The Temporary Betrothal (21 page)

She stared intently at her sister’s glossy brown hair, parted
exactly down the middle and looped around her ears. The same hairstyle...and yet
something was different. She ran her eyes over Harriet, trying to assess the
difference. Yes, something had changed. For one thing, Harriet looked softer,
rounder even.

Sophie stepped into the room, her boots making nary a sound on
the heavy Oriental rug. Then she cleared her throat.

“My, my, Hattie! You’ve gotten positively plump!”

Chapter Twenty-One

“S
ophie? Sophie, my dear—is that really
you?” Hattie dropped her pen and stood, her face draining of all its color.
Brookes also cast aside his quill and rose, his face breaking into a surprised
grin.

“Sophie, bless your heart. We had no idea you were coming
home.” He walked around his desk, with that same loping stride he had adapted
long ago for his wooden leg, and enveloped her in a warm hug. Then he turned to
Harriet and extended his hand to her protectively. “Harriet, are you all
right?”

“Yes, of course!” She ran her hand over her middle and then
clutched Brookes’s hand as she came out from behind her desk. “Oh, Sophie. My
dear, I have missed you so.” Harriet embraced Sophie, but something—a large,
round ball, it felt like—wedged between them in the embrace.

Sophie took a step backward, holding onto Harriet’s shoulders.
“Goodness, Hattie. Is Rose’s cooking agreeing with you a bit too much? Or is
there something you wish to tell me?”

Harriet smiled her beautiful, quiet smile, and cast her eyes
downward. “I am expecting. The baby should come sometime after the New
Year.”

Sophie’s heart glowed. How many wonderful things had happened
in the short time she was in Bath? And now she was here to watch them all come
to fruition. “Harriet, Brookes, I am so happy for you both! This is a cause for
great rejoicing.”

Brookes motioned her over to a leather chair. “Sophie, did you
travel alone? Why is no one with you? And how did you come here without letting
us know? I would have sent our carriage for you, anytime you desired a trip
home.” His dark voice betrayed a concerned tone.

“Well...” Sophie hesitated. With Harriet’s delicate condition,
and her own dawning fatigue, she had no desire to discuss the unfortunate
reasons for her visit. She cast a pleading look at Harriet, who nodded
briskly.

“Brookes,” she chided. “Sophie’s worn out. And after days and
days of pub food, I am sure she is ready for a decent meal.” Harriet leaned over
and rang the bell. “There will be plenty of time for discussions after my poor
sister has recovered from her journey.”

Brookes nodded, and then looked over at Harriet. Something
flashed between them—a look, an understanding. Then he added, “I’ll just go see
to the horses. Give you time to settle in, Sophie. I’ll see you two ladies again
at supper.” He bent down and planted a kiss on top of Harriet’s head, and then
patted Sophie’s shoulder as he departed.

Bunting, Brookes Park’s butler, entered just as his master was
leaving. “Did you need something, Mrs. Brookes?”

“Yes, Bunting. A lavish tea tray, with every good nibble Rose
can conjure. And don’t tell Rose that Miss Sophie is home yet. I want to
surprise her in a little while.”

Bunting’s broad face betrayed the hint of a smile. “Very good,
ma’am.”

After the door closed softly behind him, Harriet turned to
Sophie, her dark blue eyes wide. “Now that you know my news, shall I hear
yours?”

The dam was indeed in danger of breaking again. Sophie took a
deep breath to calm her nerves. “So much to tell, sister. I don’t know where to
begin.”

“Why don’t you begin by telling me if anyone accompanied you?
And how you happened to come here?”

“Aunt Katherine arranged my travel. She saw to everything, and
sent Hannah along as my duenna. She would have sent word ahead, Hattie, but I
swore her to secrecy.”

Harriet nodded. “Auntie is quite good at arranging last-minute
flights from Bath. You recall—it was she who helped me to come home quickly
after Mama fell so ill.”

Sophie’s heart lurched, and tears stung her eyes. “Of course, I
remember.” Oh, botheration, the tears would not be checked. “My Hattie, what a
muddle. And I hate to cry about it. I don’t want to cry about it. But if I tell
you everything that’s happened—” she broke off to give a mighty sniff “—then
I’ll start blubbering.”

“Wait until the tea arrives,” Harriet warned sagely. “It’s much
easier to talk about bad news when you’ve had a bite to eat.”

