The Temporary Betrothal (23 page)

“Tit for tat. Interesting. Again, I would not expect that from
you, Cantrill. I assumed you were a
turn the other
cheek
sort of man.”

“I am. That’s why I ask you to undertake this for me.”

Bradbury threw back his head and laughed, an honest, uproarious
sound that echoed through the elegantly appointed parlor. “Tell you what,” he
replied. “I’ll do it. One, out of thankfulness for all Sophie did for my
daughters. And two, because I still, in my heart, carry a strong fondness for
young Sophie. And three—” his lordship strode toward the door, placing his hand
on the knob “—because it amuses me. Who knew you could be so devious,
Cantrill?”

“Not devious.” He walked over toward the door, standing
face-to-face with his lordship. “But as a soldier, I must be a good
tactician.”

Bradbury laughed again, an appreciative chuckle, and ushered
Charlie through the vestibule to the front door. “By Jove, Cantrill, what an
entertaining plan. I wish you the best of luck with it. What shall you do
next?”

“I leave for Brightgate on the morrow,” he replied, stepping
out onto the porch. “One last matter to attend to before I strike out for
Tansley.”

Bradbury nodded, a knowing light sparking his eyes. “I wish you
the best of luck. Tell me, if I am able to pull off my part of the plan, may I
dance at your wedding?”

Cantrill acknowledged the joke with a tight smile. “You shall.
If the lady will have me.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
his last visit was, in some ways, harder
than the others. After all, Robert and Mother were his family. Despite their
faults, he loved them both. And he hated to call them up on the carpet. But it
must be done. It was the only way he could finish his journey to forgiveness and
pave the way for his marriage to Sophie. If she would even speak to him.

The unremarkable carriage he had hired for his travels drew to
a shaky stop before the Cantrill home. Smug, self-satisfied—those were the words
that came to mind as he viewed his family home from the curbstone. But even so,
it was still capable of providing shelter and comfort. Just like his family.

“You can take the carriage around to the back, Browning, and
then apply to the kitchens for some refreshment,” Charlie directed. With a
respectful tip of his hat, the coachman circled the horses around toward the
back of the property. Charlie strode up the drive, his boots crunching on
gravel. The place looked deserted. Surely Mother and Robert hadn’t gone out of
town. That would foil his plans royally.

He knocked thrice upon the door, and Jones, the family butler,
answered. Charlie liked Jones. He was the only servant who had stayed on with
his mother through the years. Every other servant left after a matter of weeks.
In fact, it was not at all unusual for the entire staff to leave as a body, with
only Jones remaining to help run the Cantrill home.

“Master Charles? We had no idea you were coming. Madam is
paying her calls this morning. But she intends to return before luncheon.”

Charlie handed his gloves and hat to Jones. “Not to worry,
Jones. I didn’t tell anyone I was on my way. Is Robert here?”

Jones nodded. “The master is in his study.”

“Thank you. When Mother comes home, tell her to find us there,
will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

Charlie hastened up the stairs, clenching his fists in
anticipation. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. But he refused
to lose his temper. Nothing would stand in the way of forgiveness—and because of
forgiveness, his darling Sophie.

“What ho, Robert? May I come in?” Charlie strode in without
knocking.

His brother looked up from his ledger, his eyebrows drawn
together in wary puzzlement. “Charlie? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve come to talk to you. Brother to brother.”

Robert closed the ledger and leaned back in his chair. “Indeed?
Does this have anything to do with our last discussion and your hasty flight
from Brightgate?”

Charlie nodded pleasantly. “It does.”

“Well, then. Do go on.” Robert heaved the put-upon sigh of the
elder brother.

Charlie took a deep breath. He would not be needled by Robert’s
air of superiority. Although he could best his brother at fisticuffs, even with
one arm missing, violence would serve no purpose.

“I’ve come to tell you that I am going to marry Sophie, no
matter what your objections may be. She is a virtuous, kind and gentle woman and
I am lucky to have found her.” There. Now let the fireworks begin.

Robert pursed his lips together. “She’s a fortune hunter.”

“She is not. She pawned that diamond bracelet to give to the
widows’ fund in Bath.”

Robert crowed with laughter. “And you believe that tale?
Really, Charlie. Have some sense.”

“Not only did I take her at her word, but the funds were
deposited with the express intention of clothing all the women and children of
the veterans’ fund. I’ve got the money, Robert. It was no mere ruse.”

Robert shrugged. “No doubt she has other ill-gotten goods.”

