“Yes, thank you, Mr. Hawkins. I see the cottage now, so I will be on my way. Thank you for accompanying me.”
She curtsied as she attempted to walk, causing her to stumble across the grass.
He moved to help her, but she pulled out of his reach. “Good day, Mr. Hawkins.” She spun around and scurried toward Lowena Cottage.
Frederick remained where he was, staring after the woman with a growing frown. Well, that settled it. He had pressed her too hard to join him at the picnic. Now he would have to spend the entire time with the silent Miss Kinsey.
He should be happy at the prospect. This was his plan all along. But instead of imagining how delightful the picnic would prove to be, all he could see was Miss Rosewall’s swaying skirts as she walked away from him. And all he could think of was how much more entertaining the day would have been with that woman at his side.
Chapter Ten
There was no reason for Sophia to accept Mr. Hawkins’s proposal to attend a social gathering, even if it was something as simple as a country picnic.
Yet, there she was, standing at the open gates of Fynwary Hall, willing herself to move toward the house, her house. Her eyes caressed the beige stone piled three stories high in the center of the house as it reached a grey, turreted roof. Two-storied sections followed next on either side of the main edifice. The windows glinted in the sunlight, and the double doors stretched the height of the ground floor.
Her stomach churned.
This was all Father’s doing. He was the one to blame for her accepting Mr. Hawkins’s invitation, for her returning to her childhood home, for her raging nerves to be as on edge as they were days before, as she dangled from the cliffside.
She did have some fault in the matter. She was the one who had told her parents about the invitation. Though, she’d only mentioned it in passing.
“You saw Mr. Hawkins?” Mother had asked from her bed when Sophia had told her she’d returned home.
When Mother’s nostrils had flared, Sophia was glad she hadn’t mentioned Gwynna and the mine. Mother obviously held a grudge against Mr. Hawkins, though she’d done her best to hide it until that moment. Who knew what she’d say about her daughter befriending a miner’s child.
“And what did he have to say to you?” she’d asked next.
“He inquired after the family,” Sophia had embellished, “and then he invited us all to a picnic.”
Mother had barked out a derisive laugh. She had shown more emotion in that moment than Sophia could recall since they’d moved to Lowena.
“The nerve of the man,” Mother had said. “He no doubt wishes to flaunt his wealth before us again. Will he never leave us alone?”
Sophia hadn’t known what to say. She certainly wouldn’t have told Mother that she’d apologized to him.
“I’m sorry you had to see him, Sophia,” Mother continued, “but I will not force you to go to the picnic.”
“Picnic?” They’d both turned to see Father entering the room, his eyebrows drawn together. “What picnic?”
Sophia explained Mr. Hawkins’s proposal. Father had scratched at his chin before nodding. “I think you’d better go, Sophia.”
“But, my dear,” Mother had protested, “she will be without a chaperone. And Mr. Hawkins—”
“Is our landlord,” Father had finished. “What if we cause offense to him and he chooses to retaliate? No, we would do well to do as he wishes. Besides, I’m certain the group will be large enough for them all to keep watch over our Sophia.”
A panic had sparked within Sophia at her father’s words. “Will you not come, though, Papa?” she’d asked, desperate for some ounce of comfort.
He’d firmly shaken his head. “No, I have matters to tend to here.”
He’d had enough socializing at the ball and now wished to hide away like Mother. What did it matter if they sent their daughter out in the world to fend for herself, so long as their landlord was kept happy?
Sophia stifled a groan as she stood outside her old home. Would Mr. Hawkins be happy with her attending? And his guests? She recalled the names he’d listed to her, Madderns, Summerfields, Rennalls. They were all kind enough, but so were her friends, before they’d spoken so cruelly behind her back.
She didn’t need reminding that she no longer belonged with such high society. Would they all think she was as selfish and deluded as Miss Ward and Mr. Chester had?
She shook the old acquaintances from her mind. She’d told herself not to linger on their unkindness, to dwell instead on Mr. Hawkins and the fact that he’d invited her to the picnic in the first place.
