“I don’t see how that could be possible,” Metcalf protested with a laugh. “I am one of the most sought after bachelors in the whole of London.”
Lady Auliffe leaned over her cane toward him. “I don’t care if you are the most sought after man in the universe. If I don’t think you’re right for my Katherine, then the marriage is off.”
“Really?” Metcalf’s voice sounded strangled, but he accepted his tea cup and saucer with a steady hand. He mumbled a distracted thank you to Sophie, his attentions snagged by the older woman and not directed toward the young heiress he had come to see. Had Sophie harbored any real interest in him, she would have been offended.
Metcalf took a sip of tea. He didn’t appear nervous, but the pitch of his voice steadily rose as the conversation continued. “I assumed the matter was settled, madam.”
“In many respects it ‘tis.”
“But?”
“I see no reason to rush into things. Besides, Katherine hasn’t yet had a proper coming out. We can’t have a wedding before she’s introduced to society.”
“Yes.” He sat back in his chair. “Of course not.” He tried to smile, but Sophie could tell he was peeved. “Katherine is a lovely young woman. You can’t fault me for wanting to keep her all to myself.”
He reached over and gave Sophie’s hand a squeeze, just as the front door closed, and someone’s quick footsteps rang in the hall.
Sophie looked up, hoping the master of the house had come home, and was glad to see Ramsay’s tall frame materialize in the parlor doorway. Metcalf rose beside her.
In contrast to the earl’s almost overdone elegance, Ramsay’s attire was as stark as his house. He was dressed in a dark blue frock coat and breeches that in the silvery winter light appeared nearly as black as his unpowdered hair. He wore a gray waistcoat, a simple cravat at his throat, and a pair of tall boots that reached nearly to his knees. His only concession to fashion were the silver buttons on his cuffs and down the front of his coat. Still, one hardly noticed the understated clothes, for they served only as a backdrop to his broad shoulders, his lean muscular frame, and the sharp gleam in his eye. He was ten times as commanding as the earl.
Sophie took a step toward him, happy that he had returned before her departure. She couldn’t imagine leaving the townhouse without taking her leave of Ramsay, especially after having spent the night in his bed, and having shared the wonderful stolen kisses in his study. At the recollection of the past night with him and the way he’d pinned her against the wall, she felt a flush flare in her cheeks. She paused, checking her impulse to run across the floor to him.
“Captain,” she called, stepping forward to meet him with respectable restraint. She caught up his left hand in both of hers. “I’m so glad you have come home.”
“Puckett informed me your grandmother had arrived.” He allowed himself to be pulled forward, a smile tugging one corner of his mouth at the same time, as if she pulled a slow grin from him as well.
“She has. She’s here!”
Then pandemonium broke loose. The little terriers launched themselves off Lady Auliffe’s lap, as if blasted from a cannon, propelled in the direction of Ramsay’s feet. They landed yapping and twirling, until the captain reached down and scooped them up. They writhed and yapped, licking his hands and trying to scramble up his chest to lick his face while Sophie broke into peals of laughter, never having seen Ian Ramsay so hopelessly out of control of a situation.
“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, trying to frown but unable to suppress a grin. He got a better grip on the wriggling animals and foisted them upon the earl.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Metcalf cried, jerking away. He brushed the front of his silk coat, as if to divest himself of the slightest speck of dog hair.
Lady Auliffe rose, leaned her cane against the settee and reached out for her pets. “Give them here, the little nuisances.”
Ramsay gently placed the dogs into the crooks of the older woman’s arms while Sophie stood near his elbow, still smiling and watching her grandmother fuss over the tiny creatures.
“They’re Neat and Tidy,” she informed him.
“They don’t appear to be to me,” Ramsay answered, looking down at her. For a moment his eyes lingered upon hers, and she felt the same thrill of connection she had experienced the first time they had looked at each other, and all the times since. What would it have been like this morning if Ramsay hadn’t left so early, if they had taken the time to talk about what had transpired the previous night? Yet he had left before dawn, and probably on purpose, just so he could avoid her. What had he said to her last night, that their actions in the study were better left unremarked? The words echoed painfully in her thoughts.