“I don’t think so,” Charlie replied evenly. “She’s gone home to
her sister in Tansley. But if you are worried about it, then you can cut me off.
I would rather have not a single farthing than live without Sophie.”

Robert sat quietly, considering his brother for a few moments.
“I am tempted to call your bluff, brother.”

“It’s no bluff. My work with the veterans’ fund has taught me
one thing—that happiness cannot be bought. Many of those men and women are poor
as church mice, and still love each other more than life itself. And many rub
along just fine without any money. I would find an occupation and provide for my
wife with my own hand.”

The door opened and Mother came flying in. “Charles, what is
this? Why did you come all this way and not tell us you were arriving? It is
most unusual.”

“He’s come to tell us he will be married to Sophie despite
everything,” Robert interrupted. “Why, Mother, he even intends...to be poor.” He
drew the statement out dramatically.

“Oh, Charles, do be sensible.” Mother removed her bonnet and
pelisse, casting them onto a nearby chair. “Your uncle Arthur was prepared to
give you everything should you wed someone...anyone. How could you cast that
aside for some romantic notion?”

“I am being sensible. If you have strong objections to my
chosen path, then I must sever my ties if I am to marry Sophie. And if Robert is
afraid of our fortune, then I can only protect our family by foregoing my
income.” There, that was as plain and levelheaded as he could explain it.

Mother raised her hand. “Stop it, both of you. No one is taking
anyone’s fortune, and no one is going to go poor as a result of this. Robert, I
must say, I am most unhappy with the way you have handled matters. You should
have come to me first. Remember that Sophie Handley is Sir Hugh Handley’s
daughter. That family connection alone can prove most valuable to us.”

“None of the family will acknowledge them,” Robert retorted.
“Remember, Mother, that I am the head of this household.” His face was turning
an ugly, mottled shade of purple.

“Ah, but the Handleys will acknowledge Sophie.” Charlie
couldn’t resist giving his brother a triumphant smile. “I spoke to Lord Bradbury
before I came here. He has agreed to exert his influence to heal the breach
within the family. So I am sure that the Handleys will, in time, come to
recognize both Miss Sophie and Mrs. Brookes as part of their clan.”

“There now. You see?” Mother cast her bonnet and pelisse aside
and sank into the chair.

“I don’t believe it.” Robert shook his head. “Why would
Bradbury do such a thing?”

“He’s grateful to Sophie for guiding Miss Amelia through her
first Season. So, in payment for her innate social skills, Bradbury is helping
her to regain her place in Society.” Charlie gave an elaborate shrug, keeping
his expression placid. “Seems most kind of him to me.”

“And to me, as well,” Mother added. “Now, as to this little
matter of Charles’s income, I must state emphatically that no son of mine will
live in poverty.” Charlie opened his mouth to interrupt, but Mother overrode his
objection with a curt wave of her hand. “No, indeed. I don’t want to hear
another word about it.”

“What of my work with the veterans? I will not stop working
with them, Mother. It is my calling.”

“You see?” Robert slapped his hand on his desk for emphasis.
“He is deliberately trying to make this family into a laughingstock. I will not
stand for it. I told Sophie as much.”

“I am doing no such thing.” Despite his best efforts, his
temper was rising. “When I lay in the farmhouse at La Sainte Haye, I thought I
was dying. I prayed to God that if he let me live, I would live in a manner that
honors Him.” Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath. It was difficult indeed to
talk about those moments, especially to an audience that wasn’t exactly
sympathetic. “My brothers in arms carried me off the field and to the safety of
that house, where I lay bleeding for hours. Had they not disobeyed their orders,
and left me on the field, I would have died that day. I owe the men of Waterloo
my very life. Surely you would not have me turn my back on them?”

Mother turned to him, her gaze misted with tears. She withdrew
a handkerchief from her bodice and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “My dear
boy,” she murmured. “Of course I would not have you turn your back on your
fellow comrades. But can’t we meet in the middle? Could you continue to work
with the veterans and yet live in the manner to which we are accustomed?”

“I will not live in luxury while others suffer.” It was as
simple as that.

“But, Charles,” Mother pleaded, dabbing at her eyes again.
“Think carefully. You must be able to support a wife and family. You must allow
your children to receive a good education, and have decent shelter, clothing and
food. While I understand your wishes, surely you see where I am coming
from.”

He glanced over at Robert, who was—for once in his
life—completely and utterly silent. His brother was merely running his thumbnail
back and forth over the binding of his ledger. Mother pressed her handkerchief
to her lips and said nothing more. Charlie sighed. Was there a way to preserve
his integrity and still give his family a comfortable life?