“Now you sound like Rose.” Sophie couldn’t hold back her
laughter, but it quickly dissolved into a watery sob.

“Rose is very wise,” Harriet replied quietly. “Now, did you
know that Rose and Stoames are engaged?”

“Yes, Stoames showed me in. How fantastic! And a little
scandalous, too.”

“Yes. You can imagine how the sheep and the cows are gossiping
about it.” Harriet laughed.

“I forgot. Tansley isn’t exactly a beacon for Society, is it?
How refreshing,” Sophie replied. Bunting knocked discreetly on the door and
entered, bearing a tray of delectable goodies and a steaming hot pot of tea.
Sophie breathed in deeply. While it was true that Lord Bradbury’s cook was quite
good, nothing ever compared to Rose’s light hand with scones.

Harriet busied herself with pouring the tea and filling a small
plate with tempting foods. She admonished Sophie that the tea was too hot to
drink, and Sophie could not suppress a smile. Harriet would always be the older
sister, perennially ordering her about. Keeping her safe from harm. Why, if
Harriet had come to Bath, she would have prevented everything that had befallen
Sophie.

They ate and drank in sisterly comfort, Sophie taking strength
from Harriet’s calming presence and from Rose’s excellent cooking. They chatted
about the farm and the mill, about Harriet’s plans for the baby’s room, and
about the romance that had blossomed between Stoames and Rose.

It was a long, languorous August afternoon, already beginning
to feel like autumn. In the distance, cattle lowed. Servants bustled past the
library door as they attended to the business of running Brookes Park. Such a
peaceful place. No one wanted anything of her. No one expected anything of her.
How easy it would be to fall back into her old lazy, selfish ways.

“Harriet, I want to confess,” she began quietly.

“Dear Sophie, you may tell me anything.” Harriet leaned forward
and patted her knee with a gentle touch.

Once she began speaking, all of the words flowed out of
her—halting at first, and then gathering momentum. She told Harriet
everything—her love for Amelia and Louisa, her comradeship with Lucy, her work
with the widows and her plan to clothe them all with the funds from the pawned
bracelet. She poured out her love for Charlie Cantrill, her disgust at his
family’s behavior, her disappointment at Lord Bradbury’s improper advances.

Harriet’s eyebrows raised until they disappeared under the
wings of her dark hair, and her blue eyes grew wider and more sapphire-tinged as
Sophie’s story progressed. Sophie explained her flight to Aunt Katherine’s, her
secret journey in the Crossley Berlin and then her blessed arrival at Brookes
Park. Harriet, ever a good listener, simply nodded and prompted with the
occasional question, but did not break in until Sophie finished her woeful tale
and poured another cup of tea.

“My goodness,” was her eventual reaction.

“Precisely.” Sophie drank deeply.

“Well, my dear, if John ever hears that Lord Bradbury tried to
make you his mistress, he will likely challenge him to a duel.” Harriet sighed.
“And I shall, of course, have to find a way to make peace between Charlie and
John once he hears how terribly you were treated by the Cantrills. Oh, Sophie,
this was not what I wished for you at all. I wanted you to enjoy your time in
Bath.”

“I did enjoy it. I learned so much—if only I could tell you how
I’ve grown, Hattie.” She paused. “Can you not prevent Brookes from challenging
every man I knew in Bath to a duel? I don’t want anything more to do with any of
them. I want to stay here and enjoy the peace and solace of Brookes Park for as
long as I am able. May I be the maiden aunt to your adorable baby?”

Harriet smiled. “I shall be delighted to have your company
during my confinement, and of course, Brookes Park is your home. You can choose
one of the suites upstairs, and make it your very own. I shall have to speak to
John about the Cantrills and Bradbury. He still has a fearsome temper at times.
I will let him know your wishes, my darling.”

“Thank you, Hattie. It’s so good to be home. Tell me, shall we
go to the kitchen now and tease Rose about Stoames?”

Harriet laughed. “I should like nothing better.”

* * *

The first step began with forgiveness. He could not win
Sophie back if he had a heart full of bitterness and hatred. Even so, this was
the hardest thing Charlie had ever attempted. He was never this nervous, not
even when facing a battle.

He glanced around the Assembly Rooms. The chandeliers
glittered, and their guttering flames cast prisms of light around the highly
polished floors. He adjusted his cravat. The thing was about to choke him, and
the points were so high he could not move his head naturally. This was why he
never moved about in Society. It was so deuced uncomfortable.

