Three Original Ladies 02 - Lord Trowbridge’s Angel (11 page)

“Is anything amiss, Angel?” he asked.

“I hope not. Lord Shrewsbury has begged an audience with me tomorrow. He claims it to be exceedingly important.”

Frank frowned. “Do not let him impose on you. He likes to have his way. I do not know of any female who has heretofore resisted his charm.”

Sophie dropped her expression and gave him a sunny grin. “Do not worry about me.”

When the dinner gong rang, the Duke and Duchess led the way into the dining room, followed by the Marquis and Marchioness of Deal, then the Earl and Countess of Kent. Precedence dictated that Frank took Lady Melissa on his arm, while Shrewsbury was privileged to escort Sophie.

The place cards on the table dictated that Frank headed the table, with Sophie at the foot. She had her sister Fanny at her right and Elise at her left. Shrewsbury was stranded in the middle of the table across from Lady Melissa. Frank had Deal and Ruisdell to his right and left.

Dinner conversation was of the Girls’ School. It was decided by the ladies that a hot meal was certainly necessary. Along with the meal, Lady Kent asserted, some instruction on manners was necessary. Shrewsbury’s scheme was exploding into something far more complex than his original simple desire to teach orphans to read.

“I think,” said Ruisdell, “that some thought should be given to having a resident school such as Beverley’s orphan boys enjoy at Chipping Camden. There, matters of hygiene, manners, and preparation of the girls for employment could accompany the reading lessons.”

“Such a scheme would require an income the size of his grace, the Duke of Beverley’s,” Shrewsbury objected.

Ruisdell raise an eyebrow. “While the original scheme was yours, Shrewsbury, no one expects you to fund such a school. We will find benefactors. I, for one, am certainly willing.”

“And I,” agreed Frank. “But I think this discussion best be continued when the ladies have adjourned to the drawing room.”

{ 15 }

WHEN THE TIME CAME
for the ladies to retire, Sophie rose and tried to lead with dignity, cursing her limp once again. Since she knew all the ladies present quite well, their conversation was lively. Fanny was summoned to her baby, and Elise took her place at Sophie’s side. “You have managed very well tonight, my dear. Congratulations,” she said in a low tone while Melissa and her mother took a turn to examine the landscapes. “I imagine Frank will be calling on Peter in the very near future.”

Sophie said, “There is one who will not be happy about it—Melissa. She has formed a
tendre
for Frank, unless I am much mistaken.”

“Shrewsbury is not happy either. I thought him more of a gentleman than to sulk in corners,” Elise said.

“He begs an audience tomorrow. I cannot think of what he means to say.”

“Be certain Fanny is present, dearest. I would not have him carry you off in an excess of Byronic bedevilment.”

Sophie giggled. “He is glowering like the
Corsair.
A pity he is fair instead of dark.”

Later, when she was playing her violin, Sophie felt Shrewsbury’s eyes burning into her. Try as she might to be completely absorbed in her performance, his hungry aspect could not help but affect her. She was very glad when she was finished and did not feel her customary satisfaction. She hoped that Frank was not too disappointed.

Not long afterward, her sister and the duke, as well as all the Kents and Shrewsbury, left for the Beverley ball. Fanny and Buck went upstairs to retrieve Alexa, and Sophie was left alone with Frank.

“I did not play well tonight,” she said. “Lord Shrewsbury unnerved me by staring at me so.”

“I thought it was splendid,” Frank reassured her. “What think you of your brother-in-law’s idea for what amounts to a girl’s orphanage?”

“I think it splendid, but I do feel that Shrewsbury was not overly happy about that, either.”

“He conceived of this idea for political benefit to himself. Now it is being taken out of his hands.” Frank paused, running a knuckle down the side of her neck. “But let us not waste a second more on him.”

He captured her mouth in a long, heated kiss, gathering her to him. Sophie melted inside, forgetting Melissa and the baron, even forgetting where she was. She loved the sensation when Frank teased her mouth with his tongue, causing her to burn like wildfire. Lost in their desire for one another, they parted only moments before Buck and Fanny appeared.

“Goodnight, my angel,” he murmured. “Shall I call on Ruisdell tomorrow?”

