The Temporary Betrothal (14 page)

Neither. He was just bitterly disappointed. He thought Sophie
had changed from the girl who cast John Brookes over. She seemed so mature, so
thoughtful since her arrival in Bath. But was all of that a mere facade? His
anger ebbed, and he wiped a weary hand over his brow.

There was nothing to do but wait. He was shackled to Sophie,
for better or worse, for the next few days. He mounted the steps of his flat,
ready to have a few moments of quiet reflection and a pot full of bracingly hot
tea.

But instead of these comforts, Moriah Cantrill met him inside
with a letter—sent via express post, if he could judge by the markings. “Do open
it, Charles,” Mother commanded. “It is from your uncle Arthur.”

Chapter Fourteen

S
ophie weighed the diamond bracelet in the
palm of her hand.

She could sell it and get money to help the widows in Bath. She
had given much thought to it since yesterday. With the proceeds from its sale,
she could buy enough fabric and notions to help clothe all the women in the
group, and their children, too. She could devise a sort of sewing circle among
the women, everyone sharing in the work. In no time, all the women and children
could have new dresses. She might even devise a few patterns—something simple
that would maximize the use of the fabric and make the dresses quicker to sew.
The threadbare garments the widows wore could be a thing of the past.

If she only sold her diamond bracelet.

And yet—

She stared into the fiery sparkle the diamonds cast in the
morning light. It was very hard indeed to give up such a beautiful thing. She’d
never owned anything like it in her born days. When Papa was rich, she was too
young for jewels. Only Mama had them, and meant to keep them for Harriet and for
Sophie. But then, Mama’s jewel case was the first thing the duns seized after
Papa died. She clasped it around her wrist once more. The bracelet was heavy and
warm against her skin. It slid up her arm and caught just before her elbow. She
held her arm up, watching the diamonds cast prisms around the room. Could she
really give it up?

How astonishing that Lord Bradbury could afford to give such a
jewel away like candy. And how equally astonishing that just one of those could
clothe a group of fifteen individuals for a Season.

“‘If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell what thou hast, and give
to the poor...’” Sophie whispered. She had no need of the bracelet. It could
help many people in desperate circumstances. She unclasped it and tucked it into
her handkerchief, then placed the bundle gently inside her reticule. There was a
pawnshop in Lower Bristol Road. She could certainly sell the bracelet there.
There were also jewelers. Where should she go to sell it? And how quickly could
she get there?

Louisa and Amelia were in the schoolroom with Lucy. They would
likely be occupied until luncheon. She had nothing to do this morning except
darn a few stockings, and that could be accomplished quickly. If she hurried to
the pawnbrokers, no one would ever need to know that she had gone. It was just a
few minutes away.

She rushed to her wardrobe and pulled out her bonnet and
pelisse. If she hesitated for even a moment, she might change her mind.

She dashed downstairs and through the back door of the kitchen,
scurrying toward the bend in the road that connected Windsor to Bristol. She
could be there in fifteen minutes if she hurried. Holding on to her bonnet with
one hand, she hastened her steps.

This had nothing whatever to do with Charlie Cantrill. Once his
mother departed and their faux courtship finally ended, then she would no longer
seek his approval. Right? His puzzling demeanor certainly had
not
kept her up all night, wondering what was
bothering him. He might be handsome in a forbidding sort of way, and he might
have wonderfully muscled arms, but he was nothing to her. Nothing at all.

In truth, the bracelet was something of a fetter. It linked her
to Lord Bradbury in a way she didn’t exactly like. And the sooner that fetter
was broken, the better. This experiment would benefit so many people, and it was
good training for when she had her own dress shop. She could see how well she
would do at supervising the cutting and stitching of many gowns at once. It was
quite exciting.

She rounded the corner and found the pawnshop. It was a
pleasant-looking building with a cheerful window box full of daisies. Gathering
her courage, she opened the door and stepped hesitantly inside.

The shopkeeper was consulting with a young dandy, who appeared
to be selling a pair of cufflinks. Sophie squinted at them. Yes, they were very
fine. Had to be rubies and gold. It was impossible not to overhear their
conversation, but Sophie kept her head discreetly turned to one side. She
feigned interest in a pair of ornate silver candlesticks as she waited for them
to finish their transaction.

