The Temporary Betrothal (22 page)

As she spoke, peace flooded his soul. Forgive her? Of course he
could forgive her. She was, after all, a very young girl, spirited, sometimes
unwise in her choices. She had not deliberately set out to harm him, any more
than he had deliberately set out to run her off.

“Of course I do. Do you forgive me, Miss Gaskell?”

Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “I do.”

“Thank you.” He offered her his arm once more, and they resumed
their stroll around the room. “Miss Gaskell, I offer you my very best wishes for
the future. But I must depart. This ballroom is playing havoc with my
sensibilities.”

She laughed, tossing her head once more. “You never did like
balls or soirees.”

He led her over to a gilt chair and bowed. “No, indeed. But I
am very glad I came to this one. Goodbye, Miss Gaskell.”

She curtsied deeply and gave a genuine smile, one that warmed
the cockles of his heart. “I wish you the best of luck with your young lady,
Lieutenant. And I am very glad you came tonight, too. Adieu.”

He left the ballroom as quickly as he could navigate through
the crush, his light spirits returning as the soft August breeze ruffled his
cravat. That was the first step on his journey. He had more to make before he
could travel to Tansley and beg Sophie to be his. But it was a journey worth
making.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“H
onestly, Hattie. Four gowns are not
nearly enough for my niece or nephew,” Sophie protested, her lap full of fine
cambric and flannel. “I shall make at least four more, and then start stitching
together nappies.”

Harriet shook her head, chuckling softly. “My baby is not one
of your fine Bath ladies, Sophie. Really, fewer gowns should be sufficient.”

“Are you going to deny me this pleasure?” Sophie held up a
length of fabric, measuring it from the tip of her nose to her outstretched
hand. “No, indeed. After Rose nearly dissuaded me from making her wedding dress,
now you want to keep me from whipping up some delightful baby gowns? Really, I
never knew that the Brookes family was such a stingy lot.”

Harriet merely smiled and rolled her eyes, then directed her
attention back to her manuscript. They sat together in the sitting room of
Sophie’s suite, the morning sun gilding the cheerful yellow walls. She had been
at Brookes Park for less than a week, and already she had become accustomed to
the easy pattern of life there. She took on the task of making Harriet’s entire
layette, with baby clothing and diapers, and had let out several of Harriet’s
gowns to accommodate her increasing middle. Over Rose’s embarrassed protests,
she had declared her intention to make the wedding gown for those upcoming
nuptials. Oh, it wasn’t the daring and lavish kind of stitchery she was used to
in Bath, but it was infinitely dearer and cozier.

A knock sounded on the door. “Enter,” Sophie and Harriet
chorused in unison.

Bunting entered, bearing a letter on a silver tray. “This came
for you this morning, Miss Sophie.”

She glanced at the handwriting. A letter from Lucy. Nervous
excitement coursed through her. She had been too busy to write Lucy, but hoped
to hear from her just the same. She snatched the missive off the tray. “Thank
you, Bunting.”

“Mrs. Brookes, the captain desires for you and for Miss Sophie
to join him in his study when you are done with your morning’s work.”

“Of course, Bunting,” Harriet replied. “We shall be down after
Sophie has had a chance to read her letter.”

He nodded respectfully and bowed as he closed the door.

Sophie broke the seal with shaking fingers.

My dear Sophie,

You can only imagine the hue and cry that
your departure has caused in the Bradbury household. Amelia and Louisa broke
down into hysterics upon hearing that you had gone, and I had to administer
the vinaigrette as Amelia nearly fainted. Lord Bradbury has said nothing
about your departure, but goes about his business in the same suave manner
that he always does. The
on dit
links him to a
certain blond soprano who is as ambitious as she is beautiful.

I managed to obey your wishes for a few
days, and then finally told the truth of your departure to Lieutenant
Cantrill. He was furious at Bradbury and left, I think, to challenge his
lordship to a duel. If anything came of their confrontation I have not heard
it. But the lieutenant has been absent from all the weekly veterans’
meetings, and I believe he is no longer in Bath.

My dearest Sophie, I wish you could
return, as I miss your companionship. Now I have no one to advise me about
the ensign. Would you believe that we are also meeting on Tuesdays in the
park?

Lucy’s letter broke into a rambling paean to the many virtues
of the ensign. With a sigh, Sophie skipped to the end of the missive.

If you cannot come to Bath soon, I shall have
to journey to Tansley to see you. My best wishes to you and your family,
darling.

