Emily beamed. “Mr. Murray is going to take me on an Italian holiday for our honeymoon.”
Sophie’s face was white. “Emmy, that’s all very well, but…”
“I know you think I want a title, Sophie. I thought so too. But I’d far rather marry for love. One of us may as well. And you must agree—”
“That isn’t it,” Sophie said. “That isn’t it at all. Tell her, Papa.”
Sir William paled. “Sophia…this is neither the time, nor the place—”
“Your father has spent your dowry, my love,” Lady Appersett said. “There is naught but one hundred pounds left of it.”
What the devil?
Ned was sure his jaw dropped. He took in the expressions of everyone in the room in one swift, comprehensive glance. Sophie and her father were bloodless and still. Lady Appersett appeared resigned. Emily’s face was reddening with something like outrage. And Walter…
Walter had the temerity to laugh, blast him.
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “Not that it matters one jot. I’d take Emily in her underclothes, even without your blessing.”
Lady Appersett’s lips twitched. “Mr. Murray,” she chastised with a small shake of her head. “The things you say.”
Walter grinned. “Naturally, I’d rather have your blessing. If you’ll give it to us.”
Sir William nodded very slowly. “There are benefits to having a mason’s son in the family. I can see that now. You understand the estate better than some.” He flashed a narrow look at Ned. “But this is all highly irregular. There are settlements to consider and—”
“And I will be at your disposal tomorrow for however long it takes to sort them,” Walter said. “As I’ve told your daughter, you’ll not find me tight-fisted.”
Some of the color returned to Sir William’s face. “Then this is a cause for celebration. My dear? Call for some champagne.”
Lady Appersett stood and went to the bell pull that hung beside the fireplace. A footman responded to the summons almost instantly and, after a few words with Lady Appersett, left just as swiftly.
“Shall we make an announcement?” Walter asked.
“As to that…” Sir William tugged at his cravat. “Let’s not be too hasty. We’ll keep the news in the family for now. I’ll determine the best way to announce it at a more appropriate time.”
Ned exchanged a brief look with Walter. They both knew full well that a baronet’s daughter wedding a tradesman was no cause for public rejoicing. Once married, Emily would be ostracized from the society to which she’d been born. There would be no more invitations to fashionable soirees, nor hobnobbing with earls and viscounts. She’d be the wife of a wealthy man, true. But hers would be a very different sort of life than the one she’d had thus far.
“I can’t believe you spent my dowry,” Emily said to her father. “You promised you wouldn’t touch it.”
Sir William waved her away. “Your betrothed will understand when he sees the improvements I’ve made. And I have greater plans still. It will make the gaslight pale in comparison.”
“The gas works can explode for all I care,” Emily retorted. “And you—” She turned on her sister. “How long have you known?”
“Not long,” Sophie said. “Papa told me only yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I would have done after Christmas. There was no point in ruining your holiday. There was still the ball to get through.”
“You sound just like Mama.”
Sophie gave her sister a faint smile. “I shall take that as a compliment.”
Walter crossed the library to join Ned as the sisters talked. His advance was cautious to the point of exaggeration. “You’d like to punch me in the face, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d like to disembowel you with a teaspoon.”
Walter winced. “Ouch.”
“Didn’t I warn you?”
“Have a heart, Ned. Some things can’t be avoided. You’d know what I mean if you’d ever been in love. It’s not something you can tally on a ledger.”
Ned’s expression tightened. Walter didn’t know a blasted thing. It was true, the morning she’d jilted him, Ned had said he didn’t love Sophia Appersett. He’d only admired her. Only thought her a beautiful creature. But things had changed. His feelings for her were…
Good God, he didn’t know what he was feeling. But it wasn’t some giddy insensible emotion. It was deeper than that, and far finer. Something that warmed his blood and made his chest tighten whenever he saw her. Something that made him want to kiss her as he had in the alcove. To hold her safe in his arms for hours, inhaling the soft fragrance of her rose-scented hair.
More than that, it was a compulsion—an all-consuming desire—to make the way smooth for her. To alleviate her burdens and see her safe and well.
Perhaps he was being too pragmatic, too reasonable. After all, romantic love didn’t work in terms of plans and logic. It made one reckless and foolish. Willing to take risks and damn the consequences. By that measure, perhaps Walter was right. Perhaps he wasn’t in love with Sophia Appersett.
But by heaven, he loved her.
The realization nearly knocked him over.
“I’ve fancied her since we first met,” Walter admitted, oblivious to Ned’s epiphany. He looked across the room at his intended. “The little termagant. She’s led me a merry dance.”
Sophie and Emily were standing beside the very row of bookcases where Ned had first kissed Sophie.
“Are you happy for me?” Emily asked.
“Are you happy, Emmy?”
“Terribly happy.”
“Then I’m glad of it.” Sophie embraced her sister.
Emily smiled. Her voice sank to a poor apology for a whisper. “Didn’t I tell you I’d save you if I could?”
Ned’s gaze jerked to Sophie’s. His heart thumped hard.