She forced herself not to dwell on her still raw disappointment. “No, Neat and Tidy are their names,” she added.
“Ah.”
“And you must be Captain Ramsay,” Lady Auliffe said, appraising him, her head tilted, and her dark eyes drinking him in. Gone was the cool disdain she’d shown the earl, replaced by a guarded curiosity.
“The same.” He gave her a curt nod and a small smile. “I’m glad to see you survived the storm, Lady Auliffe. Was your journey bearable?”
“Just.” She sank down to the settee, and nodded toward the empty place next to her. “Please sit down, Captain. I hear I am indebted to you for the care you have shown my granddaughter.”
“Not at all. It is I who am indebted to you.”
“In what way, sir?”
“Katherine has improved upon my home, has cooked wonderful meals for us, and has entertained the household with her skill at the harpsichord. I could go on and on.” He glanced at her and Sophie felt a rush of warmth flood through her. Ramsay had never given her a greater compliment. In fact no one had ever praised her like that. She took the only remaining chair and busied herself pouring more tea. “I have enjoyed her company more than I can say.”
“I’ll bet you have,” Metcalf interjected acidly. “And so improper, this arrangement of yours! I should have called you out days ago, Ramsay.”
“Perhaps you still should,” Lady Auliffe responded, her hand arched on her cane, her expression cold. Metcalf, who was still standing, shifted his weight on his feet and glanced at her and then back at Ramsay, momentarily flustered by the suggestion that he defend the honor of his future bride by risking his life.
“If dueling weren’t illegal I would!”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Though how we will ever justify Katherine’s presence in this townhouse to polite society—”
“‘Twas my burns,” Sophie put in. “And the storm.”
“Yes, the weather was onerous,” Edward put in anxiously.
“I’ll give you that much.” Lady Auliffe looked aside to the captain, while Neat tried to wriggle onto his thigh.
“And I trust you behaved as a gentleman.”
Sophie held her breath, wondering what Ramsay would say.
“Who would dare cross the Earl of Blethin?” Ramsay replied. He had not really told a falsehood, yet had not really answered the question either. But his words placated Metcalf, whose face shone with a triumphant sneer.
Ramsay picked up the terrier that was determined to sit in his lap, and set it on the floor, where it trotted in circles head down, sniffing the legs of the furniture. Sophie wondered what Ramsay would have said to the earl had ladies not been in the room.
“Do send me the bills for Katherine’s care, and I shall have them paid at once. I am staying at the Carlisle house in Kensington.”
He nodded and glanced at Sophie. Their gazes caught and held again. Perhaps he, like she, was reluctant to see their time together come to a close, knowing that they would likely never see or speak to each other again. A common American and a wealthy countess would not cross paths in London society.
Sophie caught her grandmother watching them, and she quickly stood up. “I should make sure everything is packed,” she remarked.
“
Do you need assistance?” Ramsay asked, rising to his feet as well.
“Do not trouble yourself.” Lady Auliffe touched his hand to restrain him. “My footman can take care of her things. William?” she called. Her footman ducked into the parlor. “My granddaughter will show you her belongings, which are to be carried out to the coach.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He bowed and waited for Sophie to walk across the parlor while both dogs orbited around the base of her skirts.
“Miss Hinds,” Ramsay’s voice made her stop.
She turned.
“Feel free to take the book you were reading.”
“Thank you, captain.”
“Any of them, in fact. You can return them at your convenience.”
She nodded, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. Were these to be their last words to each other—this pitifully mundane exchange across a parlor? Or was Ramsay encouraging her to borrow the books in hopes she might use their return as an excuse to call upon him?
“No need to weigh down the carriage,” Lady Auliffe interjected, as if she had read Sophie’s errant thoughts. “We’ve a vast library at the Carlisle house.”
“And if I have my way,” the earl added, “Katherine won’t have to put in any time reading.” He smiled at her. “That would be such a waste of your talents.”