But all would be well. He would come here to do what he needed
to do, and then he would leave. He could almost feel the sweet, late-summer
breeze on his face as he left the overcrowded ballroom for the very last time.
How wonderful it would feel. Freedom at last.

A crowd of young debutantes parted, and he spotted his quarry.
He strode across the ballroom with quick, purposeful steps. The young women, all
clad in pastel gowns with varying degrees of modesty, stared at him with frank
interest. A redhead turned to a brunette and whispered behind her gloved hand.
They nudged each other and giggled.

He ignored the chits and walked straight up to the young lady
who had been the cause of so much misery and grief for the past year. Her long,
black hair was piled loosely on top of her head, and her gown, a shimmery gold,
was cut far too low for decency. He averted his glance, heat flooding his face.
Shame filled his soul, for this was the girl who had broken his heart. But here,
in the crush of this stuffy ballroom, he saw her for what she really was.

And he forgave her.

“Miss Gaskell, may I have this dance?”

Her chocolate-brown eyes flashed with something like laughter.
“Of course, Lieutenant.”

He led her out onto the dance floor, wrapping his good arm
around her lower back. She grasped his prosthetic hand and took a step back. The
strange pull in his gut that had always surged with her touch had completely
vanished. Attraction and aversion vanished. She was, simply, a girl he once
knew. He looked down at her, a smile touching the corners of his mouth.

“Miss Gaskell, I must ask you something.”

She tossed her glossy dark head and gave him a brilliant smile.
“Of course, Lieutenant.”

“Can you forgive me?”

She paused in the midst of their waltz, stumbling over her
slippered feet. He smoothly guided her through the next step, helping her regain
her footing.

Her eyebrows drew together in a straight line, and her
brilliant smile had faded to an uncertain frown. “I beg your pardon?”

“I asked your forgiveness.” He guided her through the next turn
by pressing his hand against her back.

“For what? Is this some kind of jest? If so, it is in very poor
taste.”

“It is no jest.” He glanced down at her, then looked back out
at the ballroom, steering her through the crowd with expert precision. “When I
returned from the war, I was a changed man. Not only physically, but in my mind,
my heart, my soul. I was a different man from the one who left for the Peninsula
with your miniature in my trunk and your whispered promises in my mind.”

“Please, don’t.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“Upon my honor, I do not wish to pain you,” he continued. “But
I have done you a grave disservice, Miss Gaskell. When I returned and I was so
very changed from the man you had pledged to marry, I should have given you more
time to get to know me again. Or at the very least, I should have set you free
without any ill feelings. I did neither.” He paused and guided her through a
tricky turn, holding her firmly at the small of her back. “And for that, I am
truly sorry.”

She looked up at him, an uncertain expression still on her
face. “Your apology is accepted, Lieutenant. May I ask why you chose this
moment, and this place, to speak to me about this matter?”

“I am in love, and the only way I can win the one I love is by
righting all of these wrongs. I am starting this journey with you, because my
anger at you made me fight my feelings for this lady for far too long. And I am
sorry I held bitterness in my heart. I should have understood your
perspective.”

The music ended with a flourish, and he broke his hold on her
to bow. She curtsied deeply, and he averted his glance from her too-low
bodice.

“Would you stroll about the room with me?” Beth asked, linking
her arm through his.

“Of course,” he replied with what he hoped was a gallant air,
as his impatience to quit the crowded ballroom mounted. He had planned to have
one dance and be off. He led Beth to the perimeter of the room as the musicians
began striking up the notes for the next dance.

Beth cleared her throat, an unusual flush creeping over her
face as he glanced at her in profile. He had made Miss Elizabeth Gaskell, one of
the highest-flying chits in Society, blush. Truly today was an unusual day. One
for the betting books, if he still partook in that diversion.

As they neared a secluded part of the ballroom, where only a
few straggling servants bustled about carrying trays of food and drinks for the
dancers, Beth halted in her tracks and spun around.

“I’m sorry, too,” she blurted, her eyes darting left and right
as she spoke.

“You are?” He could hardly believe his ears. The spirited,
devil-may-care debutante had never apologized to anyone for anything in his
recollection.

“Yes.” She cleared her throat and spoke more softly. “When you
returned, the changes I perceived in you made me feel as though an ocean were
between us. And I thought I couldn’t marry you because we were no longer the
same people. I should have behaved...differently. Can you forgive me?”