The Temporary Betrothal (17 page)

Mother grasped the chain on which her lorgnette hung.
“Charlie—is this true? She said that bracelet was a gift from a dear
friend.”

“Oh, it was a gift from a dear friend,” Robert interrupted.
“Just rather later than we all suspected.”

“You aren’t telling me anything I don’t know already,” Charlie
ground out between clenched teeth. His anger ran so high, a whistling sound rang
through his ears. “I knew about her family and I knew about the bracelet. What
of it?”

“What of it?” Mother gasped. “Charlie, if it’s true—if she
truly accepted such a gift from Lord Bradbury and then pawned it—why, that’s
simply unacceptable.”

“It seems like nothing connected to me is welcome within this
family,” Charlie spat. “My work with the poor is ridiculed, my aspirations for
my future mocked. And now you insult my fiancée. Perhaps it is time I begin
asking whether I want to be a member of this family or not.” At the moment, a
life without family members sounded inviting.

“Oh, Charlie.” Tears streaked down Mother’s face. “How could
you say such a thing?”

“Well, what do you propose? You can’t marry a fortune hunter. I
won’t allow it.” Robert stalked over to Mother and laid his hands protectively
on her shoulders.

“I am not making a single move until I talk with Sophie,”
Charlie retorted. “She may not even want to be a member of this esteemed family
after what you likely said to her, Robert. Headache, indeed. I knew you were up
to something the moment you entered the room.”

“I was merely protecting our interests—and yours. I would think
you would thank me.”

“Remind me to thank you properly later, when our mother isn’t
present,” Charlie replied, jabbing his finger at Robert’s arrogant smile.

“Oh, boys,” Mother wept. “Do stop arguing. This is dreadful. A
brilliant match, dashed to pieces.”

“Nothing is dashed to pieces.” Charlie turned swiftly toward
the door. He needed to see Sophie—talk to her, see her face once more. Robert’s
accusations had charred something sacred. He needed to gaze into her clear blue
eyes again, to convince himself that he was right and his brother was wrong.

“Guard your pocketbook, brother,” Robert called after him as he
raced out the door.

Chapter Seventeen

“T
ut, tut. No more crying. My cologne
remedy is a proven cure for the worst of headaches.” Aunt Katherine pressed the
cold, damp handkerchief against Sophie’s temple.

Tears oozed out of the corner of Sophie’s eye, but she said
nothing. Trying to explain Robert’s behavior to anyone at that moment was a task
she could not face. Better to have Aunt Katherine believe a lie. She simply
could not bring herself to tell the old woman the truth.

Her heart ached for Charlie. Why did he not come? Had Robert
told him nothing? The moments ticked by in agonizing silence, broken only by
Aunt Katherine’s occasional murmured platitudes.

Surely Charlie would never believe Robert. He had been
dreadfully wronged by Beth Gaskell, but that was years ago. And Sophie had spent
every moment trying to prove her good intentions to him ever since she started
helping with the widows’ fund in Bath.

“Now why all these tears? Tell me, pretty Sophie.” Aunt
Katherine removed the cloth and looked deeply into Sophie’s eyes. Her wrinkled,
kindly old face glowed with a fondness that made Sophie’s heart ache. Aunt
Katherine loved her, even if others didn’t. “You are giving this old woman quite
a turn. I have never seen you so upset. Usually you have such a lovely, sunshiny
way about you.”

Sophie sighed. Perhaps she could talk around the matter,
without breaking down completely. “That dratted diamond bracelet has caused me
no end of trouble,” she whispered.

“Why do you say that?” Aunt Katherine replied, folding the
handkerchief and placing it in her lap.

“Because it is a driving wedge. It has separated me from what I
want.”

“And what is that?”

“Peace of mind. Simplicity. Goodness.” They were mere concepts,
of course. But they all meant one thing to her—Charlie Cantrill. Her lips
trembled, and she bit down to keep them still.

Aunt Katherine’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand you. Speak
sense, my girl.”

“I can’t, Auntie. Everything is topsy-turvy.” Homesickness
washed over her like a wave, leaving an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Oh, I miss Hattie. I wish she was here.”

A knock sounded on the door, and a servant poked her head in.
“There’s a Lieutenant Cantrill here to meet Miss Handley. He’s down in the
parlor, waiting.”

“I’ll be right down,” Sophie replied. She sat up, trembling all
over. Goodness, how dizzy and out of sorts she felt.

“Are you sure, my dear?” Aunt Katherine asked as the door
closed behind the servant. “You look dreadfully pale. I can go downstairs and
tell Charlie to come back tomorrow, after you’ve had a decent rest.”