“If I gave up my home in Bath,” he began, and then paused.

“Yes?” Mother’s tone was hopeful—cheerful, even.

“We would settle where Sophie chooses. Assuming she will even
have me after the way my family has treated her.”

“Of course.” Mother smiled brightly. “Sophie has infinitely
good taste. I am sure she will choose something quite stylish.”

Stylish? Already he was regretting this compromise. “We will
let the lady decide, Mother,” he said, a thread of warning running through his
voice. “And you, Robert? What say you on the matter?”

“I never knew you almost died,” Robert said in a husky tone.
His brother’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a few times as he tried to go on.
“I mean, I knew you were gravely injured. After all, you lost your arm. I
suppose I just never really thought about all you went through. My apologies,
brother.” Robert turned away from them both. “If you marry Sophie, you will have
no objections from me.”

Charlie smiled with relief. The long struggle was over. “I
forgive you, if you forgive me. In fact, I owe both you and Mother an apology. I
have been so blinded by my mission that I haven’t taken the time or the effort
to explain myself to you. Nor have I been willing, until now, to seek a
compromise between our disparate ways of living.”

“Oh, my boys, how good it is to hear you both so willing to
forgive and forget. Now, Charlie, when are you going to seek Sophie’s hand?
After all, there is much planning to do. The gown, the wedding supper, the
trousseau—surely I must talk to the bride soon.”

As she spoke, Charlie’s heart hardened in the same way it
always had, shutting out her voice and her words. Then he caught his brother’s
glance across the desk. Robert was staring at Mother, a bemused expression on
his face. As their glances caught, Robert chuckled. Charlie couldn’t resist
joining him. They laughed as they had in the old days, when they were young lads
catching frogs in the creek bed, before Society and position and rules had
dictated their days.

Their laughter broke down the last bit of a wall around
Charlie’s heart. He could feel it crash to the ground. That was Mother—always
concerned with appearances. And she always would be. Now if he could only make
Sophie love them in the way he had learned to—and persuade her to marry into
this family.

* * *

It had been a white night. Sophie woke, bathed in sweat
and tears, from a nightmare. Charlie was dying in the farmhouse, and no one was
there to help him. She sat up in bed, her hands trembling, and lit a candle from
the tinderbox on her bedside table. It was just a dream. No need to cry. Charlie
was alive and well, and probably thanking his lucky stars he had extricated
himself from a doomed marriage to her.

Her door opened, and Harriet poked her head around the frame.
“Sophie, are you all right? I thought I heard you cry out.”

“I had a terrible dream about Charlie.” Sophie patted the soft
surface of the bed beside her. “Do you mind sitting up with me for a while?”

“Of course not.” Harriet lowered herself onto the bed
cautiously. “I have many more months to go, and yet I get bigger every day. John
will have to widen all the doorways for me to fit through.” She pulled Sophie’s
head onto her shoulder and patted her back. “There now. It was only a
dream.”

“I know.” Sophie wiped the last of the tears away with the back
of her hand. “I miss him so, Hattie.”

“I understand.” Harriet continued soothing her, patting her
back in a rhythmic motion. “Have you tried to write to him? Or give him any
indication of how you feel?”

“No. I was so hateful to him when we were in Brightgate. It was
my intention to send him away, and I did. I was cruel, Hattie. Terribly cruel.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks anew.

“Surely he understands why you did that. Men can be very
acute,” Harriet murmured. “I would not give up hope yet.”

Sophie gave vent to her bottled emotions, crying as she had not
done since Mama died. Everything was such a muddle. And the terrible part was,
there was no way to repair the damage she had done. Short of driving back to
Bath and flinging herself at him, begging forgiveness, there was nothing she
could do. And of course, there was the sneaking suspicion that she would never,
ever win him back, no matter what she did. Charlie was nothing if not
absolute.

Harriet said no more, but let her cry. Only when her sobs had
subsided to the occasional hiccup did she speak again. “Sophie, why do you love
the lieutenant so? Why wouldn’t you be just as happy with someone else?”

“He opened the world to me.” Sophie dried her eyes on the hem
of her nightgown. “Until I met him, I was still spoiled and flighty. Mama’s
death sobered me a good deal, but it wasn’t until I knew Charlie and began
working with him that I saw real poverty. And I wanted to help. I wanted to be a
part of something bigger than myself.” She gave a long, shuddering sigh. “He
helped me to find God. Because of him, I am a better person.”