With fondness,

Lucy

Sophie folded the letter back up and cast it aside. “Well, it
is settled, then. Everyone knows of my flight from Bath. Even Lieutenant
Cantrill.”

“Who was the letter from? Was it from Charlie?” Harriet put her
pen down and stacked the sheets of foolscap together in a tidy pile.

“No, it was from Lucy. She has told Charlie of my departure,
and she told Louisa and Amelia, as well. Apparently, Lord Bradbury is not
suffering from a broken heart. He is already linked to a famous blond soprano.”
It hurt, a little, to acknowledge this. Not that she wanted him to pine away for
her. But it was like an admission of how very little she meant to him that he
found a replacement already. She really was as interchangeable as two dolls in a
pram, or two empty townhomes on the same street. At least to someone like his
lordship.

Harriet was studying her intently, her mouth pursed in a
straight line. Her “elder sister” expression, they always called it. “Sophie,
dear, do you miss his lordship?”

“Miss him? No. I miss Louisa and Amelia, but I am merely
disappointed in Lord Bradbury.” It was the truth, after all.

“And Charlie?” Harriet’s “elder sister” expression did not
waver.

For some strange reason, hearing that dear name expressed by
Harriet, who looked much the same as she had back in the old days when Sophie
was wavering between Captain Brookes and Lieutenant Marable, was the very last
straw. Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she bit her lip. “I love him, but I
can never be with him. I promised, after all.”

“There, there.” Harriet rose with some difficulty and embraced
Sophie, patting her back. “Come, let us go speak to John. I have a feeling he
will want to know about this.”

Of course, Harriet was right. She was, after all, married to
the captain, and therefore must know all of his thoughts before they even
occurred to him. As the two sisters sat in silence, facing Brookes in his study,
Sophie had the uncanny impression that this was how he planned his
campaigns.

“Sophie, Harriet has told me some of the adventures you had in
Bath, and I must say I am most displeased with the behavior of my fellow man.
Cantrill and Bradbury. Two men I thought I knew so well. In fact, I often
thought of Charlie as a brother.” He fitted his broad fingertips together
carefully. “My question to you is simple. As the head of this family, what do
you wish me to do about this?”

Sophie swallowed, fighting the rising lump in her throat.
“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Brookes shook his head as though he had not heard
right. “After one man’s family insulted your good name, and after another made
you the victim of his untoward advances? Really, Harriet—” he turned to Hattie,
his brows drawing together “—talk some sense into your sister.”

“We have talked about it,” Harriet replied softly. “And I agree
with Sophie. Nothing should be done about the matter.”

Brookes harrumphed. With marriage and a child on the way, he
was growing positively paternal. In no time at all, he would begin beetling his
brows and staring at people over the rims of his spectacles. Sophie bit back a
sudden smile at that image of Brookes and focused on the matter at hand.

“Both Bradbury and Cantrill behaved in an insulting manner,”
Brookes continued. “Shouldn’t they have some comeuppance?”

“I am turning Lord Bradbury into the villain in my next novel,”
Harriet interrupted in a helpful tone. “With a different name, of course.”

“And what good will that do?” Brookes’s gray-green eyes widened
in astonishment.

“Literary revenge is the best sort of reprisal,” Harriet
answered placidly.

Sophie smothered another grin. How marvelous to be back home
with Hattie once more. She said a silent prayer of thanks for her sister.

“I am undone.” Brookes threw his hands up in the air and leaned
back in his chair. “Here I am, ready to seek retribution, and you will allow me
to do nothing.”

“Brookes, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Sophie put in.
After all, Brookes
was
trying to help. “It’s just
that nothing will change Lord Bradbury. He is as he always shall be. I am not
harmed by his overtures. Especially now that I am back home in Tansley. No one
knows about it, and no one shall.”

Brookes nodded and appraised her carefully. “And what about
Cantrill?”

“She’s still in love with him,” Harriet broke in.

“Hattie! For goodness’ sake.” Really, she had no privacy,
however well-intentioned her sister’s meddling.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Sophie was at the mercy of two pairs of eyes, one dark blue and
one gray-green, both watching her with the same interest as a dowager staring at
an unruly debutante through a lorgnette. There was no use deceiving anyone,
certainly not herself. “Yes, it’s true.”

“So you see? You can’t call Cantrill out. He could well be your
future brother-in-law.” Harriet shook her finger at Brookes for emphasis.