“No. I must go.” Sophie rose on unsteady legs. She would keep
her promise to Robert so Charlie could continue his life’s mission. “I must see
Charlie.”

She walked down the stairs slowly. Her legs might give out if
she rushed. She opened the door to the parlor and saw him—tall, proud,
untouchable. His brown eyes had darkened to black, and he was as pale as death.
The stubble of his beard stood out in dark relief. He looked haunted—and
hunted.

“Robert spoke to you.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement
of fact.

“He did.” She sank onto a chair. Her legs would no longer
support her.

“I know about everything. Your family, your mother’s past.” He
was staring at her, his gaze burning her skin, but she could not raise her eyes
to his. If she looked at him, her resolve would crumble. And that would mean the
end of her noble decision.

“Yes.”

“I know about the bracelet. I know that you pawned it. I saw
the receipt the day I ran into you in the street.” His voice had a catch in it.
“I’ve known for some time that Lord Bradbury admired you. I don’t know why you
accepted the gift. I don’t know why you sold it. But, Sophie—none of that
matters. I would defy all my family’s objections if you will be mine.”

Her heart surged with bitter triumph. Despite everything, he
loved her. And least she had that. But still, she had to free him. She had to
free them both. It was the only way.

“I cannot, Charlie.”

“Why?” Charlie grasped her shoulder with his good hand, bending
down to peer in her face. “Because of how Robert treated you? Oh, Sophie, don’t
listen to him. He’s a blackguard, a ne’er-do-well—”

“He’s your brother.” The words fell like shards of ice from her
lips. “You cannot outrun your family. I know that only too well.”

“What are you saying?” His hand tightened on her shoulder, as
though he was afraid she was going to disappear.

“I am releasing you from our engagement. I’m releasing you from
everything associated with me. The faux courtship, the trip here to
Brightgate—all of it was a miserable farce.”

“It wasn’t.” He knelt on the floor in front of her, compelling
her to look him in the face. She turned her head to one side. “Surely you must
see that.”

The situation was becoming unbearable. Another moment of him
kneeling before her, so sweet and tender, his handsome face clouded with fury
and love, and all hope would be lost. She would succumb, and they would spend
the rest of their lives rejected and mocked by the Cantrill clan, just as the
Handleys had rejected and mocked her family.

There was but one way to end things forever. It was hateful,
but it would work. She could pretend to be as flighty and fast as Robert
believed her to be—as Charlie had believed her to be when she first met him. She
must manipulate the flaw in his character—the need to be right, to always be
right. It was the only way to rescue them both.

She was the daughter of celebrated actress Cecile Varnay, after
all.

Sophie inhaled deeply. “I’ve changed my mind, that’s all,” she
replied, forcing a light and breezy tone into her voice. “I don’t want to spend
the rest of my life working for the poor or living in poky old Brightgate. I
love the glitter of Society, and I want to spend the rest of my days in Bath,
working for Lord Bradbury.”

“This is very sudden.” His voice was a low growl that caused
the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. “This doesn’t sound like you at
all, Sophie.” He leaned toward her, and traced her jawline with the tip of his
finger. “Only today you told me, ‘whither thou goest, I will go.’”

She could not suppress the shiver that ran through her at his
touch, and her shoulders jerked. “I—I was joking,” she breathed. “La, how you
take on so. I vow, you are so easy to fool.”

“Either I am easy to fool, or you are a consummate actress,” he
snapped. “I do not believe this charade, Sophie. I only wonder why you are
acting in this manner.”

To save us both.

“I suppose I finally saw what Beth Gaskell saw upon your
return.” It was so hard to say the words. She forced them out between clenched
teeth. “And I thought I could stomach your defects, but I find I cannot. Robert
merely made it easier for me to say goodbye.”

He sucked in his breath as though she had punched him in the
stomach. A terrible silence descended over the parlor. Sophie’s heart pounded in
her ears. What a cruel, wicked thing to say. She never would have done it—but
she needed to. Surely he would go now and leave her in peace.

“Very well, Miss Handley.” He rose, and a draft of cool air
replaced the warmth of his body, leaving Sophie sick and cold. “Our engagement
has ended. I trust I can still depend upon you to help with the widows’ fund?
You are, after all, your sister’s liaison.”

“Oh, I can’t be bothered with that.” She waved her hand
listlessly. “I shall be too busy with Lord Bradbury’s family. I will write to
Harriet and ask her to make other arrangements.”