“What can you give me for them?” The young man drummed his
fingers nervously on the countertop.

The shopkeeper held them up to the light. “A few hundred?”

The young man cleared his throat. “Can you make it four?” His
voice was husky and low.

“Yes, but let me warn you. It’s young bucks like you who keep
me in business. Stay out of the gaming hells and you will have no need to sell
anything.” The shopkeeper counted out the money and handed it to his customer,
who sighed audibly.

“Obliged to you,” he replied. Spying Sophie, he swept a low
bow. “Miss.” He departed, slamming the door behind him.

“How can I help you, miss?” The shopkeeper turned to her with a
friendly smile.

“I have a bracelet to sell.” She opened her reticule and
withdrew the handkerchief. Then she parted the fine linen fabric, revealing the
sparkling jewels.

“Are you sure?” the man replied incredulously. “That is an
exceptional bracelet.” He turned it over carefully, examining it closely. Then
he pulled out a magnifying glass and looked at it again.

“Yes, I am quite determined. How much can you give me for
it?”

The shopkeeper glanced up at her. “Are you in debt?”

“Goodness, no.” Sophie smiled.

“Are you selling it for a friend?”

“No. It was given to me, but I can use the money better
elsewhere.” She briefly described her intention to clothe the widows of
Waterloo. “So, you see, the bracelet can do more good for these women than it
could ever do merely decorating my wrist.”

He pursed his lips. “Very well. I must say I admire you. Most
young ladies would rather keep the bracelet than sell it for anything. I can
give you one thousand for it.”

Sophie gasped. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Quite.”

She accepted the money with trembling fingers and left the shop
in haste. The shopkeeper might reconsider and decide he was giving her too much.
She fairly flew down the street, holding her reticule tightly against her chest.
This was more than she bargained for. Here was the start of an entirely new
fund, one that could clothe all the widows and their children—not just for a
Season, but for a year.

Rounding the corner of Upper Bristol, she collided with a man
and fell. He grasped her elbows and steadied her just before her knee struck the
cobblestones.

“Sophie.”

She glanced up, still clutching her reticule.

Charlie Cantrill. Of course. She had a way of bumping into him
whenever she was trying to complete a task on her own.

“Sir,” she panted. “I had no idea you were there. I beg your
pardon.”

“It’s all right,” he responded, letting go of her as abruptly
as he would a snake. “I was coming to see you. What are you doing here? I
expected to call on you at Lord Bradbury’s.”

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had received pilfered
goods. Her face heated to her hairline and she could only stammer. “It—it was
s-such a pretty day...” She had to get control of herself. Clearing her throat,
she tried again. “What did you need to see me about?” Was he going to offer an
explanation for his strange behavior yesterday?

“I’ve had a letter from Uncle Arthur. He’s making me his heir,
if we wed. And Mother wants us all to journey to Brightgate together.”

* * *

She was hiding something. That much was certain. As she
turned away from him briefly, Charlie bent and retrieved a piece of paper that
had fluttered to the ground when they collided. He tucked it into his jacket
pocket and looked at her expectantly.

She was blushing, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “So, our
faux courtship has gotten rather...out of hand.”

He nodded, tightening his mouth into a grim line. “It would
appear so.”

Her face, normally so open and so inviting, was like a window
with the curtains drawn. He could discern none of her thoughts or feelings. It
was rather disconcerting, to tell the truth. “What do we do now?” she asked, her
voice shaking.

He passed his hand over his brow. “I don’t know what to do.”
The words rushed out of him like water in a stream. “This courtship was supposed
to fix one problem. Instead, it’s created a host of others. I have no idea how
to proceed. I am a career soldier, Sophie. And I have no idea which direction to
go.”

“Why does your mother want us to journey to Brightgate?” She
placed her hand on his arm.

He coughed, spluttering out the words.
“For...the...wedding.”

Her complexion turned a deeper shade of pink. “Isn’t that
rather hasty? We aren’t even engaged yet.”

“For the time being, Mother wants you to meet my family.”

She shook her head. “I am not sure I could get away. Amelia’s
Season will start in earnest in a few weeks, and I am expected to be on hand.”
She pursed her lips. “Although, Lord Bradbury has made it quite clear that if I
become engaged, I will be relieved of my position in his household.”