“I doubt that. Not after all his family had to say. And not
after the way I broke things off,” Sophie admitted. A miserable, sick feeling
was settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Well, time will tell.” Harriet gave her a bracing smile and
patted her shoulder. “So you see, Brookes, you need not put your pistol or lance
skills to the test. No one is in need of a thorough trouncing. At least, not
yet.”

“Too bad,” Brookes replied with a regretful shake of his head.
“And I was so looking forward to facing Bradbury’s smug grin over the barrel of
a pistol.”

“And I am heartily glad you are not.” Harriet ran her hands
over her increasing middle. “Take heart, sister. I have a suspicion that you
will get to see your lieutenant someday. And then we will all be able to look
back at this moment and chuckle.”

Sophie gave them both a smile. She had no wish to argue with
Harriet. Let them continue to think that Charlie Cantrill would arrive on a
white steed, bearing flowers and a profound apology. She knew better. The
familiar pattern her life had taken on at Brookes Park would last until the end
of her days.

* * *

Charlie knocked on the door of Lord Bradbury’s stylish
townhome on the Crescent, still riding the tide of goodwill he had experienced
the moment he forgave Beth Gaskell. The Bradbury family butler answered the
door, his grave expression unchanged as he surveyed the unremarkable cut of
Charlie’s clothes.

“Sir?”

“My name is Lieutenant Charles Cantrill. I am here to speak
with Lord Bradbury, if he is at home.”

“I shall see if his lordship is available. Do come in,
Lieutenant.” The butler led him to a small parlor off the vestibule. It was
spotlessly clean and beautifully furnished, if one’s taste ran to rich mahogany
furniture and paintings of horses, but it appeared never to have been used.
Obviously, he was not important enough to warrant one of the grander waiting
rooms.

The butler returned with a respectful bow. “His lordship will
be with you directly. May I bring you some refreshment?”

“No, thank you. I shan’t be here long.”

“Very good, Lieutenant.” The butler closed the door with a
gentle click.

Charlie stood with his hand resting on a small marble statue of
a faun, one that probably cost more than the veterans of Bath would ever see in
their lifetimes. Strange, the difference between the wealthy and the poor. This
small object d’art, which probably escaped his lordship’s attention on a daily
basis, would feed and clothe a family of four for a year.

Bradbury opened the parlor door, breaking into Charlie’s
reverie. “Cantrill? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Charlie bowed. “I’ve come to offer my thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me?” His lordship arched an eyebrow. “Are you
jesting?”

“No. Merely trying to right several wrongs. And I began this
journey as a result of our conversation at the Club.”

Lord Bradbury’s lips twisted together in a bemused grin. “Very
well. You are welcome. Does this have anything to do with Sophie?”

“Yes. It has everything to do with her. I cannot win her back
until I affect some very personal changes in my life. Forgiving others. Letting
go of bitterness. That sort of thing.” He didn’t really like the way Lord
Bradbury looked at him, as though he were enjoying some amusement at Charlie’s
expense. But he was here on a mission and must complete it, no matter how
humbling it seemed.

“I see,” his lordship replied. Seeing that Charlie hadn’t
moved, he headed toward the door. “Are we done?”

“Not quite. I wish to beg a favor of you.”

“You do?” His lordship broke into a wide, almost feral grin.
“And what might that be?”

“You know of Sophie’s connections with the Handley family, do
you not? How they slighted her poor mother, and how they cut those two young
women—Sophie and her sister, Harriet—off without a penny? Seems rather
unsporting of them, doesn’t it?”

“It does. But then, the Handleys are an old family. Very proud.
I am sure when Sir Hugh married an actress, it sent his family into
apoplexies.”

“It is still unsporting of them, I think. To visit their
revenge on his innocent children,” Charlie replied with a shrug. “Therefore, I
want you to put a stop to it.”

Bradbury gave an incredulous snort. “You want me to stop it?
How, pray tell?”

“This is precisely why I came to you.” Charlie kept his tone
even and friendly. “You see, I have few of the connections to the wealthy and
powerful that you have. You can block certain measures in the House of Lords,
for example. Measures that could benefit the Handley family back in Liverpool.
You can put the kind of social pressure on them that would make it very unlikely
they would be received in some of the best homes in London and Bath. That sort
of thing.”

“You want me to blackmail and extort from the Handley clan?”
Bradbury chuckled, shaking his head. “I never would have expected that from you,
Cantrill.”

“Let us be clear—I am not asking you to do anything untoward or
illegal,” Charlie responded. “But I am asking you to exert a similar kind of
pressure on the Handleys that they used on Sir Hugh’s daughters, until they
relent and stop saying infamous things about Sophie and her family.”