She felt herself light up like a lantern. “Oh, yes. If you’re certain.”

“I have never been more so.”

~
~*

Sophie had a great deal of trouble getting to sleep, though she was exhausted. Every time she thought of Frank’s kiss, she was aflame. She longed to be with him in the way only a wife could. Just one week ago, he had not even been known to her. And now she was to be married to him.

For the last few years, the extent of her vision of the future only contained her violin. But as a lady of quality, she would have been prevented from becoming a professional. She adored her nieces and nephew, but they would always have been only a substitute for her own children.

She, Sophie Edwards, was to marry Gorgeous Frank St. Oswald, Viscount Trowbridge and have a family. It had all happened so fast, she had difficulty taking it in. She had so many questions to ask him. How active did he intend to be in Parliament? Where would they live? She did not even know where his estate was. His father was dead, or Frank would not have come into the title, but what of his mother? If she was alive, would she accept Sophie?

Finally, pulling her goose down quilt over her shoulders, she curled into a little ball and just let her body
feel.
Warmth. Acceptance. Well-being. Love. To the music of this internal symphony, she fell into a lovely sleep.

~
~*

Sophie found her rehearsal the next morning to be exceptionally difficult. Frank kept intruding upon her concentration. He would be with the duke this morning. When would she hear from him? Every time her thoughts strayed, her timing was off.

“I am dreadfully sorry, Joseph,” she said to the cellist. “My mind is elsewhere this morning. Let us try that again.”

By applying every ounce of self-discipline, she finally was able to keep up with Joseph, and they progressed a bit more toward readiness for their concert, which was now two and a half weeks away.

The Carstairs had scarcely left when Lord Shrewsbury was shown into the music room. Sophie had been ready to join her sister and Buck for luncheon, but upon seeing the serious and harried look on the baron’s face, she said, “What is it, Lord Shrewsbury? What is wrong?”

“I must speak to you. It cannot wait.”

Curious and a bit alarmed, she led the way into Fanny’s coffee-colored morning room and bade him be seated.

He said, “I have debated telling you this, because I did not want to seem self-serving, but I cannot bear to see you so happy, knowing that you are being deceived.”

“Deceived?” Sophie assumed he was speaking of Frank. Her heart began to gallop and her hands became damp. “In what way?”

“Three nights ago, I was at a ball. Trowbridge was not there. It was unlike him not to put in at least an appearance. I decided to call round to see him at about one o’clock in the morning.”

Sophie had chosen an armchair across from the baron. He looked into her eyes, and she was surprised to see that his were full of anger. “I do not know what commitments he had made to you at that time, three days ago, but that night he was in the street, clothed in his dressing gown and putting his former mistress, Lady Manwaring, into a hackney cab at one o’clock in the morning.”

Sophie stared at Shrewsbury and went numb as a though she were stone. She could not move. She could not speak. Even her mind was frozen and for a time, she could not think. Little by little, conscious thought returned. Shrewsbury’s eyes never left her face.

Three nights ago. That day he first kissed me. He told me his intentions were honorable. He told me he believed we were lovers in a pre-existent life. And then he went … he went to Lady Manwaring. That dreadful woman. His mistress.

It made no sense. It was impossible. It simply could not be.

At last, she responded, “I would stake my life on Frank’s sincerity. Perhaps he was giving her her
congé.
”

“He had already given it to her, days before. And, lest you forget, he was in his dressing gown. And the hour is also significant. One in the morning.”

The scene he described finally took root. She bowed her head, still confused by the juxtaposition of the two realities.

“Frank has never pursued anyone like you, Miss Edwards. I have known him since Eton. He is a womanizer. You are far too good for him.”

A sharp blade sliced through her heart, cutting dead her happiness.

“Please go,” she managed.”I do not wish to hear any more.”

~
~*

Fanny would find her in her room. Sophie sought the attics. There was an empty room at the end of the house that was used as a lumber room.

She wore her prettiest day gown, a soft, green muslin embroidered with daisies she had donned in expectation of Frank’s proposal. Heedless, she knelt in the dust, her eyes hot with staring, her hands sweaty and cold.