“You’re free now, Sophie,” Emily said. “You needn’t sacrifice yourself to save the family. I’ve saved it all on my own.”
“Oh Emily, I—”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’ll consider it thanks enough when you resume your life as it was before. You were happy then. Happy and free. And now, you shall be so again.”
Very slowly Walter turned to face Ned, his mouth open as if poised to offer his apologies—or his condolences.
“Don’t,” Ned warned.
But Walter couldn’t be silenced. “Damnation, Ned. I didn’t think.”
Ned could summon no words in reply. He was too stunned. Too utterly dumbfounded. Because he hadn’t thought either. He’d never once considered.
With Walter Murray offering his wealth to save the Appersett family, what need would anyone have of Edward Sharpe?
Christmas Eve dawned bright and clear, the sun shining weakly over the snow-covered Derbyshire landscape. The windows were frosted with ice, the fires going full force in the grates. The servants had been running up and down the stairs since dawn, hauling wood and coals and hot water for the guests.
Sophie spent most of the day overseeing activities with the younger ladies and gentlemen. They wrapped last-minute gifts, built snowmen, and some of the more daring had gone sledding. Later, they played a game of charades while drying out in front of the drawing room fire.
Meanwhile, Papa had taken the rest of the gentlemen hunting. Did Ned shoot? Did Mr. Murray? Sophie hadn’t the slightest idea. All she knew was that it was a dratted nuisance. What was Papa thinking, spiriting Ned away when she most wished to speak with him?
She’d seen the way he looked at her last night in the library. He’d become cold and remote before her eyes, clasping his hands at his back and standing apart from them all.
He’d overheard Emily, of course. All her little gibes about Sophie being free and not having to make
a sacrifice. It was so much silliness, but Ned wouldn’t know that. He had no reason to doubt Emily’s assertions.
When at last he returned to the house, he kept his distance from her. He was never rude. Indeed, he was unfailing civil—just as he’d been in London. He was also stern and reserved and so infuriatingly reluctant to utter five words together that Sophie felt as if they’d fallen right back to where they’d started.
It intimidated her a little, just as it had done during the early months of their courtship. And yet, she now understood that beneath that icy exterior, Ned was probably simmering with hurt.
She wished she was bold enough to simply grab his hand and pull him into an alcove as he’d done to her the day before. But she didn’t want a stolen moment with him. She needed more time. More privacy. And she knew just how to get it.
Her mother had organized sleigh rides for the evening and, for once during the course of this accursed house party, things went according to plan.
The sleighs arrived in front of Appersett House in the early evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. The horses had bells on their bridles and the sleighs themselves were draped in red velvet bows and greenery.
It had stopped snowing for the moment and, as the sky darkened, the stars slowly made themselves visible.
Sophie was bundled up in her cloak and fur muff, her hair twisted up into an invisible hair net trimmed in velvet. Emily and Mr. Murray had already climbed into one of the sleighs and trotted off, leaving her waiting at the bottom of the steps. She saw Ned standing at the doors to the house, listening to something his mother was saying. His head was bent, his face somber.
Mrs. Sharpe looked equally grim. And when, a moment later, she and Ned turned and looked at her, Mrs. Sharpe’s lined face seemed to grow grimmer still.
Sophie raised a gloved hand to them. When coupled with her weak smile, she was sure she looked as if she was going to be ill. She certainly felt that way. A sickening sense of foreboding roiled heavily in her stomach. It was nerves, she told herself. The knowledge did little to calm her as Ned descended the stairs.
“Are you waiting for me?” he asked. Like her, he was bundled up against the cold, his black wool overcoat buttoned up over the suit he’d worn to dinner. She could just make out the top of his cravat as it brushed the line of his jaw.
“I assumed we would go together,” she said. “Unless…I suppose I could wait for one of the other gentlemen to take me. The sleighs only seat two, or else I would have already gone with the vicar and Mrs. Lanyon. They left right before Mr. Murray and my sister.”
“You shouldn’t be standing out here in the snow. You’ll catch your death.”
“I didn’t want to miss you again. I was hoping we might have a chance to talk.”
He gave her a look that was hard to read. And then he nodded. “Yes. I expected as much.”
She slid both her hands into her muff. “We can find somewhere inside, if you like.”
“If you’d prefer.”
“I thought a sleigh ride might give us more privacy.”
“Of course.”
The feeling of foreboding in Sophie’s stomach intensified. Ned’s face was so peculiarly blank. She wished she could tell what he was thinking. “Can you handle the ribbons?”
For the first time, a glint of some emotion flickered in his eyes. It may have been wry humor. “I’m not completely incompetent in the country.”
“No?” She endeavored to keep her voice light. “Did you shoot anything this morning?”
He extended his hand to help her up into the sleigh. “Does a tree branch count?”
She smiled, settling her skirts around her as Ned climbed into the sleigh at her side. “So little experience and already as skillful as my father.”
Ned draped a carriage blanket over her lap with a low chuckle. “He isn’t very good at it, is he?”