Charlie’s head snapped up. “I surmised as much.” She was in as
untenable a position as he. Worse, even. She stood to lose everything. He
clenched his teeth together.

Her lips were trembling. Despite his best efforts, his heart
softened. He could not bear to see a woman cry, even if he were completely
unsure of said woman’s motives. “Oh, Charlie, what are we to do?”

“Don’t cry,” he admonished her. “We will think of
something.”

“If I go with you to Brightgate, I will lose my job. If I
don’t, then you will lose your inheritance,” she replied in that same trembling
tone, unshed tears darkening her eyes to sapphire. “It’s a terrible situation
with no escape.”

“What if you came with me to Brightgate?” he reasoned. “Perhaps
his lordship could be persuaded to let you stay on. I could speak to him. I will
ask him to release you for just a fortnight, and then you would return.”

“But then our arrangement would be made public. He would know
we were courting, and that your mother expects us to wed. Otherwise, there would
be no reason for us to go together. And it would be quite indecent for me to
travel with you if we weren’t betrothed.” Tears spilled over and ran down her
cheeks.

Against his better judgment, he reached out and traced the path
of her tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded in a husky tone. She was
entrancing him, and he was helpless against it. At any moment, he would promise
her anything. Beauty was always his weakness, and beauty in distress was
irresistible.

There had to be some way she could journey with him to
Brightgate without causing any commotion. They could leave their engagement
unannounced. Once in his brother’s home, without the distractions of Bath, he
could reason with his family. Find some way to make everyone happy. And then
Sophie could return to her position, just as she needed to...

Aunt Katherine.

Aunt Katherine would arrange matters with Lord Bradbury, and
the Cantrills would not even be a part of the equation. If they happened to
journey at the same time—or close to it—then no one need be any the wiser. Of
course. Unbidden, a grin broke across his face.

“I have the answer. If Aunt Katherine journeyed with you, then
you could go as her companion. You are relatives, after all.” Hastily, he
explained the rest of his strategy to her.

“But once we are in Brightgate, everyone will expect us to be
engaged.” Her brows drew together in confusion. “I only see how this gets me
there and back without losing my position. I don’t see how this benefits
you,
Charlie. You still have to find a way to make
your uncle happy so you can be his heir.”

“I don’t care overmuch for being an heir,” he responded. “I
still want to live simply, and I still want to continue my work in Bath. If I
were my uncle’s beneficiary, I would give almost all of it away. This ruse
merely buys us time. Time for me to reason with my uncle, and time for you to be
away from work for a while. You’ve been quite busy—surely a respite is in
order?”

“I suppose.” She rubbed her temples. “I must go back to Lord
Bradbury’s, Charlie. Louisa and Amelia may notice I am gone, and I don’t want to
get into trouble.”

“Of course.” He offered her his arm. “Come along.”

On the way back to Lord Bradbury’s, Sophie was silent. Her
normally effervescent manner was dulled, and the spark was dimmed from her
expression. It was most unusual for her to be so solemn. He patted her hand in
what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Don’t fret, Sophie. It will all work out
fine. I will speak to Aunt Katherine and we will arrange matters so that your
position with his lordship is secured.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I am worried about.”

“What is troubling you, then?”

“I don’t know. I wish my life were simple. I wish I could just
help others, as you do. It seems like every time I take a step to help someone,
all I do is muddy the water.” She paused and turned toward him. “Oh, Charlie, I
am sorry that I caused you so much trouble. I was honestly trying to help.
Whatever you think of me, I think of you as a friend.”

He blinked. Her candor never failed to knock him back a few
paces. “Think nothing of it,” he responded. “You are a good friend.”

Tears filled her eyes again, and she blinked rapidly. “I must
go.” She waved her hand toward Lord Bradbury’s home. “Luncheon will be served
soon. Will you let me know how things progress? How shall I know when Aunt
Katherine has spoken to his lordship?”

“I will have her send word. I will try not to contact you, to
avoid raising his lordship’s suspicions.” He bowed over her hand. “I shall see
you soon.”

She bobbed a quick curtsy and rushed toward the rear of the
townhome, clutching the reticule closely. As he turned to go, the rustle of
paper in his pocket stopped him. He drew it out and unfolded it.