The evidence that Frank held nothing sacred was indisputable. He would manipulate beautiful words and actions to gain his ends. But if his tastes were as low as Lady Manwaring, why had he wanted to marry
her?
Her beauty was slight, her consequence nonexistent in his world. His passion for her had seemed genuine, but she was a stranger to passion. Awakening her to lovemaking, Frank had completely taken her in. How many hundreds of women had he kissed that way?

An hour of such thoughts brought her to outrage. Seething, she sought an outlet for her anger. Sophie gripped the fabric of her gown at the hem. Using both hands, she tore the flimsy material from hem to waist. The ripping sound was so satisfactory, she did it again and again. Soon, her lovely dress was nothing more than a rag.

Sophie collapsed in tears.

~
~*

Even in the attic, she could hear the insistence of the door knocker. Then her sister’s voice, calling her name, floated through the house. Sophie was stretched out on the floor, her face in the dust. Her tears were past. Now she was only exhausted. She slept.

She did not know how much later it was that Fanny shook her awake. Her sister was holding a candle.

“Dearest Sophie, what has happened to you? What are you doing here? Frank has been awaiting you for hours. Why are you hiding?”

Her head was so heavy, Sophie could not lift it. “Tell Frank that I do not wish to see him. Ever again. I am too weary to explain, Fan. Just let me be.”

Her sister started to speak, but evidently changed her mind. Sophie heard her footsteps as Fanny crossed the attic and went back down the stairs. Struggling to a sitting position, Sophie looked out the tiny window into the twilight, waiting to see Frank’s figure walk away.

He did not leave immediately. In perhaps half an hour, when the sun was completely set, she saw his once-beloved figure walk down the steps and out into the street. Moments later, Fan was back in the lumber room, carrying a letter with her lantern.

“When Perkins told us that Lord Shrewsbury had been here, Frank insisted on writing you. Please read it, Soph. I cannot bear to see you so miserable.”

With a faint spark of hope, Sophie took the piece of paper and unfolded it.

My darling Sophie,

I cannot imagine what has caused you to hide yourself away and refuse to see me. However, when Perkins told Fanny that Lord Shrewsbury had called, I began to have a bit of an idea.

Shrewsbury is determined to have you. He has always been my friend, but his desire for you must have turned the friendship sour.

Obviously, he has told you something to my discredit. I cannot imagine what it was, but I would beg you to examine his words closely, for they may be a deliberate falsehood.

I love you, Sophie. I have never professed nor pretended to love anyone else. I pray that we may overcome whatever has caused this breach and be together as we have hoped and dreamed.

Yours from eternity to eternity,

Frank

Frank had no idea Shrewsbury had seen him with Lady Manwaring, so of course he could not imagine what the man had told her.

Is there any chance at all that Shrewsbury lied to me?
How could she ever be certain? Then she knew.
I will call on Lady Manwaring.

{ 16 }

FRANK ROAMED THE STREETS
of Mayfair, his head swimming. When he thought of the future, he was consumed with dread. He fought down a sense of panic.
Sophie wishes never to see you again.

His heart was not functioning correctly—he was breathless. Putting a hand on a lamppost, he leaned on it to steady himself.
Breathe.

He cursed Shrewsbury. No doubt he had thrown up something from Frank’s far from spotless past. The innocent Sophie would have been appalled, would have doubted that he could have any sincere feeling. But had she not felt what he had felt between them? Did she not know that it was extraordinary? Of course not. He was the first man to kiss her. She could not realize, as he did, that such feelings manifested perhaps only once in a lifetime. Sophie had nothing with which to compare his love. Shrewsbury probably told her Frank used women.

He began to feel ill, as he thought what his beloved must be experiencing. Fanny had told him how she had found her—lying face down in the dusty lumber room, her gown torn to shreds. The vision was too terrible. His steps wove until he stumbled against the closed gate of Hyde Park.

Frank would have killed Shrewsbury, except that the man had probably only told her the truth. Feeling an overwhelming sense of self-loathing, he wondered what had he ever done in his life to deserve someone like Sophie. His work with the poor on his estate was the only really selfless act he could point to.