Then again, thinking of the man caused a whole new set of worries to flood her mind. He’d instantly accepted her apology, didn’t seem to care about her inconsequential place in Society. In truth, he didn’t seem to care at all what others thought, a novelty she’d never enjoyed.
He was too much for her. His gentlemanly behavior was too much for her. She couldn’t spend the entire day in his company. She would simply tell Father that she’d attended the picnic and instead spend the day walking the cliffsides. Or better yet, she’d visit Gwynna.
She spun on her heel, anxious to get away, but after only a single step, the doors of Fynwary Hall clicked open. She paused. Short of darting into the bushes, a real temptation, Sophia could not be hidden from the guests. Attending the picnic was now inevitable.
With a wary heart, she turned around and headed back to the house, her boots crunching on the gravel.
“Miss Rosewall?”
Mr. Hawkins’s delighted smile—was it due to her presence or was it simply the excitement of the picnic?—eased her discomfort only slightly.
“There you are,” he said, walking up to greet her. His guests filed out of the doors behind him, a few eyes lingering on her. “I received your letter of acceptance, but I was beginning to wonder if you’d changed your mind again about coming.”
She swallowed. “Yes, I am sorry for arriving in an untimely manner.”
“No, I didn’t mean to complain. You have arrived at the perfect time, really. We were just about to leave.”
She managed a nod in his direction before Mr. and Mrs. Summerfield approached her with warm eyes, followed by the others in the group.
“Miss Rosewall, we are so pleased to see you here,” Mrs. Summerfield said.
Sophia nodded her gratitude. She wished the attention would shift elsewhere, especially as the Rennalls, the physician and his noticeably younger wife, gawked with such blatant pity, Sophia could have gagged.
“How are you faring, Miss Rosewall?” Mrs. Rennalls asked, her eyebrows drawn together so closely they created a wide depression in her forehead.
“I am more than well, Mrs. Rennalls.”
“I trust your mother is in good health,” Mr. Rennalls asked.
“She is, thank you,” Sophia lied.
“We have not seen her in so very long,” Mrs. Maddern said. “Do give her our best.”
Mrs. Maddern certainly seemed happier to see Sophia than the last time she’d called at Benlett House. Was this because Sophia was no longer attempting to stay in the woman’s home?
She looked away. “I will. Thank you, Mrs. Maddern.”
Sophia glanced next to Mr. Maddern, who nodded in greeting, then Miss Kinsey, who gave her a slight curtsy before her green eyes flitted toward Mr. Hawkins.
Sophia glanced between them. The two were certainly spending a great deal of time together, Mr. Hawkins calling on her at Benlett, their time together at the ball, now the picnic. Was there an understanding between them?
She ignored the unease creeping across her stomach at the thought.
Mr. Hawkins spoke, as if he knew her thoughts and wished to end them. “Well, now we have all arrived, I say let us begin our journey.”
There was a murmur of agreement, and the group turned to the carriages lining the drive.
“Miss Rosewall, you may ride with me and the Madderns. Will that suffice?” Mr.
Hawkins asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Sophia responded, though she would have preferred riding alone.
They stopped at the side of the foremost carriage. Mr. Maddern helped his wife up, then moved to offer his niece the same courtesy, but Mr. Hawkins jumped in to help first with a smile for Miss Kinsey. Sophia pretended not to watch the exchange, then she allowed Mr. Maddern to assist her next.
When she entered the carriage, Mrs. Maddern on one side, her niece to the other, Sophia remained fixed to her spot.
If she sat in the middle or by the empty window on the same side as Miss Kinsey, Sophia would inevitably sit next to Mr. Hawkins. If she sat on the other side, however, she would have to face him for the entire ride. Surely Mrs. Maddern would want to sit beside her husband. But could Sophia bear sitting next to Mr. Hawkins for an entire hour?
She turned to Miss Kinsey. “Do you not wish to sit in the middle?” she asked, pointing to the smooth, brown leather.
“I’d prefer a window seat, thank you,” Miss Kinsey replied.
“Having difficulty finding a place, Miss Rosewall?” came Mr. Maddern’s voice from outside.