She tried to smile back but had a difficult time masking her disappointment. Without the borrowed books, there would be no respectable reason for returning to the captain’s townhouse.
All too soon the time came to go. Sophie swept down the stairs where Mrs. Betrus, Maggie, and Charles waited at the door to see her off. Metcalf helped her on with her cloak, and stood protectively at her elbow, performing the acts she would have preferred Ramsay to do for her. Lady Auliffe stood nearest the door, her terriers tucked under her breasts.
“Say your farewells, girl,” she called grandly. “We have much to do!”
Sophie turned to address the servants first. She was surprised to see tears brimming in Mrs. Betrus’ eyes.
“Ah, Miss Hinds, I will miss you terribly!” the housekeeper sputtered. They embraced warmly, and Sophie felt a lump forming in her throat. She had made more than one strong bond in the last few days.
“Thank you for everything, Mrs. Betrus. You’ve been very kind to me.”
“William,” Lady Auliffe nodded at her footman, who gave the housekeeper a generous tip.
“Why, thank you, your ladyship!” Mrs. Betrus curtseyed and sniffed. Then she clutched the folded bills to her chest and tried to compose herself while tears ran down her plump cheeks.
Sophie said good-bye to Maggie and Charles, who also received generous tips.
Finally, she turned to the captain, who stood in the parlor doorway, his black eyes glinting and hard. Did he find it difficult to say good-bye, or was he reacquiring the stone-like facade he’d worn when they first met?
“Captain Ramsay,” she stated, holding out her hand. How she longed to embrace him. But being watched by her grandmother and the earl put constraints on her natural inclination to step into his arms.
“Miss Hinds,” he replied softly, taking her hand. He raised it to his mouth and gently kissed the gloved knuckle of her index finger. Then he paused and breathed in the scent of her before he slowly lowered her hand.
“I can’t thank you enough, sir,” she said, knowing if she tried to say anything more, the words would tumble out in a blubbering torrent.
“‘Twas my pleasure.” He smiled at her and released her fingers. “I have a gift for you.”
“You do?”
“Just a token.” From behind his back, he produced a small package tied up in brown paper and string. “Protection against all things English—particularly the cold air.”
She glanced at him, pleasantly puzzled, and took the package. It was soft, and she guessed it held a garment.
“Thank you, Captain Ramsay.”
“My pleasure.”
She thought she would die from not being able to say what she longed to tell him, that the past few days with him had been the best hours of her life, that she wasn’t a rich heiress who was out of his league but a lowly servant who would miss him and who didn’t want to leave his company. She suddenly realized, that in this new life of hers, she considered Ian Ramsay her best and only friend.
“I hope we shall meet again,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level.
“I do as well.” He held out his hand to the earl. “My best wishes to you both, Metcalf.”
The earl ignored his hand. “Well! I never thought I’d hear such words from you.” He cupped Sophie’s elbow as if to assure everyone she was his possession. “Come, dear Katherine.”
Ramsay took the snub and turned to the older woman. “And it was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Auliffe.”
“And you.” She regarded him, her eyes measuring his every word and gesture, as she had evaluated him from the moment he’d walked into the parlor. “Thank you once again for taking such great care of my granddaughter.” She nodded at her servant. “William?”
The footman opened the door for his mistress, and with that simple act, swept Sophie from Ian Ramsay’s life.
As the carriage drew away from the town house, Lady Auliffe arranged her dogs on her lap and looked up.
“Open your gift,” she said, more as an order than a request. “Go on, girl!”
Flushing, Sophie carefully untied the string. She had never received a gift before, and the thoughtfulness of the captain made tears well in her eyes. With shaking hands, she folded back the paper to reveal a soft wool blanket, the same kind of red and black plaid blanket he kept in his carriage. Sophie raised the cloth to her cheek. She could smell Ian’s scent, and for a moment, she closed her eyes and let the fragrance sweep her away.
“He gave you a blanket?” Lady Auliffe chuckled. “How peculiar!”