“See that you do.” His voice was laced with polite warning. He
was leaving, his boots thudding across the parlor floor. “I should hate to ever
see you again.”

The door slammed shut, rattling the pictures on the wall.
Sophie laid her head against the back of the chair. She was too heartsick to cry
anymore. She only felt an icy sense of dread and loneliness, a feeling that
would probably never go away.

In a moment, she would go upstairs and tell Aunt Katherine that
she was ready to return to Bath. She’d have to field the old lady’s prying
questions. She’d have to pack. She’d have to endure the several days’ coach ride
back to Bath, for Aunt Katherine traveled at a leisurely pace that set one’s
very nerves on edge.

But at the end of her journey—what then? Sophie closed her
eyes, conjuring the sweet faces of Amelia and Louisa. She would have those dear
girls. And she would have Lucy. If she couldn’t have Harriet, at least Lucy was
a good second. She’d nurse her wounds privately and pour everything she had into
those trusted friendships.

And perhaps she could give her money to the widows in Bath
without ever letting anyone know where it came from. Yes, that was the best
thing to do.

She rose from the chair. There was no use feeling sorry for
herself. After all, she had shoved Charlie away. He had come to her full of
tenderness and love, ready to cast his family aside for her sake. What she did,
she did for him, though he must never know it.

With leaden feet, she crossed the parlor and trudged up the
stairs.

* * *

“So?” Robert was waiting for him, lurking on the landing
as Charlie strode in. “Did she deny everything?”

Charlie was in no mood for Robert and his mocking ways. In
fact, Robert was the cause of all this misery. “I’ll thank you to get out of my
way.”

“So, then, will we be welcoming this fast piece into the bosom
of our family? Will the Cantrill fortune be spent faster than I can make it on a
blonde chit with blue eyes?” Robert shook his head. “I expected better of you,
brother.”

“Our engagement is over.” Charlie shouldered past his brother
and mounted the second flight of stairs.

“What a relief.” Robert followed close on his heels. “Now
perhaps you will see reason and come to live in Brightgate. I cannot manage all
the family’s wealth on my own, you know. It’s time for you to take an active
role.”

Charlie paused, turning on his brother. “Aren’t you afraid that
I am not competent to manage anything? After all, you pointed out that I cannot
seem to find a decent woman to share my life with. Surely you cannot entrust me
with the finer details of estate management.”

Robert turned a mottled shade of violet. It was not a pretty
sight. “No— I never meant that—”

“Oh, dear brother, you inferred it. And that’s fine with me. I
couldn’t be trusted with the management of the Cantrill family fortune. I’m
merely a career soldier, after all. And I even blundered at that, losing my arm
and fainting for the length of the battle at La Sainte Haye.” Charlie finished
mounting the stairs and stared deeply down at his brother’s furious expression.
“So I shall do what is best for the family. I’ll return to Bath and continue my
work with the poor. It seems to be the only thing I am capable of.”

“Charlie—” Robert’s smooth, oily voice held a pleading tone.
“Please, see reason. You cannot go on living the way you do in Bath. It’s simply
not acceptable. Stay here in Brightgate, live in luxury. Help me with the
estate. It’s really what you should be doing.”

“On the contrary. I refuse to apologize for my work with the
veterans any longer. It’s the only thing that gives my life a purpose. And now
that my future happiness with Sophie Handley has been wrecked, it’s the only
solace I shall have. So cut off my income, Robert. Shame me as much as you wish.
If I can’t have the woman I want, I shall at least live the life I want.” He
slapped the banister with his hand. “I leave for Bath within the hour. Break the
news to Mother. I am done with the lot of you.”

True to his word, within the appointed hour, Charlie left his
family home in Brightgate without a single look back. Mother’s tearful pleadings
still rang in his ears. But he was right. He was sure of it.

He relaxed his rigid back against the carriage seat. He would
return and continue his work with the veterans, without interference from his
family, for the foreseeable future. He was liberated—and at the same moment, as
alone and solitary as he had ever been.

His mind flashed back to Sophie’s resolute profile, her pale
cheeks and proud tilt of her head. She was the only thing he was uncertain of.
Had she really changed her mind about him? Or had she cast him aside in a kind
of noble martyrdom? He had thought she’d changed over the months she had been in
Bath. She’d grown more serious, more compassionate, and warmer. And yet, today
her behavior had been so flippant that it left a sour taste in his mouth. Her
reference to Beth Gaskell had been the very last straw.

He would bide his time. The answer lay in patience. He would
give them both time to recover.

And then he would find a way to see the real Sophie
Handley.