Sophia had forgotten he and Mr. Hawkins were still waiting to enter the carriage. Impulsively, she plopped down onto the middle seat.
Mr. Maddern entered first, moving beside his wife, then Mr. Hawkins, who took one look at the seat next to Sophia and sat down with only a slight flicker of his eyes toward her.
There was more than enough room for the three of them to sit comfortably together without touching, but Sophia knew the moment they pulled onto the road, they would surely bump against one another.
“Are we all comfortable?” Mr. Hawkins asked.
His deep voice sailed through her skipping heart.
She pulled in her arms, straightened her legs. One touch from him would be her undoing, she knew it.
And she was right.
The carriage pulled ahead, and instantly, her shoulder grazed against his. “Sorry,” she mumbled, shifting closer to Miss Kinsey, who seemed none the wiser as she stared out of the window with somber eyes.
What was the matter with the girl? If she and Mr. Hawkins were close to an engagement, shouldn’t she be seated next to him and not Sophia?
“We are sure to have fine weather today,” Mr. Maddern said.
Sophia hadn’t seen the man in weeks, due to his illness. Normally, she’d ask after his improving health, but now she didn’t know her place.
“Indeed,” his wife agreed. “Our niece does enjoy a country picnic. Do you not, Claire?”
“Yes, Aunt.”
“She and her sisters would often picnic together,” Mrs. Maddern continued. “And we all know Miss Rosewall enjoys a picnic herself.”
Sophia’s smile felt as strained as a rope ready to split in two.
As the ride continued, the majority of the conversation took place between Mrs. Maddern and Mr. Maddern. Miss Kinsey kept her eyes out of the window. Mr. Hawkins chirped in when the conversation allowed, but he was mostly silent, as well.
Sophia wondered if he was disappointed not being seated next to Miss Kinsey. He would not be conversing greatly with the voiceless woman anyway, even if he was closer to her.
But who was Sophia to talk? For as long as she had chided Miss Kinsey behind her back for remaining silent during social gatherings, Sophia was behaving the very same.
Then again, what could she say as a woman who no longer belonged in this social sphere? It was far better for her to keep her mouth shut. If only to avoid attention that would undoubtedly cause her further embarrassment, just like at the ball.
Sophia listened half-heartedly as the Madderns spoke of the picnic they’d shared together when they were courting.
“It rained the whole time,” Mrs. Maddern said.
“And we were forced to eat in the carriage together,” Mr. Maddern chimed in.
Mrs. Maddern linked her arm through her husband’s. “Yes, it was all very romantic, though, wasn’t it, Mr. Maddern?”
They shared a loving look, Mrs. Maddern’s eyes sparkling.
When was the last time Mother and Father had looked at each other in the same way? Sophia had only seen the two of them speaking together once since their displacement to Lowena, and that had only been when talking of the picnic. She knew they loved each other, but the secrets Father had kept had put a strain on their relationship.
The corners of Sophia’s mouth pulled down. Would her future husband keep secrets from her? Would she constantly have to put on an air of perfection in her marriage, as Mother had done until she lost everything? Or would her husband never even give Sophia a second thought?
A weakness came over her body. Her neck curved forward. She rested her leg on the wall beside her. There she was, worrying over the actions of her future husband when she wasn’t even sure if she would ever marry.
Her leg warmed against the side of the carriage, strangely tingling until the wall shifted. She cocked her head. Walls didn’t shift.
Legs did.
She jerked away. She was not seated at the side of the carriage. She had been resting her leg against Mr. Hawkins. No wonder the warming sensation had spread throughout her skin like a wildfire, the heat rising to her cheeks.
She stole a swift glance at him, but he hardly seemed aware of their touch. Why would he be when he was interested in Miss Kinsey?
As the ride progressed, with each bump in the road, each turn, each pull of the horses, she came into contact with Mr. Hawkins. She was grateful at least for her Spencer and his jacket to create some type of barrier between them, but that did nothing for her mind. She knew exactly who her arm grazed against each and every time.