“Maybe because I’ve been cold since my arrival here.”
“Plaid, as well. Curious.” She shook her head. “I must say, I would have thought Ramsay would know the proper gift to give a woman to impress her—a set of earrings, something for the hair—”
“He’s a practical man,” Sophie murmured.
“Unlike Edward Metcalf?”
Sophie shrugged and looked down at the blanket on her knees.
For a long moment, the carriage rumbled through the streets while both women lapsed into thoughtful silence.
“He’s a fine-looking man,” Lady Auliffe stated at last, obviously trying to encourage Sophie to chat, but she had withdrawn into the corner of the carriage, close to tears.
“I should count myself fortunate, I suppose.” She knew she was failing dreadfully in her attempt to feign excitement for the upcoming nuptials, but at the moment she didn’t care.
“I meant Ramsay.”
Shocked, Sophie glanced at the older woman. Had Lady Auliffe seen through her that easily, or was she just making an observation?
Lady Auliffe continued, her eyes watching Sophie closely. “A man like that could turn a girl’s head.”
“If a girl’s head was turned by looks alone.”
“I suspect there’s more to this Captain Ramsay than just his looks.”
Sophie flushed, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “Perhaps.”
“Child!” Her grandmother chuckled. “Come now!”
Sophie stared at her, confused.
“So close-mouthed. One would think you were hiding something. A tender for this captain, perhaps?”
Sophie paused for a moment. This grandmother of hers was an intelligent, perceptive, and worldly-wise woman, a person she knew would see through a lie in a moment. Better to be frank with her, and deal with the situation woman to woman, instead of child to parent. She was sure she would gain nothing from trying to play games with her companion.
“I know I am contracted to marry Edward Metcalf,” she said carefully, “But I must admit that I prefer the likes of the captain’s looks an
d temper.”
Lady Auliffe nodded and sat back, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “He’s a real man, that one. Rare these days.”
“But please, do not find fault with him,” Sophie added earnestly. “He was nothing short of a gentleman to me, and he knows nothing of my regard for him.”
“Oh, he knows.”
Sophie flushed openly.
“Your honesty becomes you, Katherine.” Lady Auliffe smiled warmly at her. “But it is now time to put aside your schoolgirl sentiments for handsome Mr. Ramsay and attend to business.”
“I am aware of that.”
“Good girl.” She regarded her kindly. “You seem to have a sensible head on your shoulders. We shall get along, you and I.”
Sophie knew she did not deserve Lady Auliffe’s high opinion of her. She was nowhere near an honest person these days. Miserable with guilt, Sophie clutched the brown package even tighter. She and Lady Auliffe would get along only until the moment she was found out to be a dishonest imposter. How long could she sustain the ruse?
Trying to quell her fears and avoid the sharp eyes of the woman sitting across from her, she looked out the small window as the carriage rolled out to Front Street. Standing on the footpath in front of a coffeehouse was a thin man dressed in black, shaking his staff at a trio of ragged street boys. Sophie shrank back from the window, her heart racing all the more.
Constable Keener. Was he still in pursuit of her? Fortunately for her, the Carlisle House was in a completely different part of town than the captain’s home.
“Is something wrong?” Lady Auliffe questioned.
“No,” Sophie replied. “I’m just a little nervous.”
“Whatever about?”
“My entrée,” Sophie fussed with the plaid blanket, wrapping it back into its paper covering. “Meeting all those people.”
“Tut! They will love you.”
That night, and for many nights to come, Sophie slept with the blanket draped across the coverlet at her shoulders so that she could fall asleep with the comforting scent of Ian Ramsay drifting through her dreams. Then when morning came, she carefully folded up the wool and placed it in the travelling trunk he’d bought her, making sure the servants never saw the blanket. She had no wish to be teased or scolded because of her lingering feelings for the captain, and no desire to be questioned about the plaid by someone who had never met the man and didn’t know what he was really like. Her grandmother assumed she could easily put the captain out of her mind and get on with her new life, but Sophie knew she would never forget him.
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