“I believe he likes the tramping around out of doors part better than the actual shooting. He’s never been particularly adept. Indeed, at one point, I’d considered that we might allow hunting parties from London to make use of our woods next season. For a fee, of course.”
“Very entrepreneurial.” Ned took the ribbons from the groom. “And, thanks to Murray, completely unnecessary.”
The sleigh started off with a jingle of bells as the horses surged into motion. Sophie could see no one else about. The other sleighs had gone in different directions and at varying speeds. For all intents and purposes, she and Ned were alone.
She cast him a sidelong glance. His profile was hard, his blue gaze fixed on the snowy expanse ahead of them. “Did you know he was going to propose to my sister?”
“I hadn’t a clue.”
“You were with them today, weren’t you? In my father’s study?”
“They wanted my input on the settlements.” He returned her glance. “Murray’s been excessively generous. You won’t ever have to worry again.”
She stared out at the snow. Ned was right. The burden of her family’s finances was finally gone. Papa’s profligacy could now be Mr. Murray’s problem. He seemed keen enough to subsidize new plumbing, re-graveled drives, and the like. Perhaps being a stonemason’s son really did give him an appreciation for repairs and renovations.
“I confess it is a relief,” she said. “I hadn’t realized how much until I woke up this morning. It was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.”
“No doubt.”
“Emily is proud of herself for managing it. She believes she saved me from making a martyr of myself.”
“And how do you feel?” he asked with a casualness that, on any other occasion, might have made her think he didn’t care in the least.
“I’m still trying to accustom myself to the new reality.”
“Which is?”
“That my life is my own again. That I need no longer do anything purely out of duty. From now on, any decisions I make about my future will be mine alone.” She felt him look at her, but she didn’t return his gaze. She continued to stare straight ahead, hands clasped tight within her muff as she gathered her courage. “Would you like to marry me?”
Ned’s expression hardened. “You already know what my intentions were. I made them clear enough to your father when I asked leave to court you in London.”
“You misunderstand me. I’m not inquiring about what your intentions were then. I’m asking you if you’ll marry me now.”
He jerked his head to stare at her.
She hesitated. “Well, not precisely now. In a few months. Or a few weeks. Whenever is convenient.”
His lips half parted as realization registered slowly on his face. That same jaw that had tensed seconds before went slack and his throat bobbed on a swallow. He was stunned. Staggered. Or—very possibly—horrified.
But Sophie was driven to continue, her words tumbling out in an impassioned rush. “I think I fell a little bit in love with you the night I came to your office in Fleet Street. And I’ve grown to love you more each day. So, if you have any feelings for me at all—if you have any inclination—I’d like very much for you to marry me and take me back to London. Because I do love you, Ned. And though I have no dowry, I would try very hard to be a good wife to you. To make up for any shortcomings—”
“Sophie,” Ned interrupted in a hoarse voice.
“I’m babbling again, aren’t I?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he drew the horses to a halt. They were far from the house now, stopped near a bank of snow on the outskirts of the woods. He tied off the reins and turned in the seat to face her. He looked at her for a long moment. And then he cleared his throat. “I thought you were going to end things. I thought—now that you’re free—you wouldn’t want—”
“What my sister said last night was rubbish, however well-intentioned. I’ve been waiting all day to tell you that.”
“And much more besides.”
Her cheeks burned. “I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I?”
“Embarrassed me? You knocked the sense out of me. For an instant, I didn’t know where I was.” His mouth hitched in the faintest half smile. “I love you, you know. So much that I’ve spent all day trying to reconcile myself to accepting your rejection with good grace.”
He loved her.
Her heart swelled in her breast at his declaration. For the first time in her life, she feared she might actually fall into a swoon. “You really love me, Ned?” she asked softly. And then: “Wait…what rejection?”
“The one you were going to give me this evening.” He reached for her, his hand coming to cradle her cheek in that way of his. He regarded her steadily, his blue gaze as solemn as it was tender. “And yes, my darling girl. I really do love you.”
She blinked as tears stung her eyes. “Then you’ll marry me?”
He gave a short, husky laugh. “My God, yes.”
Sophie smiled. And though that smile might be a little watery, Ned didn’t seem to mind. He looked at her for a moment longer, as if she were the finest thing he’d ever seen, then his head bent to hers and he kissed her.
She brought her arms to circle his neck, clinging to him as his lips moved on hers. He kissed her slowly, deeply, claiming her mouth with a thoroughness that left them both breathless. And she kissed him in return, sweetly, ever so sweetly, until he pulled back with a groan to rest his forehead against hers.
“Sophie,” he said in a husky murmur.
She let her fingers run through the hair at his nape. “I like you like this. Your hair disheveled and your cravat rumpled. It’s much less intimidating than how you looked in London.”
He nuzzled her cheek. “And how was that?”
“Too cold. Too perfect. And far too quiet for me to know what you were thinking. That wasn’t the real you.”
“No. It was…” He trailed off, eyes closing as Sophie moved her lips over his in the barest whisper of a kiss.
A Holiday by Gaslight Page 13