After the agonizingly long carriage ride came to an end, Sophia nearly groaned with how stiff her legs and back had become. The Madderns exited, then Mr. Hawkins, who remained below the door of the carriage to extend his help to Sophia and Miss Kinsey.
Sophia moved forward first. She didn’t look at him, but with her essentially numb legs, she hadn’t noticed her boot becoming entangled in her skirts. She tumbled slightly forward, but Mr. Hawkins’s hand tightened its grip around her own.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
She nodded, grateful his quiet tone brought no further attention to herself. She pulled her hand from his and smoothed her skirts down, attempting to calm her nerves in the process. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She was never clumsy. Except, of course, when Mr. Hawkins was nearby to witness it.
She moved off to the side as he helped Miss Kinsey down next. The woman scurried away from him and straight to her aunt’s side. No look was shared between the two of them, no sparkling eyes like the Madderns’.
Sophia frowned. Perhaps there wasn’t an understanding between them. Perhaps they were merely just friends. Or perhaps they were trying not to draw attention to their relationship due to Miss Kinsey’s inhibitions.
Either way, she needed to stop concerning herself in their affairs.
“Shall we?” Mr. Hawkins said as the other carriages pulled up and the guests joined them.
They allowed the servants to go ahead of them, giving them time to set up the spread, all while the attendees enjoyed a leisurely stroll. Sophia tried not to notice the servants stealing glances at her as they walked by. She knew they recognized her, a few of them giving her subtle nods before going about their tasks.
She could only imagine their thoughts, the same she was sure Mrs. Rennalls had, with her constant solicitous eyes directed Sophia’s way.
Poor Miss Rosewall. Fallen so far.
How does she manage without her servants’ help?
She suffers from her own father’s ineptitude.
“Miss Rosewall, are you coming?”
She blinked, looking to Mrs. Summerfield who watched her expectantly. The others had already begun to walk through the wooded area.
She scurried to catch up with them. The Summerfields had always been kind to her and her
family, and as Sophia walked beside them, she was reminded again of their innate goodness.
“We’ve been meaning to invite you and your parents to Rudhek Manor for dinner,” Mrs. Summerfield said. “But we wished to wait until you were more settled. Do let us know the moment you are available.”
Sophia nodded but remained silent. She couldn’t agree to go to dinner at the manor. The Summerfields were too fine a people for her family now.
The pathway through the trees narrowed and the bushes lining the trail thickened, forcing the guests to move along two-by-two. Mr. and Mrs. Summerfield, the eldest of the party, led the group to set the pace. The Madderns followed, then the Rennalls.
Mrs. Rennalls spoke constantly, whether she was listened to or not, about her “Dear Mr. Rennalls” and his ability to heal any sick or wounded beggar or king.
Mr. Hawkins escorted Miss Kinsey behind them. Bringing up the rear, Sophia walked by herself. That was what she preferred. She deserved to be without an escort. She was the odd woman out.
She was the imposter.
Mr. Hawkins occasionally glanced over his shoulder at her, performing his duty to ensure all his guests remained happy and comfortable. Sophia plastered a smile to her lips and eyed the greenery around them each time he looked back.
The trees were thick, the leaves nearly blocking out the sun entirely, apart from small veins between the foliage where light burst through in shining rays.
She’d always enjoyed a walk through the woods, but now she longed for the sea. She’d found, as she’d grown accustomed to constantly hearing the waves crashing on the shores below the cottage, that the sound overpowered her ability to think of much else.
It was a welcome relief.
Here, with only the soft rustling leaves overhead, nothing prevented the guests’ voices from drifting toward her, specifically Mr. Hawkins’s.
He spoke to Miss Kinsey of his home in Bedfordshire, how Dawnridge was surrounded by fields of poppies that lit the countryside in blankets of bright red.
“It really is a breathtaking sight,” he said.
Sophia’s eyes wandered over his broad shoulders, trailed down his jacket’s curved fit to the split tails reaching just to his knees. He walked with a slow, confident stride, his shoulders swinging slightly.
For The Lady 0f Lowena (A Cornish Romance Book 2) Page 14