddened, and she always managed to let but one teardrop gather on her lower lashes and fall tastefully upon her cheek. A thought occurred to him, and he stared suspiciously at his sister. How did she know the axle had broken? She had not yet come around the carriage so that she might see the axle. Anyone else would have assumed the wheel had come off and caused the accident, since it was the wheel that was within her sight, not the axle. His hands clenched. By God, if Sophia had orchestrated this accident, he’d, he’d... He sighed. He’d do nothing. She still had that bill for the sapphire set. But he was beginning to think it was not worth all this mayhem.

Sir James was gazing at Sophia, an amused half smile on his lips. “A fortunate thing... that I came along, of course,” he said softly.

Sophia felt that he was about to say something else but was obscurely glad he did not. She was unsure if she should be vexed with him or not, for his voice sounded quite genial, yet the
way
he said things... But then Sir James smiled a very charming smile, and Sophia could not help smiling back.

“May I be of service to you, dear lady—and to you, sir?” he said, including Richard in his gaze.

“Well, sir, our groom here is badly injured, and either I must go and leave Sophia here with him while I get a doctor, or we must leave poor Bobs alone here—neither of which would do, you see,” replied Richard. He decided that he would have to make do with what was offered him. For all there had been rumors about the man, he never had heard of anything outright scandalous.

Sir James surveyed the scene again with his quizzing glass. “Quite,” he said. He returned his gaze to Richard. “Unfortunately, we are far from any inn I know of; we will have to appeal to the good nature of a local landlord or cottager. Unfortunately, again, I am familiar with only a handful of persons in this area.”

“There is Staynes,” said Sophia.

Richard looked, horrified, at Sophia. No. She wouldn’t—she didn’t—But he recognized the mulish set of her chin and knew without doubt that she had indeed planned this accident. After she had broken the betrothal, surely she couldn’t think she could—It seemed she could.

“Staynes is but a few miles from here,” continued Sophia. “We could go there and ask for help.”

Sir James’s look was bland. “Ah,” he said. “I am sure we could.”

Sophia’s face grew pink. “Well, what else
can
we do? I, for one, do not intend to stay here the rest of the day. And, and—” She looked at Sir James’s raised eyebrows and hesitated. “And Bobs
must
be attended to. We cannot spend the time searching the countryside for a doctor when someone at Staynes must know where we can send for one quickly.”

“Quite right,” replied Sir James, and smiled at her again.

Richard stared at his sister. This was the first time he had ever heard her even imply concern for someone other than herself—much less a servant. He regarded Sir James with more respect.

“Well, then, who should go?” asked Richard. “The left leader is rideable, so I suppose I could take that one.” He went to the horse and began unhitching it.

“No, Sir James and I should go,” said Sophia. “I know the way to Staynes, it is only a mile away after all, and Bobs would not feel comfortable with a stranger.”

Richard was wont to protest, for
he
did not feel comfortable allowing Sophia to leave with Sir James. But she was quite right to a point: she did know the way to Staynes, for she had visited it in the past, where Richard had not.

“Very well, then,” Richard replied shortly. “But I will go with you, Sophia, not Sir James.” He looked at Sir James apologetically. “I regret imposing on you, sir, but if you would stay with Bobs until I come back, I would be truly grateful.”

“But
I
wanted to go with Sir James!” protested Sophia.

“I am flattered,” replied Sir James, smiling at her kindly. “Alas, Miss Amberley, my horse is not at all used to carrying two riders.” He shook his head regretfully and turned to Richard. “It would be no imposition at all. I will stay here with poor, er, Bobs.”

Sophia looked confused, as if she were trying to decide whether to be insulted or pleased. Richard had a delightful feeling that in some manner his sister had been neatly put in her place. He did not know quite how Sir James had done it, but he allowed himself a fleeting sense of bliss in the thought that someone had the upper hand over Sophia.

He nodded his head. “Very well, then, sir,” he said. Richard turned to Sophia and tried not to smile at the consternation in her face. He easily led his sister to the horse he had unhitched, for she kept glancing at Sir James.

Sophia was silent during the ride, speaking merely to direct Richard to their destination. For the first time in her life, she was uncertain and unsure of herself. She had had it all planned: The accident, placed conveniently near Staynes, made it necessary they seek help there. Rothwick would be forced by the rules of hospitality to offer them his home for their stay until they could get their carriage repaired. She only needed a little time to show him he had erred greatly in preferring That Woman to her. After all, she was not as beautiful as Sophia, despite her fashionably dark hair. Why, she was a thin, drab creature after all! How easy it would be to show Rothwick the error of his ways when they stood side by side.

She was also sure, when Sir James came upon them, that he had done so in pursuit of her and that he would easily fall in with her plans. But had he? He looked at her in
such
a way when he kissed her hand—it sent shivers down her back—she was sure he had followed her out of town. But then he was
not
accompanying her to Staynes. What did he mean by it? And yet he had told her she was beautiful before—surely he admired her?

Sophia tossed her head. Sir James could pursue her or not; it did not matter to her.
Her
purpose was clear: she
must
make Rothwick see he had made a terrible mistake. Sophia smiled as she pictured it: Rothwick, on bended knee, begging her forgiveness. Rothwick, casting that wretched woman out into the desolate wilderness. And finally, Rothwick avowing his love for Sophia—only to have her spurn him as disdainfully as he had spurned her. Sophia smiled gaily. That Bobs needed special help was fortunate in the extreme; she would make sure they had to stay until he was well enough to move. It would mean she would have more time in which to relish it all.

* * * *

It was just after an errand to the head gardener that Linnea looked up to see a horse, carrying two riders, coming toward the house. She was certain they had received no notice of visitors; indeed, guests would hardly arrive riding two-a-horse. Perhaps there had been an accident on the road beyond the estate’s gates. Hurriedly she instructed a passing maid to take away her gardening basket and went to her rooms as quickly as her still aching foot would allow her.

There Linnea rang for Betty, washed, and made herself as presentable as possible. She was glad, now, that she had all the dresses she needed; how awkward it would be if she had to meet her callers in her old dress!

She heard a knock on her door.

“Enter!”

Bartle entered and bowed gravely. “My lady, there are two young persons requesting Lord Rothwick. I understand his lordship is indisposed at the moment. Shall I refuse them?” His face was a study in stiff formality, and Linnea had come to know this expression as one implying extreme disapproval.